Not for the first time, an argument had broken out over breakfast at number four, Privet Drive. Mr. Vernon Dursley had been woken in the early hours of the morning by a loud, hooting noise from his nephew Harry’s room.
“Third time this week!” he roared across the table. “If you can’t control that owl, it’ll have to go!”
Harry tried, yet again, to explain.
“She’s bored,” he said. “She’s used to flying around outside. If I could just let her out at night —”