The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind.... He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on -- he yawned and turned over -- it couldn't affect them....

    How very wrong he was.

       Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.

         A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.

        Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

        Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging (翻察) in his cloak (斗篷), looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."

       He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again -- the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement.

　　杜斯利夫妇上了床。杜斯利夫人很快便睡着了，但是杜斯利先生却睡不着，翻来覆去地想着。在他入睡前最后一个稍微安慰的想法是：即便整件事与波特家有关，也并不意味着一定会牵扯到他和他太太。波特家非常清楚他和帕尤妮亚是怎样看待他们的……他觉得他和帕尤妮亚不可能与将来可能发生的事有任何关联。他打了一个呵欠并翻了一个身。不让波特影响到他们的……他真是大错特错。

　　杜斯利先生可能已经忐忑不安地进入了梦乡，可是外面那只在墙上的猫却毫无睡意。它一动不动地坐在那里，眼睛一下也不眨地盯着普里怀特街的拐角处。即使有汽车车门砰地一声关上，两只猫头鹰从头顶飞过，它也不动一下。实际上，直到将近午夜它都没动。

　　这时一个男人出现在猫一直盯住的拐角处，他出现如此突然又无声无息，以至你会认为他是从地下冒出来的，那只猫动了一下尾巴，眯起了双眼。

　　这个人从未在普里怀特街出现过。他又高又瘦，从他那银白色的头发以及长到可以塞进皮带的胡子，可以看出他已经很老了。他穿着长袍，一件拖到地的紫色披风以及一双高跟、带扣的靴于。他耶双半月形眼镜底下的蓝色眼睛炯炯有神。他的鼻子又长又弯，好像被至少扁过两次。这个男人的名字是艾伯斯。丹伯多。

　　艾伯斯。丹伯多没有意识到他的到来是如此的不受欢迎。他急急忙忙地翻着披风找东西。但是他好像并不知道自已被人盯住，这时他猛一抬头，看到一只猫在街的另一头远远地盯着他。不知道为什么，他觉得这场面很好笑。他边笑边喃喃自语："我应该早就知道的。"他发现他要找的东西原来在口袋里。这是一只银色的打火机。

他打开它，高高举起来"咔嚓"一声点着，最近的街灯扑的一下灭了。他再点一次，下一盏街灯也灭了。他一共点了十二次，直到最后整条街只剩下远处两盏绿豆大小的灯，原来是那只猫的两只眼睛。如果有任何人此时往窗外看，即使是眼睛圆得像珠子似的杜斯利夫人，她也无法看清楚人行道上有什么东西。