Hayley Potter | The Girl Who Lived

Prologue

A man appeared on the corner of four privet drive. Nothing like this man has never been seen on this street. He was tall, thin, and very old judging by his silver hair, which was long enough to tuck into his belt. Wearing long robes, a purple cloak and buckled boots. His eyes were a bright, light blue, sparkling behind his half-moon spectacles. His nose was long and crooked, as though his nose has been broken too many times. His name was Albus Dumbledore.

He didn't seem to realize that he arrived on a street where he wasn't welcome. Rummaging through his cloak, looking for something. Not realizing he was being watched. He looked up suddenly at the cat, that  was staring at him from the end of the Street. The sight of the cat amused him. Chuckling , he muttered "I should have known."

When he found what he was looking for, he flicked what seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter open. Held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest lamp went went out with a pop. Again he clicked it, and the next lamp went out. Twelve times Albus had clicked it, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance. Slipping the put-outer back in his cloak, he set off down the street towards four, where he sat on the wall with the cat. After a moment he started speaking to it.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall. "

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly. "

"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, I've celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "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. " She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "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," said Dumbledore 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 being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors. "

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 really has 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. "

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "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. "