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    He turned to smile at tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly shape of markings cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing cloak, emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.
    “How did you know it was me?” she asked.
    “My dear Professor, I’ve never seen cat sit so stiffly.”
    “You’d be stiff if you’d been sitting on brick wall all day,” said Professor McGonagall.
    “All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed dozen feasts and parties on my way here.”
    Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.
    “Oh yes, everyone’s celebrating, all right,” she said impatiently. “You’d think they’d be bit more careful, but no — even Muggles have noticed something’s going on. It was on their news.” She jerked her head back at Dursleys’ dark living-room window. “I heard 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 bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense.”