杜思丽先生急忙地穿过街道，回到办公室。他严厉地对秘书说，不要打扰他，一手抓起电话，拨打他家的号码，几乎就要拨通时，改变了主意。他将话筒放回原位，并轻抚自己的胡子。他想，他太笨了，波特并不是一个特殊的名字，他确信有许多叫波特的人，而且他们的儿子也叫波特。想了一想，他甚至不能认定自己的侄子就叫哈利。他从未见过他侄子。或许，可能叫哈维，或哈迪。所以没有必要再去惊扰杜思丽夫人；她一提到她的妹妹就浑身不愉快。如果他有像她那样的妹妹,他不会责怪她。但是，尽管如此，那些身披着斗篷的人，，
那个下午，他发现把注意力集中在钻床上有点难，当离开大楼时已经是下午五点钟了，一身疲倦，当他刚走出大门时，撞到了一个人。
一个矮小的老头绊了一下，几乎就要跌倒了。”对不起“他嘟囔道。几秒种后，杜思丽先生意识到这个老头披着一件紫色的斗篷，他几乎跌倒在地上，但看起来并不生气。相反，他脸上露出灿烂的笑容，发出的声音高而尖，引人侧目。”别担心，尊贵的先生，今天没有什么事情会惹我生气！因为“神秘人总算走了！甚至你这种麻瓜都应该庆祝！，真是个值得高兴的日子！
老头说完，抱了下杜思丽的先生的腰，然后走开了。
德思礼先生站在原地一动不动，仿佛生了根。他刚刚被一个完全陌生的人搂过。他还想到自己被称做“麻瓜”，不知这是什么意思。他心乱如麻，连忙朝自己的汽车跑去，开车回家。他希望这一切只是幻象，他从来没有幻想过什么，因为他根本不赞同幻想。
当他驶入四号车道时，第一个映入眼帘的就是早上他见过的那只花斑猫，这并没有使他的心情好转。这时猫正坐在他家花园的院墙上。他肯定这只猫和早上的是同一只：眼睛周围的纹路一模一样。
“去……去！”德思礼先生大喝道。
猫纹丝不动，只是狠狠地瞪了他一眼。这难道是一只正常的猫的行为吗？德思礼先生感到怀疑。他先让自己镇定下来，随后就进屋去了。他仍决定对太太只字不提。
He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking... no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her -- if he'd had a sister like that... but all the same, those people in cloaks...
He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.
"Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"
And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.
Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.
As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw - and it didn't improve his mood -- was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.
"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly. The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.