ight, though people dow did; they
pointed and gazed open- mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. most
of them had never see nighttime. mr. dursley,
hoerfeal, owl-free m. he yelled at
five different people. he made several important telephone calls
a more. he was in a very good mood until lunchtime,
whe hed stretch his legs and walk across the road to
buy himself a bun from the bakery.
hed fotten all about the people in til he passed
a group of them he bakers. he eyed them angrily as he
passed. he didnt know why, but they made him uhis bunch were
whisperioo, and he t see a siing
tin. it was on his ast them, g a large doughnut
in a bag, that he caught a fehat they were saying.
”the potters, thats right, thats what i heard yes, their
son, harry”
mr. dursley stopped dead. fear flooded him. he looked back
at the whisperers as if he wao say somethi
thought better of it.
he dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office,
s his seot to disturb him, seized his telephone,
and had almost finished dialing his home number when he ged
his mihe receiver bad stroked his mustache,
thinking... no, he was being stupid. potter wasnt suusual
name. he was sure there were lots of people called potter who had a
son called harry. e to think of it, he wasnt even sure his nephew
was called harry. hed he boy. it might have been
harvey. or harold. there oint in w mrs. dursley;
she always got so upset at aioer. he didnt
blame her -- if hed had a sister like that... but all the same,
those people in cloaks...
he found it a lot harder to trate on drills that afternoon
ahe building at five oclock, he was still so
worried that he walked straight i outside the door.
”sruhe tiny old man stumbled and almost