"Could I -- could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great,

shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy,

whiskery kiss. 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 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 Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it

inside Harry'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."

 

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike

back. G'night, Professor McGonagall -- Professor Dumbledore, sir."