Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:

"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"

"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early -- it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."

Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters...

Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er -- Petunia, dear -- you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"

As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.

"No," she said sharply. "Why?"

"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today..."

"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley.

"Well, I just thought... maybe... it was something to do with... you know... her crowd."

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their son -- he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.

"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"

"Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."

He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.

Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did... if it got out that they were related to a pair of -- well, he didn't think he could bear it.

杜斯利夫人则过得十分惬意、舒适。晚饭时她与丈夫谈起邻居与她儿子的不和以及达德里怎样学会了一个新单词"不许！"。杜斯利先生试图像平常一样答话。

　　在把达德里哄上床后，他正好有时间看到晚间新闻的最后一条新闻："各地的鸟类学家均报道全国各地猫头鹰有异常动向。通常猫头鹰在夜间捕食而且白天从不出现，但是这次却有许多地方见到这种鸟在日出后出现。专家们暂时难以解释猫头鹰突然间改变它们睡眠习惯的原因……真是非常奇怪。现在由吉姆。麦高菲来报告天气。

　　吉姆，今晚会有更多猫头鹰出现吗？"

　　"泰德，"天气预报员说道，"这我倒不清楚。但是今天行为异常的不只是猫头鹰。还有肯特郡、约克郡和丹地的人们打电话告诉我并没有出现我昨天预报的阵雨，反而下了一场流星雨，可能人们在提前庆祝髯火节吧——但是髯火节下个星期才到啊！不管怎么样，今晚会有雨，我敢肯定。"杜斯利先生呆在了沙发里。流星雨遍布英国？猫头鹰在白天行动？身穿披风的神秘人处处可见？还有传闻，关于波特一家的传闻……

　　杜斯利夫人端着两杯咖啡走进卧室。不行，他必须告诉她一些事情。他清了清嗓子，"嗯，帕尤妮亚，你很久没有收到你妹妹的来信了，是吧？"已如他预料的，杜斯利夫人看上去又震惊又生气。毕竟，她通常会当自己从来没有妹妹。

　　"没有。"她生硬地说："怎么了？"

　　"今天的新闻多可笑，"杜斯利先生含糊地说，"猫头鹰……流星雨……还有许多长相滑稽的人在镇上……""那又怎样？"杜斯利夫人打断了他的话。

　　"我只是觉得……可能……这与她的……家庭有关。"杜斯利夫人呷了一口茶，杜斯利先生不知道自己是否还敢告诉她他听到了"波特"这个名字。他尽量使自己好像是很随意地说出："他们的儿子——应该差不多有达德里这么大了，是吧？""我想是吧。"杜斯利夫人生硬地说。

　　"他叫什么名字？是豪伍吗？"

　　"哈利。如果你问起，我要说这是个难听又普通的名字。""哦，是吗？"杜斯利先生说，他的心猛地一沉。"没错，我赞成。"他们上楼去睡觉时杜斯利先生再没有就这件事讲一个字。当杜斯利夫人洗澡时，他蹑手蹑脚地走到卧室窗口往下面的花园看。那只猫居然还在！它望看街拐角处，好像在等谁。

　　他又在想象了？所有的事会不会都跟波特家有关呢？如果是这样的话……如果他们真的有联系——他简直不敢往下想。