He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt - these people were obviously collecting for something. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes - the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive - no, looking at the sign cats couldn't read maps or signs. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen - then he jerked his head around to look again. It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar - a cat reading a map. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years in fact, Mrs. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache.

Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.

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