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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

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