The Little Potter (Re-Written)

The Boy Who Lived

01-11-1981

It was late evening on Privet Drive, Little Whinging. The street was dark. Two figures present. Albus Dumbledore in long robes, a purple cloak and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes hidden behind half-moon spectacles which rested on a long, crooked nose. And Professor McGonagall, a severe-looking women wearing square glasses. Clad in an emerald cloak, her black hair drawn into a tight bun - looking ruffled.

A low rumbling sound broke the silence of Privet Drive, growing louder before a huge motorbike fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them. A man, twice the size of a normal man, sat on the motorcycle holding two bundles of blankets.

"Harry, Sevina," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get the motorbike?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorbike. "Young Sirius Black lent it me. I've got them, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir - house was almost destroyed but I got them out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. They were asleep the whole way."

The two professors bent over the blue bundle of blankets which held Harry. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

"Is that where-?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar for ever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in useful. I have one myself above my left knee which is a perfect map if the London Underground. Well - give him here, Hagrid - we'd better get this over with." Dumbledore took Harry into his arms and turned to the Dursleys' house.

"Could I - could I say goodbye 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.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall. "You'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large spotted hankerchief 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 blue 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. Dumbledore turned to Hagrid and took the pink bundle of blankets into his own arms.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go, Professor McGonagall please meet me in my office."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice. "I'd best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall - Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his steamy eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself on to 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 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 with one hand, the other hand holding onto Sevina. 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 on number four.

"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak Sevina and him were gone.