The first day finally arrived, and Little Whinging Secondary had a new class arriving from the primary school. Much chattering went on between the students before the morning bell rang, about summer adventures and fall expectations. Only two people were out of sorts because of the boy's absence. His cousin was still, of course, recovering from the entire ruckus. Nightmares of gargantuan hairy men with bewitched umbrellas continued to plague him.
The other student preoccupied with Harry Potter's lack of attendance lived two streets over from him. Lisa Smith looked around the halls for the boy. For weeks she'd been wanting to ask. She'd looked outside her window one day, and had seen her most favorite animal flying outside. Then more had followed. And then even more. Once she had finally gotten up the nerve and followed, she saw that each one of them landed around the same house. His house.
She had to ask him about the owls right away.
But he didn't come. He was at another school. He couldn't tell her whether his uncle had been cursed by a witch who sent owls to torment him, or if Harry was to be the new Owl-King Supreme and rule them. He couldn't tell her if Privet Drive was the burial of Merlin's owl Arcimedes, and the Dursley's were desecrating his final resting spot. So she went through her year without answers, and other things flooded her thoughts and she forgot.
There's an age where every child stops believing in magic.