PART 9

"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.

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, sitting back down on

the wall. "Really, 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! CarA 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, 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 -- 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