;
Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said,
"The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You
know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what
finally stopped him?"
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. 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 lemon drop and did not answer.
"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. "
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.
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. 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.
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... but
how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"
"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."
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?"
"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."
"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!"
"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?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back
down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, 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 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! CarA you see how much better off he'll be,
growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"
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.
"Hagrid's bringing