“The Boy Who Lived,” Hermione read. “I wonder who that is.”
“It looks as though the book starts with what people tend to think and call you as,” Luna said to Harry, who looked at her, surprise evident on his face.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“You're known as the Boy Who Lived to most of the wizarding world,” Cedric said. “It's has something to do with the reason as to why you're famous.”
“So Harry is the Boy Who Lived?” Hermione said. Cedric and Luna nodded their heads.
“So the person who wrote that letter and sent the books really wasn't kidding when they said that Harry was the main character. I mean, not only does the book bare his name, but the first chapter deals with him as well,” Hermione said.
“Was there any doubt that they wouldn't be about him after that letter, though,” Cedric said. No one said anything, but Harry was still having a bit of trouble believing this fact, even with what was just said and what had been in the letter. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley
“Hey, that’s my aunt and uncle's last name,” Harry stated, a bit surprised, since he hadn’t been expecting anything in the story to be true. However, the fact that it had their name in the beginning was a bit suspicious to him, and he was beginning to wonder if he was wrong to have immediately written off the letter as being false. of number four, Privet Drive,
“And that’s our address,” he said, starting to believe that the letter and what these books were about as being truer now. Of course, that didn't make him all that happy, because he was slightly afraid of just what else would be said about them. were very proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you’d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn’t hold with such nonsense.
“Is that true, Harry?” Luna asked, curiosity in her voice.
“Yeah, they hate anything that may suggest that something was anything but normal,” Harry said. He smiled. “They would definitely hate this, if they knew about it.” His smile then faded as he wondered just what they would do if they learned that he was here, reading books that were supposedly about his future, brought to him and the others by magic. He barely held in the shudder that the mere thought of their reaction brought up. Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache.
Harry’s slight grin let the others know that it was an able description of his uncle. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over the garden fences, spying on the neighbors.
“Does she really spy on your neighbors?” Hermione asked, incredulous. She couldn’t imagine someone being so intrusive. When she saw Harry nod his head, she made a noise of disgust. She was very glad that they weren’t her neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.
“Which, of course, means that he’s the worse boy in the world,” Luna said. “After all, with the way they seem to act, and what Harry said about then not liking magic, there is no way they anything they like could be good.” The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn’t think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.
“And why is that?” Hermione asked, frowning.
“Well, considering that they're magical, it makes sense that these Dursleys, who dislike magic, would fear this,” Luna pointed out. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley’s sister, but they hadn’t met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn’t have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be.
Hermione, as well as Cedric and Luna, furrowed their eyebrows at that. It didn’t seem like these ‘Dursleys’ held any love towards Mrs. Dursley’s sister, AKA, Harry’s mother. This didn't seem to bode well in their minds.
Harry, on the other hand, was used to this, mostly because of their actions towards him, so it didn't seem to bother him all that much. He knew that his aunt had no great love towards his mother, though he still hadn’t gotten the courage to ask why. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street.
“Well, considering that they'd most likely do their best to fit in, I really doubt that they'd realize that they weren't normal, at least, until your aunt and her husband reacted,” Luna stated. “After all, we do have to do our best to fit in with the Muggles.”
“Muggles?” Hermione asked.
“It's what we call non-magical people,” Cedric said.
“Oh,” Hermione said, about to continue when there was a slight flash and a small piece of paper came down from the ceiling. Cedric, being the tallest, reached for it, grabbing it before they others. He unfolded it, and looked at what was written on it.
“What does it say?” Luna asked. Dear readers, while your reading and making your observations, please say mundane over Muggle whenever your actually speak about your observations to each other (as you can't help but read it while reading the book itself) because it is not a good idea to get into the habit of saying Muggle. I say this because it's best not to get into the bad habit of saying Muggle, as you'll begin to do it whenever, including around them, and that often ends up gaining their attention, meaning that they'll hear other things that they shouldn't. T.C.H.
Cedric and Luna both looked at each other in surprised, for they didn't realize that.
“Whoever wrote that isn't wrong,” Hermione said. “Quite a few people would indeed listen in if they heard a word they didn't know, because it sounds like a code word, and they'll become curious about why your speaking in code.”
“Well, then, I suppose that this person then has a point. After all, if we say mundane over Muggleevery point we speak to each other, it could easily become second nature, meaning that not only will Harry and you not get into the habit of saying Muggle, but that Cedric and I will probably get out of the habit of saying it,” Luna said. “Though it will probably be kind of hard for us, considering that we've always called them that.”
“Yeah, I'll probably have the most trouble concerning that,” Cedric admitted. “Luna might not, due to the fact that she tends to pick things up pretty easily, but I know that it'll take me a while to actually pick it up.”
“We'll help you out on that end,” Hermione said, motioning her and Harry, who nodded in agreement with her words. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn’t want Dudley mixing with a child like that. Looks like they obviously didn’t get their wish Harry thought, though he was confused as to why they didn’t want Dudley around him.
“And what was so wrong about having you near him?” Hermione asked waspishly. From what she could see, there was nothing wrong with Harry. In fact, he was quite polite and nice so far. When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his highchair. How can she be happy with a boy whose as badly behaved as this Dudley seems to be Hermione thought, but refrained from asking. She hoped that, if she read on, the answer would come up. If not, well, she would have to ask Harry about it. None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.
Cedric wondered why such a detail had been noted, for he could see no reason for it. Of course, considering that this day being told in detail suggested that it was an important day to be noted. Still, the owl being mentioned was strange. At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. “Little tyke,” chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house.
Hermione rolled her eyes. If she was acting like this Dudley was, she'd be in big trouble. He got into his car and backed out of number four’s drive. It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar – a cat reading a map.
Hermione looked confused at hearing that. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn’t realize what he had seen – then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn’t a map in sight.
“So does that mean that he just imagined seeing a map,” Hermione said. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive – no, looking at the sign; cats read maps or signs. Not unless they’re animagi Cedric thought, remembering the term and its meaning from a book he’d read the previous school year. I wonder if the cat is an actual animagus. But then, if it is, what is it doing there? Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove towards town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day. But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn’t help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks.
Both Cedric and Luna exchanged a surprised glance at that; one of the first things they are told is to blend in. Even if there was a reason to celebrate, these witches and wizards should know better. Then, Cedric remembered something that his mother had once said, concerning the few days after the event in which gave Harry his most known title, and he began to wonder... Mr. Dursley couldn’t bear people who dressed in funny clothes – the getups you saw on young people!
“I wonder just what he considers to be normal, then, considering that clothing styles are always changing,” Hermione said. He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren’t young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him!
“That’s definitely what my uncle would think if he saw something like that,” Harry commented. But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt – these people were obviously collecting for something…yes that would be it.
All four of the readers chuckled. For the two used to seeing a sight, they found it odd that he seemed to believe that there had to be a reason for them dressing that way, while the two who weren't used to a sight just found it funny that, upon him seeing someone wearing a cloak that was older than him, he decided that they were just idiotic stunt people who were collecting for something. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills. Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn’t, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn’t see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead.
“I remember hearing about that. My dad told me years ago when we went to the zoo,” Hermione said. Then, she looked up at Cedric, figuring that he would be the best person to ask.
“I take it owl are used by wizards in some way,” she stated, though it came out as a slight question. Cedric nodded.
“It’s our way of sending letters and packages,” he said. She nodded. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more.
“Does your uncle like to yell?” Hermione asked Harry, who nodded his head. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime,
“That's really sad that having shouted at people put him in a good mood,” Hermione said. when he thought he’d stretch his legs and walked across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.
“You mean he actually walked?” Hermione asked, sounding unbelieving. He’d forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker’s.
“I wonder if he's going learn that his previous thoughts were wrong,” Cedric said. He eyed them angrily as he passed.
“He seems to find them very offensive to see,” Hermione said, frowning. He didn’t know why, but they made him uneasy.
“Somehow, I think some part of him might be recognizing that they're magical, which could be why they're making him uneasy,” Luna said. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn’t see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.
“Which are probably important to him, if he really noted them,” Cedric said, wondering what it was that could have been the reason for his attention being caught.
“The Potters, that’s right, that’s what I heard – “
“ – yes, their son, Harry – “
Harry straightened at this. Did they mean him and his parents? He hoped that the answer would be given in the next part. Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. Which suggests that the first thought through his mind is that it's his family-in-laws Hermione thought. She had the feeling, though, that that the fear that flooded him wasn't because something had happened to them, but rather because they'd been mentioned around him, and he was afraid that it might affect his family. He looked back to the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.
“If he did say something, then what it was that he was afraid of could end up having happen right then,” Harry muttered under his breath, knowing that, if they were talking about his family, that would be why he didn't say anything. He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking…no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn’t such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry.
Here, Harry silently sighed, knowing that he wouldn’t be getting his answer as he had hoped.
“Not true. The Potter isn’t a usual name in the wizarding world, and the name Harry was even more unusual,” said Cedric, not going into why it wasn't unusual anymore. Come to think of it, he wasn’t even sure his nephew was called Harry.
“He didn’t even know your name?” Hermione said, incredulous. Harry just shrugged, not answering her, for he wasn't sure he could keep from mentioning that he didn’t think his uncle even knew his name now. He’d never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold.
“Harvey Potter, Harold Potter. Nope, neither of them sound as nice as Harry Potter,” Luna said dreamily.
“At least he had the first three letters of my name right,” Harry said, causing funny looks from the other three, who noted that the way he said it was almost as if it was a positive detail, when it shouldn't have been. His uncle should have known his name, at the very least, not just three letters of it. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn’t blame her – if he’d had a sister like that…
“That's just sad, especially since I have the feeling that, if the opposite came about, and something had happened to these Dursleys, they'd happily come to the aid of the Dursley's son,” Hermione said. but all the same, those people in cloaks… He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o’clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.
“I hope he didn’t crush the person,” Hermione said, sounding worried.
“Sorry,” he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell.
“I have the feeling that he didn't try to help keep the old man from falling,” Hermione said, sounding disapproving over the fact. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn’t seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare,
“Which wouldn't make my uncle very happy,” Harry said.
“Don’t be sorry, my dear sir, for noting could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!” It is the day that I was thinking it might be thought Cedric. However, he didn’t say anything.
“Whose You-Know-Who?” Hermione asked. Cedric and Luna exchanged a glance.
“I’m sure the story will say it on it’s own,” Cedric said, not wanting to get into the story himself, mostly because he didn't even know the full story concerning it. And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.
“That is definitely going to shock my uncle,” Harry said. Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was.
“What he is,” Cedric said. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping that he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn’t approve of imagination.
“How can he not approve of imagination? Is he a complete idiot?” Hermione and Cedric said together. Luna nodded her head a bit vigorously, obviously agreeing with the other two. Harry didn’t say anything, used to this fact. As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw – and it didn’t improve his mood –
“Which means that it's something he really didn't want to see,” Harry said. was the tabby car he’d spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.
“Yeah, I can see why he wouldn't have wanted to see it, considering that it was the first strange thing he saw when he left the house,” Hermione said.
“Shoo!” said Mr. Dursley loudly. The cat didn’t move. It just gave him a stern look. Definitely an animagus. Wonder who it is? Cedric thought, silently chuckling at the cat’s behavior. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered.
“As far as I know, it's not,” Hermione said. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.
“Somehow, I don’t think he’ll be able to keep it from her,” Cedric said dryly. The readers then read about what Mrs. Dursley's completely normal day was like, for she hadn't seen anything strange going one. After that, it showed the evening news report which considered about how oddly owls had been acting based on what non-magical people believed their behavior should be, as well as the fact that, instead of rain, a downpour of shooting stars happened in several places.
“That’s not good if the Muggles notice these things, is it?” Harry asked. Cedric and Luna shook their heads. Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters…
“Definitely not going to be able to keep it from her,” Cedric muttered. Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He’d have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously.
“He knows how my aunt will react to hearing what he's about to say,” Harry said.
“Er – Petunia, dear – you haven’t heard from your sister lately, have you?” As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn’t have a sister.
Hermione shook her head at the reminder.
“No,” she said sharply. “Why?”
“Funny stuff on the news,” Mr. Dursley mumbled. “Owls…shooting stars…and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today…”
“I have the feeling that she's not going to be very bothered by that,” Harry said.
“So?” snapped Mrs. Dursley.
“Well, I just thought…maybe…it was something to do with…you know…her crowd.” Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips.
“She probably realizes that it does, but, as she wants nothing to do with her sister, she's doesn't really care, other than to be angry that it brought about mention of her sister,” Luna said, guessing as to why Mrs. Dursley was acting this way. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he’d heard the name 'Potter'.
“He most likely won't,” Hermione said. He decided he didn’t dare. Instead, he said, as casually as he could, “Their son – he’d be able Dudley’s age now, wouldn’t he?”
“I'm only a few months younger than he is,” Harry said to the others.
“I suppose so,” said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.
“What’s his name again? Howard, isn’t it?”
“Wow,” Luna said. “Before, he was at least saying names that began with H-A-R, but he went completely off the mark with that guess.”
“Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me.”
“It’s a much better name that Dudley,” Hermione said.
“Oh, yes,” said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. “Yes, I quite agree.” “I have the feeling that he's only saying that because he's realized that those people could have been talking about the very Potter's that they're related to,” Hermione said. He didn’t say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something. It could be Cedric thought. Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did…if it got out that they were related to a pair of – well, he didn’t think he could bear it.
“Oh, poor him,” Luna said, rolling her eyes. The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley.
“Considering that Harry here has pretty much stated that he knows them well, I have the feeling that what he's thinking is very wrong,” Cedric said. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind… He couldn’t see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on – he yawned and turned over – it couldn’t affect them…
“I have the feeling that he's just jinxed himself,” Hermione said. How very wrong he was. Am I going to get my answers now Harry thought, paying much more attention that before. After all, based on the few clues that had been given, it was more than likely that this had to do with him, in some form of matter. Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive.
“It's definitely waiting for something, then,” Luna said, for she couldn't see any reason for a cat to be acting like that if it wasn't. It didn’t so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all. A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you’d have thought he’d just popped out of the ground. The cat’s tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.
“I think we just found out what the cat was waiting for,” Luna said. Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man’s name was Albus Dumbledore.
Cedric and Luna gasped at the very familiar name. Harry and Hermione looked at them curiously.
“Dumbledore is one of the most powerful wizards in the world,” Luna said.
“He’s also the headmaster of the Hogwarts, the magic school I go to,” Cedric said. Albus Dumbledore didn’t seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome.
“No, he probably knew, just didn’t care,” Cedric said, shrugging. “He tends not to when it comes to things like that.” He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, “I should have known.” It must be someone he knows Cedric thought, wishing that he knew just who it could be. He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clocked it again – the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Out-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn’t be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement.
“That sounds so cool. I wish I had it,” Hermione and Cedric said wistfully. They looked at each other, surprised, while Luna smiled and Harry chuckled. Blushing, the two looked away from each other, though they did give each other a glance from the corners of their eyes when they thought the other wasn’t looking. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn’t look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.
“Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall.”
“That’s our transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts. She’s also the deputy Headmistress,” Cedric said, noticing Hermione’s mouth open, and having a feeling of what she was going to say.
“You have a cat for a professor?” Hermione said, clearly wondering if the headmaster was crazy. Cedric shook his head.
“No, she’s an animagus. It means she had the ability to turn into an animal, a cat in this case. It’s something only select few choose to do, as it's apparently hard to do without proper guidance, and you, if you succeed, have to register the fact that you can do it and include certain information, like what animal you change into and what markings distinguish you. At least, that’s what my dad told me. I’ll be learning more about it this year at school.”
“Really? What year are you in?” Hermione asked, interested in both his actual year as well as wanting to know when they begin learning about animagi. It sounded like it was complicated magic.
“I’ll be starting my third year soon,” he answered.
“How old…” Hermione started, getting a bit into talking to Cedric that Harry had to clear his throat to gain her attention again. He pointed toward the book she still had in her hand, indicating that she should continue with it. She blushed and complied. He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes.
“I take it that's what you mean by identification markings,” Harry said. Cedric nodded his head. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.
“How did you know it was me?” she asked.
“Most likely by the fact that he probably knows what you look like as a cat very well,” Luna said.
“My dear Professor, I’ve never seen a cat sit so stiffly.”
“Of course, it could be that as well,” Cedric said.
“You’d be stuff if you’d been sitting on a brick wall all day,” said Professor McGonagall.
“All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here.”
“Professor McGonagall isn't going to like that all that much,” Cedric said, knowing just how strict and rule-abiding she was. Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.
“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 Dursleys’ dark living-room window.
“She must've been listening when Mr. Dursley was watching it,” Luna said.
“I heard it. Flocks of owls…shooting stars… 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.”
“Just as stern as ever,” Cedric mumbled.
“You can’t blame them,” said Dumbledore gently. “We’ve had precious little to celebrate for eleven years.”
“If they hadn't had much to celebrate for that long, I think that it makes sense as to why they seemed to have forgotten themselves,” Hermione said.
“With it being what days it was mentioned as being, that is very true,” Cedric told her.
“I know that,” said Professor McGonagall irritably. “But that’s no reason to loose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors.”
“I wonder what these rumors actually are. I mean, other than having to do with Harry's family, as they most likely do, we haven't really been told much about them,” Hermione said. She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn’t, so she went on. “A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who”
“There the moniker is again,” Hermione said, frowning.
“seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?”
“It certainly seems so,” said Dumbledore. “We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?”
“A what?” Cedric and Luna both asked.
“It's a sweet,” Hermione told them.
“A what?”
“A lemon drop. They’re a kind of Muggle sweet I’m rather fond of.”
“From what I've heard, Dumbledore loves all kinds of sweets,” Luna said.
“No, thank you,” said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn’t think this was the moment for lemon drops.
“She's like that with a lot of things,” Cedric said.
“As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone –“
“My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this ‘You-Know-Who’ nonsense – for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort.”
“Why don’t people call him by his real name. After all, fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself,” Hermione stated. Harry, though he didn’t fully understand what she meant, nodded his head. Cedric and Luna shrugged, though Cedric flinched in spite of himself. It was hard for him not to; he had been raised to do so whenever he heard the name. Luna, though, was much more blasé about it, not flinching, though she didn’t say his real name either.
“I guess it mostly has to do with the fact that we were taught not to say it, and fear if we actually heard it,” Cedric said. Hermione had to concede that he had a point – she knew that she herself would end up having done it if she had grown up as a witch and around people who did that.
“But what about those who didn’t grow up hearing it?” Harry asked.
“They adapt to it rather quickly,” Cedric said. “I don’t know exactly why, though. I suspect that a part of the reason is so that they'll fit in better in our world by doing that. Plus, as far as I know, no books hold his actual name, so they don't know what else to call him, and, by the time they learn it, it's not only become second nature to call him by the moniker, but they'll have hear about all of the terrible things he did, and end up developing a fear of him like everyone else seems to have.” Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice.
“He most likely did and just ignored it, actually,” Luna said.
“It all gets so confusing if we keep saying ‘You-Know-Who.’ “
“When you consider that if another dark wizard comes along, they might end up with the same moniker, I can see why he'd say that,” Cedric realized.
“I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort’s name.”
“From what I know, Dumbledore's apparently the only person whom he frightened of,” Cedric said.
“I know you haven’t,” said Professor McGonagall, sounding half-exasperated, half admiring.
“This must be an argument they have a lot,” Hermione noted.
“But you’re different. Everyone knows you’re the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of.”
“He must've given her a look when she tried not to say his name as she just did,” Luna said.
“You flatter me.” Said Dumbledore calmly. “Voldemort had powers I will never have.”
“Probably because he’s too noble to use them,” Cedric said.
“Only because you’re too – well – noble to use them.”
Cedric blinked while Hermione and Harry laughed.
“Seems like your channeling your teacher there a bit,” Harry said.
“It’s lucky it’s dark. I haven’t blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs.”
“I really could have lived without knowing what could make him blush,” Cedric said, with Harry nodding in agreement. 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?”
“I think we've just hit the point in learning just why McGonagall was waiting for him,” Hermione said. 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.
“Which suggests that it's not something that she wants to be true,” Hermione said.
“I don't think that she's getting her wish, especially if it has to do with my parents,” Harry said. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.
“That’s got to be annoying. I would hate it if I asked something, or made it clear I wanted an answer, only to not get it and be ignored,” Hermione mumbled.
“What they’re saying,” she pressed on, “is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric’s Hollow. He went to find the Potters.”
Harry was painfully aware that his back couldn’t straighten any more. It looked like he was going to get some answers.
Cedric, Luna, and Hermione all noticed this, but none of them pointed it out to him. They knew that they too would be like that if they were in his shoes.
“The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are – are – that they’re – dead.”
Hermione gasped, having not expected that, for nothing about them being dead had been mentioned to her prior to them beginning to read. Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.
“Lily and James… I can’t believe it… I didn’t want to believe it… Oh, Albus…”
“It seems that she really cared for them,” Cedric said softly. Dumbledore reached out and patted her on her 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.”
“Wh-what?” Hermione said, sounded extremely surprised. She looked at her new friend – for she did consider him her friend now, despite having only known him for less than an hour – and couldn’t imagine not having met him.
“He didn't succeed in doing it, as you can see,” Harry said to her.
“But – he couldn’t. He couldn’t kill that little boy.”
“So, what, did he just have a change of heart?” Hermione asked, for that was what it sounded like.
“No, something else happened that night,” Cedric said.
“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.”
“I wonder what it was that happened, then,” Hermione said. Dumbledore nodded glumly.
“It’s – it’s true?” faltered Professor McGonagall.
“It is kind of hard to believe,” Cedric said. “With what's been said about him, to have been brought down my someone just a little over a year old...”
“That's going to be quite a blow to his pride, if he's not actually dead,” Hermione said.
“He is,” Cedric said. “At least, from what's been said.”
“Actually, everyone seems to be saying that he's gone, which doesn't necessarily mean that he's dead,” Hermione pointed out. “He could have just been so injured that he went into hiding, rather than be captured.”
“I really hope that you're wrong about that,” Cedric said.
“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?”
“That the question almost every wizard wants to know?” Cedric said, only to frown as he realized something. “I really hope that these books won’t just stay here once we’re finished with them.”
“Why?” asked Harry.
“You-Know- okay, V-Voldemort, “ he hastily corrected himself due to the glare Hermione sent him. He still flinched as he said it. “Well, he had a lot of supporters, mostly purebloods who believe in some wacked up idea that they are the only ones who deserve to use magic because their wizarding genes go back for several generations, and a good number of them are still out there. I can just imagine what they would do with the information in these books if they were given the chance to read them.”
Hermione and Harry shivered, understanding perfectly well what it was that he was saying. There was no doubt that they would attempt to kill Harry if they could get passed whatever it was that had helped keep Harry alive to begin with, and that's just a small hint of what they could do with whatever was in these books as well.
“We can only guess,” said Dumbledore. “We may never know.”
“He probably does, though,” Luna said. The others looked at her. “Just because he doesn’t say it doesn’t mean that he truly doesn’t know.”
“True. Dumbledore’s not the type to tell everything he knows right away,” Cedric conceded. 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 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.”
“That must suck,” Hermione said to him, knowing from the previous paragraphs that these Dursleys weren’t the nicest people to live with.
“It really does,” Harry said.
“You don’t mean – you can’t mean the people who live here?” cried Professor McGonagall,
“Considering that she's been sitting on their wall all day, she most likely got a good insight to just how they are in daily life,” Hermione said. jumping to her feet and pointing at the 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.”
“If I did that, my mother would ground me,” Hermione said. “Something tells me, though, that they don’t do that with your cousin.”
Harry nodded, not saying anything, but knowing that he most likely did get those sweets he wanted.
“Harry Potter come and live here?”
“It’s the best place for him,” said Dumbledore firmly.
“He can’t really believe that, can he?” Cedric asked, surprise coloring his voice. He knew that Dumbledore was a little kooky, but still, he would have thought that he would have had more sense than to give Harry to people like that. Just from what had been said about them already suggested that Harry living there was the worse thing possible, and he realized that there was a good chance that all of the preconceived notions that Harry Potter was living like the celebrity that he was were anything but true.
He looked over at Harry, taking a the time to actually study him, something he hadn’t really done when they first introduced themselves. When they had first arrived, he had kind of been distracted from doing so because he'd put his attention on Hermione over him, and then, upon hearing his name, he'd only really looked at the scar to actually look at the rest of him. He might've actually paid more attention to Harry after that, but the books that had just suddenly appeared and the reason for them had completely distracted him from everything else. So it was only now that he noticed that Harry didn't look all that well put together, for he was wearing clothes that were clearly too big for him, his glasses appeared to have been broken many times, and, though it could be because of the clothes, he was smaller and thinner than Cedric would have expected.
“Maybe he had his reasons for that,” Luna said, though doubt colored her voice.
“If it's because of safety, I am very doubtful that would be the best place for him,” Hermione said firmly. “After all, he could end up in more danger there than elsewhere, with the way they were described.”
“His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he’s older. I’ve written them a letter.”
Harry snorted at that. If the explanation had to do with magic, then they certainly wouldn’t explain when he was old enough to understand. He'd already realized that they had lied about how his parents died from the little information gleaned from this chapter. They had told him that Lily and James Potter had died in a car crash, not that they had been murdered.
“A letter?” Hermione said faintly. “He thinks a letter will work.”
“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!”
“Is that true?” Harry asked nervously, not caring at all about that fact. He didn’t like it when attention was on him.
“We do all know your name, and there are books written about you, but I’ve never heard of an actual day named after you. Mostly, you’re just a legend, and…” here Cedric paused, unable to put what he had been thinking earlier into actual words. Luna, however, didn’t have as much trouble.
“Everyone believes that you’re living like a king, and that you know all this. They believe that you pretty much love your fame, like almost anyone else would. Obviously, that’s not true, as you don’t even realize your famous prior to meeting us, and being told from us,” Luna said.
Harry had to admit that, while he hated the fact that these people were under a misconception and that it probably meant that he was going to have a lot of people looking at him more than he was really comfortably with, he definitely liked Luna rather blunt honesty. Cedric’s honesty was good as well, but Harry knew that he was going to attempt to sugarcoat what Luna said so easily.
“Well, I guess I can see why he’s putting you with them then,” Hermione said, sighing. “He probably doesn’t want you to get a big head. I guess one of your parents had one.” This last bit was said teasingly, and Harry couldn’t help but smile at that.
“Hey,” he said, pretending to be offended. “She isn't wrong there,” Cedric said. “While my mother had already graduated when your parents started school, she did attend a few functions that your father's family did, and she did mention that, when the grown ups weren't in the room, he did act as though he had a big head.”
“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! Can you see how much better off he’ll be growing up away from all that until he’s ready to take it?”
“Yeah, he doesn’t want you to get a bit head,” Hermione said, only slightly joking as she said the last part. Harry nodded.
“I guess it so. And I kind of agree with him on why he brought me there instead of sending me somewhere else. I think it would be a bit overwhelming for me if I wasn’t old enough to know about it. I just wish that he could have found me a different family to go to,” Harry said.
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, “Yes – yes, you’re right, of course.”
“Why didn’t she fight him a bit longer, especially having been watching the family all day and realizing that putting him with them wouldn’t be good?” Hermione asked.
“Because it’s Dumbledore; he’s not someone you argue with, as everyone usually trusts his judgment,” Cedric said. Hermione shook her head.
“That’s not right,” she said. “Blindly trusting someone isn’t a good thing, even if the person earns it, because there is nothing stopping the person whose being trusted from taking advantage of it, making others do anything or even stop arguing with them, even if there isn't a good reason for it other than because it's what they want to happen. I’m sorry to say, but McGonagall gave a clear case against your aunt and uncle – they don’t discipline their child as they should, and, in all honesty, there is a good chance that your aunt’s feelings about your mother weren’t secret to everyone.
“Plus, no matter how a person seems, they are not omniscient, so that doesn’t mean that they are right And if he actually is omniscient, he should know that no good would come from you being there. Of course, if he does know that, I am going to give him hell.” This last part was said darkly, and Cedric and Harry shuddered, feeling a bit scared and sorry for the headmaster, for the look on her face with that tone was kind of scary to see and hear.
“But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?” She eyes his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.
“God, I hope I’m not,” Harry said.
“Yeah, that’s a metal image none of us need,” Cedric agreed.
“Hagrid’s bringing him.”
“You think it – wise – to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?”
“Hagrid’s not that bad,” Cedric said, knowing who he was. “It's only with dangerous animals that he's really bad. Well, them and Slytherins. It's one of the school houses at Hogwarts,” he added, seeing the clueless looks on Hermione and Harry's face. “You'll probably hear more about it in a later chapter.”
“I would trust Hagrid with my life,” said Dumbledore.
“I’m not saying his heart isn’t in the right place,” said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, “but you can’t pretend he’s not careless. He does tend to – what was that?”
A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky – and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.
“Awe, that sounds cool,” Hermione said. She'd always like motorcycles ever since her father's friend took her riding on one a few years ago.
If the motorcycle was huge, it was noting to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least 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 of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.
“I take it that this is Hagrid?” Hermione asked, sounding slightly amused at the description. Cedric nodded.
“And yes, he is that big, maybe even bigger than what's being said,” Cedric said. “I don’t know how tall he is, exactly, though. I wonder what’s with the bundle of blankets in his arms?”
“Something tells me that it’s Harry in the bundle of blankets,” Luna said serenely.
“Hagrid,” said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. “At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?”
“Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir,” said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. “Young Sirius Black –“
Cedric’s eyes went wide at the name of one of Voldemort’s biggest supporters. He was that close to getting to Harry before Hagrid got him! He never knew that.
Hermione, who was watching Cedric out of the corner of her eye – she couldn’t help it, as the oldest of the four of them, he was the most likely to know more about the wizarding world than Luna did – noticed his reaction the name, but decided not to mention anything.
“ –lent it to me. I’ve got him, sir.”
“No problems, were there?”
“No, sir – house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin’ around. He fell asleep as we was flyin’ over Bristol.”
“So, being on the bike didn't seem to freak you out,” Hermione said.
“I really hope that you were warm enough,” Luna said.
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bend forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep.
“I'm positive that you must've looked really cute,” Luna said, causing Harry to go red.
Cedric and Hermione both smiled, holding back the slight laughter they wanted to let out at hearing that.
Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.
Hermione, Cedric, and Luna all glanced up at Harry’s forehead instinctively, where they could just make out the scar that cut had left. Harry, seeing this, went red again, and flattened his hair against his forehead, feeling a bit embarrassed over it.
“Sorry,” Hermione told him, seeing his actions.
“Is that where –? ” whispered Professor McGonagall.
“I wonder what she was going to say,” Hermione said, frowning lightly.
“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.”
All four of the reader’s snorted at that.
“And how would he know that?” Hermione asked.
“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.
Hermione frowned at the reminder of just what they were there to do.
“Could I – could I say good-bye to him, sir?” asked Hagrid. He bend 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.
“That's probably not a good thing,” Harry said.
“Shhh!” hissed Professor McGonagall, “you’ll wake the Muggles!”
“Actually, if the bike didn't wake them up, I have the feeling that Hagrid crying like that won't,” Luna said. “I can't imagine Dumbledore not putting up protections to ensure that their group remained unseen and unknown, after all.”
“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 –“
“With whom Harry is being placed with, that is a bad thing,” Cedric said.
“Yes, yes, it’s all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we’ll be found,” Professor McGonagall whispered,
“She's not very good at calming people down, is she?” Hermione asked rhetorically.
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.
“He just left you there? But what would have happened if you had gotten a cold, or someone had tried to take you, or…” Hermione rambled on. Even the other two were surprised at this action, though Luna suspected that Dumbledore might have put some kind of protection on Harry before setting him down. Hermione continued to complain about Dumbledore's actions until Cedric placed a hand on her arm.
“I know that his actions really are not good, but you can't change the past. What he's done is just that, done,” Cedric told her, before motioning to the book, a silent sign for her to continue reading. She nodded her head in acknowledgment over his words before going back to the chapter, glad to see that there wasn't much more of it to go.
For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid’s shoulders shook,
“Still crying, then,” Harry said.
Professor McGonagall blinked furiously,
“She must be trying not to cry,” Cedric said.
and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore’s eyes seemed to have gone out.
“I wonder what it is that's going through his mind to cause that to happen,” Luna said.
“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.”
Cedric couldn't help but wonder if Hagrid had ever given Black his bike back or not.
“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 to 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.
“I think she might have succumbed to the tears she was trying not to let out,” Hermione said.
The readers then read about Dumbledore returning light to the street, seeing McGonagall in cat form leaving at the other end of the street, and being able to just see the bundle of blankets that Harry was snuggled in on the step of number four. He then wished Harry good luck before leaving completely as well.
I definitely needed that luck Harry thought.
A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up.
My last few moments of uninterrupted sleep I'll ever get Harry thought.
One small hand closed on the 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 few hours’ time by Mrs. Dursley’s scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley…
“Which wouldn't surprise me if your aunt and uncle encouraged,” Luna said, frowning.
He couldn’t know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: “To Harry Potter – the boy who lived!”
“That’s it for that chapter,” Hermione said. “Who wants to read next?” She held out the book, waiting for one of the others to take it. After a bit of a pause, Cedric reached for it.