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. 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."

 

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