Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone: Chapter 1 - Part 2 - The Boy Who Lived
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Chapter 1 Part 2
The Boy Who Lived
The cat sits on the wall for a long time, like a statue. It does not move. It does not look in any direction except towards the corner of the street at the end of Privet Drive. Finally, very late at night, a man appears on the corner. He appears suddenly and silently. The cat sees him, and its tail begins to move from side to side slowly.
The man is tall, thin and very old. His hair and beard are long and the color of silver. He is wearing long robes and a purple cloak. His eyes are bright blue behind his glasses, which are sitting on his long and crooked nose. His name is Albus Dumbledore. The old man looks towards the Dursley’s house and laughs when he sees the cat.
“I should have known,” he says. He reaches into his pocket and takes out a device that looks like a cigarette lighter. He holds it up in the air and clicks it. The street light that is closest to him goes out with a little “pop” sound. He clicks the device again and another street light pops out. He clicks the device twelve times. The only lights that remain are the two small lights of the cat’s eyes.
Dumbledore puts the device back into his pocket and walks towards the house. He sits down next to the cat. Then he speaks. “Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall.” He turns to look at the cat, but the cat is not there. Instead, there is a woman there! She has on glasses and she is wearing a green cloak, too. “How did you know it was me?” she asks.
“My dear Professor, there is only one cat that would sit without moving, like a statue.”
“You would feel like a statue if you had been sitting on a wall all day,” says Professor McGonagall.
“You have been here all day? You have not been celebrating? I have seen a dozen parties on my way here.”
Professor McGonagall makes an angry sound with her mouth. “Oh yes, everyone’s celebrating, that’s true,” she says impatiently. “They should be more careful - even the Muggles have noticed there is something strange happening. It is on their news programs. Owls behaving strangely… shooting stars. Even the Muggles are not completely stupid. Of course they were going to notice something. Shooting stars in Kent! That was probably Dedalus Diggle who did that. He is not the smartest of us, is he?”
“You cannot be upset with them,” says Dumbledore. “We have not had many things to celebrate for the past eleven years.” “I know that,” says Professor McGonagall, irritated. “But we should be more careful! People are out in the streets in bright cloaks and talking openly, and the Muggles can hear them. Can you imagine what would happen if the Muggles discovered who we are, on the same day that You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared? Do you think he is really gone, Dumbledore?”
“Please call him by his real name: Voldermort,” complains Dumbledore. “No one will be scared of him if he is called ‘You-Know-Who’. And yes, it appears that he is gone. It appears they finally stopped him.”
“Oh, it is so tragic!” cries Professor McGonagall. “Everyone is saying that last night You-Know-Who…oh, all right, Voldermort…went to Godric’s Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are…are…they are saying that they are dead.”
Dumbledore closes his eyes with sadness. “Lily and James…I can’t believe it…I don’t want to believe it…Oh, Albus…” Dumbledore puts a hand on her shoulder to comfort her. Professor McGonagall continues, “That’s not all. They say that Voldermort 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 say that when he couldn’t kill Harry Potter, Voldermort’s power somehow disappeared, and that’s why he is gone.”
Dumbledore nods his head, agreeing with her. “So it’s true. Voldermort was so powerful, but how did Harry survive?”
“We don’t know,” answers Dumbledore. “We may never know.”
Dumbledore takes his watch from his pocket and looks at the time. “Hagrid is late. He told you I was going to come here, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” says Professor McGonagall. “So, are you going to tell me why you came here, of all places.”
“I have come to bring Harry Potter to his aunt and uncle. They are the only family he has now.”
“What?” yells Professor McGonagall. “You are leaving Harry with these people? I have been watching them all day. They are the worst people. Harry can’t live here!”
“It is the best place for him,” says Dumbledore. “His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he is older. I have a letter for them.”
“A letter?” says Professor McGonagall, complaining. “Do you think a letter will be able to explain everything? These people do not understand him! Harry will be famous, you know. He will be a legend. Every child in our world will know his name!”
“Exactly!” says Dumbledore, seriously. “He will not remember any of this. He is too young. It will be better for him to grow up away from all of this, until he is ready.”
Professor McGonagall thinks for a moment. “Yes, you’re right, of course. But how is Harry getting here?”
“Hagrid is bringing him.”
“Can you trust Hagrid with something as important as this?”
“I would trust Hagrid with my life,” answers Dumbledore.
Suddenly, from a distance, they can hear a low sound. The sound grows louder and louder until there is a loud roar in the sky! A huge motorcycle falls out of the air and lands on the road in front of them.
The motorcycle is huge, but the man riding the motorcycle is twice as tall as a normal man and five times as wide. His hair is wild, bushy and black. His beard covers most of his face. In his vast, muscular arms he is holding something covered in blankets.
“Hagrid, it is good to see you,” says Dumbledore.
“I have him, sir. Here he is.”
“Did you have any problems, Hagrid?” asks Dumbledore.
“No, sir. The house was almost destroyed, but I rescued him before the Muggles arrived. He fell asleep while we were flying over Bristol.” Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall look at what is wrapped in the blankets. There is a baby boy. He is asleep. On his little forehead, under part of his black hair, there is a strange cut, shaped like a bolt of lightning.
“That is where Voldermort…,” says Dumbledore. “He will have that scar forever. He may not like it, but he might need it when he grows up. It is time to say goodbye.” Dumbledore takes Harry and places him on the ground in front of the Dursley’s front door. Hagrid leans over the boy and gives him a scratchy kiss with his big beard. There are huge tears of sadness falling from his eyes.
Dumbledore takes the letter from his pocket and places it inside the blankets next to little Harry Potter. “Well,” says Dumbledore, “that’s that. We must leave now before the Muggles discover us. Goodbye Hagrid. Professor McGonagall, I guess I will be seeing you soon.”
Hagrid wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. He climbs onto his huge motorcycle and disappears into the night.
Professor McGonagall blows her nose. She is crying, too. Dumbledore walks to the end of the street. He takes out his device and presses the button. Twelve balls of light fly back to the street lamps. Before he walks away, he can see a cat walking around the corner of a house across the street.
And in front of number 4 Privet Drive, he can see a small pile of blankets. “Good luck, Harry. Until we meet again,” says Dumbledore. He turns around and disappears into the darkness. On this street, the most normal and most common street in the country, where everyone hates strange and mysterious things, there is the strangest and most mysterious thing of all - Harry Potter, the boy who lived.
