File1, 2, & 3 for sroyer:



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.
Mr Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills
. He was a big, beefy man, with hardly any neck, although he did have a ver
y large moustache. Mrs Dursley was think and blonde and had nearly twice th
e usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of h
er time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbours. The Dursleys
had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy a
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. Mrs Potter was Mr
s Dursley's sister, they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs Dursley
pretended she didn't have a sister, because her good-for-nothing husband w
ere as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to thi
nk what the neighbours would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The
Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never eve
n seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away;
they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.


When Mr and Mrs Dursley woke up on the dull, grey Tuesday our story start
s, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange a
nd mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr Dursl
ey hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work and Mrs Dursley gos
siped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.
None of them noticed a large tawny oul flutter past the window.
At half past eight, Mr Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs Dursle
y on the cheek and tried to kiss Dudley goodbye 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.
It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of some
thing peculiar - a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr Dursley didn't reali
se what he had seen - the he jerked his head aorund to look again. there wa
s a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a ma
p in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick
of the light. Mr Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As
Mr Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in h
is mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive - no,
looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs. Mr Dur
sley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he dro
ve towards town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was
hoping to get that day.


But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something
else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing
that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in
cloaks. Mr Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes - the
get-ups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fash
ion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a hu
ddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. they were whispering excited
ly together. Mr Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't yo
ung at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emera
ld-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr Dursley that this w
as probably some silly stunt - these people were obviously collecting for s
omething...yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on, and a few minutes l
ater, Mr Dursley arrived in the Grunnings car park, his mind back on drills
Mr Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ni
nth floor. If he hadn't he might have found it harder to concentrate on dri
lls that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad dayl
ight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mou
thed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl eve
n at nighttime. Mr Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morni
ng. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone
calls and shouted a bit more. He was in very a good mood until lunchtime,
when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himse
lf a bun from the baker's opposite. He'd forgotten all about the people in
cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them an
grily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This lot
were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin
. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, th
at he caught a few words of what they were saying.

No lines are longer than 80 characters, TYVM. Other specified properties aren't being scored automatically at this time so this is not necessarily good news...