The past parcel

It was a quiet evening today at the privet drive. The sun had just set and the sky had a serene glow somewhere between a pale yellow and fluorescent orange, the time between the day and the night, with just a smidge of the glow of stars starting to develop. It was the most peaceful time of the day and yet it almost seemed like the calm before the storm, a misfortune waiting to happen.

On first look, all the houses on privet drive could be defined as quite, dull and monotonous, the typical neighborhood with – the nosy neighbor, the jealous neighbor, the helpful neighbor, the pompous neighbor and so on; but one house appeared to stand out a lot, although seemingly normal it was a bundle of a lot of strange noises, uncalled for explosions and peculiar house guests; the same house outside of which today a certain young adult was standing and staring as if it were not a house but an atom bomb and if not watched would explode into tiny bits and pieces. That house was no.4 Privet Drive though for the lack of a better name although somehow it almost seemed like an insult to the house that it were lacking of one, considering the amounts of conversations that it had been a part of.

If you were to pass by privet drive you wouldn't notice or care about its occupants, you wouldn't make it a part of your life or even your conversation. It would be meaningless after all its just another neighborhood, but if I were to tell you that in this very neighborhood was someone who held the fate of the world in his hands , the fate of your lives and the fate of all eternity that existed or would ever exist , I wonder if you would pay attention then ?