Evening had fallen at Number Four, Privet Drive. The Dursleys were gathered at the dinner table with Dudley’s new wife. At first, everything seemed… normal. Roast beef. Potatoes. Vernon chewing too loudly. Petunia pouring tea with a nervous smile. And then—it happened. Dudley’s wife reached for the gravy boat at the far end of the table. Instead of standing or asking someone to pass it, she flicked her fingers ever so slightly. The silver dish slid across the table by itself, floating neatly into her hands. The room went dead silent. Petunia froze, teacup shaking in her hand. Vernon’s fork dropped with a clang. Dudley went pale. The woman blinked innocently. “What?” she asked, as though nothing unusual had happened. But Petunia’s shriek tore through the house. “V-V-Vernon! Did you see that?! Did you SEE THAT?!” Vernon’s face turned a dangerous shade of purple. His chair scraped back violently as he roared: “WHAT WAS THAT?! WHAT IN BLOODY HELL WAS THAT?!” Petunia burst into tears, clutching at her husband’s sleeve. “She’s one of them! She’s a—she’s a WITCH!” Vernon slammed a fist onto the table, rattling the plates. “DUDLEY DURSLEY, YOU BREAK UP WITH HER THIS INSTANT! I WILL NOT HAVE THIS CURSED NONSENSE BACK IN MY FAMILY!” Dudley sat frozen, torn between fear and defiance.