Wow, I can't believe that I got so many reviews on just one chapter Thank you so much to all the reviewers and everyone who added this to their favorites story list or story alerts, and to everyone who has actually decided to read this second chapter. I appreciate it, really.

Before we get to the main event, I would like to warn anyone concerned that I am an American, and therefore, I speak and study American English. Please bear with me and alert me if my writing comes across as overly American.

Disclaimer: I still don't own the Harry Potter series. Anything that you recognize comes from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

When I rolled out of my bed and into the shower on Saturday morning, the house was empty, and I was grateful. It was nice to have the house to myself after a week of spending quality time with my brother and sister. I was especially glad that Alec and Penelope were gone because the day before, they had started one of their rare but passionate rows. The things could go on for days before one of the two of them finally gave up, and usually involved pinching, kicking, or hitting when the argument got out of hand. I hated being in the middle. So, while my parents took them to a football match and then a karate tournament, I was more than happy to stay at home. I didn't want to have to sit between them in the backseat.

Besides, I had told Harry that I would meet him in the park today.

As I rinsed Maria's favorite mint shampoo out of my hair (we were out of the strawberry kind that Pen and I shared), I wondered if he would actually show up. It was always possible, and maybe even probable, that he wouldn't come. I probably wouldn't have, if I was him. I wasn't fond of psychopaths. Despite the fact that I wouldn't have come myself, the thought of him not showing up made me sad, probably more than I would have liked to admit.

I had never been one of those people who cared very much about what they wore, especially when I was doing something like going to the park. As long as my clothes were clean, comfortable, and the right size, it didn't matter to me what they looked like. I choose a t-shirt and a pair of jeans at random from my wardrobe, and found a pair of sandals from last summer under my bed. I didn't bother to dry my hair or put on make-up, and instead of sitting down to eat breakfast, I grabbed a couple of apples from the kitchen on my way out.

I had never mentioned a time for Harry to meet me at the park, and if he showed up, I didn't want to miss him because I was eating corn flakes.

I left the house at around nine o'clock, locking the door behind me. Across the street, an old lady neighbor was watering her pansies. She waved at me, and I waved back.

At one end of Magnolia Crescent was Magnolia Road, which led to the park, and at the other end was Rosewood Avenue, the street the library was on. My house was closer to Rosewood, so the walk to the park was nearly twice as long as the walk to the library, but I didn't mind much. It was a really nice day. The sun was shining and it was just a little bit windy outside, the kind of weather that made me want to skip down the street or sing some cheesy song from a musical. I didn't; instead, I took a bite from the first of the two apples.

I saw him from down the street as I turned onto Magnolia Road. His back was turned to me, but I could see the way that his hair stuck up in the back from behind. I couldn't really be sure, but it looked like he was wearing the same clothes that he had worn the last - and the first - time I had seen him. His shoulders were slightly hunched, and he walked with his hands in his pockets. The fact that he seemed to be unhappy, even on a day as nice as this one, made me roll my eyes. Did that Harry Potter kid just spend his entire life being unhappy?

"Hey, Harry!" I called to him. He turned around, a grumpy expression on his face. He seemed a bit surprised to see me, but he stopped so that I could catch up. I grinned and jogged to catch up with him.

I panted slightly as I stopped in front of him. "You decided to come to the park!" I should not have been so happy, but I was.

"Yeah, er…" He looked at me strangely. Wow, would he ever stop doing that? "Kate, right?"

I could feel my smile deflate. "Yes, and you're Harry, right?" I asked, a little snidely. Admittedly, it probably would have worked better if I hadn't called him by name a minute or so before. I shook my head. We had only met once before. It would be normal for him to have forgotten my name. "So, since you hardly remembered my name, I guess that means that you weren't actually coming to meet me at the park?"

"Well, I was going to the park," he said. He looked almost as if he didn't want to hurt my feelings.

"Oh, it's fine," I said hastily. Be friendly, I encouraged myself. "I just didn't want you to think I had forgotten. Because I didn't."

It was a definite understatement, seeing as I had been thinking about it for two days, fantasizing about making friends with the weird grumpy boy from the library. He didn't need to know that, though.

"Do you actually want to go to the park with me?" he asked. He seemed kind of surprised.

I smiled. "Sure. Why wouldn't I?" I held out the apple that I hadn't bitten yet. "Do you want it?"

He took it wordlessly, but he didn't seem so grumpy any more. He continued to walk along, and I walked beside him. The apples were red, and we both munched on them as we walked along.

The park was in sight before I began to speak again. "I don't think I've seen you around before," I began musingly. "Do you go to Smeltings? Or do you go to Stonewall?"

"Neither," he said, chomping on his apple. "I go to a boarding school."

"Oh, really?" That was different. I didn't know any kids who went to boarding schools; nearly everyone who lived around my neighborhood went to either Smeltings, the local private school, or to Stonewall High, the local state school. When Harry didn't elaborate on his school, I supplied, "I go to Stonewall, but I used to go to Smeltings."

I had hated Smeltings. There were a lot of bullies at Smeltings, and they all loved their Smeltings sticks. Even though my best friend Nina's mother was the deputy headmistress and they mostly left her alone, our friend Lizzie and I had been special targets. My parents had given up on sending me to Smeltings after two years. Dad had said that there was no use spending money to send me there if when I wasn't learning anything because I was just miserable. Lizzie had transferred to Stonewall the year after that, too.

"My cousin goes to Smeltings," Harry mentioned, his nose wrinkling just slightly. I guessed that he didn't like his cousin very much.

"What's his name? I might know him." Some of the kids at Smeltings were alright; I was still friends with some of them. The ones that Nina hung around with were pretty nice.

"Dudley Dursley."

Dudley Dursley was Harry's cousin? He had been a year ahead of me at Smeltings, since I had a late birthday, and he was one of the biggest bullies in the school. I could vividly remember my first year at Smeltings, when he and his friends had beaten a boy bloody because he had been doing magic tricks. He was a lump, with an overly-rosy complexion and thick, pale blonde hair. He and Harry seemed to be as different as night and day.

I could just imagine a younger Dudley and Harry playing together at some family function, a little round Dudley breaking scrawny little Harry's glasses and laughing.

"Oh, that's awful!" I burst out. Harry gave me a funny look Then I blushed, realizing what I had just said. "I'm sorry, but he's just such a jerk!"

Harry's lips tilted up slightly. "Try living with him," he said.

"Oh, are you staying with the Dursleys this summer?" I had met the Dursleys before, on a few occasions. They lived a few streets away, on Privet Drive. Maria and Mrs. Dursley were in some kind of garden club together, and all of my encounters with Mr. and Mrs. Dursley had made them seem just as unpleasant as their son. I would have hated to have to stay with them.

Harry's smile-thing vanished. "No, I live with them, actually. I have since I was a baby."

I didn't know what to say, so of course the first thing that came into my mind came out of my mouth. "Well, that must be horrible."

"Tell me about it."

By this time, we had made it into the park. Little Whinging's park was on the large side, with plush green grass as far as the eye could see and a gazebo in the middle. I could hear the not-so-distant sounds of kids laughing on the play equipment, and the pavement around the edge of the park was being used by a pair of runners with a goldent retriever running alongside them. Ignoring the playground, I made a beeline for the gazebo. I had been fascinated by the old wooden structure as a kid, and even when I came to the park with Alec and Penelope now, as a teenager, it was the first place that drew me.

Harry followed me there, and we sat on the wooden bench along the gazebo's sides. Neither of us spoke for a while; I watched him finish the last of his apple, having already finished mine, and toss the core into a nearby trash bin. He sort of stared past me, looking at the kids on the playground with a detached expression.

"Most of them will leave around lunchtime, if you want to play on the swings," I said jokingly.

He gave me a look that clearly suggested that he thought I should leave. "Don't you have something you'd rather do than sit here?"

"No, I actually don't," I replied, feeling more than slightly stung. This boy could get to me in a way that most people couldn't. "I came here because I told you that I would, and I make it a point to keep my promises. Do have something that you would rather do?"

"Yeah, there's something I would rather do," he said, no longer looking irritated but simply unhappy. "I would rather be with my friends, but that's not an option right now."

"If it makes you feel better, my friends aren't around right now either," I offered. When he didn't say anything, I continued to rattle on. "My friend Lizzie's staying with relatives in Dublin, just like every year, and Nina's gone to some special ballet camp. They won't be home until the week before school starts back."

Harry was back to staring at the playground. In all honesty, he was a bit surly. I had thought that I could make friends with him, but I could see that it wouldn't be as easy as I had hoped. When I had first moved to Little Whinging at age eight, making friends hadn't been so hard; nearly all of my classmates had been interested in the "new kid," and when that lost its luster, my seatmates still spoke to me. That's when I knew that Lizzie and Nina would be my best friends. I didn't know what to look for here. I hardly knew him, we didn't have much to talk about, and he didn't seem to want me around anyway.

"Do you really want to go play on the swings?" I asked suddenly. The kids who had been swinging were gone. It looked like they had joined a large group off to the side that seemed to be lining up for red rover.

"What?" Harry blinked.

"Let's go play on the swings." I repeated. "Come on, it'll be fun."

Before he could say anything to that, I grinned. I grabbed his arm and started to drag him to the play area with a grin. He pulled his arm away as we stepped out of the shade and into the sunlight.

"Kate, I don't want to play on the swings," he said. I could barely keep myself from laughing out loud at the expression on his face.

"Oh, yeah, you do," I told him. "I saw you staring at them. Besides, who doesn't like to swing? We have to move fast if we want to get there before some kids. Let's go." I turned, hurrying towards the swing set.

He scowled, but he followed me.

I grinned as I kicked my swing off the ground, and in a few moments, I was hurtling back and forth through the air. Beside me, Harry sat on the other swing but didn't move at all. The look on his face reminded me of someone forced to entertain a small child. Despite his being a spoilsport, I was enjoying myself as I swung higher and higher.

"It's so much fun!" I remarked to Harry gleefully. I probably hadn't had this much fun on the swings since primary school. "This must be what flying is like."

"No, it's nothing like flying," he said. As soon as I had said the word "flying," his eyes had lit up with a weird intensity. It was just a bit mesmerizing. "Flying is so much better."

"Pshaw, like you would know," I said, slowly sticking my feet out and allowing myself to slow down. "I suppose that you fly all the time, don't you?"

He didn't say anything. It was almost like he didn't even hear me.

Then I heard my stomach growl. Apparently, one apple wasn't enough breakfast. I reached in my pocket, checking to see how much pocket money I had grabbed before I left the house. I had enough to get something from the bakery down the street.

"I'm going to the bakery down the street," I informed Harry. "Do you want to come?"

"I don't have any money."

"I think that I have enough to buy you something, if you're hungry," I offered. "Their cinnamon buns are to die for. Oh, and they have great doughnuts."

"Are you sure that you have enough money?" he asked slowly.

"Sure I do." I said, smiling. "Does that mean that you'll come along?"

He sighed. "Why not?"

The bakery was across the street and a few buildings down from the entrance to the park, and it took only a few minutes for Harry and I reach the door to the bakery. As we stepped inside, I was hit by a the sweet, homey scent of baked goods. There was no one at the counter then; the baker was most likely in the back, cooking something. My stomach growled as I looked through the glass at the spread of delicious-looking pastries.

"What do you want, Harry?" I asked.

"Er…" He didn't seem to know. "What are you getting?"

"Cinnamon buns, they're my favorite. But everything here is good."

"Maybe a chocolate doughnut?" I didn't know if he was asking or telling.

"Sure, if that's what you want. Do you just want one?" I wasn't sure if I had enough quid for two doughnuts and two cinnamon rolls, but I would have gotten one bun for me and two doughnuts for him. The idea didn't bother me.

"Yeah, one is fine."

Before I could ask again if he was sure, a heavy-set man in a flour-covered apron waddled into the room. "What can I get for you?" he asked impatiently.

"Er, two cinnamon buns and a chocolate filled doughnut, please," I said.

I watched as the baker placed the pastries in two separate white paper bags, then handed over my pocket money when he gave me a price. I had just enough money, which delighted me to no end. Harry and I sat on the street corner outside of the bakery, where we ate our still-warm food. The cinnamon buns were just as good as ever, but as I watched Harry devour his doughnut in a few bites, I wished that I had bought him two doughnuts and gotten myself just one bun instead. He still looked hungry.

I wondered if Dudley was so fat because he ate all of Harry's food.

"Do you want some of mine?" I asked, pulling my second cinnamon bun in half. Before he could answer, I virtually shoved half of it into his hand. "Here, take it."

"I don't want it," he told me stonily. Stubborn boy.

"Neither do I," I replied, trying to match his tone. It was half of the truth. I hated to sit there eating like a pig in front of him.

He ate it anyway, and when we had both finished, we sat there for a moment in awkward silence.

"What do you want to do now?" he asked me finally. I grinned at him, surprised.

"Why, Mr. Potter, you sound as if you might actually want to spend time with me," I teased, though a rational part of me thought he probably just liked me because I kept giving him food. He just shrugged, mumbling something about not having anything better to do. I ignored that. "Let's go back to the park."

"Do we have to play on the swings some more?"

"Only if you want to. I was thinking that we might just talk, though that doesn't appear to be your favorite hobby." I paused to think.

I was afraid that I was coming off as desperate and lonely, or even worse, as if I fancied him. Please, I barely knew him. I just wanted to spend time with someone my own age. Lizzie and Nina were out of town. If I had to listen to Dad and Maria talk about the prime minister's foreign policies any more, I would scream, and listening to Alec and Penelope squabbling any more about who cheated who at Cluedo would make me pound my head against a wall. That was why I had stayed at home, instead of including myself in their day of family fun.

"Look, Harry," I said finally, "I'm sorry if I'm acting weird. I just thought it would be nice to hang out. Like I said before, my best friends are out of town, and Little Whinging is really boring when you don't have anyone to joke around with. I thought that I would try to make a friend. It just turns out that I'm not very good at it."

Harry stared at me for a long moment. I looked away, directing my eyes at the ground. I had always thought that I was good at reading people, but no matter what, I just couldn't understand him. I was making a fool of myself over him for no discernible reason at all. Hell, I barely even knew him.

"Well, er, I don't think that you're bad at it."

His voice dragged me out of my thoughts so suddenly that I couldn't tell if he was speaking English, French, or Swahili. I blinked, looking up at him.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"I don't think that you're bad at it. Making friends, I mean."

If he had suddenly sprouted wings and taken off flying, I wouldn't have been more surprised.

"I'm not?" I asked. That same strong surprise was slowly shifting to excitement. "So it isn't absolute torture to spend time with me?"

"No." He stood up, then offered me a hand up. I took it, then dusted myself off as he continued. "You aren't that bad. I would rather be here with you than stuck on Privet Drive with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia."

Was he actually saying that to me, or was he thinking out loud? Still, though, I smiled at the words. "Thank you. It's always flattering to hear that you outrank relatives."

He didn't say what we were probably both thinking, which was that it would be easy for any half-decent person to outrank the Dursleys any day of the week. Without much talk, the two of us crossed the street again. As we came near the park, I peered across the stretch of green ahead of us towards the playground area. I made a show turning to frown at Harry, poking my lower out.

"Oh no, all of the swings are taken."

Harry groaned.

It didn't take much time for the summer to fall into a simple, easy pattern. Weekday mornings, I ate breakfast with my family before Dad and Maria went off to their jobs. Shortly after that, Alec and Pen would be sent off to some sort of practice or tournament or day group, and I would be required to clean up the kitchen before I left the house. At some point before lunch, Harry would walk by the house on his way to the park, and I would grab my pocket money and dash up the street to catch up with him. We would sit either in the gazebo or on the swings nearly all morning, and at lunch, we would either walk down the street to one Little Whinging's greasy spoons or I would make sandwiches and we would picnic at the park. All day, we would talk nothing or sit in a mostly comfortable silence. Dad would stop by the park on his way home from work, and I would have to go home and help with dinner.

And then on the weekends, my family dragged me along to all of their karate tournaments, football games, and daytrips. It wasn't a bad way to spend the summer at all, and even though I wished that Lizzie or Nina was around, I wasn't actually lonely without them. I was happier than I had expected.I was already begin to dread the idea of Harry going to boarding school in September, but I was sure that we had the whole summer ahead to have lazy days at the park.

I was wrong.

"Sweetheart," my stepmother began one Saturday evening in the beginning of August, "I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

I knew that something was up immediately, not from her choice of words (Maria called everyone "sweetheart" or "dear"; it was in her nature), but from her tone. We were alone in the kitchen, assembling ingredients for that night's dinner. Maria and I always made dinner together; both of us loved to cook, and it was fun to try out new recipes and dishes together. While we cooked, Dad and the my siblings were outside, laughing and yelling. Any time when Maria and I were alone and she used that tone, I knew that we were about to have a conversation about something I wouldn't like.

"Alright, what's up?" I walked to the refrigerator and began to take out an egg.

"I think that you should stop seeing that Potter boy."

I almost dropped the egg on the floor. "What? Why do you think that?" My voice sounded shocked and almost angry. I would have to tone it down a bit.

"Well, it's just that last week, at the garden club meeting, I was talking to his aunt, and…" Maria made herself busy by rummaging for something in the pantry. "And, well, Petunia let it slip that your friend attends a…special school."

"He goes to boarding school," I said slowly, fighting to keep my voice even. Where was she going with this? "What's wrong with that? It's just some school in Scotland." Or at least that was what he had told me.

"Kate, I would hardly call Saint Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys 'just some school in Scotland.'" She looked up at me, her expression stern but her eyes remorseful. "Your father and I are just worried that something might happen, that's all."

"You think that Harry is a criminal?" I asked in disbelief. "You think that he would hurt me?" It was a funny thought. She wouldn't think that if she had been there when I met him for the first time.

"Not on purpose, sweetheart, but accidents do happen -" Maria began.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. How could she listen to Harry's awful Aunt Petunia about anything? Harry's aunt and uncle, and from the stories that he had told me, I didn't doubt that she would tell such an extreme story. Harry had never told me the name of his school, but I was certain that he didn't go to any school like that Saint Brutus's. He wasn't a criminal. He was my friend, not some psychopath.

"Harry would never do anything to me, whether it was accidental or not!" I said loudly. I didn't just drop the egg now; I threw it on the floor in anger. "He isn't a nutter, and he isn't a criminal. Even if he was, what does it matter? He's my friend, and I don't care if he is a criminal! Which he isn't, by the way!"

At that moment, Dad slid open the patio door. His face was nearly as red as his auburn hair, and sweat was dripping into his gray eyes. Dad was slightly on the tall side and skinny, but he was handsome. He looked as natural in a suit and tie, his usual work clothes, as he did in the sweat-soaked t-shirt and jeans he wore now. "Is everything alright in here?" he asked. He smiled at us both.

It was bad timing on his part. "Are you in on this?" I demanded to know. "Maria's in here trying to keep me away from my friend! She thinks that Harry's some kind of psychopath! Do you think so, too, Dad?"

His smile vanished. So, he was in on it. "Kate, sweetie, please just listen-"

"I don't want to listen!" I yelled. "I can't believe this! You're trying to keep my from my friend! It's so unfair, Harry's never done anything to me and he wouldn't anyway and…" I knew what words were coming out of my mouth next, and I knew that I couldn't stop them. "Mum would never do something like this!"

I felt ashamed as soon as the words came out of my mouth. Dad's face became even redder, if at all possible, and Maria gave me an incredibly sad look that reminded me of a kicked puppy. And as if the shame over what I had said and the anger over what they were trying to do weren't bad enough, I suddenly wanted my mum so badly that it ached. I felt tears stream down my face, and it seemed like there was only one thing for me to do now.

I ran as fast as I could and wished that no one could catch me.

I couldn't keep up my pace for long, and as I crossed the alleyway onto Wisteria Walk, I slowed down. The tears hadn't eased yet, and all that I could think about as I walked was my mum. Mum would have never even considered trying to keep me away from my friend. My mother wasn't like my stepmother at all. Mum was open-minded and encouraging and always so honest. The first thing that Mum would have done if someone told her my friend was a criminal would have been to come meet him herself. She seen how lonely he was and how mean his aunt and uncle were and she would have made me invite him over every night for dinner. She would have been proud of me for becoming his friend. Of course, she probably would have killed me for acting like such a prat.

I missed her so much.

The thing that really made me sad was that most of the time, it seemed that I was the only person who ever thought of her. Dad had gotten remarried, and even though I did love Maria and Pen, it usually seemed like Dad used them to replace my mum. Alec hardly remembered Mum. He had been three when she died, and Maria was the only mum he had ever known. I doubted that he would have had a clue what she looked like if the two of us didn't take after her. No one ever talked about her. The only picture we had of her was in my room, where he never went. He didn't remember her bedtime stories or her favorite red jacket or that she would take us out for ice cream every Friday afternoon, even in the middle of winter.

I was almost at the end of Wisteria when I heard someone yelling.

"And - it - had - better - be - you - and - you - can - tell - him - why - you - weren't - there -to - help!" The words were separated by the sound of something rattling, and I stopped for a moment to wonder what it was. Of course, there was only one way to find out, and I continued on my way towards Privet Drive.

As I came closer, there was a loud cracking sound, and as I began to walk faster, I heard the voice begin to speak again.

"I hope that Dumbledore murders him! Now come on, Harry, what are you waiting for?"

What was a Dumbledore? I wondered, then I realized that the person was talking to Harry. I wiped my eyes, then began to jog towards the voices.

I could clearly see out Harry's profile in the light from the streetlamps, and beside him was a little old lady who looked familiar. I recognized her as Mrs. Figg from Wisteria Walk. Leaning heavily against Harry's side was massive, quivering form with blondish hair. Was that Dudley Dursley? I ran over to them, just as Mrs. Figg began speaking again lowly.

"Harry?" I called. "Mrs. Figg? What's going on?"

Mrs. Figg half-jumped as she turned around, while Harry could barely crane his head around to look at me.

"Kate," Harry wheezed. It must have been hard to half-carry Dudley.

"Oh my God, what happened to him?" I asked as I reached them finally, coming to stand in front of Harry and Dudley. Dudley looked awful; his face looked like whitish putty, and he was sweating heavily. His eyes were glassy. He was mumbling under his breath and shaking, and when I (against my better judgment) pressed my hand against his forehead, his skin was abnormally cold and clammy for a balmy summer's evening. He couldn't stand up on his own, that was for sure.

"Oh, he just got sick," Mrs. Figg said, nervously shaking the bag of cat food in her hand. "Harry's just trying to get him home, so if you'll move out of the way…"

Dudley was an arse, and he probably deserved to get sick. I knew that, but it didn't make me worry any less. Did he just get just a virus or cold, or was it something serious? When people started to look like that for no apparent reason, it was always a good reason to worry. I looked at Harry, about to ask if this was normal. He was pale, too, though not as pasty as Dudley, and it was obvious that holding his cousin up was nearly killing him.

I was openly gaping. "Here, let me help you," I said, trying to position myself under Dudley's other arm. I knew that I couldn't support him as well as Harry, but I thought that between the two of us, we could surely make it to Harry's house.

"Thanks," Harry gasped. Slowly but surely, we began to move towards the Dursleys' house, Number 4. It was miserable, holding up roughly a hundred pounds of sweaty Dudley on my side, and it must have been worse for Harry, because he was still trying to catch his breath as we reached Number 3. All the while, I was wondering what had really happened. Could this really be just an illness? Surely not. With every step I took, I began to doubt that Dudley was just sick.

"Harry," I grunted as we - finally - started up the walk to his aunt and uncle's house. I could see a light on inside. "What's going on? Is he really just sick? Is…"

"Kate, look, I can't," he wheezed, "…can't explain…"

"Why not?" I asked. We reached the doorstep, and Harry reached forward to buzz the doorbell. I tried to prop Dudley up a bit, slowly moving out from under his arm.

"Look, I just can't. Not right now." He took a deep breath and buzzed the bell. "Thanks for the help. You should really go now. Goodbye."

"Harry, I don't -" I began, just as the door opened and Harry's aunt stepped out. I could see her outline, but it was too dark to see her face.

"Diddy! About time too, I was getting quite - quite - Diddy, what's the matter?"Harry barely made it out from under Dudley's grip before he vomited all over the doorstep. I jumped back off the step, barely resisting the urge to swear. Mrs. Dursley howled. "Diddy! Diddy, what's the matter with you? Vernon? Vernon!"

"You should go now," Harry told me again, as his uncle started to waddle towards the door. "It's going to get messy." I wanted to tell him that it was already messy, but the wan look on his face told me not to argue. I backed up as the Dursleys started trying to haul Dudley into the house.

"Alright. Er, Goodbye, Harry, I'll see you on Monday. Bye, Dudley, hope you feel better soon!" I scrambled down the walk, hearing the Dursleys yelling at each other, at Dudley, at Harry.

"Goodbye, Kate," Harry said, and his low words rang in my ears all the way down Privet Drive.