It was late July, and the residents of Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey, had been enjoying a quiet summer holiday, something they hadn’t had in ages. For the first time in several years, their summer had not been interrupted in some way. There had been no yelling or yowling, no screams or scurries, no cries or crashes coming from the inhabitants of number four Privet Drive. In fact, there had hardly been any comings or goings from number four at all, something that the neighbors had been whispering about since ‘that boy’ had returned.
Everyone knew ‘that boy’ attended St. Brutus’s Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, and most wished that he would stay there during the summer holiday – or better yet, for the rest of his life. However, Petunia Dursley had explained that once he came of age in little over a year, he would no longer be living with them and would in fact be taken to a remote island where he would be of no danger to anyone. While nobody had ever heard of such a thing, they didn’t question it; as long as he was far away, they didn’t entirely care what happened to him.
The story calmed everyone in the neighborhood except old Mrs. Figg, who seemed jumpier than ever. Several of her neighbors had tried to explain to her that this meant he would no longer be a danger, but she merely started to spout nonsense about some ‘great danger’ they were all in, so they left the matter alone. After all, she was a very old woman, and her mind was obviously going. More than once in the past month, she had been spotted chatting with her cats – a habit that had gotten continually worse in recent years.
At any rate, it had definitely been a quieter summer than was normal, and ‘that boy’ – known to his friends, enemies, and admirers as Harry Potter – was almost nowhere to be found. In fact, unbeknownst to any of the neighbors, he had left Privet Drive behind only a week after his return.
Hardly anybody noticed, of course. Most of the neighborhood usually ignored him or went out of their way to avoid him. Nobody actually knew the boy, of course, but there had been stories. Mrs. O’Grady swore that a strange man in a cloak and a pointed hat of all things had visited number four the previous summer, and while most of the speculation had died down, many were still convinced that he had threatened the Dursleys in some fashion.
When questioned, they became almost twitchy and would quickly change the subject. Since only Mrs. O’Grady had seen the man - and late at night at that - the neighborhood gossips quickly found other pieces of interest to chat about. The recent tragedies were definitely a big point of most conversation this summer: the strange arrests being made throughout Great Britain, the reports of random people being driven insane within minutes, and worst of all, the hurricanes that had been ripping through different parts of the country, becoming more and more frequent and violent as they went.
However, it was now the thirty-first of July, a date that marked several occasions for ‘that boy.’ The first occasion was the fact that it was his seventeenth birthday. The second occasion was the fact that at seventeen, he became of age in the wizarding world, although none of the residents of Privet Drive had any idea. The third and final occasion was the dangerous one, the one that nobody could have guessed: Now that Harry Potter was of age, he was no longer protected by the ancient and mysterious charm placed on him as a baby.
No one living in the area had any idea of what was going to happen, and the only person who could have done anything to defend them was miles away. As the sun set into the west and dusk fell upon Privet Drive, strange figures dressed in black and wearing strange masks appeared in the middle of the street with a loud, echoing crack.
Every nose was suddenly at the nearest window, staring out at the strange black-cloaked people who practically glided up to number four and – to everyone’s shock – knocked the door down. The neighbors watched in astonishment as the silhouette of Vernon Dursley marched through the living room, shouting at the robed figures.
A loud scream was heard from Petunia as a flash of green light filled the household. Several neighbors rushed for their telephones to call in an emergency, but they needn’t have bothered; it was too late. More cracking sounds came from the street, as more strange robed figures appeared. These weren’t wearing masks or hoods and appeared to be fighting the black figures with… sticks? Flashes of light were shooting: green, red, blue, white. Two more loud cracks were heard from inside number four, and suddenly something appeared, floating above the house.