"The Boy Who Lived"
Everyone looked at Harry, who promptly blushed.
"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much."
"Normal? There's nothing normal about them!" Hermione yelled as she remembered the book summary.
"They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense."
"Where's the fun—"
"—in that?"
"Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills."
"What are drills?" Arthur Weasley asked excitedly.
"A Muggle tool meant to make holes, mostly wood, to help build houses, furniture, etcetera," Hermione explained matter-of-a-factly.
"And, does it have anything to do with a rubber duck?"
"No."
"He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large moustache."
"And, is disgustingly ugly and really stupid," Ron added.
"Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbours."
"A bit nosey isn't she?" Bill asked sarcastically.
"The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere."
"That's a lie!" Harry shouted.
"We know Harry," Fred said soothingly.
"How on earth can you say 'small' and 'Dudley' in the same sentence?" George inputted and everyone snickered.
"The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters."
"I would imagine it would be the other way around," Percy stated and the twins gaped at him.
"No—" George started.
"—way!" Fred finished.
"Percy just said a joke!" They exclaimed together.
"I have heard you say a joke since you were eight years old!" Fred exclaimed wide eyed with a wide smile.
"Oh shut up!"
"Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be."
"That's horrible! How can they treat family like that?" Molly asked in shock; she couldn't imagine treating family like that...Especially after she lost her twin brothers, Fabian and Gideon Prewett, in the first war.
"And, 'unDursleyish' isn't even a word," Bill stated.
"Yeah, but that was one of the most imaginative things they ever came up with," Harry stated and everyone chuckled.
"The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbours would say if the Potters arrived in the street. "
"Yeah because that's what's important!" Percy replied sarcastically. He might not get along with his brothers, but he could never imagine acting this way about his family.
"The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him."
"I wish that stayed true," Ron said angrily. Here he was jealous of his best mate and he lived with these Muggle gits for ten years. 'It's amazing Harry turned out alright with these IDIOTS as his family!'
"This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that."
"Well, duh, why would they want a chance to show how much better Harry is than him?" Hermione stated like she was answering a teacher's question.
"When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country."
"Which, of course, means that's a lot of unusual stuff will be happening," Bill said carelessly.
"Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work,"
"That shouldn't be too hard since all of his ties are nothing but a dull gray," Harry informed everyone.
"and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair."
"Brat," they all said as one.
"None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window."
Molly and Arthur both looked at each other, and thought the same thing, 'This must be when You-Know-Who disappeared.'
"At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls."
"It seems nothing's changed," Harry said and everyone muttered "brat" once again.
"'Little tyke,' chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house."
"Where? I don't see one!"
"That's because it's a book and not a memory, Charlie."
"Shut up Bill." Charlie pouted and everyone laughed.
"He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.
It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar — a cat reading a map."
"I bet it is McGonagall."
"You're probably right, Ron."
"Of course, I am Hermione, I'm always right!"
"Well, I haven't seen it." Hermione chuckled as Ron pouted.
"For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen — then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. "
"Yeah—"
"—right."
"Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive — no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs."
"No, but an Animagus can."
"Only if they know how to read, Bill."
"Then you won't be reading maps or signs, would you Charlie?"
"What's that supposed to mean you prat?"
"Exactly what it means you bloo—"
"Shut up both of you! I don't care HOW old you are, I'll still bend you over my knee! And, watch your language Bill!"
"Yes, mum," they mumbled and everyone snickered; until she glared at them as well.
"Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day."
"Oh what fun," Fred said sarcastically.
"A real party animal that one is," George added.
"But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks."
"Uh! They have no idea how much trouble this caused. I even had to help modify memories all of the Muggles for this one," Arthur groaned out.
"Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes —"
"Doesn't look at mirror much, does he?" Ron asked.
"Oh they do, I just think there's something wrong with their eyes. You should see some of the clothes they bought Dudley (and gave me)."
"the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdoes standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together.
Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt —these people were obviously collecting for something… yes, that would be it. "
"Boy, he can make up excuses!" Hermione exclaimed in disbelief.
"The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills."
"Well at least he cares about his work." Percy may hate this Muggle (already), but he can at least appreciate someone who cares about their work.
"Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at night-time."
"Why's that Hermione?"
"Because, Ronald, owls aren't used by Muggles to deliver mail and thus don't keep owls. Owls are nocturnal naturally (they sleep during the day and are awake at night) so most Muggles don't see them."
"But, Hermione, Errol—"
"—doesn't sleep during the day."
"That's because Wizard owls are charmed at birth to change their natural behaviour. That's why you can't just take an owl you find in the woods and use it to deliver your mail," Arthur answered for Hermione.
"Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more."
"Uh! This Muggle is horrible!" Charlie groaned out.
"U-um, w-what's a t-telephone…?" Ginny stuttered out and blushed when Harry looked at her. He had forgotten she was there!
"It's like Floo calling, except you don't stick your head in a fire and don't see who you're talking to," Hermione explained in lecture mode. "They also have mobile phones now, mostly used by celebrities and politicians that let you call someone anywhere you are."
"Muggles invent the coolest things!" Arthur exclaimed with stars in his eyes.
"He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery."
"More like—"
"—roll!"
"He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.
'The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard —'
'— yes, their son, Harry —'"
"They're talking about me? But, why?"
"Harry dear, we think this might be November first nineteen eighty one," Molly Weasley said in the gentlest voice she could.
"Oh."
"Mr. Dursley stopped dead."
"Yes!" Fred and George cheered together.
"Boys!"
"Sorry Mum."
"Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it."
'Think? Since when can he think?' Ginny thought acidly.
"He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialling his home number when he changed his mind."
"Well, that summed up four hours quite nicely."
"How do you know it was four hours, Charlie?"
"How fast do think Dursley can move, Perce?"
"Oh, good point." Everyone snickered.
"He put the receiver back down and stroked his moustache, thinking… no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name."
"In the Muggle world," Hermione said before the Weasleys could disagree.
"He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold."
"You know, I'm still not sure if he knows my name."
"There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her — if he'd had a sister like that…"
"There's nothing wrong with Lily Potter!"
"You knew my Mum, Mrs. Weasley?"
"We met once in Diagon Alley. She was still pregnant with you and I was still pregnant with Ron. I gave her some motherly advice. She went into hiding a couple of months later," Molly said sadly. 'It's too bad she didn't get much chance to put my advice into practice. She was looking so forward to being a mother.'
"but all the same, those people in cloaks…
He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.
'Sorry,' he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell."
"I didn't think he knew HOW to apologize!"
"Or course he does Forge, how else is he going to suck up to his bosses?"
"Good point Gred. Just imagine it, 'I'm sorry but I am a git and will always be a git.'" Everyone laughed at that.
"It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak.
He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, 'Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!'"
Hermione, Ron and Harry looked at each other and thought the same thing, 'Not as gone as we would have liked.'
"And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle"
"His arms fit?" Ron asked stunned and everyone chuckled.
"and walked off.
Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was."
"People that can't do magic."
"We know that Hermione." Ron snickered as Hermione blushed.
"He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination."
"No surprise there," Fred commented.
"Yeah, even Perce is better than this guy," George added.
"Fred! George!"
"Alright, alright, keep your wig on," the twins said in unison to their mum.
"As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw—and it didn't improve his mood — was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning."
"McGonagall," Ron repeated only to be ignored.
"It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.
'Shoo!' said Mr. Dursley loudly."
"Not gonna work," the twins said in a sing-song voice.
"The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. "
"See! If that's not McGonagall then I'll eat Scabbers!"
"Ronald, that's disgusting!"
"Sorry Mum."
"I am not your Mum!"
"I'll stop calling you Mum when you stop acting like that!"
"Ah, young—"
"—love!" Both Hermione and Ron blushed while everyone laughed!
"Was this normal cat behaviour? Mr. Dursley wondered."
"Of course not you idiot," Bill said scathingly.
"Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.
Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ('Shan't!')."
"Brat," everyone muttered once again.
"Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:
'And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern.' The newscaster allowed himself a grin.
'Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?'
'Well, Ted,' said the weatherman, 'I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early — it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight.'
Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters…
"See this is why I even had to help with memory modifications. If HE could figure it out, anyone could figure it out."
"But, Dad, he already knows about wizards and magic though, so shouldn't he at least been able to put the pieces together?"
"Err…good point Charlie."
"Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er — Petunia, dear — you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"
As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister."
Everyone glared at the book at that one. The Weasleys being such a close family can't even imagine being so awful to your family for just being different than you. Hermione glared because she always wanted a brother or sister and it makes her furious that she would take advantage of that. Harry just hated the Dursleys all together.
"'No,' she said sharply. 'Why?'
'Funny stuff on the news,' Mr. Dursley mumbled. 'Owls…shooting stars…and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today…'
'So?' snapped Mrs. Dursley.
'Well, I just thought… maybe… it was something to do with…you know…her crowd.'"
"Is it really that hard to say wizards?" Ginny muttered to herself.
"Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name 'Potter.' He decided he didn't dare."
"Bloody coward."
"Language Charlie!"
"Yes, Mum!" Charlie apologized even though he didn't sound apologetic at all.
"Instead he said, as casually as he could, 'Their son — he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?'
'I suppose so,' said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.
'What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?'
'Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me.'"
"Better name than Dudley you stupid horse face!" Fred shouted angrily.
"'Oh, yes,' said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. 'Yes, I quite agree.'
He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.
Was he imagining things?"
"Thought you didn't approve the imagination Dursley," Arthur said hotly.
"Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did… if it got out that they were related to a pair of — well, he didn't think he could bear it."
"This almost makes me want to tell the world that they're related!"
"No way Bill, what—"
"—has Harry ever done to you?"
"Oh, good point. Sorry about that," Bill said sheepishly.
"The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind… He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on — he yawned and turned over — it couldn't affect them…"
'Don't people know you never say that?' Ginny thought; she still can't quite talk in front of Harry.
"How very wrong he was."
"Of course he was," Harry said bitterly.
"Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. 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. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all."
"Man I would go nuts," George said in amazement to McGonagall's patience.
"A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.
Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt.
He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore."
"Dumbledore left me there?"
"Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome."
"He just doesn't care; who would be able to tell Dumbledore off?" Bill asked.
"He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, 'I should have known.'"
"Whoa! He didn't—" Fred started.
"—know something?" George finished.
"He's lying!" They exclaimed together.
"He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop."
"Wicked! I want something like that!" Ron yelled excitingly while he bounced on his chair.
"He clicked it again — the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it. 'Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall.'"
"Ha! I told you!"
"No one disagreed with you Ronald," Hermione said as Ron glared at her.
"He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled."
"We've seen that look—"
"—once—"
"—twice—"
"—a hundred times—"
"And, you still haven't figured out to stop?"
"Course not Hermione, where's the fun in that?"
"'How did you know it was me?' she asked.
'My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly.'
'You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day,' said Professor McGonagall."
"Who asked you to?"
"Don't sound so rude William!"
"Sorry Dad."
"'All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here.'"
Ron's stomach rumbled at the mention of food. "When lunch Mum?"
"After one more chapter; what do you like Hermione?"
"Well…uh…can we have roast beef maybe," Hermione answered hesitatingly, and quickly said, "If that's alright with you Mrs. Weasley!"
"That's fine, dear."
"Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.
'Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right,' she said impatiently. 'You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no — even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news.' She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. 'I heard it. Flocks of owls… shooting stars… Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent — I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense.'"
"Ooh, we've got to get Diggle to show us how to do that!"
"You two will do know such thing!" Molly said heatedly and the twins knew better than to comment back.
'You can't blame them,' said Dumbledore gently. 'We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years.'"
"Felt much longer than that though," Arthur muttered to himself and Molly nodded her head in agreement.
"'I know that,' said Professor McGonagall irritably. 'But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumours.'
"Creating more work for me…" Arthur mumbled a little irritable.
"She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. 'A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"
'No,' Hermione, Ron and Harry thought.
"'It certainly seems so,' said Dumbledore. 'We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a sherbert lemon?'
"A what?" Ron asked confused.
"A Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of," Hermione explained.
"A what?"
"A sherbert lemon. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."
Everyone chuckled at that. "Looks like Ron's more like McGonagall than we thought!" Fred snickered.
"Yeah, and Hermione's like Dumbledore!" George laughed. "Always knew you were a bit off your rocker Hermione!"
"George!"
"I'm not George, he is!"
"No, I'm Percy, the smart one!"
"Hey!"
"What? You know it's true." Fred and George pouted while everyone broke into laughter.
"'No, thank you,' said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for sherbert lemon. 'As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone —'
'My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this "You-Know-Who" nonsense — for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort.'"
Everyone but Harry flinched at the name.
"Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two sherbert lemon, seemed not to notice. 'It all gets so confusing if we keep saying "You-Know-Who." I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's (flinch) name.'
'I know you haven't,' said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. 'But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort(flinch again), was frightened of.'
'You flatter me,' said Dumbledore calmly. 'Voldemort had powers I will never have.'"
"That's because you're too noble to use them," Ron said.
"'Only because you're too — well —noble to use them.'"
Everyone chuckled while Ron blushed.
"Maybe we should—"
"call you Ronagall!"
This caused everyone to break into full on laughter.
"'It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs.'"
"Ew," Everyone said together in disgust.
"Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said 'The owls are nothing next to the rumours that are flying around. You know what they're saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?'"
"Yes," the Weasleys said in unison.
"It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now."
All of the children shuddered at having to face this stare multiple times.
"It was plain that whatever 'everyone' was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another sherbert lemon and did not answer."
"That man always does this, he thinks it's funny!"
"That's because it IS Mum."
"Oh be quiet Bill," Molly said and everyone snickered.
"'What they're saying,' she pressed on, 'is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are — are — that they're — dead.'"
All of them looked ready to cry except Ginny and Hermione who were actually crying. Harry looked like he was punched in the gut, and Ginny gave him a hug without thinking about it.
"Thanks Ginny," Harry said sadly and her face became of shade of red never seen before in the mortal realm.
'I can't believe I just did that! But, he looked so sad and vulnerable, and he didn't seem to mind. It was kind of nice…'
"Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.
'Lily and James… I can't believe it… I didn't want to believe it… Oh, Albus…'
Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. 'I know… I know…' he said heavily."
Everyone just looked sadder at that, even the twins couldn't find a way to improve the mood.
"Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. 'That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry."
"BASTARD!" Molly shouted. Everyone gaped at her, who would have thought that Molly Prewett-Weasley could swear?
"But he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's (flinch) power somehow broke — and that's why he's gone.'"
"Are you sure you don't remember anything Harry?"
"Just a green light and his laugh," Harry said dejectedly as everyone shuddered at that.
"Dumbledore nodded glumly.
'It's — it's true?' faltered Professor McGonagall. 'After all he's done… all the people he's killed… he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding… of all the things to stop him…"
"Really Harry, you are an awesome baby!" Ron exclaimed.
"It wasn't me!"
"B-but, Harry the books—"
"Hermione, Dumbledore said it was my mum sacrificing herself for me that saved me. It had nothing to do with my power."
"But, Harry there's probably something about you that affected it." Harry didn't have a response to that so he just stayed quiet.
"but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?'
'We can only guess.' said Dumbledore. 'We may never know.'"
"My mum."
"And, something else."
"Whatever you say, Hermione."
"Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, 'Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?'"
"Hagrid is easy to get information out," Charlie said chuckling.
"We know," Harry, Ron and Hermione together which caused Molly to eye them suspiciously.
"'Yes,' said Professor McGonagall. 'And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?'
'I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now.'"
"I wish you didn't," Harry mumbled to himself with a sigh.
"'You don't mean – you can't mean the people who live here?' cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. 'Dumbledore — you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son — I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"
"Yeah! What were you thinking, Albus?" Arthur exclaimed.
"'It's the best place for him,' said Dumbledore firmly. 'His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter.'
"A letter? Does he really think he can explain all this in a letter?" Ron exclaimed.
"'A letter?' repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. 'Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter?"
Everyone chuckled again as Ron's ears turned red.
"These people will never understand him! He'll be famous — a legend — I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future —"
"It's not, is it?"
"No, Harry," Percy informed him.
"Thank Merlin for that." Everyone laughed hard at that, they know how much Harry hated his fame. Just imagine if he DID have a holiday named after him?
"there will be books written about Harry — every child in our world will know his name!'"
Harry just grumbled something under his breath and everyone laughed again.
"'Exactly,' said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. 'It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?'"
"Harry would have been fine, he has natural modesty," Hermione said proudly.
"I dunno, he's got a point. I might have gotten a big head."
"You're such a downer Harry," Bill said as Harry looked away pouting.
"Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, 'Yes — yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?' She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it."
"He better not!" Molly yelled.
"'Hagrid's bringing him.'
'You think it —wise — to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?'"
"I would trust Hagrid with my life; which I guess I am."
"'I would trust Hagrid with my life,' said Dumbledore."
"Looks like Harry's—"
"—like Dumbledore too."
"Bill—"
"—Charlie—"
"—That's our thing!" The twins shouted as Bill and Charlie chuckled and stuck their tongues out at them.
"'I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place,' said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, 'but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to — what was that?'
A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky — and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them."
"COOL!" Fred shouted.
"I want one!" yelled Ron.
"That's almost as brilliant as dragons!" Charlie exclaimed.
"If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild — long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins."
"Such lovely descriptions." George laughed.
"In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets."
"Aww," Hermione, Ginny and Molly cooed as the boys snickered and Harry blushed.
"'Hagrid,' said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. 'At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?'
'Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir,' said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. 'Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir.'"
Molly and Arthur's faces darkened at the mention of the treacherous traitor Sirius Black.
"'No problems, were there?'
'No, sir — house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol.'"
"Oh, that's so adorable!" Ginny said without thinking. Harry looked at her in astonishment which caused her to hide her face in her hands. 'I can't believe I said that! Stupid. Stupid! STUPID!'
"Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning."
Harry unconsciously pushed his hair down to hide his scar.
"'Is that where —?' whispered Professor McGonagall.
'Yes,' said Dumbledore. 'He'll have that scar forever.'
'Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?'"
"I wish."
"'Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well — give him here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with.'"
"That's—"
"—awesome!"
"Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.
'Could I — could I say good-bye to him, sir?' asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss."
"Aww," Hermione and Molly cooed (Ginny stopped herself in time).
"Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.
"'Shhh!' hissed Professor McGonagall, 'You'll wake the Muggles!'"
"Who give a sh-"
"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!"
"Sorry, Mum."
"'S-s-sorry,' sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. 'But I c-c-can't stand it —Lily an' James dead — an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles —'
'Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found,' Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door.
He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two."
"He just left me there?" Harry asked astonished. 'Of course, I probably would have been better off kidnapped than staying with the Dursleys.'
"For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out."
And, everyone looked at harry sadly.
"'Well,' said Dumbledore finally, 'that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations.'
'Yeah,' said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, 'I best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall — Professor Dumbledore, sir.'
Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.
'I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall,' said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.
Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps ("Still so cool!") so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four."
'Good luck, Harry,' he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone."
'I can't believe he just left the greatest boy ever to be born like that!'Ginny thought angrily.
"A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles,"
"Ha! Didn't see that coming, did you Aunt Petunia?"
"nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley…"
Harry unconsciously rubbed his arm.
"He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: 'To Harry Potter — the boy who lived!'"
"I really wished they wouldn't."
"One more chapter before we can eat, right Mum?"
"Yes, Ron."
"Alright! Well get it started already Bill," Ron said impatiently.
"Right then," Bill said as he picked up his wand, "Legen."