Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I promise.
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Swallow Drive was very much like every other suburban street in England. The immaculate, green lawns contained no toys or any other sign that people lived in the houses. The sidewalks were free of all chalk drawings, and the roads were smooth and black. Eerily similar, the houses stood next to each other in an unnaturally straight line. Big, expensive cars were parked in front of every house, and flowers grew in cheery, bright patches all long the yards.
There was, however, an exception to the cookie-cutter quality of the neighborhood. At the end of the street stood a house, which had probably once looked just like the other ones. Now, though, it was severely neglected, and it appeared quite deserted. The yard was un-cut, and the grass was yellowing and crisp. Bushes graced the walkway un-trimmed, reaching out to snag anyone who attempted to reach the door.
In the seven years he had lived there, no one in the neighborhood had ever properly met the man who lived in this house. The only glimpse they ever had of him was through the grimy windows, where he would sometimes sit, staring at nothing, for hours on end. Occasionally, he would venture onto the rickety porch, where he wood sit on a crumbling rocking chair and clutch a broomstick, tears threatening to spill from his shining eyes.
Swallow Drive residents thought the man was quite mad, and warned their children to stay away from him. Their children, of course, didn't listen, and spent countless hours amusing themselves by throwing rocks at his windows, setting snakes loose in his yard, and otherwise vandalizing his property.
Strangely, the man never reprimanded the children, nor did he ever complain to their parents. They though he seemed stuck in his own world, not caring about, or even noticing, what went on around him.
And, though they could not have known it, the residents of Swallow Drive were right. The strange, dark-haired man took no notice of his surroundings because he was stuck in another world. He spent his days re-living, though he tried not to, memories of his old life, a life he had been forced to abandon.
Images of places and people still came to him as clearly as if he had seen them only the day before. He could clearly picture a red-haired family, an incredibly intelligent brunette, a man with a long, white beard, and a castle where he and his friends had learned magic and fought the most evil wizard that had ever lived. Every day, he remembered a world that had spent seven years searching for Harry Potter.