Harry Potter and the philosopher's stone |the Book

CHAPTER 1 || A boy who survived

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley at Number 4 Privet Drive were proud to be completely normal, very proud in fact. Nobody would have thought that they could get involved in a strange and mysterious story, because they didn't want to have anything to do with such nonsense. Mr. Dursley was a director of a company called Grun-nings, which manufactured drilling machines. He was tall and beefy and had almost no neck, but a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had twice as much neck as was necessary, which was useful because it meant she could crane her neck over the garden fence and peer over at the neighbors. The Dursleys had a young son named Dudley and in their eyes there was no finer boy anywhere. The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and that someone would discover it was their biggest worry. It would be simply unbearable if the Potter thing came out. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister; but the two had not seen each other for several years. Mrs. Dursley even claimed that she didn't have a sister at all, because she and her good-for-nothing man were as un-Dursley-like as one could imagine. What would the neighbors say, Should the Potters show up on her street one day? The Dursleys knew that the Potters also had a young son, but they had never seen him. This boy was also a good reason to stay away from the Potters; Her Dudley shouldn't come into contact with such a child. When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley opened their eyes on the dull and gray Tuesday on which our story begins, there was no sign in the cloudy sky outside of the strange and mysterious things that were soon to happen across the land. Mr. Dursley was humming and choosing his dullest tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley was chattering away as she wrestled with the screaming Dudley and forced him into his high chair. None of them saw the huge tawny owl fly past the window. At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up the briefcase, gave his wife a peck on the cheek and tried to kiss Dudley goodbye too. However, it missed because Dudley was having a tantrum and throwing his porridge at the walls. "Little rascal," Mr. Dursley chuckled as he walked outside. He got in the car and backed out the driveway to Number 4. He first noticed something strange on the street corner - a cat studying a street map. For a moment Mr. Dursley wasn't sure what he had seen - then he quickly turned his head back to look again. There was a tabby cat at the turn onto Privet Lane, but there was no road map to be seen. What was he thinking about again!
The must have been an illusion. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. The cat stared back. As Mr. Dursley turned the corner and drove down the street, he watched the cat in the rearview mirror. Now she read the sign that said Privet Drive - no, she looked at the sign. Cats couldn't read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little effort and chased the cat away from his thoughts. As he drove toward town, all he had on his mind was the big order for drilling machines that would hopefully arrive today. But on the outskirts of town, the drills were pushed out of his thoughts by something else. Stuck in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help but notice that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in long and loose cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't stand people who dressed funny - the way young people dressed up! It had to be some stupid new fad. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a collection of these strange figures not far from him. They whispered to each other very excitedly. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that some of them were not young at all; Well, that man there had to be older than him and was wearing an emerald green cloak! Maybe he had some nerve! But then it suddenly occurred to Mr. Dursley that this must be a crazy disguise - people were obviously collecting for something... yes, that's how it had to be. The line of cars moved, and a few minutes later Mr. Dursley pulled into his company's parking lot, his mind back to the drills. In his office on the ninth floor sat Mr. Dursley always with your back to the window. Otherwise he would have had a hard time concentrating on the drills that morning. He didn't notice the owls darting past in broad daylight, but he did notice the people on the street below; They pointed into the sky and watched with open mouths as one owl after the other flew over their heads. Most of them had never seen one before, not even at night. Mr. Dursley, however, was having an ordinary, owl-free morning. He made fun of five different people. He made several important phone calls and shouted a little louder. He was in a great mood until lunchtime and wanted to stretch his legs a bit and get a donut from the bakery across the street. He had long since forgotten the people in the strange outfits, but now, on the way to the bakery, he met some of these figures. He gave them angry looks as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uncomfortable. This pack was also whispering excitedly, and there was no collection box anywhere to be seen. On the way back from the bakery, a bag with a large chocolate squiggle in his hand, he caught a few words from them. "The Potters, that's right, I heard that -* "-yes, your son, Harry-" Mr. Dursley stopped dead in his tracks. Fear overwhelmed him. He turned to the Whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but then thought better of it. He quickly crossed the street, stormed up to the office, hissed at his secretary that he didn't want to be disturbed, picked up the phone and almost had the number chose from home when he changed his mind. He put the receiver down and stroked his mustache. No, he thought, I'm stupid. Potter wasn't a particularly unusual name. Sure there were a lot of people named Potter who had a son named Harry. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't even sure if his nephew's real name was Harry. He hadn't even seen the boy yet. His name could also be Harvey. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley, she would get so upset if anyone even mentioned her sister. He didn't blame her for that - if he had a sister like that. And yet, those people in the cloaks... That afternoon he found it much more difficult to keep his mind on the drills, and when he left the office at five o'clock he was still so worried that the first time he stepped outside he would bump into someone. "Sorry," he grumbled as the little old man stumbled and almost fell. It was only after a few seconds that Mr. Dursley noticed that the man was wearing a purple cloak. The fact that he almost knocked him over didn't seem to bother him at all. On the contrary, a broad smile appeared on his face, and the people who passed by looked up as he said in a squeaky voice: "Today I forgive everything, my dear sir, today nothing can throw me off track! Let's rejoice because You-Know-Who has finally left us! Even Muggles like you should celebrate this joyful, joyful day!" And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley about waist height and walked away. Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. A complete stranger had hugged him. He probably called him a muggle too, whatever that was. Completely confused, he rushed to his car and drove home. He hoped he was imagining these things, and that was new to him because he didn't usually believe in imagination. As he pulled into the driveway of Number 4, the first thing he saw was the tabby cat he'd seen that morning - and that didn't help his mood. She was now sitting on his garden wall. Surely it was the same cat; She had the same pattern around her eyes. "Shhhh!" Mr. Dursley hissed loudly. The cat didn't move. She just looked at him with serious eyes. Was this normal for cats, Mr. Dursley wondered. He tried to pull himself together and opened the front door. He was still determined not to tell his wife. Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, ordinary day. At dinner she told him all about Mrs. Neighbor's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("ugh"). Mr. Dursley tried to behave as usual. He put Dudley to bed and then went into the living room where he watched the latest evening news. "And here's another message. As bird watchers across the country report, our owls were behaving in some very unusual ways today. Although owls typically hunt at night and are rarely seen during the day, these birds have been seen flying across the country hundreds of times since sunrise. The experts can't explain why the owls suddenly changed their habits." The news anchor allowed himself a grin. "Very mysterious."