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Third pov
It is nighttime in Surrey, we see an owl on the street sign "PRIVET DRIVE", the street with very identical looking brown bricked houses. An elderly man with crimson robes and a long silvery white beard walks out of a forest near the street, past a tabby cat standing next to what looks like a shed. He takes out his deluminator and activates it. He zaps all the light out of the lampposts. He puts away the device and a cat meows. He looked down at the cat and smiled
"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."
He turned to smile at the tabby, but instead of the cat, he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses, exactly the shape of the markings the cat had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun, which was ruffled.
"How did you know it was me?" she asked.
"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly," he responded
"You'd be stiff 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 sniffed angrily. "Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said, annoyed. "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. 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."
"You can't blame them," Dumbledore said gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."
"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's
no reason to lose our heads. People are downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumours."
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 seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he's gone, Dumbledore?"
"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be
thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"
"A what?"
"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather
fond of." he said, offering a candy.
"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly "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." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's
name."
"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."
"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."
"Only because you're too - well - noble to use them."
"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."
Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at him and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumours that are flying around. Do you know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"
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.
Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.
"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumour is that Lily and James Potter are - are - that they're - dead."
Dumbledore bowed his head, which made McGonagall gasp.
"Lily and James . . . I can't believe it . . . I didn't want to believe it . . .Oh, Albus . . ."
Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the 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 Potters' son, Harry. But - he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. 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."
Dumbledore nodded glumly.
"It's - it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "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?"
"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."
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 with little planets moving around the edge. He then 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."
"You don't mean - you can't mean the people who live here?" Professor McGonagall yells, jumping to her feet and pointing at 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 up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter, come and live here!"
"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."
"A letter?" Repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, "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!"
"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't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, but something changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes - yes, you're right, of course. But
how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath
it.
"Hagrid's bringing him."
"You think it is wise to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"
"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 till they looked up to see a huge motorcycle fall out of the air and land on the road in front of them.
The man riding it 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.
"Hagrid," Dumbledore said "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 lent it to me. I've got him, sir."
"No problems, were there?"
"No, sir - the house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all
right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we were flyin' over Bristol."
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the
bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep.
Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead, they could see a cu-
seriously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning and around his neck was a beautiful golden shell charm, and he was hugging a nemo plushie.
"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 have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well, give him here, Hagrid we'd better get this
over with."
Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward 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 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 handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it...Lily and 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 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.
"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'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 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.
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. He whipped out his wand and cast a golden light around the boy.
"Good luck, Harry," he murmured with a small smirk. He turned on his heel and swished of his cloak. He was gone.
Harry Potter rolled over inside his
blankets hugging his plush without waking up. 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 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. 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!"
4 years later
Harry Potter Pov
I ran quickly inside my cupboard and locked it with the small chain as I hid in the corner. I shook in fear of the punishment I was going to get...I didn't mean to jump on the roof. I have no clue how I got there.
I grab my plushie I had for a long time and hug it tightly. My plush has its smell of seawater. I have never been to a beach so I always smell my plush to see what it would be like if I were at the beach.
I always get dreams of myself on some woman's shoulder staring out at sea. She looked like me and her arms had this warm feeling I want to keep forever. She was wearing the same necklace as me and she always squeezed it with her hand which made her smile a lot.
I looked at my locket (pic above) which was a bit big but beautiful. I held it in my hand and squeezed it hard as I prayed to a god...any god that could hear me. 'Please....please send me my angel....send me my guardian angel'
I prayed before screaming when the door was opened and I was pulled out by Uncle Vernon.
"You little freak!!!" He grabs my plushie and me by my shirt dragging me to the living room kicking and screaming for him to let go. "I might have been too easy on your punishment of late...Might as well turn it up!"
He tossed my Nemo into the firepit and it started to burn. I screamed and tried to run to it but he forcefully tossed me on the ground and started hitting me with his belt.
I screamed and cried clutching my necklace praying for anything....anyone to save me.
I never believed someone heard my prayers. We heard the front door smashed open and someone punched Uncle Vernon hard on his face causing him to flunge into the wall.
I looked up from the floor and gasped. It's the woman from my dreams looking at me in worry and sadness.
"My guardian angel!"