He stood up, slowly, and peeked under the door. The house seemed empty enough. Of course, it was never empty enough- Harry would give anything for it to be completely empty. Nonexistent. He wanted out!
Anyways, because of Vernon's shoddy skilllessness, he opened the door with a simple turn of the knob, and walked downstairs with a bag full of his most important possessions, and right out the front door.
He stopped at the foot of the driveway. Where exactly was he going? It wasn't as if he had the faintest idea. He was simply following his feet. So he hitchhiked for a little while, then realized that it probably wasn't the safest thing to be hitchiking while Voldemort was on the loose.
What the hell would Voldemort be doing on Privet Drive? Harry thought to himself.
Moments later, a flashy looking sportscar turned onto the street. An odd looking figure wearing an oversized sombrero sat in the frontseat. He stopped in front of Harry.
"Want a ride, .. er.. uh. Kid?" The voice was ominous, yet sounded like its owner was trying extremely hard to sound casual. It sounded not unlike a harmonica being run over by a garbage truck. It took all of Harry's willpower to not collapse into a fit of laughter.
"Er.. Yes, could you take me to.." His mind went blank. "Uh, the Station, I guess. Please."
"As you wish," it said, in a seething, ominous, cackling voice. "I mean, Hey, why not." The squished harmonica voice again.
At this point, Harry felt a little threatened. "You're not Voldemort, are you?"
"AAH, human, do not say my name. Er. I mean, no, of course not. My name is Bob."
So Harry climbed into the car with "Bob" the sombrero man who was obviously Voldemort.
Oh my.