A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grewsteadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some signof a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at thesky -- and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on theroad in front of them.
If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sittingastride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and atleast five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed,and so wild - long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most ofhis face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet intheir leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, musculararms he was holding a bundle of blankets.
"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. Andwhere did you get that motorcycle?""Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sit," said the giant,climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young SiriusBlack lent it to me. I've got him, sir.""No problems, were there?""No, sir -- house was almost destroyed, but I got him out allright before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleepas we was flyin' over Bristol."Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundleof blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Undera tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiouslyshaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.
"Is that where -?" whispered Professor McGonagall.
"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 haveone myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the LondonUnderground. Well -- give him here, Hagrid -- we'd better get thisover with."Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys'
house.
"Could I -- could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. Hebent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must havebeen a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid letout a howl like a wounded dog.
"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!""S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spottedhandkerchief 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 withMuggles -""Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid,or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagridgingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden walland 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 ofthem stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook,Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling lightthat usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.
"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no businessstaying 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 -- ProfessorDumbledore, sir."Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swunghimself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; witha roar it rose into the air and off into the night.
"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," saidDumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nosein reply.
Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the cornerhe stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once,and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so thatPrivet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabbycat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. Hecould just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.
"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and witha swish of his cloak, he was gone.
A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which laysilent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you wouldexpect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled overinside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed onthe letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special,not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a fewhours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front doorto put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next fewweeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley... He couldn'tknow that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over thecountry were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices:
"To Harry Potter -- the boy who lived!" |