Harry slunk warily along the footpath, his head slightly bowed, eye’s darting up and down the

street, glancing every now and then left and right. His right hand hovered over the pocket in his

worn out faded jeans where his wand lay hidden, but within easy grasp. His fist was unconsciously

clenching and unclenching. Most people would have found the misty cool night air soothing,

pleasant, but Harry was on edge.

As he rounded the corner of Privet Drive, he stopped. His head turned to survey the street before

him. There was nothing out of the ordinary, but he knew someone was there, somewhere, lurking in

the darkest corners, or hidden by magic. He could feel their presence as sure as he knew he was

standing there himself. He waited for someone to show. He never knew who it would be, but he

could predict their appearance down to the last second. He stood for a moment, almost
overwhelmed by his impatience. It had been the same every night ever since he had been at his

Aunt and Uncles. And tonight, as before, a figure gradually emerged from the nothingness.