Minerva tossed and turned restlessly, but sleep would not return to her. Finally Albus sat up next to her and lit the end of his wand.
"Minerva, would you like a sleeping potion?" he asked her with no preamble.
She let out a long breath and replied, "Yes, please Albus."
The promised potion was a strong one, meant for deep, dreamless sleep. Minerva succumbed to it almost reluctantly. She did not like the idea of going into a drugged sleep in these times of danger, but with Albus beside her she had nothing to fear. Mere moments after she had drained the glass that held the thick potion, a much-needed deep sleep claimed her; a sleep so deep that not even the nightmares could follow her into it.
* * *
A tabby cat strolled around the corner of Privet Drive. It surveyed the respectable suburban street with distaste, then turned around to have a have a look at the map she had left just around the corner.
A moment later a car drove past, with a large man seated behind the wheel. Minerva noticed the man had an equally large moustache. She quickly tapped her paw on the map and it disappeared. The man in the car jerked his head around to look at her again, and she cursed internally, knowing he had seen the map. He blinked and stared at her. She stared back.
The man watched her in his mirror as he drove away, but she did not notice; she was reading the sign that said Privet Drive. She headed up the street, exploring a few flowerbeds on the way, and once she caught a spider and ate it with gusto.
Finally she reached number four and settled herself on the low garden wall to wait.
It was a long wait, and though Minerva was impatient, it was not entirely boring. Minerva watched the people who lived in the neighbourhood with interest. It kept her pretty much occupied for most of the day.
Some time after five o'clock, a car pulled into the driveway. It was the man Minerva had seen that morning.
"Shoo!" he said loudly.
Minerva did not move. She gave the man a scornful look. He scowled at her for a moment, then went inside.
Minerva jumped off the wall and prowled around the yard for a bit before settling down again to wait some more. She listened to the Muggles' evening news when it came on, then sat unmoving, letting her mind wander and pondering what might be taking Albus so long. She supposed he wanted to wait to do what ever he was going to do until all the Muggles were asleep.
It was nearly midnight when Albus finally appeared on the corner of Privet Drive. Minerva's tail twitched and her eyes narrowed. Albus began rummaging around in his cloak, looking for something, but he seemed to feel her eyes on him, for he looked up suddenly, chuckled, and muttered, "I should have known."
Minerva watched him closely as he pulled a silver something out of his pocket and clicked it twelve times. A streetlamp flickered into darkness each time he clicked it. He slipped the silver Put-Outer back into his pocket and set off down the street towards number four, where he sat down on the garden wall next to Minerva.
"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall," he said after a moment.
He turned to smile at her, but she had transformed back into human form upon hearing her name. She felt distinctly ruffled that he had recognised her, but then, he would.
"How did you know it was me?" she asked.
"My dear Professor, " he replied, "I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."
"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," Minerva pointed out.
"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feast and parties on my way here."
Minerva 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 towards the dark living-room window of number four. "I heard it," she went on. "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."
"You can't blame them," Albus said gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for the last eleven years."
"I know that," said Minerva 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. She glanced sharply at Albus here, hoping he would confirm, or preferably, disprove, the rumours. He said nothing, however, 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 about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"
They had fallen into the habit of being more formal with each other when they were public, although there was no one there to hear them.
"It certainly seems so," said Albus. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"
"A what?'
"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."
Trust Albus to talk about sweets at a time like this, thought Minerva in exasperation. "No, thank you," she said coldly. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone – "
"My dear Professor," Albus interrupted her. "Surely a sensible person such as 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."
First I start saying 'You-Know-Who' because everyone around me flinches when they hear the Dark Lord's name, then Albus chastises me for it, Minerva thought irritably.
"It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who'," Albus went on. "I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."
"I know you haven't," Minerva said exasperatedly. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was afraid of."
"You flatter me," Albus said calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."
"Only because you're too – well – noble to use them," said Minerva, feeling a sudden strong pulse of her love for this man flood through her.
"It's lucky it's dark," he said whimsically. "I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."
Minerva shot a sharp glance at him and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumours that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"
Minerva had finally reached the point she was most anxious to discuss with Albus, the real reason she had waited on a cold, hard wall all day instead of speaking to him back at Hogwarts, where she could take refuge in his strong, tender arms if the rumours were true. She fixed him with a piercing stare. He was choosing a lemon drop and deliberately did not answer her.
"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 rumour is that Lily and James Potter are – are – " she struggled to say the word " - that they're – dead."
Albus bowed his head. Minerva gasped and tears pricked her eyes.
"Lily and James . . . I can't believe it . . . I didn't want to believe it . . . Oh, Albus . . ."
Albus reached out and patted her on the shoulder. His hand was gentle and comforting.
"I know . . . I know . . . " he said heavily.
Minerva's voice trembled despite herself as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potters' son, Harry. But – he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke – and that's why he's gone."
Albus nodded, looking as downcast as she had ever seen him.
"It's – it's true?" she faltered, astonished. "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 . . . but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"
"We can only guess," Albus said. "We may never know."
Minerva pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. Lily and James dead – they had been almost like Minerva's own children at Hogwarts –
Albus looked at his watch, then said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I would be here, by the way?"
"Yes," Minerva said, jolted back to reality. She wanted Albus to hold her in his arms and make her forget the Potters' fate. But she merely said, "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."
Minerva stared at him in shock. "You don't mean – you can't mean the people who live here?" she cried, 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 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!"
"It's the best place for him," Albus said 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?" Minerva repeated faintly, sitting back down on the wall and staring at Albus. "You think you can explain all this in a letter? 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 – there will be books written about Harry – every child in our world will know his name!"
"Exactly," said Albus, looking very seriously at her over the top of his 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't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"
Minerva opened her mouth to say, "We could take him," but changed her mind. As much as she might want to adopt the boy, she knew Albus was right. She swallowed hard and said, "Yes – yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?"
"Hagrid's bringing him."
"You think it – wise – to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?" Minerva asked doubtfully.
"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Albus with a faint hint of reproach in his voice.
"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," Minerva said grudgingly. "But you can't pretend he isn't careless. He does tend to – what was that?"
A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. They looked up and down the street as it grew steadily louder, then up at the sky as it swelled to a roar.
A huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them. Rubeus Hagrid sat astride it, holding a bundle of blanket in his massive arms.
"Hagrid," said Albus, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"
"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," Hagrid said, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."
"No problems, were there?"
"No, sir – house almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."
Minerva and Albus leaned forward over the bundle of blankets to see a baby boy, fast asleep. A curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning, was visible under a tuft of black hair on his forehead.
"Is that where – " Minerva whispered.
"Yes," Albus answered her. "He'll have that scar forever."
"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"
"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."
Minerva smiled to herself despite the circumstances; she knew that scar well.
"Well – give him here, Hagrid – " Albus went on. "We'd better get this over with." He took Harry in his arms and turned towards number four.
"Could I – could I say good-bye to him, sir?" Hagrid asked. He bent over Harry and gave the child what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then he suddenly let out a howl like a wounded dog.
"Shhh!" Minerva hissed. "You'll wake the Muggles!"
"S-s-sorry," Hagrid sobbed, burying his face in a large, spotted handkerchief. "But I c-c-can't stand it – Lily and 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," Minerva whispered impatiently. Then she repented; she was feeling extremely sad herself. She patted Hagrid very gingerly on the arm as Albus stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry down on the doorstep, tucked the letter into the blankets, and turned away, though not before letting the tips of his long fingers rest briefly on the child's face.
The three of them stood and looked at the little bundle for a full minute; Minerva blinked furiously, Albus' usually twinkling eyes seemed dull, and Hagrid's shoulders shook.
"Well," Albus said 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'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall – Professor Dumbledore, sir."
He mounted the motorcycle and rose into the air with a roar. Minerva and Albus watched him as he sped off into the night.
"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Albus, nodding to her and looking into her eyes searchingly. She blew her nose in reply.
Albus turned and walked back down the street, pausing on the corner to take out the silver Put-Outer. Minerva transformed back into cat form. Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange as Albus clicked the Put-Outer. The tabby cat slunk around the corner as Albus disappeared with a swish of his long, purple cloak.