Dumbledoreslipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street towardnumber four, where he sat down7 on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look atit, but after a moment he spoke to it.

"Fancyseeing you here, Professor McGonagall." He turned to smile at the tabby,but it had gone.

Insteadhe was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glassesexactly 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.

"Howdid you know it was me?" she asked. "My dear Professor, I 've neverseen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'dbe stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said ProfessorMcGonagall.

"Allday? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feastsand parties on my way here." Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.

"Ohyes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'dthink they'd be a bit more careful, but no -- even the Muggles have noticedsomething's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back atthe Dursleys' dark living-room window.

"Iheard 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 betthat was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"Youcan't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious littleto celebrate for eleven years."

"Iknow that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's noreason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on thestreets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swappingrumors."

Shethrew a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he wasgoing to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on.

"Afine thing it would be if, on the very day You Know-Who seems to havedisappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he reallyhas gone, Dumbledore?"

"Itcertainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankfulfor. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"Awhat?" "A lemon drop.

They'rea kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of"

"No,thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't thinkthis was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who hasgone -" "My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourselfcan call him by his name? All this 'You- Know-Who' nonsense -- for eleven yearsI have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name:Voldemort."

ProfessorMcGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemednot to notice.

"Itall gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen anyreason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name.

"Iknow you haven 't, said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, halfadmiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only oneYou-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."

"Youflatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I willnever have."

"Onlybecause you're too -- well -- noble to use them."

"It'slucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me sheliked my new earmuffs."

ProfessorMcGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothingnext to the rumors that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying?About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"