THE KEEPER OF THE KEYS
“That’s better,” said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back
down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.
Harry, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them.
“But what happened to Vol-, sorry — I mean, You-Know-
Who?”
“Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he
tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That’s the biggest
myst’ry, see . . . he was gettin’ more an’ more powerful — why’d
he go?
“Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he
had enough human left in him to die. Some say he’s still out there,
bidin’ his time, like, but I don’ believe it. People who was on his
side came back ter ours. Some of ’em came outta kinda trances.
Don’ reckon they could’ve done if he was comin’ back.
“Most of us reckon he’s still out there somewhere but lost his
powers. Too weak to carry on. ’Cause somethin’ about you finished
him, Harry. There was somethin’ goin’ on that night he hadn’t
counted on — I dunno what it was, no one does — but somethin’
about you stumped him, all right.”
Hagrid looked at Harry with warmth and respect blazing in his
eyes, but Harry, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure
there had been a horrible mistake. A wizard? Him? How could he
possibly be? He’d spent his life being clouted by Dudley, and bul-
lied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if he was really a wizard,
why hadn’t they been turned into warty toads every time they’d
tried to lock him in his cupboard? If he’d once defeated the great-
est sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able
to kick him around like a football?
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