It was a bright, sunny summers morning, and there was nothing to suggest that it was going to be anything but a normal day at number four Privet Drive. Sunlight bathed the sitting room in a comforting warmth, and flowers of many colours bloomed in the immaculately mown lawn outside. Birds whistled cheerfully in the blossoming trees, which rustled in the warm breeze, as though whispering unheard secrets to the world outside.
Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Harry were sitting at the table eating their breakfast – Dudley was lounging on the sofa in front of the television, having finished his apple slices and glass of juice in a matter of seconds. Petunia and Vernon were leisurely finishing their slices, and Harry, who was being treated unmistakeably better than any of the previous summers (this was almost certainly because his friends had threatened the Dursleys when they met at the station), was finishing his second bowl of coco pops, taking great pleasure in slurping up the rest of the milk as loudly as possible, in attempt to irritate Dudley. Although Dudley was determinedly staring at the wrestling show on the television, Harry could see the corner of his mouth twitching. Harry smirked.
"I think I'll have some more sugar. It tastes brilliant with the milk, " he said loudly, reaching for the sugar spoon, and slowly sprinkling an extra-large spoonful into his almost empty bowl. He glanced over to his cousin, and saw that Dudley's gaze was resting on the box of cereal, a longing expression in his pig-like eyes. Harry's smile widened. He knew that Vernon and Petunia were struggling to suppress their outrage, and that knowledge made what he was doing even more enjoyable.
"Actually," he said, even more loudly, "I don't think I want this after all. Would you like it Dudley?" He clapped his hand to his forehead, in mock- realisation. "Oh, I'm sorry! You're not allowed are you Dudders? You don't want those muscles turning to flab, do you, Big-D?"
Dudley's mouth twitched again, and glancing over to his uncle, Harry saw that Vernon's face had gone a brilliant shade of magenta. Petunia was staring at her son, biting her lip anxiously.
"Still, maybe putting on a bit more weight might help you," Harry continued. "Instead of pounding your enemies into pulp, you could just jump on top of them. Mind you, I expect you could do that anyway…"
Dudley cracked. "Shut up! You…you…freak!" he yelled, jumping to his feet, his face bright red, his sausage-like fingers clenched. Harry simply smiled.
"Is that the best you can come up with? You're losing your touch, Diddykins."
Dudley took a lumbering step towards him, his fat fist raised. Uncle Vernon quickly got up from the table and stepped between them, blocking Dudley's large figure from Harry's sight.
"That's enough, boy," he said, glaring menacingly at Harry, who simply smiled innocently and shrugged.
"And…and you too, son," he said in a pained voice, turning to Dudley, who mumbled something about being provoked.
"Remember, Duddy, we don't want Harry getting…hurt, in any way." Petunia called to her son. Harry turned to his aunt.
"Don't worry," he said, in mock sincerity, "Dudders is just grouchy 'cause he's lost his favourite food."
On the spur of the moment, knowing that he may be going slightly too far, he grabbed the sugar bowl from the table, darted around Vernon's large figure, and wafted the bowl in Dudley's face. "Mmmmm, sugar."
Two things happened at once. Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry's wrist tightly, and jerked his hand - which was still clutching the bowl - away from Dudley's face, causing a torrent of sugar to spill over the carpet. At the same time, Dudley let out a huge roar, and the framed photo of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia hanging on the wall next to Harry suddenly swooped off it's hanger. Harry ducked just in time as it flew swiftly through the space where his head had been, and smashed into the opposite wall, causing the glass to shatter and cover the floor below.
The crash was ensued by a horrified silence. Harry quickly looked towards aunt Petunia, who was staring, pale faced and aghast, at the picture frame on the floor. He turned to Dudley, and saw that his cousin was also staring at the frame, a confused and somewhat disbelieving expression on his face.
Vernon was the first to speak. "See what you've done now, Potter?" He hissed, turning to Harry, his eyes bulging from their sockets and an ugly purple vein protruding from his forehead.
"But… but it wasn't me…" said Harry slowly.
"Of course it was!" Vernon spat. " Don't lie to me, boy! Who else could it have been…Dudley?"
Harry stared at his cousin once again, and frowned. Surely it couldn't have been… but who else? He certainly hadn't done the magic himself, he was sure of that, so unless Dobby – or some other magical creature – had broken into the Dursleys' home and was keeping itself hidden somewhere, he couldn't think of any other explanation…
"Well?" Vernon snapped, "I asked you a question!"
"It wasn't me!" Harry repeated, anger boiling inside him. "I don't know who it was, but it wasn't me!"
Vernon opened his mouth to speak again, but was immediately distracted; a rather large tawny owl had swooped through the window - which Petunia had opened due to the summer heat. Vernon watched, open-mouthed, as it flew over to the table, dropped a letter next to the fruit bowl, and soared back outside.