A Slytherin Story

4. The bringing of Lyra

(the pic above is how hagrid brings lyra)

PREVIOUSLY:

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 motorbike fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them. If the motorbike was huge, it was nothing 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 dustbin lids and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid,"  said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorbike?" "Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir, " said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorbike as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got her, sir."

"There were no problems right?" questioned Dumbledore started in a malicious voice changing it immediately after remembering that Minerva was there.

"No, sir – the house was almost destroyed but I got her out all right before the Muggles started swarming around. She fell asleep as we flew over Bristol," Hagrid said in his thick West Country accent.

Dumbledore and Minerva bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby girl, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over her forehead, they could see a just barely visible, weirdly shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning. (It fades away over time)

"Is that where –?" whispered Professor McGonagall. "Yes, " said Dumbledore."She'll have that scar forever." "Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?" requested Minerva. "Even if I could, I wouldn't. (WHY THO?) Scars can come in useful. I have one myself above my left knee which is a perfect map of the London Underground. (WHO ASKED?) Well – give him here, Hagrid – we'd better get this over with. "Dumbledore took Lyra in his arms and turned towards the Dursleys' house.

"Could I – could I say goodbye to her, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Lyra and gave her what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog. "Shhh!" hissed Minerva.

"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 Lyra(But she isn't poor and never will be.) off ter live with muggles –" "Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found, " Minerva whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Lyra gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Lyra'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 shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out. (FINALLY)

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations." (He just left a CHILD on a doorstep.)"Yeah, " said Hagrid in a very muffled voice. "I'd best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall – Professor Dumbledore, sir."  Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorbike 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.

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner, he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four. 

'Good luck, Lyra,' he murmured. He turned on his heel and was gone with a swish of his cloak.

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. Lyra Potter rolled over inside her blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside her and she slept on, not knowing she was special, not knowing she was famous, not knowing she would be woken in a few hours by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that she would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by her cousin Dudley ... She 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 Lyra Potter – the Girl who lived!'

A slight author's note:

Once AGAIN, this chapter is mostly taken from the book as the author is a LAZY COUCH POTATO.

ALSO, SHOUT OUT TO MINNIE. SHE IS A GREAT ACTOR