Halloween was, McGonagall decided, a time of frivolity and pleasure, not a time of death and destruction. Sadly with the war going on it was to be expected. Slowly the Light side had begun to lose hope, Voldemort was too strong, and he had too many fighters. So many were terrified up to him. Even Dumbledore had been unnaturally somber. So many bright lives had been snuffed out so effortlessly, so many children had lost their childhood seeing things the most hardened adult would never want to see.
At least it was over; she comforted herself sadly watching Number Four Privet Drive intently. Occasionally her tail would twitch and her eyes would narrow as she watched the beastly child scream and fight with his mother, and watch as his abnormally large father would look at the boy fondly, and chuckle. They were a horrid family from what she had seen so far, the boy not even two was spoiled beyond belief, which of course was unhealthy for the boys and others. McGonagall knew having been a teacher for over twenty years that the boy would grow up to be a bully if things in that household did not change.
McGonagall sighed, as much as a tabby cat could, wondering why the headmaster was coming here of all places. All she knew was that it had something to do with last night. When her brightest students had been murdered orphaning their little boy in the process. Poor Lily, Poor James, they had been so young. They hadn't deserved to die. Poor Harry, already alone in the world, his parent's dead, his godfather missing along with his honorary uncle Peter.
Her attention was once more brought back towards Number Four Privet Drive as the Dursley's turned on the evening news. "And finally," the young newscaster began, "Birdwatchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls usually hunt at night and are rarely ever seen in the daylight, there have been hundreds of these sightings flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping Pattern." The newscaster grinned. "Most mysterious, and now over to Jim McGuffin for the weather report. Going to be any more owl showers tonight, Jim?"
The weatherman, Jim, smiled. "Well Ted, I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting strangely. 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."
Honestly, Owls in the daylight, Shooting stars, and the muggles weren't stupid, if people weren't careful they'd be discovered. That would be ironic the day the world was rid of Voldemort being they day the muggles discovered magic. Going from one catastrophe to the next.
Glancing into the window she saw the fat man sitting petrified in his chair. When the man's wife came into the room carrying two mugs of what McGonagall assumed was tea he cleared his throat. "Er- Petunia, dear- you haven't heard from your sister lately have you? The woman, Petunia, looked shocked and angry. "No!" she exclaimed sharply. "Why?" "Funny stuff on the news, I thought it might have something to do with her lot." The woman sipped her drink staring at her husband thoughtfully.
Her lot, McGonagall thought in a huff. Wizards were not a lot, they were extremely proud and powerful magical race. And if he didn't watch his tongue, somebody might watch it for him. "Her son- he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?" "I suppose so." The woman said stiffly as though she could care less about her nephew. "What's his name again, Howard isn't it?" "Harry. Nasty common name if you ask me."
McGonagall stared at the window in disbelief it was too much of a coincidence. The day that the young Potter defeated Voldemort, being the same day that Dumbledore wanted to come here. McGonagall knew Lily had a sister, but she didn't know that her sister seemed to be repulsed by magic. Albus Dumbledore had some explaining to do.
That was when she heard the soft pop that announced the arrival of some by apparition. There was Albus Dumbledore casually sucking the lights out in his deluminator. McGonagall glared at him, and he looked up as if he could feel her stare. 'I should have known," He said chuckling. Minerva, McGonagall's first name, changed back into a human. "Fancy seeing you here Professor McGonagall," He said pleasantly in the pitch black street. "How did you know it was me?" She asked. "My dear Professor, I have never seen a cat sit so stiffly." What he didn't mention was that no human or animal could replicate her infamous glare.
"You would be stiff too, if you had been sitting on a brick wall all day." She said sounding cross. "All day, when you could have been celebrating. I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here." Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily; people had no common sense these days. "Oh yes, everyone's celebrating all right," she said impatiently, "You would think they would be a bit more careful, but no- even the muggles are noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She said waving her hand in the direction of the Dursley's darkened living room. They had gone to bed awhile ago. "I heard, flock of owls… Shooting stars… Well, they're not completely stupid. Shooting stars down in Kent. I bet that was Dedalus Diggle, he never had much sense.'
'You can't blame them,' Dumbledore said gently," We've had precious little celebrate for over eleven years." "I know that," Professor McGonagall snapped 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 rumors." She threw him a sharp side way glance when she this, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't so she pressed on. "A very fine thing it would be on the day you-know-who finally disappeared, the muggles find out about us." She breathed deeply for a second for a second before deciding she had to know if the rumors were true.
"I suppose he really has gone Dumbledore?" "It certainly seems so, Dumbledore said focused on unsticking to lemon drops. "We have much to be thankful for; would you care for a lemon drop?" "A what?" "A muggle sweet I'm rather found of." "No thank you," she said rather coldly. Honestly lemon drops at a time like this. She shook her head, "As I was saying if you-know-who really has gone-""My dear professor, 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 use his proper name: Voldemort." McGonagall flinched but Dumbledore was too busy with his lemon drops to notice. "It gets all confusing when we call him you-know-who. I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying voldemort's name."
"I know you haven't," Professor McGonagall said sounding half exasperated half amused. "But you're different. You're the only one you-know-who, oh all right Voldemort was ever frightened of." "You flatter me- Voldemort has powers I will never have." "Only because, well you're to noble to use them." "It's lucky it's so dark, I haven't blushed this much since madam Pomfrey had told me she liked my new earmuffs."
Professor McGonagall shot Dumbledore another sharp look before pressing forward. She needed to know if the rumor about the potter's was true. "The owls are next to nothing compared to the rumors flying around. You know what everyone is saying? About why he's disappeared? About what has finally stopped them?" Professor McGonagall had finally come to the point that had her sitting on the cold wall all day. Never before, neither as cat nor as woman had she pierced Dumbledore with such a stare. But Dumbledore who was choosing another lemon drop did not answer.
"What their saying is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James are- are- that they're dead." Dumbledore bowed his head and McGonagall gasped. "Lily- and James, Oh, I don't want to believe it." Dumbledore patted her shoulder. 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 these people." She said jumping up and pointing at the Dursley's home. "They're the worst sort of people imaginable. Harry Potter come and live here." "It's the best place for him," Dumbledore 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." McGonagall repeated faintly. "Really Dumbledore, You think you'll be able to explain this in a letter? These people will never understand him. He'll be famous- a legend- I wouldn't be surprised if today is 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," Dumbledore said very serious over 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't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it? McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind and closed it. "Yes, yes you're right of course. But how is the boy getting here." "Hagrid's bringing him." "Do you think it- wise- to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?" "I trust Hagrid with my life." "I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place. But you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to- What was that?
A loud rumbling noise had filled the sky. It grew steadily louder until a large motorbike had landed on the road in front of them. If the motorcycle was huge it was nothing compared to the man sitting astride it. He was twice as tall as a normal man, and five times as wide. He looked too big to be allowed and he was so wild- long tangles of bushy black hair and beard his most of his face. He had hands the size of trash cans and feet like baby dolphins. In his vast muscular arms he was holding a blue green bundle of blankets.
"Hagrid," Dumbledore said sounding relieved. "At last, where did you get that motorcycle?" "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him sir." "Any trouble?" "No sir- House was almost destroyed, but I got him out before the muggles started swarming." Dumbledore and McGonagall bent over the bundle to see that the baby boy was fast asleep, and there was a thin red scar marring his otherwise flawless face. "Is that where-?" McGonagall asked. "Yes," said Dumbledore. "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.""
"Well – give him here, Hagrid – we'd better get this over with.""Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursley's 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. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.""Shh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!" "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. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulder's shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.
"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'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. 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.
McGonagall changed into a cat, and stared at the front porch of the Dursley's home. She shook her head and slinked around the brick wall, leaving against her better judgment.