The Dead of Night
Harry awoke, gasping for breath. He leapt out of bed, ran downstairs, and raced through the front door, to see if his dream was real.
He realized it was by the faint green glow before he had even looked into the sky. The Dark Mark was visible in the sky, and judging from the distance it was set a few blocks away.
“The Death Eaters, here in Little Whinging.” Harry thought as he tore down the street.
He ignored the furious yells from the Dursley’s and was oblivious to the stares and whispers of their neighbors.
He arrived in front of the home with the Dark Mark above it, and was glad now more than ever that Mrs. Figgs had been moved several days before.
