-•AUREUS SERPENTES•-

The Boy Who Survived.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number 04, Privet Drive, were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to house anything strange or mysterious, they didn't put up with such nonsense.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. Mr. Dursley was a wide man, with a large bushy blonde moustache and a small, Stubby neck. Mrs. Dursley was a housewife, with blonde hair and a long neck which helped her peek over their fence and spy on their neighbours. The Dursleys had a small baby boy, named Dudley, who looked very much like his father. The Dursleys believed him to be the epitome of all things perfect.

The Dursleys were perfect despite one large secret of theirs. They were related to the Potters. Mrs. Potter and Mrs. Dursley were sisters, though they didn't like eachother very much. In fact, they hadn't met in years. Mrs. Dursley despised her sister so much she pretended she didn't have a sister. The Dursleys knew the Potters also had a small son, though they couldn't bear to think how horrible the boy would be, with parents like that. That was another reason they distanced themselves from the Potters; they couldn't bear to have Dudley mix with the spawn of such people.

On the 1st of November, our story begins. It was a dull, gray, ordinary Tuesday and Mr. Dursley was getting ready for work. He put on his most boring tie and Mrs. Dursley chattered away while wrestling a wailing Dudley into his high chair.

None of them noticed a large tawny owl flying by the window.

Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek and tried to kiss Dudley but failed because Dudley was now throwing his cereal at the wall. "Little monster," chuckled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He backed out of number four's driveway and onto the road to his office.

Mr. Dursley saw the first odd event near the sign of privet drive- where a cat was reading a map. Not realising what he's seen, he whipped back to look. There was a tabby cat sitting there in the corner but there were no maps on sight. As he drove further away, he saw the cat in his rear view mirror, reading— no looking at— a sign. He shook his head and put the cat out of his mind. He instead thought about the large order of drills he was hoping for today.

However, while sitting in the usual traffic jam, drills were driven out of his mind. There were oddly dressed people everywhere, people in multi-coloured cloaks. Mr. Dursley shook his head, "Young people nowadays"

But a few of the strangely dressed people weren't young at all, that man had to be older than him and he was sporting a tall, pointed magenta hat. Mr. Dursley muttered and drummed his fingers on his steering wheel before coming up with an explanation- this had to be some kind of stunt- yes, they were probably collecting for something. And by the time traffic cleared up and Mr. Dursley made it to the Grunnings parking lot, his mind was back on drills.

If it weren't for the fact that he always sits with his back to the window, he might've pointed and gawked at the owls flapping past the ninth floor. No, Mr. Dursley spent his day yelling at his employees, making important phone calls and yelling some more. When lunch rolled around, he was in a very good mood. So, he went to the baker's across the street to buy himself something.

When he was leaving the bakery, he saw a huddle of cloaked figures whispering excitedly. He wrinkled his nose and shifted uneasily. He caught a few words they were saying-

"The Potters, yes, that's what I heard too-"

"-yes, it was their son, Harry-"

"-I can't believe he's finally gone-"

Mr. Dursley stopped in his tracks, rooted with fear. He felt he should say something but thought better of it.

He hurried back to his office, snapping at his secretary to not disturb him and nearly called Mrs. Dursley. He changed his mind and put the receiver down. Potter was a common name, and he wasn't even sure his nephew's name was Harry. It could've been Harvey, or Harold. He was sure there were plenty of Potters with sons named Harry. Besides, he didn't want to upset his wife with something as unnecessary as this. She always become so upset at the mention of her sister, he would be too- if he'd had a sister like that...