A loud crack split the silence of Privet Drive, and one by one, the lights went out. Albus Dumbledore looked around the dark street and smiled. He'd never looked more out of place than he had in this muggle neighborhood. It was as far from the wizarding world as he could get.
He walked up to a cat sitting on a short wall. "I should have known you'd be here, Professor McGonagall."
The cat leapt from the wall, becoming a stern looking woman in green before it hit the ground. McGonagall frowned at Dumbledore.
"How did you know it was me?" she asked. Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling.
"My dear, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."
McGonagall sniffed. "You'd be stiff too, if you'd spent all day sitting on a brick wall."
"You weren't celebrating?" Dumbledore asked. "I must have passed a dozen parties and feasts on my way here."
"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 Dursley's dark window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls, shooting stars." She shook her head. "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," Dumbledore pointed out gently. "There's been very little to celebrate these last eleven years."
"I can blame them for being careless," McGonagall answered. "Wouldn't it be a fine thing, if on the day You-Know-Who finally disappeared, the Statute was broken?" She paused, eyeing Dumbledore. "I suppose… he really has gone?"
"It certainly seems that way," Dumbledore said distractedly. He was searching his pockets. "We have much to be thankful for, Minerva. Lemon drop?"
"What?"
"Lemon drop," he repeated. "A muggle sweet that I'm rather fond of."
McGonagall glared. "This is hardly the time for candy, Albus. Even if You-Know-Who has gone—"
"Come, Minerva, you're a sensible witch," Dumbledore interrupted. "Surely you can call him by his name — Voldemort." He pretended not to notice her flinch. "No sense in being frightened of saying a name."
"I know you don't think so," said McGonagall, sounding half-exasperated, half-admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know—" He glanced up at her and she huffed. "Oh, all right, Voldemort – was frightened of."
"You flatter me,"said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."
"Only because you're too, well, noble to use them."
"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."
Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing to the rumors that are flying around. Do you know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"Dumbledore hummed noncommittally, focused more on unsticking two lemon drops. McGonagall pressed on. "They're saying that last night Voldemort turned up at Godric's Hollow, looking for the Potters. They're saying that, that Lily and James are… are dead."
Dumbledore sighed heavily and dropped his head. McGonagall gasped. "Lily and James. Oh, I couldn't, I didnt want to believe it."
"I know, i know," Dumbledore patted her shoulder.
"That's not all," McGonagall continued, voice shaking. "They're saying that he tried to kill the Potter twins, Elowen and Harry. But he couldn't. He couldn't kill those children." Dumbledore said nothing. "No one knows why or how, but they say that when he couldn't kill Harry and Elowen, it broke his power. They say that's why he's gone."
Dumbledore nodded, brushing away the fleeting irritation that both twins were being lauded as heroes, rather than just Harry like he'd planned.
"It's true?" McGonagall gasped. "After all he's done… all the people he's killed… he couldn't kill two little kids? It's just astounding… of all the things to stop him… but how in the name of Merlin did they survive?"
"We can only guess," Dumbledore answered. "We may never know."
McGonagall sniffled, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing her eyes. Dumbledore pulled out a watch and looked first at it, then at the sky.
"Hagrid's late," he mused. "I suppose he's the one who told you I'd be here?"
"Yes." McGonagall arched an eyebrow. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here of all places?"
Dumbledore nodded at the Dursley house. "I've come to bring Harry and Elowen to their aunt and uncle. They're the only family the twins have left."
"Not the people who live here?" McGonagall cried, pointing angrily at the house. "Dumbledore, you can't. I've been watching them all day, they're the worst sort of muggles. Harry and Elowen Potter, grow up here!"
"It's the best place for them," Dumbledore said firmly. "Their aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything when they're old enough. I've written a letter."
"A letter?" McGonagall hissed. "You really believe you can explain everything in a letter? They'll never understand those children. The twins are going to be famous, everyone in our world will know their names! I wouldn't be surprised if today was declared Potter Twins Day in the future!"
"Exactly why they must grow away from that," Dumbledore explained. "Imagine growing up with that kind of notoriety. It's enough to turn a grown adult's head, let alone two young children! Famous before they can walk and talk! Famous for something they won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off they'll be, growing up away from all that until they're ready to take it?"
McGonagall hesitated, then sighed. "I suppose you're right." She looked Dumbledore over. "So where are the twins then?"
"Hagrid's bringing them."
As if on cue, a low rumbling filled the night. Both wixen looked up to see a large motorcycle approaching from the sky. When it landed in front of them, Hagrid got off and picked two bundles up from the sidecar. He walked over to the waiting professors.
"Hagrid,"said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorbike?"
"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said Hagrid. "Young Sirius Black lent to me. I've got them, sir."
"No problems, were there?"
"No, sir – house was almost destroyed but I got 'em out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. They fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundles of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy and girl, both fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over the boy's forehead, they could see a jagged cut like a single bolt of lightning. Angry red lines branched out from under the girl's red hair and over her face like she'd been struck by the same lightning, narrowly missing her eye.
"Is that where…" McGonagall trailed off in a whisper.
"Yes," Dumbledore said sadly. "They'll have those scars forever."
"Couldn't you do something about it?"
"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in useful. I have one myself above my left knee which is a perfect map of the London Underground." After a moment just watching the babies, Dumbledore sighed. "Well, give them here, Hagrid – we'd better get this over with."
Dumbledore took the twins in his arms and turned towards the Dursley's house. He walked up to the porch and set both twins down, then waved his wand and set up a series of protective charms. He paused then turned back to his companions.
"They'll be safe and warm until morning," he reassured them. "Nothing more we can do for them now. We've no business staying here. Might as well go and join the celebrations."
Hagrid nodded. "I'd best get this bike back." He swung a leg over the bike and it roared to life. "G'night, Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall."
Professor McGonagall turned sharply and disappeared with a loud crack. Dumbledore clicked his deluminator three times and the light returned to the street. He gave one last look to the sleeping Potter twins.
"Good luck, Harry and Elowen Potter," he whispered, then turned on his heel and was gone.
Privet Drive was silent once more, a breeze rustling through the hedges. Harry rolled over in his blankets, one hand closing on the letter. He snuggled into his sister, neither child knowing they were special, not knowing they were famous, not knowing owing they would be woken in a few hours by their aunt's screech as she opened the door to put out the milk bottles, nor that they'd spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by their cousin Dudley. They had no way of knowing that at that very moment, people were meeting in secret all over the country, holding up their glasses and toasting quietly: "To Harry and Elowen Potter, the Twins-Who-Lived!"