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"The boy who lived," Dumbledore read out as everyone leaned in, in interest, even the Pureblood's couldn't hide their interest. The Marauders had huddled next to each other with Sirius next to Rigel and Lily who was next to James while Remus, Peter and Marlene sat on either side of them with Alice sitting beside them next to Frank LongBottom who was her boyfriend.
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.
"How boring," James snorted as Sirius nodded in agreement.
Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills.
"What are drills?" Mr. Weasley asked eagerly as Molly rolled her eyes at him fondly, "Mr. Weasley," Lily called out kindly, "Why don't you write down anything you want to know and I'll explain it to you later." Arthur smiled brightly at her as James stared at her in awe while all of the Black's except for Sirius and Regulus, the Lestrange's, the Hawthorne's except for Rigel and Lucius Malfoy stared at them in disgust.
He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere. The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.
"What have we got to do with them?" James asked his parents in confusion, "I don't know son," Fleamont said, his face mirroring his son's confusion, "I've never met someone called Dursley in my life."
Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be.
"Mrs. Potter," James said in astonishment, "Good for nothing," Fleamont cried out.
The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.
"Well if this Potter child is my son," James cried out indignantly, "I wouldn't want him to associate with you either."
When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair. None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window. At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.
