It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead.
He raised his wand and murmured, 'Portus! ' For a moment the kettle trembled, glowing with an odd blue light; then it quivered to rest, as solidly black as ever.