Rain poured down, tirelessly lashing the tightly shut living room window at Number Four, Privet Drive.
The coffee table had been pushed aside, and two desks temporarily brought in occupied the open space in the middle, forcibly cobbled together into an examination room.
The atmosphere was so oppressive it was almost hard to breathe, not because of magic, but because of an even more torturous ritual-the weekly summer holiday test.
Mr. Dursley had come home from work.
Then he had started this weekly test.
Thank goodness Mr. Holmes had provided specific standards for carrying it out; otherwise, he had no idea how much trouble it would have been.
Vernon Dursley paced between the two desks with a sullen, purplish-red face, like a walrus patrolling its territory.
Although the television was on, its volume had been forcibly turned down until it was almost inaudible, and the screen was showing the dull evening news.
Vernon clutched a loudly ticking pocket watch, his leather shoes beating out a heavy rhythm on the wooden floor with every step.
"Fifteen minutes until you hand in today's final comprehensive paper!"
Vernon announced gruffly. He already knew the whole examination procedure by heart.
He stopped beside Dudley, his gaze bearing down on his son's paper with almost physical weight.
"Dudley, stop chewing your pen! Sit up straight! Think about your ranking at Smeltings next term. Surely you don't want to lose out academically to certain... certain layabouts!"
Harry silently rolled the eyes he had fixed on his paper.
Aunt Petunia stood nervously in the kitchen doorway.
She held a plate of apples cut into small pieces, with even the cores carefully removed, but she dared not step forward and interrupt her husband's sacred invigilation ritual.
She could only stare at her precious son with eyes full of