Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house. "Could I --could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggyhead over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskerykiss. 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 init. "But I c-c-can't stand it -- Lily an' James dead -- an' poor littleHarry off ter live with Muggles -"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll befound," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the armas Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. Helaid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked itinside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two.

Fora full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid'sshoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinklinglight 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. Wemay as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah,"said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back.G'night, Professor McGonagall -- Professor Dumbledore, sir." Wiping hisstreaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle andkicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into thenight.

"Ishall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore,nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply. Dumbledore turnedand walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out thesilver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back totheir street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he couldmake 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. "Goodluck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of hiscloak, he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy underthe inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things tohappen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. Onesmall hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he wasspecial, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a fewhours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put outthe milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded andpinched 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 andsaying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter -- the boy who lived!"