'Don't you be clever with me, boy! I want to know what you're really up to - and don't
give me any more of this listening to the news tosh! You know perfectly well that your
lot -
'Careful, Vernon!' breathed Aunt Petunia, and Uncle Vernon lowered his voice so that
Harry could barely hear him,'- that your lot don't get on our news!'
'That's all you know,' said Harry.
The Dursleys goggled at him for a few seconds, then Aunt Petunia said, 'You're a nasty
little liar. What are all those -' she, too, lowered her voice so that Harry had to lip-read the
next word, - owls doing if they're not bringing you news?'
'Aha!' said Uncle Vernon in a triumphant whisper. 'Get out of that one, boy! As if we
didn't know you get all your news from those pestilential birds!'
Harry hesitated for a moment. It cost him something to tell the truth this time, even
though his aunt and uncle could not possibly know how bad he felt at admitting it.
'The owls… aren't bringing me news,' he said tonelessly.
'I don't believe it,' said Aunt Petunia at once.
'No more do I,' said Uncle Vernon forcefully.
'We know you're up to something funny,' said Aunt Petunia.
'We're not stupid, you know,' said Uncle Vernon.
'Well, that's news to me,' said Harry, his temper rising, and before the Dursleys could call
him back, he had wheeled about, crossed the front lawn, stepped over the low garden wall
and was striding off up the street.
He was in trouble now and he knew it. He would have to face his aunt and uncle later and
pay the price for his rudeness, but he did not care very much just at the moment; he had
much more pressing matters on his mind.
Harry was sure the cracking noise had been made by someone Apparating or
Disapparating. It was exactly the sound Dobby the house-elf made when he vanished into
thin air. Was it possible that Dobby was here in Privet Drive? Could Dobby be following
him right at this very moment? As this thought occurred he wheeled around and stared
back down Privet Drive, but it appeared to be completely deserted and Harry was sure
that Dobby did not know how to become invisible.
He walked on, hardly aware of the route he was taking, for he had pounded these streets
so often lately that his feet carried him to his favourite haunts automatically. Every few
steps he glanced back over his shoulder. Someone magical had been near him as he lay
among Aunt Petunia's dying begonias, he was sure of it. Why hadn't they spoken to him,
why hadn't they made contact, why were they hiding now?
And then, as his feeling of frustration peaked, his certainty leaked away.
Perhaps it hadn't been a magical sound after all. Perhaps he was so desperate for the
tiniest sign of contact from the world to which he belonged that he was simply
overreacting to perfectly ordinary noises. Could he be sure it hadn't been the sound of
something breaking inside a neighbour's house?
Harry felt a dull, sinking sensation in his stomach and before he knew it the feeling of