The Girl Who Lived
The book then started to speak.
CHAPTER ONE, THE GIRL WHO LIVED:
Everyone then looked confused as to what it meant.
Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.
"You are not welcome!" Fred and George shout.
They were the last people you’d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn’t hold with such nonsense. Mr Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills.
" What is drills?" Arthur asks.
"Drills make holes in the floor or walls." Rose answers.
He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large moustache.
All the fashionest scrunched their noses up in disgust.
Mrs Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbours. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere. The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn’t think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.
Mrs Potter was Mrs Dursley’s sister, but they hadn’t met for several years; in fact, Mrs Dursley pretended she didn’t have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish
"UnDersleyish is not a wore!" The ravenclaws protest.
as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbours would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small daughter, too, but they had never even seen her. This girl was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn’t want Dudley mixing with a child like that. When Mr and Mrs Dursley woke up on the dull, grey Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie
"He's boring then." Fred said in all seriousness.
for work and Mrs Dursley gossiped awayhappily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair. None of them noticed a large tawny owl flutter past the window.
"Muggles." Molly said with a sneer.
Everyone looked shocked that Molly fucking Weasley said that. (a/n: I don't normally like using swear words and I'm trying my best to avoid them but I don't know any replacement of that word.)
At half past eight, Mr Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked
Mrs Dursley on the cheek and tried to kiss Dudley goodbye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls.
‘Little tyke,’ chortled Mr Dursley as he left the house.
Everyone looked disgusted.
He got into his car and backed out of number four’s drive. It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar – a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr Dursley didn’t realise what he had seen – then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn’t a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back.
As Mr Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive– no, looking at the sign; cats couldn’t read maps or signs. Mr Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind.
"One-tracked mind." Someone said.
As he drove towards town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day. But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn’t help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr Dursley couldn’t bear people who dressed in funny clothes – the get-ups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by.
They were whispering excitedly together. Mr Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren’t young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt – these people were obviously collecting for something ... yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on, and a few minutes later, Mr Dursley arrived in the Grunnings car park, his mind back on drills. Mr Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn’t, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn’t see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl
sped overhead.
"Why are they shocked that owls are flying?" James asks his daughter.
"Owls are nocturnal, meaning they sleep during the day and wake up at night, in the muggle world so it's hard to spot them and you can find them in zooms but that's hard as well." Rose said in an understanding voice.
Everyone then came to an understanding.
Most of them had never seen an owl even at night-time.
Rose did a see motion with her heads.
Mr Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more.
The purebloods looked disgusted and they flinched at the thought if they did that.
He was in a very good mood until lunch-time, when he thought he’d stretch his legs and walk across the road
"I didn't know he could walk." Rose said shocked.
to buy himself a bun from the baker’s opposite.
"Ok, never mind." Rose said with relief.
He’d forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker’s. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn’t know why, but they made him uneasy. This lot were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn’t see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.
‘The Potters, that’s right, that’s what I heard –’
‘– yes, their daughter, Rose –’
"What about us?" James asks Rose for confirmation.
"It'll say a little later."
Mr Dursley stopped dead.
"YES, VICTORY!" All the troublemakers shout.
"Its an expression." Rose said.
They then then nodded upset.
Fear flooded him. He looked back at
the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it. He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone and had almost finished dialling his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his moustache, thinking ... no, he was being stupid.
Rose looked shocked that he was being logical.
Potter wasn’t such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a daughter called Rose.
"In the muggle world, Rose is a common name and Potter is common even Black." Rose said to the people who were confused.
They nodded a bit shocked.
Come to think of it, he wasn’t even sure his niece was called Rose. He’d never even seen the girl. It might have been Harriet. Or Hyacinth.
"He doesn't even know your name?!" The teachers and Madam Bones said in extonisment.
There was no point in worrying Mrs Dursley, she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn’t blame her – if he’d had a sister like that ... but all the same, those people in cloaks ... He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon, and when he left the building at five o’clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.
‘Sorry,’
"The world must be ending!" Rose says dramatically and fell dramatically over Amy.
he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost
fell.
It was a few seconds before Mr Dursley realised that the man
was wearing a violet cloak. He didn’t seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground.
"That's you Professor Flitwick." A Ravenclaw shouted out.
On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passers-by stare: ‘Don’t be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy happy day!’
Everyone looked shocked that the dark lord was defeated.
And the old man hugged Mr Dursley around the middle and walked off. Mr Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn’t approve of imagination. As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw – and it didn’t improve his mood – was the tabby cat he’d spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.
‘Shoo!’ said Mr Dursley loudly.
The cat didn’t move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behaviour, Mr Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife. Mrs Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs Next Door’s problems with her daughter and
how Dudley had learnt a new word (‘Shan’t!’).
"What a spoilt brat." Barty Crouch Jr said.
Mr Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living-room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:
And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation’s owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern.’ The news reader allowed himself a grin. ‘Most mysterious. And now, over to
Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of
owls tonight, Jim?’
The Minister face-palmed as the wizards had let themselves been known.
‘Well, Ted,’ said the weatherman, ‘I don’t know about that, but
it’s not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as
far apart as Kent, Yorkshire and Dundee have been phoning in
to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they’ve
had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early – it’s not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight.’
Everyone was annoyed that they had been spotted.
Mr Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters ... Mrs Dursley came into the living-room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He’d have to say something to her.
"So he does have a brain!" Rose exclaimed loudly.
He cleared his throat nervously. ‘Er – Petunia, dear – you haven’t heard from your sister lately, have you?’
As he had expected, Mrs Dursley looked shocked and angry.
After all, they normally pretended she didn’t have a sister.
Lily was so angry and upset that her friends consoled her and said, "We are your sisters not her."
Lily nodded her head.
‘No,’ she said sharply. ‘Why?’
‘Funny stuff on the news,’ Mr Dursley mumbled. ‘Owls ... shooting stars ... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today ...’
‘So?’ snapped Mrs Dursley.
‘Well, I just thought ... maybe ... it was something to do with ... you know ... her lot.’
Mrs Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he’d heard the name ‘Potter’. He decided he didn’t dare.
Instead he said, as casually as he could, ‘Their daughter – she’d be about Dudley’s age now, wouldn’t she?’
Lily pursed her lips together.
‘I suppose so,’ said Mrs Dursley stiffly.
‘What’s her name again? Hyacinth, isn’t it?’
‘Rose. Nasty, common name, if you ask me.’
"It's a good name!" Lily and James defends themselves.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Mr Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. ‘Yes, I quite agree.’
James, Sirius, Remus and Lily start to growl.
He didn’t say another word on the subject as they went upstairs
to bed. While Mrs Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr Dursley crept
to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden.
The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though
it was waiting for something.
Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did ... if it got out that they were related to a pair of – well, he didn’t think he could bear it. The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind.
His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the
Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near
him and Mrs Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind ... He couldn’t see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on.
He yawned and turned over. It couldn’t affect them ... How very wrong he was.
"He jinxed himselves." A few people said while sighing.
Mr Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.
A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched, and its eyes narrowed.
Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles, and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.
When the name appeared, Rose then glared as Dumbledore manipulated everyone. Also, because Voldemort wouldn't have happened if Dumbledore didn't manipulate him. Everyone then got confused as to why she was glaring.
Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."
He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop.
"I want it!" James and Sirius shout. "No!" Euphemia says sternly as she didn't want to imagine what they would do with it.
He clicked it again - the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times, he clicked the Put-Outer until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him.
If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment, he spoke to it.
"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."
"MINNIE!!" The marauders shout at their favorite Professor.
"Don't call me Minnie, Mr. Potter, Mr. Lupin, Mr. Pettigrew and Mr. Black. It's Professor McGonagall to you."
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.
"Oh, no. Something had to happen to make Professor McGonagall look like that!" Lily says worriedly.
"How did you know it was me?" she asked.
"Because a cat can't sit down for so long." Remus says.
"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.
"I wonder why Minnie had to sit on the wall for a whole day." James says thinking. Professor McGonagall then glared at James for using the nickname, but if you look very hard, there is a faint smile tugging on her lips.
"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."
"I wonder what's the occasion for feasts to happen." The minister says suspiciously.
Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.
"Oh yes, everyone's 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."
"Can't we at least wear muggle clothes so they don't get suspicious." the minister says angrily.
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 DedalusDiggle. He never had much sense."
"Hey!" Dedalus says offended.
"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 downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."
The minister just sighs defeatedly.
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?"
"It's not the time for lemon drops." Everyone says.
"A what?"
"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."
All the pure-bloods, Rose and Amy glare at the headmaster as he is irritating.
The marauders then looked at each other, and James whispered, "don't you think it is odd that Rose is glaring at the headmaster as there seems that he did nothing wrong."
(a/n: If you are wondering why I put that, no, there is no James bashing. He was just generally confused.)
"She seems odd. Maybe it will be in the movies." Remus says thoughtfully.
"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."
Everyone then looked shocked at the information but flinched at the sound of the name.
Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice.
Rose and Amy then rolled their eyes at Dumbledore. They didn't even think of hiding their anger at him for what he did.
"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."
Everyone flinched again. "Just to let you know that it will be said a lot, so get used to it." Amy said, annoyed at the flinching.
"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."
Rose and Amy rolled their eyes. "I can't wait for all of them to find out what he did," Rose says to Amy. Remus then heard what they said as he had super hearing from being a werewolf and got confused while his friends gave him questioning looks, and he explained what he heard from Rose. When Rose caught him looking at him, she smiled at him.
"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."
"TMI, Professor!" Every student yells.
Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. Do you know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"
The purebloods looked angry as You-Know-Who got defeated because they knew that You-Know-Who is the good person that is doing what is best for the world.
It seemed that 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 rumor is that Lily and James Potter are that they're -- dead. "
"I got Lily!" James shouts in happiness. "I married him!" Lily shouts in disgust. Then they were saddened as they realized that they had died.
Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.
"Lily and James... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it... Oh, Albus..."
"I knew I was your favorite Minnie!" James says while winking.
Professor McGonagall glared at James but there is a feint smile on her face.
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 Potter's daughter, Rose. But - he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little girl. No one knows why or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Rose Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke -- and that's why he's gone.
Everyone then gasped at how the 'dark lord' got defeated.
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 girl? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Rose survive?"
"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."
"He obviously knew!" Rose says in anger.
"Why do you hate Dumbledore?" Remus asks Rose quietly.
"It'll explain in the books, and it's easier for the books to explain." Rose answers with a glare at Dumbledore. Remus then nods.
Amy then calms her down, and James glares at Amy as he doesn't want Rose to heart broken. Lucius then glares at Rose for being friends with Amy, and the girls' mothers look so done with the boys.
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. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he 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?"
"That's what we want to know!" Everyone says.
"I've come to bring Rose to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family she has left now."
"You can't leave Rose there, Petunia hates magic!!" Lily shouts, and James tries to calm her down.
"You don't mean - you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, 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 all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Rose Potter, come and live here!"
"Thanks for trying, Professor!" Lily says, and McGonagall just nods her head.
"It's the best place for her," said Dumbledore firmly. "Her aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when she's older. I've written them a letter."
Rose just rolls her eyes at Dumbledore in anger. Amy then tries to calm her down.
"A letter?" Repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand her! She'll be famous -- a legend -- I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Rose Potter day in the future -- there will be books written about Rose -- every child in our world will know her name!"
"I hate the attention." Rose mumbles to Amy.
"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any girl's head. Famous before she can walk and talk! Famous for something she won't even remember! You see how much better off she'll be, growing up away from all that until she's ready to take it?"
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes - yes, you're right, of course. But how is the girl getting here, Dumbledore?"
"Thanks for trying, Minnie!" Rose says in a grateful tone.
"Pleasure. Don't you start with the nickname." Professor McGonagall says while groaning and thinking of an early retirement.
She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Rose underneath it.
Everyone then looked grossed out at the thought of Rose under Dumbledore's cloak.
"Hagrid's bringing her."
"You think it -- wise to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"
"I would trust Hagrid with my life." Ron Weasley states arrogantly. Rose then sneers at him and Hagrid as she doesn't like people who are working for Dumbledore as they could say to Dumbledore on what she said to them.
I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.
Ron then started to blush as he said the same thing as the headmaster, and Rose sneered at him, surprising everyone. Hagrid then beams at them, saying they would trust him. The Slytherins sneer while Rose sneers secretly.
"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; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky -- and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.
"I want it!" Sirius says hopefully.
"No!" Remus and Euphemia says horrified.
Sirius then pouts.
If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He 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," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "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."
"It's mine!" Sirius says excitedly while Euphemia and Remus look defeated.
"No problems, were there?"
"No, sir -- house was almost destroyed, but I got her out all right before the Muggles started swarming around. She fell asleep as we were flying over Bristol."
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby girl, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over her forehead, they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.
"Is that where -?" whispered Professor McGonagall.
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "She'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.
Everyone looked grossed out at the mention of Dumbledore having a scar on his knee.
Well, give her here, Hagrid - we'd better get this over with."
Dumbledore took Rose in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.
"Could I say goodbye to Rose, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss.
Rose then looked grossed out and whispered something to Amy to remind her to bleach her eyes.
Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.
Sirius then looked offended at what is said, and James, Remus, and Peter looked amused.
"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 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 Rose gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Rose'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."
"You can't just leave her there with no warmth or protection!!" Lily shouts.
"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be taking Sirius his bike back. Goodnight, Professor McGonagall -- Professor Dumbledore, sir."
Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into 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.
"Good luck, Rose,"
"Thanks, I'll need it a lot." Rose says sarcastically. Her parents then looked concerned about what she said.
he murmured. He turned on his heel, and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.
"You just left her there with no protection and no warm charms to keep her warm!!!!!!" Shouted Lily, James, Sirius, Remus, Peter and Amy. James, Remus, and Sirius glare at Amy as they want to protect her.
"Just to let you guys know that we are all married here." Rose says while everyone was in shock.
A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Rose Potter rolled over inside her blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside her -
Everyone then cooed at Rose as it was an adorable scene.
-and she slept on, not knowing she was special, not knowing she was famous, not knowing she would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley screamed as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that she would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by her cousin Dudley...
Lily and James looked angry at her being pinched by her cousin.
she 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 Rose Potter -- the girl who lived!"
Everyone (except Dumbledore, Hermione, and Ron) felt bad as they celebrated, but it ended at what cost?