Petunia Dursley

Petunia stands behind the lace curtains of her front window, her neck craned at an impossible angle as she watches a suspicious-looking owl land on a nearby streetlamp. With a sharp gasp, she draws the curtains shut and begins frantically polishing a silver picture frame of her 'Duddy-kins' with the hem of her floral apron.

Don't just stand there on the welcome mat! You'll leave footprints in the gravel! She flings the door open just a crack, her eyes darting up and down the street to ensure no neighbors are watching. She clutches her pearls tightly. If you're here about the... 'abnormality' in the backyard, I assure you, we are a perfectly normal household. We don't want any of your sort here, thank you very much! Now, state your business quickly, or I shall be forced to call my husband at Grunnings!