"Harry, Harry, are you all right?" A somewhat familiar voice reached his ears, drawing Harry's consciousness back to reality once more.
Harry groggily opened his eyes. His vision was still blurry, and it took a while to gradually clear. Before him stood an elderly woman with gray hair and deep wrinkles at the corners of her eyes.
Harry's head felt like a muddle, and it took him a while to realize he knew the elderly woman in front of him. She was Mrs. Figg, who lived two intersections away.
She was a rather eccentric old woman who rarely interacted with the neighbors in the community. Most of the children in the neighborhood knew of her, however, because she had three exceptionally clever cats.
Dudley had once wanted a cat after seeing how clever hers were. But later, when relatives brought a few cats along on a visit, those furry, adorably dim creatures made Dudley abandon the idea.
"Mrs... Figg..." Harry blinked. His head felt dazed, and his thoughts were still sluggish. Only after a while did he realize he was actually lying in the street, with seven or eight scattered onlookers gathered around him.
"What... happened to me?" Harry asked hesitantly. His mind was in chaos, and for the moment, he could not remember what had happened.
"I was about to ask you. I just saw you suddenly collapse on the ground, twitching all over." Mrs. Figg gave him a strange look. "Can you get up on your own? I can't pull you up."
"I... I think so." Harry tried moving. Although his body and limbs felt terribly weak, he could still move them. With a little effort, he propped himself up into a sitting position.
Seeing that he seemed all right, the people around him decided there was nothing