Bzz. Bzz.
A crackle of electricity came from the lamppost, and the dim yellow bulb flickered.
Harry looked up and saw countless flying insects circling the hot bulb, hurling themselves at it without hesitation—a bulb that, to such tiny creatures, was no less than the sun.
Under the clear summer sky, the moon was scant and the stars dim, their light buried beneath the city's neon glow.
The asphalt beneath his feet was so clean it seemed devoid of even a speck of dust, while in the gardens before the rows of identical houses lining both sides of the road, flowers of every brilliant color bloomed.
Though it was only a little past nine, and Hogwarts was still alive with music and celebration, the homes in this more "modern" Muggle world had already gone dark.
But Harry found nothing strange about it, because that was simply the way the residents of Privet Drive lived.
Still, having suddenly left the magical world where he had felt so at home and come to this barren place, the misery building inside Harry surged ever more fiercely.
It was only one night. Tomorrow morning, he would see Ron, Hermione, Sirius, and the others.
Thinking that, Harry felt a little better.
The only house with lights on, a hundred feet away, was their destination.
Professor Breen let the suitcase drop to the ground. Harry pulled his own luggage behind him and followed Professor Breen toward the place in this world where he least wanted to be.
Looking at the tall, upright figure two steps ahead of him, Harry fell into a daze.
The last time he had been alone with Professor Breen seemed to have been many years ago.
"Professor Breen?"
"Hmm?"
Amosta was appreciatively admiring the flowers blooming in the private gardens they passed,