diff --git "a/train/Harry Potter-Book 1-The Sorcerers Stone.txt" "b/train/Harry Potter-Book 1-The Sorcerers Stone.txt" new file mode 100644--- /dev/null +++ "b/train/Harry Potter-Book 1-The Sorcerers Stone.txt" @@ -0,0 +1,7510 @@ +HP 1 - Harry Potter and the +Sorcerer's Stone +Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone + + +Harry Potter +& +The Sorcerer’s Stone + + +by J.K. Rowling + + + + + +HP 1 - Harry Potter and the +Sorcerer's Stone +CHAPTER ONE + +THE BOY WHO LIVED + + M r. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say +that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people +you’d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just +didn’t hold with such nonsense. + Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made +drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a +very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the +usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her +time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a +small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere. + The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and +their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn’t think they +could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. +Dursley’s sister, but they hadn’t met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley +pretended she didn’t have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing +husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered +to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The +Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even +seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they +didn’t want Dudley mixing with a child like that. + When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story +starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and +mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley +hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley +gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair. + None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window. + At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. +Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because +Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. +“Little tyke,” chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car +and backed out of number four’s drive. + It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of +something peculiar — a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn’t +realize what he had seen — then he jerked his head around to look again. There +was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn’t a map in +sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the +light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley +drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was +now reading the sign that said Privet Drive — no, looking at the sign; cats +couldn’t read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the +cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a +large order of drills he was hoping to get that day. + But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something +else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn’t help noticing that +there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. +Dursley couldn’t bear people who dressed in funny clothes — the getups you +saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He +drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these +weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. +Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren’t young at all; why, that +man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The +nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly +stunt —these people were obviously collecting for something…yes, that would +be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the +Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills. + Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the +ninth floor. If he hadn’t, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills +that morning. He didn’t see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though +people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after +owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. +Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five +different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit +more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he’d stretch +his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery. + He’d for gotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of +them next to the baker’s. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn’t know +why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and +he couldn’t see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, +clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they +were saying. + “The Potters, that’s right, that’s what I heard —” + “ — yes, their son, Harry —” + Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the +whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it. + He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his +secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished +dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back +down and stroked his mustache, thinking…no, he was being stupid. Potter +wasn’t such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter +who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn’t even sure his nephew +was called Harry. He’d never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or +Harold. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at +any mention of her sister. He didn’t blame her — if he’d had a sister like that… +but all the same, those people in cloaks.… + He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when +he left the building at five o’clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight +into someone just outside the door. + “Sorry,” he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was +a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet +cloak. He didn’t seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the +contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made +passersby stare, “Don’t be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! +Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself +should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!” + And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off. + Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete +stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He +was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining +things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn’t approve of +imagination. + As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw — +and it didn’t improve his mood — was the tabby cat he’d spotted that morning. It +was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the +same markings around its eyes. + “Shoo!” said Mr. Dursley loudly. + The cat didn’t move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat +behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself +into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife. + Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all +about Mrs. Next Door’s problems with her daughter and how Dudley had +learned a new word (“Won’t!”). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley +had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report +on the evening news: + “And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation’s +owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at +night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings +of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to +explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern.” The +newscaster allowed himself a grin. “Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim +McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, +Jim?” + “Well, Ted,” said the weatherman, “I don’t know about that, but it’s not +only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, +Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I +promised yesterday, they’ve had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people +have been celebrating Bonfire Night early — it’s not until next week, folks! But +I can promise a wet night tonight.” + Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? +Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a +whisper, a whisper about the Potters.… + Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was +no good. He’d have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. “Er +— Petunia, dear — you haven’t heard from your sister lately, have you?” + As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, +they normally pretended she didn’t have a sister. + “No,” she said sharply. “Why?” + “Funny stuff on the news,” Mr. Dursley mumbled. “Owls…shooting +stars…and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today.…” + “So?” snapped Mrs. Dursley. + “Well, I just thought…maybe…it was something to do with…you +know…her crowd.” + Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered +whether he dared tell her he’d heard the name “Potter.” He decided he didn’t +dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, “Their son — he’d be about +Dudley’s age now, wouldn’t he?” + “I suppose so,” said Mrs. Dursley stiffly. + “What’s his name again? Howard, isn’t it?” + “Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me.” + “Oh, yes,” said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. “Yes, I quite +agree.” + He didn’t say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. +While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom +window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was +staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something. + Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the +Potters? If it did...if it got out that they were related to a pair of — well, he didn’t +think he could bear it. + The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. +Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought +before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no +reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well +what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind....He couldn’t see how he +and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on — he +yawned and turned over — it couldn’t affect them.… + How very wrong he was. + Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on +the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a +statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn’t so +much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls +swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all. + A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so +suddenly and silently you’d have thought he’d just popped out of the ground. +The cat’s tail twitched and its eyes narrowed. + Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, +thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both +long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that +swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, +bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long +and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man’s name was +Albus Dumbledore. + 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 emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked +distinctly ruffled. + “How did you know it was me?” she asked. + “My dear Professor, I’ve never seen a cat sit so stiffly.” + “You’d be stiff if you’d been sitting on a brick wall all day,” said +Professor McGonagall. + “All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a +dozen feasts and parties on my way here.” + Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily. + “Oh yes, I’ve celebrating, all right,” she said impatiently. “You’d think +they’d be a bit more careful, but no —even the Muggles have noticed +something’s going on. It was on their news.” She jerked her head back at the +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.” + “You can’t blame them,” said Dumbledore gently. “We’ve had precious +little to celebrate for eleven years.” + “I know that,” said Professor McGonagall irritably. “But that’s no reason +to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in +broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors.” + She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though +hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn’t, so she went on. “A fine +thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared +at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, +Dumbledore?” + “It certainly seems so,” said Dumbledore. “We have much to be thankful +for. Would you care for a lemon drop?” + “A what?” + “A lemon drop. They’re a kind of Muggle sweet I’m rather fond of.” + “No, thank you,” said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn’t +think this was the moment for lemon drops. “As I say, even if You-Know-Who +has gone —” + “My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by +his name? All this ‘You-Know-Who’ nonsense — for eleven years I have been +trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort.” Professor +McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, +seemed not to notice. “It all gets so confusing if we keep saying ‘You-Know- +Who.’ I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort’s +name.” + “I know you haven’t, said Professor McGonagall, sounding half +exasperated, half admiring. “But you’re different. Everyone knows you’re the +only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of.” + “You flatter me,” said Dumbledore calmly. “Voldemort had powers I will +never have.” + “Only because you’re too — well — noble to use them.” + “It’s lucky it’s dark. I haven’t blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey +told me she liked my new earmuffs.” + Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said “The +owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what +they’re saying? About why he’s disappeared? About what finally stopped him?” + It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most +anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all +day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a +piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever “everyone” was saying, +she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. +Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer. + “What they’re saying,” she pressed on, “is that last night Voldemort +turned up in Godric’s Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily +and James Potter are — are — that they’re — dead.” + Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped. + “Lily and James…I can’t believe it…I didn’t want to believe it…Oh, +Albus…” + Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. “I know…I +know…” he said heavily. + Professor McGonagall’s voice trembled as she went on. “That’s not all. +They’re saying he tried to kill the Potter’s son, Harry. But he couldn’t. He +couldn’t kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they’re saying that +when he couldn’t kill Harry Potter, Voldemort’s power somehow broke — and +that’s why he’s gone.” + Dumbledore nodded glumly. + “It’s — it’s true?” faltered Professor McGonagall. “After all he’s done… +all the people he’s killed…he couldn’t kill a little boy? It’s just astounding…of +all the things to stop him…but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?” + “We can only guess.” said Dumbledore. “We may never know.” + Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her +eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden +watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve +hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It +must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his +pocket and said, “Hagrid’s late. I suppose it was he who told you I’d be here, by +the way?” + “Yes,” said Professor McGonagall. “And I don’t suppose you’re going to +tell me why you’re here, of all places?” + “I’ve come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They’re the only family +he has left now.” + “You don’t mean – you can’t mean the people who live here?” cried +Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. +“Dumbledore — you can’t. I’ve been watching them all day. You couldn’t find +two people who are less like us. And they’ve got this son — I saw him kicking +his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come +and live here!” + “It’s the best place for him,” said Dumbledore firmly. “His aunt and +uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he’s older. I’ve written +them a letter.” + “A letter?” repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on +the wall. “Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? +These people will never understand him! He’ll be famous — a legend — I +wouldn’t be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future — +there will be books written about Harry — every child in our world will know +his name!” + “Exactly.” said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his +half-moon glasses. “It would be enough to turn any boy’s head. Famous before +he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won’t even remember! Can you +see how much better off he’ll be, growing up away from all that until he’s ready +to take it?” + Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, +and then said, “Yes — yes, you’re right, of course. But how is the boy getting +here, Dumbledore?” She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might +be hiding Harry underneath it. + “Hagrid’s bringing him.” + “You think it — wise — to trust Hagrid with something as important as +this?” + “I would trust Hagrid with my life,” said Dumbledore. + “I’m not saying his heart isn’t in the right place,” said Professor +McGonagall grudgingly, “but you can’t pretend he’s not careless. He does tend +to — what was that?” + A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew +steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a +headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky — and a huge +motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them. + If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. +He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He +looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild — long tangles of bushy black +hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and +his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms +he was holding a bundle of blankets. + “Hagrid,” said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. “At last. And where did +you get that motorcycle?” + “Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir,” said the giant, climbing +carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. “Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I’ve +got him, sir.” + “No problems, were there?” + “No, sir — house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before +the Muggles started swarmin’ around. He fell asleep as we was flyin’ over +Bristol.” + Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of +blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet- +black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of +lightning. + “Is that where —?” whispered Professor McGonagall. + “Yes,” said Dumbledore. “He’ll have that scar forever.” + “Couldn’t you do something about it, Dumbledore?” + “Even if I could, I wouldn’t. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself +above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well — +give him here, Hagrid — we’d better get this over with.” + Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys’ +house. + “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.” + Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself +onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the +air and off into the night. + “I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall,” said +Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply. + Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he +stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of +light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange +and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of +the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four. + “Good luck, Harry,” he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a +swish of his cloak, he was gone. + A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy +under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to +happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One +small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was +special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few +hours’ time by Mrs. Dursley’s scream as she opened the front door to put out the +milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and +pinched by his cousin Dudley....He couldn’t know that at this very moment, +people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and +saying in hushed voices: “To Harry Potter — the boy who lived!” + + +HP 1 - Harry Potter and the +Sorcerer's Stone +CHAPTER TWO + +THE VANISHING GLASS + +N early ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their +nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun +rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the +Dursleys’ front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly +the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news +report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed +how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of +what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets — +but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a +large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a +computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The +room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house, too. + Yet Harry Potter was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. +His Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise +of the day. + “Up! Get up! Now!” + Harry woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again. + “Up!” she screeched. Harry heard her walking toward the kitchen and +then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. He rolled onto his back +and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. +There had been a flying motorcycle in it. He had a funny feeling he’d had the +same dream before. + His aunt was back outside the door. + “Are you up yet?” she demanded. + “Nearly,” said Harry. + “Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don’t you +dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy’s birthday.” + Harry groaned. + “What did you say?” his aunt snapped through the door. + “Nothing, nothing…” + Dudley’s birthday — how could he have forgotten? Harry got slowly out +of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and, after +pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Harry was used to spiders, because +the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept. + When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table +was almost hidden beneath all Dudley’s birthday presents. It looked as though +Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second +television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a +mystery to Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise — unless of course +it involved punching somebody. Dudley’s favorite punching bag was Harry, but +he couldn’t often catch him. Harry didn’t look it, but he was very fast. + Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry +had always been small and skinny for his age. He looked even smaller and +skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of +Dudley’s, and Dudley was about four times bigger than he was. Harry had a thin +face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. He wore round glasses +held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had +punched him on the nose. The only thing Harry liked about his own appearance +was a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. He +had had it as long as he could remember, and the first question he could ever +remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how he had gotten it. + “In the car crash when your parents died,” she had said. “And don’t ask +questions.” + Don’t ask questions — that was the first rule for a quiet life with the +Dursleys. + Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon. + “Comb your hair!” he barked, by way of a morning greeting. + About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper +and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than +the rest of the boys in his class put together, but it made no difference, his hair +simply grew that way — all over the place. + Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his +mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not +much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on +his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel +— Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig. + Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as +there wasn’t much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His +face fell. + “Thirty-six,” he said, looking up at his mother and father. “That’s two +less than last year.” + “Darling, you haven’t counted Auntie Marge’s present, see, it’s here +under this big one from Mummy and Daddy.” + “All right, thirty-seven then,” said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry, +who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down his bacon +as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over. + Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, +“And we’ll buy you another two presents while we’re out today. How’s that, +popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right” + Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said +slowly, “So I’ll have thirty...thirty...” + “Thirty-nine, sweetums,” said Aunt Petunia. + “Oh.” Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. “All right +then.” + Uncle Vernon chuckled. + “Little tyke wants his money’s worth, just like his father. ’Atta boy, +Dudley!” He ruffled Dudley’s hair. + At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it +while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video +camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He +was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from +the telephone looking both angry and worried. + “Bad news, Vernon,” she said. “Mrs. Figg’s broken her leg. She can’t +take him.” She jerked her head in Harry’s direction. + Dudley’s mouth fell open in horror, but Harry’s heart gave a leap. Every +year on Dudley’s birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to +adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harry was +left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry +hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him +look at photographs of all the cats she’d ever owned. + “Now what?” said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though +he’d planned this. Harry knew he ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken +her leg, but it wasn’t easy when he reminded himself it would be a whole year +before he had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again. + “We could phone Marge,” Uncle Vernon suggested. + “Don’t be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy.” + The Dursleys often spoke about Harry like this, as though he wasn’t there +— or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn’t understand +them, like a slug. + “What about what’s-her-name, your friend — Yvonne?” + “On vacation in Majorca,” snapped Aunt Petunia. + “You could just leave me here,” Harry put in hopefully (he’d be able to +watch what he wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on +Dudley’s computer). + Aunt Petunia looked as though she’d just swallowed a lemon. + “And come back and find the house in ruins?” she snarled. + “I won’t blow up the house,” said Harry, but they weren’t listening. + “I suppose we could take him to the zoo,” said Aunt Petunia slowly, “… +and leave him in the car.…” + “That car’s new, he’s not sitting in it alone.…” + Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn’t really crying — it had +been years since he’d really cried — but he knew that if he screwed up his face +and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted. + “Dinky Duddydums, don’t cry, Mummy won’t let him spoil your special +day!” she cried, flinging her arms around him. + “I…don’t…want…him…t-t-to come!” Dudley yelled between huge, +pretend sobs. “He always sp-spoils everything!” He shot Harry a nasty grin +through the gap in his mother’s arms. + Just then, the doorbell rang — “Oh, good Lord, they’re here!” said Aunt +Petunia frantically — and a moment later, Dudley’s best friend, Piers Polkiss, +walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He +was usually the one who held people’s arms behind their backs while Dudley hit +them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once. + Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn’t believe his luck, was sitting in the +back of the Dursleys’ car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the +first time in his life. His aunt and uncle hadn’t been able to think of anything else +to do with him, but before they’d left, Uncle Vernon had taken Harry aside. + “I’m warning you,” he had said, putting his large purple face right up +close to Harry’s, “I’m warning you now, boy — any funny business, anything at +all — and you’ll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas.” + “I’m not going to do anything,” said Harry, “honestly…” + But Uncle Vernon didn’t believe him. No one ever did. + The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and it was +just no good telling the Dursleys he didn’t make them happen. + Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking +as though he hadn’t been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his +hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left “to hide that +horrible scar.” Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless +night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his +baggy clothes and taped glasses. Next morning, however, he had gotten up to +find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off He had +been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain +that he couldn’t explain how it had grown back so quickly. + Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting +old sweater of Dudley’s (brown with orange puff balls). The harder she tried to +pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have +fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn’t fit Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided +it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn’t punished. + On the other hand, he’d gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the +roof of the school kitchens. Dudley’s gang had been chasing him as usual when, +as much to Harry’s surprise as anyone else’s, there he was sitting on the +chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry’s +headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he’d +tried to do (as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his +cupboard) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Harry +supposed that the wind must have caught him in mid-jump. + But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with +Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn’t school, his +cupboard, or Mrs. Figg’s cabbage-smelling living room. + While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to +complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the bank, and +Harry were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles. + “…roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums,” he said, as a +motorcycle overtook them. + “I had a dream about a motorcycle,” said Harry, remembering suddenly. +“It was flying.” + Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around +in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache: +“MOTORCYCLES DON’T FLY!” + Dudley and Piers sniggered. + “I know they don’t,” said Harry. “It was only a dream.” + But he wished he hadn’t said anything. If there was one thing the +Dursleys hated even more than his asking questions, it was his talking about +anything acting in a way it shouldn’t, no matter if it was in a dream or even a +cartoon — they seemed to think he might get dangerous ideas. + It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The +Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and +then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry what he wanted before +they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheap lemon ice pop. It wasn’t +bad, either, Harry thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head +who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn’t blond. + Harry had the best morning he’d had in a long time. He was careful to +walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were +starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn’t fall back on their +favorite hobby of hitting him. They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley +had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn’t have enough ice cream on +top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry was allowed to finish the +first. + Harry felt, afterward, that he should have known it was all too good to +last. + After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, +with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and +snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and +Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. +Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its +body twice around Uncle Vernon’s car and crushed it into a trash can — but at +the moment it didn’t look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep. + Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the +glistening brown coils. + “Make it move,” he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the +glass, but the snake didn’t budge. + “Do it again,” Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly +with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on. + “This is boring,” Dudley moaned. He shuffled away. + Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He +wouldn’t have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself — no company +except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all +day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only +visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at least he got +to visit the rest of the house. + The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised +its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry’s. + It winked. + Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was +watching. They weren’t. He looked back at the snake and winked, too. + The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised +its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly: + “I get that all the time.” + “I know,” Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn’t sure the +snake could hear him. “It must be really annoying.” + The snake nodded vigorously. + “Where do you come from, anyway?” Harry asked. + The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at +it. + Boa Constrictor, Brazil. + “Was it nice there?” + The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on: +This specimen was bred in the zoo. “Oh, I see — so you’ve never been to +Brazil?” + As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made both +of them jump. “DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS +SNAKE! YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT IT’S DOING!” + Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could. + “Out of the way, you,” he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by +surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast +no one saw how it happened — one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right +up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror. + Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor’s tank had +vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the +floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the +exits. + As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing +voice said, “Brazil, here I come.… Thanksss, amigo.” + The keeper of the reptile house was in shock. + “But the glass,” he kept saying, “where did the glass go?” + The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea +while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As +far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn’t done anything except snap playfully at +their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon’s car, +Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was +swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry at least, +was Piers calming down enough to say, “Harry was talking to it, weren’t you, +Harry?” + Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before +starting on Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, +“Go — cupboard — stay — no meals,” before he collapsed into a chair, and +Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy. + +Harry lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch. He didn’t +know what time it was and he couldn’t be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. +Until they were, he couldn’t risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food. + He’d lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as +long as he could remember, ever since he’d been a baby and his parents had died +in that car crash. He couldn’t remember being in the car when his parents had +died. Sometimes, when he strained his memory during long hours in his +cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a +burning pain on his forehead. This, he supposed, was the crash, though he +couldn’t imagine where all the green light came from. He couldn’t remember his +parents at all. His aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course he was +forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house. + When he had been younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some +unknown relation coming to take him away, but it had never happened; the +Dursleys were his only family. Yet sometimes he thought (or maybe hoped) that +strangers in the street seemed to know him. Very strange strangers they were, +too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to him once while out shopping +with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harry furiously if he knew the man, +Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild- +looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at him once on a bus. +A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken his hand in the street +the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all +these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Harry tried to get a +closer look. + At school, Harry had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley’s gang hated +that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody +liked to disagree with Dudley’s gang. + + +HP 1 - Harry Potter and the +Sorcerer's Stone +CHAPTER THREE + +LETTERS FROM NO ONE + +T he escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harry his longest-ever +punishment. By the time he was allowed out of his cupboard again, the summer +holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, +crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, +knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches. + Harry was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley’s +gang, who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and +Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of +the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in +Dudley’s favorite sport: Harry Hunting. + This was why Harry spent as much time as possible out of the house, +wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where he could see +a tiny ray of hope. When September came he would be going off to secondary +school and, for the first time in his life, he wouldn’t be with Dudley. Dudley had +been accepted at Uncle Vernon’s old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was +going there too. Harry, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local +public school. Dudley thought this was very funny. + “They stuff people’s heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall,” he +told Harry. “Want to come upstairs and practice?” + “No, thanks,” said Harry. “The poor toilet’s never had anything as +horrible as your head down it — it might be sick.” Then he ran, before Dudley +could work out what he’d said. + One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his +Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry at Mrs. Figg’s. Mrs. Figg wasn’t as bad as +usual. It turned out she’d broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she +didn’t seem quite as fond of them as before. She let Harry watch television and +gave him a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she’d had it for several +years. + That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in +his brand-new uniform. Smeltings’ boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange +knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly +sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren’t looking. This was +supposed to be good training for later life. + As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said +gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears +and said she couldn’t believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so +handsome and grown-up. Harry didn’t trust himself to speak. He thought two of +his ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh. +* * * +There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harry went +in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. He +went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in +gray water. + “What’s this?” he asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always +did if he dared to ask a question. + “Your new school uniform,” she said. + Harry looked in the bowl again. + “Oh,” he said, “I didn’t realize it had to be so wet.” + “Don’t be stupid,” snapped Aunt Petunia. “I’m dyeing some of Dudley’s +old things gray for you. It’ll look just like everyone else’s when I’ve finished.” + Harry seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. He sat +down at the table and tried not to think about how he was going to look on his +first day at Stonewall High — like he was wearing bits of old elephant skin, +probably. + Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of +the smell from Harry’s new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as +usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on +the table. + They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat. + “Get the mail, Dudley,” said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper. + “Make Harry get it.” + “Get the mail, Harry.” + “Make Dudley get it.” + “Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley.” + Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things +lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon’s sister Marge, who was +vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and — +a letter for Harry. + Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic +band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no +friends, no other relatives — he didn’t belong to the library, so he’d never even +got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so +plainly there could be no mistake: +Mr. H. Potter +The Cupboard under the Stairs +4 Privet Drive +Little Whinging +Surrey + +The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the +address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp. + Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple wax +seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a +large letter H. + “Hurry up, boy!” shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. “What are you +doing, checking for letter bombs?” He chuckled at his own joke. + Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter. He handed Uncle +Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow +envelope. + Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over +the postcard. + “Marge’s ill,” he informed Aunt Petunia. “Ate a funny whelk.…” + “Dad!” said Dudley suddenly. “Dad, Harry’s got something!” + Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter, which was written on the +same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his +hand by Uncle Vernon. + “That’s mine!” said Harry, trying to snatch it back. + “Who’d be writing to you?” sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter +open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster +than a set of traffic lights. And it didn’t stop there. Within seconds it was the +grayish white of old porridge. + “P-P-Petunia!” he gasped. + Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high +out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a +moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a +choking noise. + “Vernon! Oh my goodness — Vernon!” + They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry and +Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn’t used to being ignored. He gave his +father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick. + “I want to read that letter,” he said loudly. + “I want to read it,” said Harry furiously, “as it’s mine.” + “Get out, both of you,” croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back +inside its envelope. + Harry didn’t move. + “I WANT MY LETTER!” he shouted. + “Let me see it!” demanded Dudley. + “OUT!” roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the +scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door +behind them. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who +would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry, his glasses dangling from +one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor. + “Vernon,” Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, “look at the +address — how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don’t think +they’re watching the house?” + “Watching — spying — might be following us,” muttered Uncle Vernon +wildly. + “But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we +don’t want —” + Harry could see Uncle Vernon’s shiny black shoes pacing up and down +the kitchen. + “No,” he said finally. “No, we’ll ignore it. If they don’t get an answer… +Yes, that’s best…we won’t do anything…” + “But —” + “I’m not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn’t we swear when we +took him in we’d stamp out that dangerous nonsense?” + +That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something +he’d never done before; he visited Harry in his cupboard. + “Where’s my letter?” said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed +through the door. “Who’s writing to me?” + “No one. It was addressed to you by mistake,” said Uncle Vernon shortly. +“I have burned it.” + “It was not a mistake,” said Harry angrily, “it had my cupboard on it.” + “SILENCE!” yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the +ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which +looked quite painful. + “Er — yes, Harry — about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been +thinking…you’re really getting a bit big for it…we think it might be nice if you +moved into Dudley’s second bedroom. + “Why?” said Harry. + “Don’t ask questions!” snapped his uncle. “Take this stuff upstairs, now.” + The Dursleys’ house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt +Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon’s sister, Marge), one where +Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn’t fit +into his first bedroom. It only took Harry one trip upstairs to move everything he +owned from the cupboard to this room. He sat down on the bed and stared +around him. Nearly everything in here was broken. The month-old video camera +was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next +door neighbor’s dog; in the corner was Dudley’s first-ever television set, which +he’d put his foot through when his favorite program had been canceled; there +was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at +school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because +Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only +things in the room that looked as though they’d never been touched. + From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, I +don’t want him in there…I need that room…make him get out...” + Harry sighed and stretched out on the bed. Yesterday he’d have given +anything to be up here. Today he’d rather be back in his cupboard with that letter +than up here without it. + +Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. +He’d screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on +purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, +and he still didn’t have his room back. Harry was thinking about this time +yesterday and bitterly wishing he’d opened the letter in the hall. Uncle Vernon +and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly. + When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice +to Harry, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his +Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, “There’s another one! +‘Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive —’” + With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the +hall, Harry right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground +to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had +grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. After a minute of confused +fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon +straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry’s letter clutched in his hand. + “Go to your cupboard — I mean, your bedroom,” he wheezed at Harry. +“Dudley — go — just go.” + Harry walked round and round his new room. Someone knew he had +moved out of his cupboard and they seemed to know he hadn’t received his first +letter. Surely that meant they’d try again? And this time he’d make sure they +didn’t fail. He had a plan. + +The repaired alarm clock rang at six o’clock the next morning. Harry turned +it off quickly and dressed silently. He mustn’t wake the Dursleys. He stole +downstairs without turning on any of the lights. + He was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and +get the letters for number four first. His heart hammered as he crept across the +dark hall toward the front door — + “AAAAARRRGH!” + Harry leapt into the air; he’d trodden on something big and squashy on +the doormat — something alive! + Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Harry realized that the big, +squashy something had been his uncle’s face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the +foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Harry didn’t do +exactly what he’d been trying to do. He shouted at Harry for about half an hour +and then told him to go and make a cup of tea. Harry shuffled miserably off into +the kitchen and by the time he got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle +Vernon’s lap. Harry could see three letters addressed in green ink. + “I want —” he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into +pieces before his eyes. + Uncle Vernon didn’t go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed +up the mail slot. + “See,” he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, “if they +can’t deliver them they’ll just give up.” + “I’m not sure that’ll work, Vernon.” + “Oh, these people’s minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they’re not like +you and me,” said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of +fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him. + +On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Harry. As they couldn’t go +through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the +sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs +bathroom. + Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got +out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back +doors so no one could go out. He hummed “Tiptoe Through the Tulips” as he +worked, and jumped at small noises. + +On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to Harry +found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two +dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through +the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the +post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia +shredded the letters in her food processor. + “Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?” Dudley asked Harry in +amazement. +* * * +On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking +tired and rather ill, but happy. + “No post on Sundays,” he reminded them cheerfully as he spread +marmalade on his newspapers, “no damn letters today —” + Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and +caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters +came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry +leapt into the air trying to catch one — + “Out! OUT!” + Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist and threw him into the hall. +When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, +Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming +into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor. + “That does it,” said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling +great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. “I want you all back here in five +minutes ready to leave. We’re going away. Just pack some clothes. No +arguments!” + He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared +argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up +doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in +the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he +tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag. + They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn’t dare ask where +they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and +drive in the opposite direction for a while. + “Shake ’em off…shake ’em off,” he would mutter whenever he did this. + They didn’t stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling. +He’d never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he’d missed five +television programs he’d wanted to see, and he’d never gone so long without +blowing up an alien on his computer. + Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the +outskirts of a big city. Dudley and Harry shared a room with twin beds and +damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored but Harry stayed awake, sitting on the +windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars and wondering.… + +They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the +next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their +table. + “’Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? Only I got about an ’undred +of these at the front desk.” + She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address: + +Mr. H. Potter +Room 17 +Railview Hotel +Cokeworth + +Harry made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked his hand out of +the way. The woman stared. + “I’ll take them,” said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following +her from the dining room. +* * * +“Wouldn’t it be better just to go home, dear?” Aunt Petunia suggested +timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn’t seem to hear her. Exactly what he +was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, +got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went +again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across +a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage. + “Daddy’s gone mad, hasn’t he?” Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late +that afternoon. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the +car, and disappeared. + It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dudley sniveled. + “It’s Monday,” he told his mother. “The Great Humberto’s on tonight. I +want to stay somewhere with a television.” + Monday. This reminded Harry of something. If it was Monday — and +you could usually count on Dudley to know the days the week, because of +television — then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Harry’s eleventh birthday. Of course, +his birthdays were never exactly fun — last year, the Dursleys had given him a +coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon’s old socks. Still, you weren’t eleven +every day. + Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, +thin package and didn’t answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he’d bought. + “Found the perfect place!” he said. “Come on! Everyone out!” + It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what +looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most +miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no +television in there. + “Storm forecast for tonight!” said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his +hands together. “And this gentleman’s kindly agreed to lend us his boat!” + A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather +wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them. + “I’ve already got us some rations,” said Uncle Vernon, “so all aboard!” + It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks +and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they +reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the +broken-down house. + The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind +whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and +empty. There were only two rooms. + Uncle Vernon’s rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four +bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and +shriveled up. + “Could do with some of those letters now, eh?” he said cheerfully. + He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a +chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Harry privately agreed, +though the thought didn’t cheer him up at all. + As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the +high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy +windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and +made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went +off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry was left to find the softest bit of floor +he could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket. + The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry +couldn’t sleep. He shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, his +stomach rumbling with hunger. Dudley’s snores were drowned by the low rolls +of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley’s watch, which +was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Harry he’d be eleven +in ten minutes’ time. He lay and watched his birthday tick nearer, wondering if +the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now. + Five minutes to go. Harry heard something creak outside. He hoped the +roof wasn’t going to fall in, although he might be warmer if it did. Four minutes +to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got +back that he’d be able to steal one somehow. + Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like +that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the +rock crumbling into the sea? + One minute to go and he’d be eleven. Thirty seconds...twenty…ten… +nine — maybe he’d wake Dudley up, just to annoy him — three…two…one… + BOOM. + The whole shack shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, staring at the door. +Someone was outside, knocking to come in. + + +HP 1 - Harry Potter and the +Sorcerer's Stone +CHAPTER FOUR + +THE KEEPER OF THE KEYS + +B OOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake. + “Where’s the cannon?” he said stupidly. + There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the +room. He was holding a rifle in his hands – now they knew what had been in the +long, thin package he had brought with them. + “Who’s there?” he shouted. “I warn you — I’m armed!” + There was a pause. Then — + SMASH! + The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and +with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor. + A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost +completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but +you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair. + The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just +brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back +into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look +at them all. + “Couldn’t make us a cup o’ tea, could yeh? It’s not been an easy journey. +…” + He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear. + “Budge up, yeh great lump,” said the stranger. + Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, +terrified, behind Uncle Vernon. + “An’ here’s Harry!” said the giant. + Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the +beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile. + “Las’ time I saw you, you was only a baby,” said the giant. “Yeh look a +lot like yer dad, but yeh’ve got yer mom’s eyes.” + Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise. + “I demand that you leave at once, sir!” he said. “You are breaking and +entering!” + “Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune,” said the giant; he reached over +the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon’s hands, bent it into a +knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the +room. + Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on. + “Anyway — Harry,” said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, “a +very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here — I mighta sat on it at +some point, but it’ll taste all right.” + From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed +box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate +cake with Happy Birthday Harry written on it in green icing. + Harry looked up at the giant. He meant to say thank you, but the words +got lost on the way to his mouth, and what he said instead was, “Who are you?” + The giant chuckled. + “True, I haven’t introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and +Grounds at Hogwarts.” + He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry’s whole arm. + “What about that tea then, eh?” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I’d +not say no ter summat stronger if yeh’ve got it, mind.” + His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he +snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn’t see what he was doing +but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the +whole damp hut with flickering light and Harry felt the warmth wash over him +as though he’d sunk into a hot bath. + The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and +began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a +squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a +bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. +Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a +thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly +burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said +sharply, “Don’t touch anything he gives you, Dudley.” + The giant chuckled darkly. + “Yer great puddin’ of a son don’ need fattenin’ anymore, Dursley, don’ +worry.” + He passed the sausages to Harry, who was so hungry he had never tasted +anything so wonderful, but he still couldn’t take his eyes off the giant. Finally, as +nobody seemed about to explain anything, he said, “I’m sorry, but I still don’t +really know who you are.” + The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his +hand. + “Call me Hagrid,” he said, “everyone does. An’ like I told yeh, I’m +Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts — yeh’ll know all about Hogwarts, o’ course. + “Er — no,” said Harry. + Hagrid looked shocked. + “Sorry,” Harry said quickly. + “Sorry?” barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank +back into the shadows. “It’s them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren’t gettin’ +yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn’t even know abou’ Hogwarts, fer +cryin’ out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?” + “All what?” asked Harry. + “ALL WHAT?” Hagrid thundered. “Now wait jus’ one second!” + He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The +Dursleys were cowering against the wall. + “Do you mean ter tell me,” he growled at the Dursleys, “that this boy — +this boy! — knows nothin’ abou’ — about ANYTHING?” + Harry thought this was going a bit far. He had been to school, after all, +and his marks weren’t bad. + “I know some things,” he said. “I can, you know, do math and stuff.” + But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, “About our world, I mean. +Your world. My world. Yer parents’ world.” + “What world?” + Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode. + “DURSLEY!” he boomed. + Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that +sounded like “Mimblewimble.” Hagrid stared wildly at Harry. + “But yeh must know about yer mom and dad,” he said. “I mean, they’re +famous. You’re famous.” + “What? My — my mom and dad weren’t famous, were they?” + “Yeh don’ know...yeh don’ know....” Hagrid ran his fingers through his +hair, fixing Harry with a bewildered stare. + “Yeh don’ know what yeh are?” he said finally. + Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice. + “Stop!” he commanded. “Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell the boy +anything!” + A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious +look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with +rage. + “You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore +left fer him? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An’ you’ve kept it +from him all these years?” + “Kept what from me?” said Harry eagerly. + “STOP! I FORBID YOU!” yelled Uncle Vernon in panic. + Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror. + “Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh,” said Hagrid. “Harry — yer a +wizard.” + There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind +could be heard. + “I’m a what?” gasped Harry. + “A wizard, o’ course,” said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which +groaned and sank even lower, “an’ a thumpin’ good ‘un, I’d say, once yeh’ve +been trained up a bit. With a mum an’ dad like yours, what else would yeh be? +An’ I reckon it’s abou’ time yeh read yer letter.” + Harry stretched out his hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, +addressed in emerald green to Mr. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The +Sea. He pulled out the letter and read: + +HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY + +Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE +(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme +Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards) + +Dear Mr. Potter, +We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts +School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary +books and equipment. +Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. +Yours sincerely, + +Minerva McGonagall, +Deputy Headmistress + +Questions exploded inside Harry’s head like fireworks and he couldn’t +decide which to ask first. After a few minutes he stammered, “What does it +mean, they await my owl?” + “Gallopin’ Gorgons, that reminds me,” said Hagrid, clapping a hand to +his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another +pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl — a real, live, rather ruffled-looking +owl — a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth +he scribbled a note that Harry could read upside down: + +Dear Professor Dumbledore, +Given Harry his letter. +Taking him to buy his things tomorrow. +Weather’s horrible. Hope you’re well. +Hagrid + +Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, +went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and +sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone. + Harry realized his mouth was open and closed it quickly. + “Where was I?” said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still +ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight. + “He’s not going,” he said. + Hagrid grunted. + “I’d like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him,” he said. + “A what?” said Harry, interested. + “A Muggle,” said Hagrid, “it’s what we call nonmagic folk like them. +An’ it’s your bad luck you grew up in a family o’ the biggest Muggles I ever laid +eyes on.” + “We swore when we took him in we’d put a stop to that rubbish,” said +Uncle Vernon, “swore we’d stamp it out of him! Wizard indeed!” + “You knew?” said Harry. “You knew I’m a — a wizard?” + “Knew!” shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. “Knew! Of course we knew! +How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter +just like that and disappeared off to that — that school — and came home every +vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the +only one who saw her for what she was — a freak! But for my mother and +father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in +the family!” + She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed +she had been wanting to say all this for years. + “Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had +you, and of course I knew you’d be just the same, just as strange, just as — as — +abnormal — and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we +got landed with you!” + Harry had gone very white. As soon as he found his voice he said, +“Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!” + “CAR CRASH!” roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys +scuttled back to their corner. “How could a car crash kill Lily an’ James Potter? +It’s an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter not knowin’ his own story when every +kid in our world knows his name!” + “But why? What happened?” Harry asked urgently. + The anger faded from Hagrid’s face. He looked suddenly anxious. + “I never expected this,” he said, in a low, worried voice. “I had no idea, +when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin’ hold of yeh, how much +yeh didn’t know. Ah, Harry, I don’ know if I’m the right person ter tell yeh — +but someone’s gotta — yeh can’t go off ter Hogwarts not knowin’.” + He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys. + “Well, it’s best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh — mind, I can’t tell +yeh everythin’, it’s a great myst’ry, parts of it.…” + He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, “It +begins, I suppose, with — with a person called — but it’s incredible yeh don’t +know his name, everyone in our world knows —” + “Who?” + “Well — I don’ like sayin’ the name if I can help it. No one does.” + “Why not?” + “Gulpin’ gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. +See, there was this wizard who went ...bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. +Worse than worse. His name was...” + Hagrid gulped, but no words came out. + “Could you write it down?” Harry suggested. + “Nah — can’t spell it. All right — Voldemort. ” Hagrid shuddered. “Don’ +make me say it again. Anyway, this — this wizard, about twenty years ago now, +started lookin’ fer followers. Got ‘em, too — some were afraid, some just +wanted a bit o’ his power, ‘cause he was gettin’ himself power, all right. Dark +days, Harry. Didn’t know who ter trust, didn’t dare get friendly with strange +wizards or witches…terrible things happened. He was takin’ over. ‘Course, some +stood up to him — an’ he killed ‘em. Horribly. One o’ the only safe places left +was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore’s the only one You-Know-Who was afraid +of. Didn’t dare try takin’ the school, not jus’ then, anyway. + “Now, yer mum an’ dad were as good a witch an’ wizard as I ever knew. +Head boy an’ girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst’ry is why You- +Know-Who never tried to get ‘em on his side before…probably knew they were +too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin’ ter do with the Dark Side. + “Maybe he thought he could persuade ‘em...maybe he just wanted ‘em +outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all +living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer +house an’ — an’ —” + Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew +his nose with a sound like a foghorn. + “Sorry,” he said. “But it’s that sad — knew yer mum an’ dad, an’ nicer +people yeh couldn’t find — anyway…. + “You-Know-Who killed ‘em. An’ then — an’ this is the real myst’ry of +the thing — he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, +or maybe he just liked killin’ by then. But he couldn’t do it. Never wondered +how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That’s what +yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh — took care of yer mum an’ dad +an’ yer house, even — but it didn’t work on you, an’ that’s why yer famous, +Harry. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill ’em, no one except you, an’ +he’d killed some o’ the best witches an’ wizards of the age — the McKinnons, +the Bones, the Prewetts — an’ you was only a baby, an’ you lived.” + Something very painful was going on in Harry’s mind. As Hagrid’s story +came to a close, he saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than +he had ever remembered it before — and he remembered something else, for the +first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel laugh. + Hagrid was watching him sadly. + “Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore’s orders. +Brought yeh ter this lot….” + “Load of old tosh,” said Uncle Vernon. Harry jumped; he had almost +forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have +got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched. + “Now, you listen here, boy,” he snarled, “I accept there’s something +strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn’t have cured — and +as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdoes, no denying it, and +the world’s better off without them in my opinion — asked for all they got, +getting mixed up with these wizarding types — just what I expected, always +knew they’d come to a sticky end —” + But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink +umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he +said, “I’m warning you, Dursley — I’m warning you — one more word….” + In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, +Uncle Vernon’s courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and +fell silent. + “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 bullied 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 greatest +sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to kick him +around like a football? + “Hagrid,” he said quietly, “I think you must have made a mistake. I don’t +think I can be a wizard.” + To his surprise, Hagrid chuckled. + “Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or +angry?” + Harry looked into the fire. Now he came to think about it…every odd +thing that had ever made his aunt and uncle furious with him had happened when +he, Harry, had been upset or angry…chased by Dudley’s gang, he had somehow +found himself out of their reach…dreading going to school with that ridiculous +haircut, he’d managed to make it grow back...and the very last time Dudley had +hit him, hadn’t he got his revenge, without even realizing he was doing it? +Hadn’t he set a boa constrictor on him? + Harry looked back at Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively +beaming at him. + “See?” said Hagrid. “Harry Potter, not a wizard — you wait, you’ll be +right famous at Hogwarts.” + But Uncle Vernon wasn’t going to give in without a fight. + “Haven’t I told you he’s not going?” he hissed. “He’s going to Stonewall +High and he’ll be grateful for it. I’ve read those letters and he needs all sorts of +rubbish — spell books and wands and —” + “If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won’t stop him,” growled +Hagrid. “Stop Lily an’ James Potter’s son goin’ ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. His +name’s been down ever since he was born. He’s off ter the finest school of +witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and he won’t know +himself. He’ll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an’ he’ll be under +the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Albus Dumbled—” + “I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO +TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!” yelled Uncle Vernon. + But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it +over his head, ���NEVER —” he thundered, “— INSULT — ALBUS — +DUMBLEDORE — IN — FRONT — OF — ME!” + He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at +Dudley — there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp +squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands +clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, +Harry saw a curly pig’s tail poking through a hole in his trousers. + Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other +room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind +them. + Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard. + “Shouldn’ta lost me temper,” he said ruefully, “but it didn’t work +anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig +anyway there wasn’t much left ter do.” + He cast a sideways look at Harry under his bushy eyebrows. + “Be grateful if yeh didn’t mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts,” he said. +“I’m — er — not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin’. I was allowed ter do a +bit ter follow yeh an’ get yer letters to yeh an’ stuff — one o’ the reasons I was so +keen ter take on the job.” + “Why aren’t you supposed to do magic?” asked Harry. + “Oh, well — I was at Hogwarts meself but I — er — got expelled, ter tell +yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an’ everything. +But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore.” + “Why were you expelled?” + “It’s gettin’ late and we’ve got lots ter do tomorrow,” said Hagrid loudly. +“Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an’ that.” + He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry. + “You can kip under that,” he said. “Don’ mind if it wriggles a bit, I think +I still got a couple o’ doormice in one o’ the pockets.” + + +HP 1 - Harry Potter and the +Sorcerer's Stone +CHAPTER FIVE + +DIAGON ALLEY + +H arry woke early the next morning. Although he could tell it was daylight, +he kept his eyes shut tight. + “It was a dream, he told himself firmly. “I dreamed a giant called Hagrid +came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards. When I open my eyes I’ll be +at home in my cupboard.” + There was suddenly a loud tapping noise. + And there’s Aunt Petunia knocking on the door, Harry thought, his heart +sinking. But he still didn’t open his eyes. It had been such a good dream. + Tap. Tap. Tap. + “All right,” Harry mumbled, “I’m getting up.” + He sat up and Hagrid’s heavy coat fell off him. The hut was full of +sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, +and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its +beak. + Harry scrambled to his feet, so happy he felt as though a large balloon +was swelling inside him. He went straight to the window and jerked it open. The +owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn’t wake +up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid’s coat. + “Don’t do that.” + Harry tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak +fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat. + “Hagrid!” said Harry loudly. “There’s an owl —” + “Pay him,” Hagrid grunted into the sofa. + “What?” + “He wants payin’ fer deliverin’ the paper. Look in the pockets.” + Hagrid’s coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets — bunches of +keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags...finally, Harry +pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins. + “Give him five Knuts,” said Hagrid sleepily. + “Knuts?” + “The little bronze ones.” + Harry counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so +Harry could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off +through the open window. + Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched. + “Best be off, Harry, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an’ buy all +yer stuff fer school.” + Harry was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them. He had just +thought of something that made him feel as though the happy balloon inside him +had got a puncture. + “Um — Hagrid?” + “Mm?” said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots. + “I haven’t got any money — and you heard Uncle Vernon last night…he +won’t pay for me to go and learn magic.” + “Don’t worry about that,” said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his +head. “D’yeh think yer parents didn’t leave yeh anything?” + “But if their house was destroyed —” + “They didn’ keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is +Gringotts. Wizards’ bank. Have a sausage, they’re not bad cold — an’ I wouldn’ +say no teh a bit o’ yer birthday cake, neither.” + “Wizards have banks?” + “Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins.” + Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding. + “Goblins?” + “Yeah — so yeh’d be mad ter try an’ rob it, I’ll tell yeh that. Never mess +with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh +want ter keep safe — ‘cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o’ fact, I gotta visit +Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business.” Hagrid drew himself +up proudly. “He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin’ you — +gettin’ things from Gringotts — knows he can trust me, see.” + “Got everythin’? Come on, then.” + Harry followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now +and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still +there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm. + “How did you get here?” Harry asked, looking around for another boat. + “Flew,” said Hagrid. + “Flew?” + “Yeah — but we’ll go back in this. Not s’pposed ter use magic now I’ve +got yeh.” + They settled down in the boat, Harry still staring at Hagrid, trying to +imagine him flying. + “Seems a shame ter row, though,” said Hagrid, giving Harry another of +his sideways looks. “If I was ter — er — speed things up a bit, would yeh mind +not mentionin’ it at Hogwarts?” + “Of course not,” said Harry, eager to see more magic. Hagrid pulled out +the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off +toward land. + “Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?” Harry asked. + “Spells — enchantments,” said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he +spoke. “They say there’s dragons guardin’ the high security vaults. And then yeh +gotta find yer way — Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep +under the Underground. Yeh’d die of hunger tryin’ ter get out, even if yeh did +manage ter get yer hands on summat.” + Harry sat and thought about this while Hagrid read his newspaper, the +Daily Prophet. Harry had learned from Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left +alone while they did this, but it was very difficult, he’d never had so many +questions in his life. + “Ministry o’ Magic messin’ things up as usual,” Hagrid muttered, turning +the page. + “There’s a Ministry of Magic?” Harry asked, before he could stop +himself. + “’Course,” said Hagrid. “They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o’ +course, but he’d never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. +Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, +askin’ fer advice.” + “But what does a Ministry of Magic do?” + “Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there’s still +witches an’ wizards up an’ down the country.” + “Why?” + “Why? Blimey, Harry, everyone’d be wantin’ magic solutions to their +problems. Nah, we’re best left alone.” + At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid +folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street. + Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to +the station. Harry couldn’t blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as +anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and +saying loudly, “See that, Harry? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?” + “Hagrid,” said Harry, panting a bit as he ran to keep up, “did you say +there are dragons at Gringotts?” + “Well, so they say,” said Hagrid. “Crikey, I’d like a dragon.” + “You’d like one?” + “Wanted one ever since I was a kid — here we go.” + They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five +minutes’ time. Hagrid, who didn’t understand “Muggle money,” as he called it, +gave the bills to Harry so he could buy their tickets. + People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and +sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent. + “Still got yer letter, Harry?” he asked as he counted stitches. + Harry took the parchment envelope out of his pocket. + “Good,” said Hagrid. “There’s a list there of everything yeh need.” + Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn’t noticed the night +before, and read: + +HOGWARTS SCHOOL o f WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY +UNIFORM +First-year students will require: +1. Three sets of plain work robes (black) +2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear +3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar) +4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings) +Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags + +COURSE BOOKS +All students should have a copy of each of the following: +The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk +A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot +Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling +A Beginners’ Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch +One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore +Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger +Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander +The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble + +OTHER EQUIPMENT +1 wand +1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) +1 set of glass or crystal phials +1 telescope set +1 brass scales +Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad + +PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT +ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS + +“Can we buy all this in London?” Harry wondered aloud. + “If yeh know where to go,” said Hagrid. + +Harry had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know +where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary +way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained +loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow. + “I don’t know how the Muggles manage without magic,” he said as they +climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops. + Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry had to do +was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, +hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell +you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. +Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there +really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Might this not all be some +huge joke that the Dursleys had cooked up? If Harry hadn’t known that the +Dursleys had no sense of humor, he might have thought so; yet somehow, even +though everything Hagrid had told him so far was unbelievable, Harry couldn’t +help trusting him. + “This is it,” said Hagrid, coming to a halt, “the Leaky Cauldron. It’s a +famous place.” + It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn’t pointed it out, Harry +wouldn’t have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn’t glance at it. +Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the +other as if they couldn’t see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harry had the +most peculiar feeling that only he and Hagrid could see it. Before he could +mention this, Hagrid had steered him inside. + For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were +sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a +long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was +quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped +when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled +at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, “The usual, Hagrid?” + “Can’t, Tom, I’m on Hogwarts business,” said Hagrid, clapping his great +hand on Harry’s shoulder and making Harry’s knees buckle. + “Good Lord,” said the bartender, peering at Harry, “is this — can this be +—?” + The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent. + “Bless my soul,” whispered the old bartender, “Harry Potter…what an +honor.” + He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his +hand, tears in his eyes. + “Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back.” + Harry didn’t know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old +woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid +was beaming. + Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry +found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron. + “Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can’t believe I’m meeting you at last.” + “So proud, Mr. Potter, I’m just so proud.” + “Always wanted to shake your hand — I’m all of a flutter.” + “Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can’t tell you, Diggle’s the name, Dedalus +Diggle.” + “I’ve seen you before!” said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle’s top hat fell off in +his excitement. “You bowed to me once in a shop.” + “He remembers!” cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. +“Did you hear that? He remembers me!” Harry shook hands again and again — +Doris Crockford kept coming back for more. + A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his +eyes was twitching. + “Professor Quirrell!” said Hagrid. “Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one +of your teachers at Hogwarts.” + “P-P-Potter,” stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry’s hand, “c- +can’t t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you.” + “What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?” + “D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts,” muttered Professor Quirrell, as +though he’d rather not think about it. “N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?” +He laughed nervously. “You’ll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I’ve +g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself.” He looked terrified at +the very thought. + But the others wouldn’t let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. It +took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to +make himself heard over the babble. + “Must get on — lots ter buy. Come on, Harry.” + Doris Crockford shook Harry’s hand one last time, and Hagrid led them +through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing +but a trash can and a few weeds. + Hagrid grinned at Harry. + “Told yeh, didn’t I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell +was tremblin’ ter meet yeh — mind you, he’s usually tremblin’.” + “Is he always that nervous?” + “Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin’ +outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience....They +say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o’ trouble with +a hag — never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own +subject — now, where’s me umbrella?” + Vampires? Hags? Harry’s head was swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was +counting bricks in the wall above the trash can. + “Three up…two across…” he muttered. “Right, stand back, Harry.” + He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella. + The brick he had touched quivered — it wriggled — in the middle, a +small hole appeared — it grew wider and wider — a second later they were +facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled +street that twisted and turned out of sight. + “Welcome,” said Hagrid, “to Diagon Alley.” + He grinned at Harry’s amazement. They stepped through the archway. +Harry looked quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly +back into solid wall. + The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. +Cauldrons — All Sizes — Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver — Self-Stirring — +Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them. + “Yeah, you’ll be needin’ one,” said Hagrid, “but we gotta get yer money +first.” + Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every +direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the +shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman +outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, “Dragon +liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they’re mad.…” + A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops +Owl Emporium — Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of +about Harry’s age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in +it. “Look,” Harry heard one of them say, “the new Nimbus Two Thousand — +fastest ever —” There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and +strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with +barrels of bat spleens and eels’ eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and +rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon.… + “Gringotts,” said Hagrid. + They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other +little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of +scarlet and gold, was — + “Yeah, that’s a goblin,” said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white +stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had +a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and +feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of +doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them: +Enter, stranger, but take heed +Of what awaits the sin of greed, +For those who take, but do not earn, +Must pay most dearly in their turn. +So if you seek beneath our floors +A treasure that was never yours, +Thief, you have been warned, beware +Of finding more than treasure there. + +“Like I said, Yeh’d be mad ter try an’ rob it,” said Hagrid. + A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a +vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools +behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, +examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to +count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out +of these. Hagrid and Harry made for the counter. + “Morning,” said Hagrid to a free goblin. “We’ve come ter take some +money outta Mr. Harry Potter’s safe.” + “You have his key, sir?” + “Got it here somewhere,” said Hagrid, and he started emptying his +pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the +goblin’s book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry watched the +goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals. + “Got it,” said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key. + The goblin looked at it closely. + “That seems to be in order.” + “An’ I’ve also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore,” said Hagrid +importantly, throwing out his chest. “It’s about the You-Know-What in vault +seven hundred and thirteen.” + The goblin read the letter carefully. + “Very well,” he said, handing it back to Hagrid, “I will have someone +take you down to both vaults. Griphook!” + Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog +biscuits back inside his pockets, he and Harry followed Griphook toward one of +the doors leading off the hall. + “What’s the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?” +Harry asked. + “Can’t tell yeh that,” said Hagrid mysteriously. “Very secret. Hogwarts +business. Dumbledore’s trusted me. More’n my job’s worth ter tell yeh that.” + Griphook held the door open for them. Harry, who had expected more +marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming +torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the +floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward +them. They climbed in — Hagrid with some difficulty — and were off. + At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried +to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. +The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn’t +steering. + Harry’s eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them +wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and +twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late — they plunged even +deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew +from the ceiling and floor. + “I never know,” Harry called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, “what’s +the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?” + “Stalagmite’s got an ‘m’ in it,” said Hagrid. “An’ don’ ask me questions +just now, I think I’m gonna be sick.” + He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small +door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop +his knees from trembling. + Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, +and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of +silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts. + “All yours,” smiled Hagrid. + All Harry’s — it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn’t have known +about this or they’d have had it from him faster than blinking. How often had +they complained how much Harry cost them to keep? And all the time there had +been a small fortune belonging to him, buried deep under London. + Hagrid helped Harry pile some of it into a bag. + “The gold ones are Galleons,” he explained. “Seventeen silver Sickles to +a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it’s easy enough. Right, that should +be enough fer a couple o’ terms, we’ll keep the rest safe for yeh.” He turned to +Griphook. “Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more +slowly?” + “One speed only,” said Griphook. + They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became +colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an +underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try to see what was down +at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his +neck. + Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole. + “Stand back,” said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently +with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away. + “If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they’d be sucked through the +door and trapped in there,” said Griphook. + “How often do you check to see if anyone’s inside?” Harry asked. + “About once every ten years,” said Griphook with a rather nasty grin. + Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, +Harry was sure, and he leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels +at the very least — but at first he thought it was empty. Then he noticed a grubby +little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up +and tucked it deep inside his coat. Harry longed to know what it was, but knew +better than to ask. + “Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don’t talk to me on the way +back, it’s best if I keep me mouth shut,” said Hagrid. + +One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. +Harry didn’t know where to run first now that he had a bag full of money. He +didn’t have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that he +was holding more money than he’d had in his whole life — more money than +even Dudley had ever had. + “Might as well get yer uniform,” said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam +Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. “Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped +off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts.” He did +still look a bit sick, so Harry entered Madam Malkin’s shop alone, feeling +nervous. + Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve. + “Hogwarts, dear?” she said, when Harry started to speak. “Got the lot +here — another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.” + In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a +footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin +stood Harry on a stool next to him slipped a long robe over his head, and began +to pin it to the right length. + “Hello,” said the boy, “Hogwarts, too?” + “Yes,” said Harry. + “My father’s next door buying my books and mother’s up the street +looking at wands,” said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. “Then I’m +going to drag them off to took at racing brooms. I don’t see why first years can’t +have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in +somehow.” + Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley. + “Have you got your own broom?” the boy went on. + “No,” said Harry. + “Play Quidditch at all?” + “No,” Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be. + “I do — Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my house, +and I must say, I agree. Know what house you’ll be in yet?” + “No,” said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute. + “Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll +be in Slytherin, all our family have been — imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think +I’d leave, wouldn’t you?” + “Mmm,” said Harry, wishing he could say something a bit more +interesting. + “I say, look at that man!” said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front +window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large +ice creams to show he couldn’t come in. + “That’s Hagrid,” said Harry, pleased to know something the boy didn’t. +“He works at Hogwarts.” + “Oh,” said the boy, “I’ve heard of him. He’s a sort of servant, isn’t he?” + “He’s the gamekeeper,” said Harry. He was liking the boy less and less +every second. + “Yes, exactly. I heard he’s a sort of savage — lives in a hut on the school +grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up +setting fire to his bed.” + “I think he’s brilliant,” said Harry coldly. + “Do you?” said the boy, with a slight sneer. “Why is he with you? Where +are your parents?” + “They’re dead,” said Harry shortly. He didn’t feel much like going into +the matter with this boy. + “Oh, sorry,” said the other, not sounding sorry at all. “But they were our +kind, weren’t they?” + “They were a witch and wizard, if that’s what you mean.” + “I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just +not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them +have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they +should keep it in the old wizarding families. What’s your surname, anyway?” + But before Harry could answer, Madam Malkin said, “That’s you done, +my dear,” and Harry, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped +down from the footstool. + “Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,” said the drawling boy. + Harry was rather quiet as he ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought him +(chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts). + “What’s up?” said Hagrid. + “Nothing,” Harry lied. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harry +cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote. +When they had left the shop, he said, “Hagrid, what’s Quidditch?” + “Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin’ how little yeh know — not knowin’ +about Quidditch!” + “Don’t make me feel worse,” said Harry. He told Hagrid about the pale +boy in Madam Malkin’s. + “— and he said people from Muggle families shouldn’t even be allowed +in —” + “Yer not from a Muggle family. If he’d known who yeh were — he’s +grown up knowin’ yer name if his parents are wizardin’ folk. You saw what +everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what +does he know about it, some o’ the best I ever saw were the only ones with +magic in ‘em in a long line o’ Muggles — look at yer mum! Look what she had +fer a sister!” + “So what is Quidditch?” + “It’s our sport. Wizard sport. It’s like — like soccer in the Muggle world +— everyone follows Quidditch — played up in the air on broomsticks and +there’s four balls — sorta hard ter explain the rules.” + “And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?” + “School houses. There’s four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o’ +duffers, but —” + “I bet I’m in Hufflepuff,” said Harry gloomily. + “Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin,” said Hagrid darkly. “There’s not a +single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin. You-Know-Who +was one.” + “Vol-, sorry —You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?” + “Years an’ years ago,” said Hagrid. + They bought Harry’s school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts +where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving +stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books +full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even +Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on +some of these. Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and +Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the +Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More) +by Professor Vindictus Viridian. + “I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley.” + “I’m not sayin’ that’s not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the +Muggle world except in very special circumstances,” said Hagrid. “An’ anyway, +yeh couldn’ work any of them curses yet, yeh’ll need a lot more study before yeh +get ter that level.” + Hagrid wouldn’t let Harry buy a solid gold cauldron, either (“It says +pewter on yer list”), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion +ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited the Apothecary, +which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad +eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, +dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of +fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man +behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Harry, Harry +himself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and +minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop). + Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry’s list again. + “Just yer wand left — A yeah, an’ I still haven’t got yeh a birthday +present.” + Harry felt himself go red. + “You don’t have to —” + “I know I don’t have to. Tell yeh what, I’ll get yer animal. Not a toad, +toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh’d be laughed at — an’ I don’ like cats, +they make me sneeze. I’ll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they’re dead +useful, carry yer mail an’ everythin’.” + Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been +dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry now carried a +large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her +wing. He couldn’t stop stammering his thanks, sounding just like Professor +Quirrell. + “Don’ mention it,” said Hagrid gruffly. “Don’ expect you’ve had a lotta +presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now — only place fer wands, +Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand.” + A magic wand…this was what Harry had been really looking forward to. + The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door +read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a +faded purple cushion in the dusty window. + A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped +inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid +sat on to wait. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; +he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked +instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For +some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here +seemed to tingle with some secret magic. + “Good afternoon,” said a soft voice. Harry jumped. Hagrid must have +jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the +spindly chair. + An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like +moons through the gloom of the shop. + “Hello,” said Harry awkwardly. + “Ah yes,” said the man. “Yes, yes. I thought I’d be seeing you soon. +Harry Potter.” It wasn’t a question. “You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only +yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter +inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.” + Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. +Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy. + “Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven +inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say +your father favored it — it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.” + Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to +nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes. + “And that’s where…” + Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead with a +long, white finger. + “I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it,” he said softly. “Thirteen- +and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong +hands…well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do. +…” + He shook his head and then, to Harry’s relief, spotted Hagrid. + “Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again.…Oak, sixteen +inches, rather bendy, wasn’t it?” + “It was, sir, yes,” said Hagrid. + “Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you +got expelled?” said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern. + “Er — yes, they did, yes,” said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. “I’ve still got +the pieces, though,” he added brightly. + “But you don’t use them?” said Mr. Ollivander sharply. + “Oh, no, sir,” said Hagrid quickly. Harry noticed he gripped his pink +umbrella very tightly as he spoke. + “Hmmm,” said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. “Well, +now — Mr. Potter. Let me see.” He pulled a long tape measure with silver +markings out of his pocket. “Which is your wand arm?” + “Er — well, I’m right-handed,” said Harry. + “Hold out your arm. That’s it.” He measured Harry from shoulder to +finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. +As he measured, he said, “Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful +magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and +the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no +two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will +never get such good results with another wizard’s wand.” + Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring +between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting +around the shelves, taking down boxes. + “That will do,” he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the +floor. “Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. +Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave.” + Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. +Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once. + “Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try —” + Harry tried — but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was +snatched back by Mr. Ollivander. + “No, no — here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. +Go on, go on, try it out.” + Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting +for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, +but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he +seemed to become. + “Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here +somewhere — I wonder, now — yes, why not — unusual combination — holly +and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.” + Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised +the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a +stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing +dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. +Ollivander cried, “Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well…how +curious…how very curious…” + He put Harry’s wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, +still muttering, “Curious…curious… + “Sorry,” said Harry, “but what’s curious?” + Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare. + “I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It +so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another +feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for +this wand when its brother — why, its brother gave you that scar.” + Harry swallowed. + “Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things +happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember…I think we must expect great +things from you, Mr. Potter….After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great +things — terrible, yes, but great.” + Harry shivered. He wasn’t sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. He +paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his +shop. + +The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Harry and Hagrid made their +way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky +Cauldron, now empty. Harry didn’t speak at all as they walked down the road; he +didn’t even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, +laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl +asleep in its cage on Harry’s lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington +station; Harry only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the +shoulder. + “Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves,” he said. + He bought Harry a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat +them. Harry kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow. + “You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet,” said Hagrid. + Harry wasn’t sure he could explain. He’d just had the best birthday of his +life — and yet — he chewed his hamburger, trying to find the words. + “Everyone thinks I’m special,” he said at last. “All those people in the +Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander…but I don’t know anything +about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I’m famous and I can’t +even remember what I’m famous for. I don’t know what happened when Vol-, +sorry — I mean, the night my parents died.” + Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he +wore a very kind smile. + “Don’ you worry, Harry. You’ll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the +beginning at Hogwarts, you’ll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it’s hard. +Yeh’ve been singled out, an’ that’s always hard. But yeh’ll have a great time at +Hogwarts — I did — still do, ’smatter of fact.” + Hagrid helped Harry on to the train that would take him back to the +Dursleys, then handed him an envelope. + “Yer ticket fer Hogwarts, “ he said. “First o’ September — King’s Cross +— it’s all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with +yer owl, she’ll know where to find me….See yeh soon, Harry.” + The train pulled out of the station. Harry wanted to watch Hagrid until he +was out of sight; he rose in his seat and pressed his nose against the window, but +he blinked and Hagrid had gone. +HP 1 - Harry Potter and the +Sorcerer's Stone +CHAPTER SIX + +THE JOURNEY FROM PLATFORM NINE AND THREE-QUARTERS + +H arry’s last month with the Dursleys wasn’t fun. True, Dudley was now so +scared of Harry he wouldn’t stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia and +Uncle Vernon didn’t shut Harry in his cupboard, force him to do anything, or +shout at him — in fact, they didn’t speak to him at all. Half terrified, half +furious, they acted as though any chair with Harry in it were empty. Although +this was an improvement in many ways, it did become a bit depressing after a +while. + Harry kept to his room, with his new owl for company. He had decided to +call her Hedwig, a name he had found in A History of Magic. His school books +were very interesting. He lay on his bed reading late into the night, Hedwig +swooping in and out of the open window as she pleased. It was lucky that Aunt +Petunia didn’t come in to vacuum anymore, because Hedwig kept bringing back +dead mice. Every night before he went to sleep, Harry ticked off another day on +the piece of paper he had pinned to the wall, counting down to September the +first. + On the last day of August he thought he’d better speak to his aunt and +uncle about getting to King’s Cross station the next day, so he went down to the +living room where they were watching a quiz show on television. He cleared his +throat to let them know he was there, and Dudley screamed and ran from the +room. + “Er — Uncle Vernon?” + Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening. + “Er — I need to be at King’s Cross tomorrow to — to go to Hogwarts.” + Uncle Vernon grunted again. + “Would it be all right if you gave me a lift?” + Grunt. Harry supposed that meant yes. + “Thank you.” + He was about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke. + “Funny way to get to a wizards’ school, the train. Magic carpets all got +punctures, have they?” + Harry didn’t say anything. + “Where is this school, anyway?” + “I don’t know,” said Harry, realizing this for the first time. He pulled the +ticket Hagrid had given him out of his pocket. + “I just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven +o’clock,” he read. + His aunt and uncle stared. + “Platform what?” + “Nine and three-quarters.” + “Don’t talk rubbish,” said Uncle Vernon. “There is no platform nine and +three-quarters.” + “It’s on my ticket.” + “Barking,” said Uncle Vernon, “howling mad, the lot of them. You’ll see. +You just wait. All right, we’ll take you to King’s Cross. We’re going up to +London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn’t bother.” + “Why are you going to London?” Harry asked, trying to keep things +friendly. + “Taking Dudley to the hospital,” growled Uncle Vernon. “Got to have +that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings.” + +Harry woke at five o’clock the next morning and was too excited and +nervous to go back to sleep. He got up and pulled on his jeans because he didn’t +want to walk into the station in his wizard’s robes — he’d change on the train. +He checked his Hogwarts list yet again to make sure he had everything he +needed, saw that Hedwig was shut safely in her cage, and then paced the room, +waiting for the Dursleys to get up. Two hours later, Harry’s huge, heavy trunk +had been loaded into the Dursleys’ car, Aunt Petunia had talked Dudley into +sitting next to Harry, and they had set off. + They reached King’s Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped +Harry’s trunk onto a cart and wheeled it into the station for him. Harry thought +this was strangely kind until Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the platforms +with a nasty grin on his face. + “Well, there you are, boy. Platform nine — platform ten. Your platform +should be somewhere in the middle, but they don’t seem to have built it yet, do +they?” + He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over +one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the +middle, nothing at all. + “Have a good term,” said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He +left without another word. Harry turned and saw the Dursleys drive away. All +three of them were laughing. Harry’s mouth went rather dry. What on earth was +he going to do? He was starting to attract a lot of funny looks, because of +Hedwig. He’d have to ask someone. + He stopped a passing guard, but didn’t dare mention platform nine and +three-quarters. The guard had never heard of Hogwarts and when Harry couldn’t +even tell him what part of the country it was in, he started to get annoyed, as +though Harry was being stupid on purpose. Getting desperate, Harry asked for +the train that left at eleven o’clock, but the guard said there wasn’t one. In the +end the guard strode away, muttering about time wasters. Harry was now trying +hard not to panic. According to the large clock over the arrivals board, he had ten +minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and he had no idea how to do it; he +was stranded in the middle of a station with a trunk he could hardly lift, a pocket +full of wizard money, and a large owl. + Hagrid must have forgotten to tell him something you had to do, like +tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. He wondered if he +should get out his wand and start tapping the ticket inspector’s stand between +platforms nine and ten. + At that moment a group of people passed just behind him and he caught a +few words of what they were saying. + “— packed with Muggles, of course —” + Harry swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to +four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like +Harry’s in front of him — and they had an owl. + Heart hammering, Harry pushed his cart after them. They stopped and so +did he, just near enough to hear what they were saying. + “Now, what’s the platform number?” said the boys’ mother. + “Nine and three-quarters!” piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was +holding her hand, “Mom, can’t I go…” + “You’re not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go +first.” + What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten. +Harry watched, careful not to blink in case he missed it — but just as the boy +reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists +came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared +away, the boy had vanished. + “Fred, you next,” the plump woman said. + “I’m not Fred, I’m George,” said the boy. “Honestly, woman, you call +yourself our mother? Can’t you tell I’m George?” + “Sorry, George, dear.” + “Only joking, I am Fred,” said the boy, and off he went. His twin called +after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had +gone — but how had he done it? + Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier he was +almost there — and then, quite suddenly, he wasn’t anywhere. + There was nothing else for it. + “Excuse me,” Harry said to the plump woman. + “Hello, dear,” she said. “First time at Hogwarts? Ron’s new, too.” + She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and +gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose. + “Yes,” said Harry. “The thing is — the thing is, I don’t know how to —” + “How to get onto the platform?” she said kindly, and Harry nodded. + “Not to worry,” she said. “All you have to do is walk straight at the +barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don’t stop and don’t be scared you’ll +crash into it, that’s very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous. +Go on, go now before Ron.” + “Er — okay,” said Harry. + He pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very +solid. + He started to walk toward it. People jostled him on their way to platforms +nine and ten. Harry walked more quickly. He was going to smash right into that +barrier and then he’d be in trouble — leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a +heavy run — the barrier was coming nearer and nearer — he wouldn’t be able to +stop — the cart was out of control — he was a foot away — he closed his eyes +ready for the crash — + It didn’t come…he kept on running…he opened his eyes. A scarlet steam +engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said +Hogwarts’ Express, eleven o’clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a +wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine +and Three-Quarters on it, He had done it. + Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, +while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted +to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of +heavy trunks. + The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging +out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry +pushed his cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. He passed a +round-faced boy who was saying, “Gran, I’ve lost my toad again.” + “Oh, Neville,” he heard the old woman sigh. + A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd. + “Give us a look, Lee, go on.” + The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him +shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg. + Harry pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty +compartment near the end of the train. He put Hedwig inside first and then +started to shove and heave his trunk toward the train door. He tried to lift it up +the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his +foot. + “Want a hand?” It was one of the red-haired twins he’d followed through +the barrier. + “Yes, please,” Harry panted. + “Oy, Fred! C’mere and help!” + With the twins’ help, Harry’s trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of +the compartment. + “Thanks,” said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes. + “What’s that?” said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry’s +lightning scar. + “Blimey,” said the other twin. “Are you —?” + “He is,” said the first twin. “Aren’t you?” he added to Harry. + “What?” said Harry. + “Harry Potter.” chorused the twins. + “Oh, him,” said Harry. “I mean, yes, I am.” + The two boys gawked at him, and Harry felt himself turning red. Then, to +his relief, a voice came floating in through the train’s open door. + “Fred? George? Are you there?” + “Coming, Mom.” + With a last look at Harry, the twins hopped off the train. + Harry sat down next to the window where, half hidden, he could watch +the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Their +mother had just taken out her handkerchief. + “Ron, you’ve got something on your nose.” + The youngest boy tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and +began rubbing the end of his nose. + “Mom — geroff” He wriggled free. + “Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?” said one of the +twins. + “Shut up,” said Ron. + “Where’s Percy?” said their mother. + “He’s coming now.” + The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his +billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Harry noticed a shiny silver badge on his +chest with the letter P on it. + “Can’t stay long, Mother,” he said. “I’m up front, the prefects have got +two compartments to themselves —” + “Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?” said one of the twins, with an air of great +surprise. “You should have said something, we had no idea.” + “Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it,” said the +other twin. “Once —” + “Or twice —” + “A minute —” + “All summer —” + “Oh, shut up,” said Percy the Prefect. + “How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?” said one of the twins. + “Because he’s a prefect,” said their mother fondly. “All right, dear, well, +have a good term — send me an owl when you get there.” + She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins. + “Now, you two — this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more +owl telling me you’ve — you’ve blown up a toilet or —” + “Blown up a toilet? We’ve never blown up a toilet.” + “Great idea though, thanks, Mom.��� + “It’s not funny. And look after Ron.” + “Don’t worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us.” + “Shut up,” said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and +his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it. + “Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?” + Harry leaned back quickly so they couldn’t see him looking. + “You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know +who he is?” + “Who?” + “Harry Potter!” + Harry heard the little girl’s voice. + “Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see him, Mom, eh please....” + “You’ve already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn’t something you +goggle at in a zoo. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?” + “Asked him. Saw his scar. It’s really there — like lightning.” + “Poor dear — no wonder he was alone, I wondered. He was ever so +polite when he asked how to get onto the platform.” + “Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who +looks like?” + Their mother suddenly became very stern. + “I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don’t you dare. As though he needs +reminding of that on his first day at school.” + “All right, keep your hair on.” + A whistle sounded. + “Hurry up!” their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the +train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their +younger sister began to cry. + “Don’t, Ginny, we’ll send you loads of owls.” + “We’ll send you a Hogwarts’ toilet seat.” + “George!” + “Only joking, Mom.” + The train began to move. Harry saw the boys’ mother waving and their +sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it +gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved. + Harry watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the +corner. Houses flashed past the window. Harry felt a great leap of excitement. He +didn’t know what he was going to — but it had to be better than what he was +leaving behind. + The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy +came in. + “Anyone sitting there?” he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. +“Everywhere else is full.” + Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and +then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn’t looked. Harry saw +he still had a black mark on his nose. + “Hey, Ron.” + The twins were back. + “Listen, we’re going down the middle of the train — Lee Jordan’s got a +giant tarantula down there.” + “Right,” mumbled Ron. + “Harry,” said the other twin, “did we introduce ourselves? Fred and +George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then.” + “Bye,” said Harry and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut +behind them. + “Are you really Harry Potter?” Ron blurted out. + Harry nodded. + “Oh — well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George’s jokes,” said +Ron. “And have you really got — you know…” + He pointed at Harry’s forehead. + Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared. + “So that’s where You-Know-Who —?” + “Yes,” said Harry, “but I can’t remember it.” + “Nothing?” said Ron eagerly. + “Well — I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else.” + “Wow,” said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then, as +though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the +window again. + “Are all your family wizards?” asked Harry, who found Ron just as +interesting as Ron found him. + “Er — Yes, I think so,” said Ron. “I think Mom’s got a second cousin +who’s an accountant, but we never talk about him.” + “So you must know loads of magic already.” + The Weasleys were clearly one of those old wizarding families the pale +boy in Diagon Alley had talked about. + “I heard you went to live with Muggles,” said Ron. “What are they like?” + “Horrible — well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, +though. Wish I’d had three wizard brothers.” + “Five,” said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. “I’m the +sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I’ve got a lot to live up to. +Bill and Charlie have already left — Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain +of Quidditch. Now Percy’s a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but +they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they’re really funny. +Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it’s no big deal, +because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. +I’ve got Bill’s old robes, Charlie’s old wand, and Percy’s old rat.” + Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was +asleep. + “His name’s Scabbers and he’s useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy +got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn’t aff — I +mean, I got Scabbers instead.” + Ron’s ears went pink. He seemed to think he’d said too much, because he +went back to staring out of the window. + Harry didn’t think there was anything wrong with not being able to +afford an owl. After all, he’d never had any money in his life until a month ago, +and he told Ron so, all about having to wear Dudley’s old clothes and never +getting proper birthday presents. This seemed to cheer Ron up. + “…and until Hagrid told me, I didn’t know anything about being a +wizard or about my parents or Voldemort —” + Ron gasped. + “What?” said Harry. + “You said You-Know-Who’s name!” said Ron, sounding both shocked +and impressed. “I’d have thought you, of all people —” + “I’m not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name,” said Harry, “I +just never knew you shouldn’t. See what I mean? I’ve got loads to learn.…I bet,” +he added, voicing for the first time something that had been worrying him a lot +lately, “I bet I’m the worst in the class.” + “You won’t be. There’s loads of people who come from Muggle families +and they learn quick enough.” + While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. +Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for +a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past. + Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the +corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, “Anything +off the cart, dears?” + Harry, who hadn’t had any breakfast, leapt to his feet, but Ron’s ears +went pink again and he muttered that he’d brought sandwiches. Harry went out +into the corridor. + He had never had any money for candy with the Dursleys, and now that +he had pockets rattling with gold and silver he was ready to buy as many Mars +Bars as he could carry — but the woman didn’t have Mars Bars. What she did +have were Bettie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, +Chocolate Frogs. Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a +number of other strange things Harry had never seen in his life. Not wanting to +miss anything, he got some of everything and paid the woman eleven silver +Sickles and seven bronze Knuts. + Ron stared as Harry brought it all back in to the compartment and tipped +it onto an empty seat. + “Hungry, are you?” + “Starving,” said Harry, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty. + Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four +sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, “She always forgets I +don’t like corned beef..” + “Swap you for one of these,” said Harry, holding up a pasty. “Go on —” + “You don’t want this, it’s all dry,” said Ron. “She hasn’t got much time,” +he added quickly, “you know, with five of us.” + “Go on, have a pasty,” said Harry, who had never had anything to share +before or, indeed, anyone to share it with. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with +Ron, eating their way through all Harry’s pasties, cakes, and candies (the +sandwiches lay forgotten). + “What are these?” Harry asked Ron, holding up a pack of Chocolate +Frogs. “They’re not really frogs, are they?” He was starting to feel that nothing +would surprise him. + “No,” said Ron. “But see what the card is. I’m missing Agrippa.” + “What?” + “Oh, of course, you wouldn’t know — Chocolate Frogs have cards, +inside them, you know, to collect — famous witches and wizards. I’ve got about +five hundred, but I haven’t got Agrippa or Ptolemy.” + Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a +man’s face. He wore half-moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing +silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus +Dumbledore. + “So this is Dumbledore!” said Harry. + “Don’t tell me you’d never heard of Dumbledore!” said Ron. “Can I have +a frog? I might get Agrippa — thanks —” + Harry turned over his card and read: + +ALBUS DUMBLEDORE +CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS + +C onsidered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is +particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for +the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood, and his work on alchemy +with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music +and tenpin bowling. + +Harry turned the card back over and saw, to his astonishment, that +Dumbledore’s face had disappeared. + “He’s gone!” + “Well, you can’t expect him to hang around all day,” said Ron. “He’ll be +back. No, I’ve got Morgana again and I’ve got about six of her…do you want it? +You can start collecting.” + Ron’s eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be +unwrapped. + “Help yourself,” said Harry. “But in, you know, the Muggle world, +people just stay put in photos.” + “Do they? What, they don’t move at all?” Ron sounded amazed. +“Weird!” + Harry stared as Dumbledore sidled back into the picture on his card and +gave him a small smile. Ron was more interested in eating the frogs than looking +at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards, but Harry couldn’t keep his eyes off +them. Soon he had not only Dumbledore and Morgana, but Hengist of +Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin. He finally tore his +eyes away from the Druidess Cliodna, who was scratching her nose, to open a +bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. + “You want to be careful with those,” Ron warned Harry. “When they say +every flavor, they mean every flavor — you know, you get all the ordinary ones +like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and +liver and tripe. George reckons he had a booger-flavored one once.” + Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner. + “Bleaaargh — see? Sprouts.” + They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Harry got toast, +coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even +brave enough to nibble the end off a funny gray one Ron wouldn’t touch, which +turned out to be pepper. + The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The +neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green +hills. + There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced +boy Harry had passed on platform nine and three-quarters came in. He looked +tearful. + “Sorry,” he said, “but have you seen a toad at all?” + When they shook their heads, he wailed, “I’ve lost him! He keeps getting +away from me!” + “He’ll turn up,” said Harry. + “Yes,” said the boy miserably. “Well, if you see him…” + He left. + “Don’t know why he’s so bothered,” said Ron. “If I’d brought a toad I’d +lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can’t talk.” + The rat was still snoozing on Ron’s lap. + “He might have died and you wouldn’t know the difference,” said Ron in +disgust. “I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but +the spell didn’t work. I’ll show you, look…” + He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking +wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end. + “Unicorn hair’s nearly poking out. Anyway —” + He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. +The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already +wearing her new Hogwarts robes. + “Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,” she said. She had a bossy +sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth. + “We’ve already told him we haven’t seen it,” said Ron, but the girl +wasn’t listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand. + “Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it, then.” + She sat down. Ron looked taken aback. + “Er — all right.” + He cleared his throat. + +“Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, +Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.” + + He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast +asleep. + “Are you sure that’s a real spell?” said the girl. “Well, it’s not very good, +is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all worked for me. +Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my +letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it’s the very best school of +witchcraft there is, I’ve heard — I’ve learned all our course books by heart, of +course, I just hope it will be enough — I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who +are you?” + She said all this very fast. + Harry looked at Ron, and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he +hadn’t learned all the course books by heart either. + “I’m Ron Weasley,” Ron muttered. + “Harry Potter,” said Harry. + “Are you really?” said Hermione. “I know all about you, of course — I +got a few extra books, for background reading, and you’re in Modern Magical +History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of +the Twentieth Century.” + “Am I?” said Harry, feeling dazed. + “Goodness, didn’t you know, I’d have found out everything I could if it +was me,” said Hermione. “Do either of you know what house you’ll be in? I’ve +been asking around, and I hope I’m in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I +hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too +bad....Anyway, we’d better go and look for Neville’s toad. You two had better +change, you know, I expect we’ll be there soon.” + And she left, taking the toadless boy with her. + “Whatever house I’m in, I hope she’s not in it,” said Ron. He threw his +wand back into his trunk. “Stupid spell — George gave it to me, bet he knew it +was a dud.” + “What house are your brothers in?” asked Harry. + “Gryffindor,” said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. +“Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don’t know what they’ll say if I’m not. I don’t +suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin.” + “That’s the house Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who was in?” + “Yeah,” said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed. + “You know, I think the ends of Scabbers’ whiskers are a bit lighter,” said +Harry, trying to take Ron’s mind off houses. “So what do your oldest brothers do +now that they’ve left, anyway?” + Harry was wondering what a wizard did once he’d finished school. + “Charlie’s in Romania studying dragons, and Bill’s in Africa doing +something for Gringotts,” said Ron. “Did you hear about Gringotts? It’s been all +over the Daily Prophet, but I don’t suppose you get that with the Muggles — +someone tried to rob a high security vault.” + Harry stared. + “Really? What happened to them?” + “Nothing, that’s why it’s such big news. They haven’t been caught. My +dad says it must’ve been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they +don’t think they took anything, that’s what’s odd. ’Course, everyone gets scared +when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who’s behind it.” + Harry turned this news over in his mind. He was starting to get a prickle +of fear every time You-Know-Who was mentioned. He supposed this was all +part of entering the magical world, but it had been a lot more comfortable saying +“Voldemort” without worrying. + “What’s your Quidditch team?” Ron asked. + “Er — I don’t know any.” Harry confessed. + “What!” Ron looked dumbfounded. “Oh, you wait, it’s the best game in +the world —” And he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the +positions of the seven players, describing famous games he’d been to with his +brothers and the broomstick he’d like to get if he had the money. He was just +taking Harry through the finer points of the game when the compartment door +slid open yet again, but it wasn’t Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger +this time. + Three boys entered, and Harry recognized the middle one at once: it was +the pale boy from Madam Malkin’s robe shop. He was looking at Harry with a +lot more interest than he’d shown back in Diagon Alley. + “Is it true?” he said. “They’re saying all down the train that Harry +Potter’s in this compartment. So it’s you, is it?” + “Yes,” said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of them were +thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they +looked like bodyguards. + “Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle,” said the pale boy carelessly, +noticing where Harry was looking. “And my name’s Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.” + Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco +Malfoy looked at him. + “Think my name’s funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My +father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than +they can afford.” + He turned back to Harry. “You’ll soon find out some wizarding families +are much better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the +wrong sort. I can help you there.” + He held out his hand to shake Harry’s, but Harry didn’t take it. + “I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks,” he said +coolly. + Draco Malfoy didn’t go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks. + “I’d be careful if I were you, Potter,” he said slowly. “Unless you’re a bit +politer you’ll go the same way as your parents. They didn’t know what was good +for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, +and it’ll rub off on you.” + Both Harry and Ron stood up. + “Say that again,” Ron said, his face as red as his hair. + “Oh, you’re going to fight us, are you?” Malfoy sneered. + “Unless you get out now,” said Harry, more bravely than he felt, because +Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than him or Ron. + “But we don’t feet like leaving, do we, boys? We’ve eaten all our food +and you still seem to have some.” + Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron — Ron leapt +forward, but before he’d so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell. + Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep +into Goyle’s knuckle — Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung +Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbers finally flew off and hit +the window, all three of them disappeared at once. Perhaps they thought there +were more rats lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they’d heard footsteps, +because a second later, Hermione Granger had come in. + “What has been going on?” she said, looking at the sweets all over the +floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail. + “I think he’s been knocked out,” Ron said to Harry. He looked closer at +Scabbers. “No — I don’t believe it — he’s gone back to sleep.” + And so he had. + “You’ve met Malfoy before?” + Harry explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley. + “I’ve heard of his family,” said Ron darkly. “They were some of the first +to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they’d been +bewitched. My dad doesn’t believe it. He says Malfoy’s father didn’t need an +excuse to go over to the Dark Side.” He turned to Hermione. “Can we help you +with something?” + “You’d better hurry up and put your robes on, I’ve just been up to the +front to ask the conductor, and he says we’re nearly there. You haven’t been +fighting, have you? You’ll be in trouble before we even get there!” + “Scabbers has been fighting, not us,” said Ron, scowling at her. “Would +you mind leaving while we change?” + “All right — I only came in here because people outside are behaving +very childishly, racing up and down the corridors,” said Hermione in a sniffy +voice. “And you’ve got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?” + Ron glared at her as she left. Harry peered out of the window. It was +getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The +train did seem to be slowing down. + He and Ron took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. +Ron’s were a bit short for him, you could see his sneakers underneath them. + A voice echoed through the train: “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five +minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the +school separately.” + Harry’s stomach lurched with nerves and Ron, he saw, looked pale under +his freckles. They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined +the crowd thronging the corridor. + The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their +way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the +cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and +Harry heard a familiar voice: “Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here! All right there, +Harry?” + Hagrid’s big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads. + “C’mon, follow me — any more firs’ years? Mind yer step, now! Firs’ +years follow me!” + Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a +steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there +must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing +his toad, sniffed once or twice. + “Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” Hagrid called over his +shoulder, “jus’ round this bend here.” + There was a loud “Oooooh!” + The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black +lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in +the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. + “No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little +boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and Ron were followed into their +boat by Neville and Hermione. + “Everyone in?” shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. “Right then +— FORWARD!” + And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, +which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle +overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on +which it stood. + “Heads down!” yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all +bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid +a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which +seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind +of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles. + “Oy, you there! Is this your toad?” said Hagrid, who was checking the +boats as people climbed out of them. + “Trevor!” cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they +clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid’s lamp, coming out at last +onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. + They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak +front door. + “Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?” + Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door. + + +HP 1 - Harry Potter and the +Sorcerer's Stone +CHAPTER SEVEN + +THE SORTING HAT + +T he door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green +robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry’s first thought was that +this was not someone to cross. + “The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” said Hagrid. + “Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.” + She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit +the whole of the Dursleys’ house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming +torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a +magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors. + They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. +Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right — +the rest of the school must already be here — but Professor McGonagall showed +the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, +standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about +nervously. + “Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “The start-of-term +banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you +will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony +because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family +within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your +house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. + “The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and +Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced +outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will +earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end +of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great +honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. + “The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the +rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can +while you are waiting.” + Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville’s cloak, which was fastened +under his left ear, and on Ron’s smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to flatten +his hair. + “I shall return when we are ready for you,” said Professor McGonagall. +“Please wait quietly.” + She left the chamber. Harry swallowed. + “How exactly do they sort us into houses?” he asked Ron. + “Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was +joking.” + Harry’s heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? +But he didn’t know any magic yet —what on earth would he have to do? He +hadn’t expected something like this the moment they arrived. He looked around +anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was talking +much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the +spells she’d learned and wondering which one she’d need. Harry tried hard not +to listen to her. He’d never been more nervous, never, not even when he’d had to +take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that he’d somehow turned his +teacher’s wig blue. He kept his eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, +Professor McGonagall would come back and lead him to his doom. + Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air — +several people behind him screamed. + “What the —?” + He gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just +streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they +glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first +years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: +“Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance —” + “My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He +gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost — I say, what +are you all doing here?” + A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. + Nobody answered. + “New students!” said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. “About to be +Sorted, I suppose?” + A few people nodded mutely. + “Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!” said the Friar. “My old house, you +know.” + “Move along now,” said a sharp voice. “The Sorting Ceremony’s about +to start.” + Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away +through the opposite wall. + “Now, form a line,” Professor McGonagall told the first years, “and +follow me.” + Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Harry got into line +behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron behind him, and they walked out of the +chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great +Hall. + Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was +lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four +long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid +with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long +table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years +up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the +teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale +lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, +the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked +upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione +whisper, “Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, +A History.” + It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great +Hall didn’t simply open on to the heavens. + Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently +placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a +pointed wizard’s hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt +Petunia wouldn’t have let it in the house. + Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, Harry thought wildly, +that seemed the sort of thing — noticing that everyone in the hall was now +staring at the hat, he stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete +silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth — +and the hat began to sing: + +“Oh, you may not think I’m pretty, +But don’t judge on what you see, +I’ll eat myself if you can find +A smarter hat than me. +You can keep your bowlers black, +Your top hats sleek and tall, +For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat +And I can cap them all. +There’s nothing hidden in your head +The Sorting Hat can’t see, +So try me on and I will tell you +Where you ought to be. +You might belong in Gryffindor, +Where dwell the brave at heart, +Their daring, nerve, and chivalry +Set Gryffindors apart; +You might belong in Hufflepuff, +Where they are just and loyal, +Those patient Hufflepuffs are true +And unafraid of toil; +Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, +if you’ve a ready mind, +Where those of wit and learning, +Will always find their kind; +Or perhaps in Slytherin +You’ll make your real friends, +Those cunning folk use any means +To achieve their ends. +So put me on! Don’t be afraid! +And don’t get in a flap! +You’re in safe hands (though I have none) +For I’m a Thinking Cap!” + +The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to +each of the four tables and then became quite still again. + “So we’ve just got to try on the hat!” Ron whispered to Harry. “I’ll kill +Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll.” + Harry. smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having +to do a spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on without everyone +watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; Harry didn’t feel brave or +quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house +for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him. + Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of +parchment. + “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be +sorted,” she said. “Abbott, Hannah!” + A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the +hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moments pause — + “HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat. + The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at +the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her. + “Bones, Susan!” + “HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit +next to Hannah. + “Boot, Terry!” + “RAVENCLAW!” + The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws +stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them. + “Brocklehurst, Mandy” went to Ravenclaw too, but “Brown, Lavender” +became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with +cheers; Harry could see Ron’s twin brothers catcalling. + “Bulstrode, Millicent” then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry’s +imagination, after all he’d heard about Slytherin, but he thought they looked like +an unpleasant lot. + He was starting to feel definitely sick now. He remembered being picked +for teams during gym at his old school. He had always been last to be chosen, +not because he was no good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they +liked him. + “Finch-Fletchley, Justin!” + “HUFFLEPUFF!” + Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at +others it took a little while to decide. “Finnigan, Seamus,” the sandy-haired boy +next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the +hat declared him a Gryffindor. + “Granger, Hermione!” + Her mione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her +head. + “GRYFFINDOR!” shouted the hat. Ron groaned. + A horrible thought struck Harry, as horrible thoughts always do when +you’re very nervous. What if he wasn’t chosen at all? What if he just sat there +with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his +head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he’d better get back on the +train? + When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, +he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with +Neville. When it finally shouted, “GRYFFINDOR,” Neville ran off still wearing +it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to “MacDougal, Morag.” + Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at +once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, “SLYTHERIN!” + Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with +himself. + There weren’t many people left now. “Moon”…, “Nott”…, +“Parkinson”…, then a pair of twin girls, “Patil” and “Patil”…, then “Perks, +Sally-Anne”…, and then, at last — + “Potter, Harry!” + As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing +fires all over the hall. + “Potter, did she say?” + “The Harry Potter?” + The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the +hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking +at the black inside of the hat. He waited. + “Hmm,” said a small voice in his ear. “Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of +courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There’s talent, A my goodness, yes — and +a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting….So where shall I put +you?” + Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not +Slytherin. + “Not Slytherin, eh?” said the small voice. “Are you sure? You could be +great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the +way to greatness, no doubt about that — no? Well, if you’re sure — better be +GRYFFINDOR!” + Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the +hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. He was so relieved to have +been chosen and not put in Slytherin, he hardly noticed that he was getting the +loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while +the Weasley twins yelled, “We got Potter! We got Potter!” Harry sat down +opposite the ghost in the ruff he’d seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm, giving +Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he’d just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold +water. + He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat +Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up. Harry grinned back. +And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus +Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the card he’d gotten out of the +Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore’s silver hair was the only thing in the +whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry spotted Professor Quirrell, +too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very +peculiar in a large purple turban. + And now there were only three people left to be sorted. “Thomas, Dean,” +a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. “Turpin, +Lisa,” became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron’s turn. He was pale green by +now. Harry crossed his fingers under the table and a second later the hat had +shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!” + Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to +him. + “Well done, Ron, excellent,” said Percy Weasley pompously across Harry +as “Zabini, Blaise,” was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her +scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. + Harry looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realized +how hungry he was. The pumpkin pasties seemed ages ago. + Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the +students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than +to see them all there. + “Welcome,” he said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we +begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! +Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! + “Thank you!” + He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn’t know +whether to laugh or not. + “Is he — a bit mad?” he asked Percy uncertainly. + “Mad?” said Percy airily. “He’s a genius! Best wizard in the world! But +he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?” + Harry’s mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with +food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, +roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled +potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, +and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs. + The Dursleys had never exactly starved Harry, but he’d never been +allowed to eat as much as he liked. Dudley had always taken anything that Harry +really wanted, even if It made him sick. Harry piled his plate with a bit of +everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious. + “That does look good,” said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry +cut up his steak. + “Can’t you —?” + “I haven’t eaten for nearly five hundred years,” said the ghost. “I don’t +need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don’t think I’ve introduced myself? Sir +Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor +Tower.” + “I know who you are!” said Ron suddenly. “My brothers told me about +you — you’re Nearly Headless Nick!” + “I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy —” the ghost +began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted. + “Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?” + Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn’t going +at all the way he wanted. + “Like this,” he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole +head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. +Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking +pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his +head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, “So — new Gryffindors! I hope +you’re going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have +never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a +row! The Bloody Baron’s becoming almost unbearable — he’s the Slytherin +ghost.” + Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting +there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. +He was right next to Malfoy who, Harry was pleased to see, didn’t look too +pleased with the seating arrangements. + “How did he get covered in blood?” asked Seamus with great interest. + “I’ve never asked,” said Nearly Headless Nick delicately. + When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food +faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later +the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, +apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, +Jell-O, rice pudding… + As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families. + “I’m half-and-half,” said Seamus. “Me dad’s a Muggle. Mom didn’t tell +him she was a witch ’til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him.” + The others laughed. + “What about you, Neville?” said Ron. + “Well, my gran brought me up and she’s a witch,” said Neville, “but the +family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to +catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me — he pushed me off the +end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned — but nothing happened until I +was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out +of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a +meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced — all the way down the +garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was +so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here — they +thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was +so pleased he bought me my toad.” + On Harry’s other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about +lessons (“I do hope they start right away, there’s so much to learn, I’m +particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into +something else, of course, it’s supposed to be very difficult —”; “You’ll be +starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing — ”). + Harry, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, looked up at the High +Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall +was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, +was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. + It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past +Quirrell’s turban straight into Harry’s eyes — and a sharp, hot pain shot across +the scar on Harry’s forehead. + “Ouch!” Harry clapped a hand to his head. + “What is it?” asked Percy. + “N-nothing.” + The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the +feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher’s look — a feeling that he didn’t like +Harry at all. + “Who’s that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?” he asked Percy. + “Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he’s looking so +nervous, that’s Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn’t want to — +everyone knows he’s after Quirrell’s job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark +Arts, Snape.” + Harry watched Snape for a while, but Snape didn’t look at him again. + At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to +his feet again. The hall fell silent. + “Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I +have a few start-of-term notices to give you. + “First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all +pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.” + Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley +twins. + “I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that +no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. + “Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone +interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. + “And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the +right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very +painful death.” + Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did. + “He’s not serious?” he muttered to Percy. + “Must be,” said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. “It’s odd, because he +usually gives us a reason why we’re not allowed to go somewhere — the forest’s +full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us +prefects, at least.” + “And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” cried +Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers’ smiles had become rather +fixed. + Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly +off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the +tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words. + “Everyone pick their favorite tune,” said Dumbledore, “and off we go!” + And the school bellowed: +“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, +Teach us something please, +Whether we be old and bald +Or young with scabby knees, +Our heads could do with filling +With some interesting stuff, +For now they’re bare and full of air, +Dead flies and bits of fluff, +So teach us things worth knowing, +Bring back what we’ve forgot, +just do your best, we’ll do the rest, +And learn until our brains all rot.” + +Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley +twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore +conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was +one of those who clapped loudest. + “Ah, music,” he said, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here! +And now, bedtime. Off you trot!” + The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, +out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry’s legs were like lead +again, but only because he was so tired and full of food. He was too sleepy even +to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and +pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden +behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed more staircases, +yawning and dragging their feet, and Harry was just wondering how much +farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt. + A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as +Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him. + “Peeves,” Percy whispered to the first years. “A poltergeist.” He raised +his voice, “Peeves — show yourself.” + A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered. + “Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?” + There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide +mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks. + “Oooooooh!” he said, with an evil cackle. “Ickle Firsties! What fun!” + He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked. + “Go away, Peeves, or the Baron’ll hear about this, I mean it!” barked +Percy. + Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on +Neville’s head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he +passed. + “You want to watch out for Peeves,” said Percy, as they set off again. +“The Bloody Baron’s the only one who can control him, he won’t even listen to +us prefects. Here we are.” + At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a +pink silk dress. + “Password?” she said. + “Caput Draconis,” said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a +round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it — Neville needed a leg up +— and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room +full of squashy armchairs. + Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys +through another. At the top of a spiral staircase — they were obviously in one of +the towers — they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, +velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk +much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed. + “Great food, isn’t it?” Ron muttered to Harry through the hangings. “Get +off, Scabbers! He’s chewing my sheets.” + Harry was going to ask Ron if he’d had any of the treacle tart, but he fell +asleep almost at once. + Perhaps Harry had eaten a bit too much, because he had a very strange +dream. He was wearing Professor Quirrell’s turban, which kept talking to him, +telling him he must transfer to Slytherin at once, because it was his destiny. +Harry told the turban he didn’t want to be in Slytherin; it got heavier and +heavier; he tried to pull it off but it tightened painfully — and there was Malfoy, +laughing at him as he struggled with it — then Malfoy turned into the hook- +nosed teacher, Snape, whose laugh became high and cold — there was a burst of +green light and Harry woke, sweating and shaking. + He rolled over and fell asleep again, and when he woke next day, he +didn’t remember the dream at all. + + +HP 1 - Harry Potter and the +Sorcerer's Stone +CHAPTER EIGHT + +THE POTIONS MASTER + +T here, look.” + “Where?” + “Next to the tall kid with the red hair.” + “Wearing the glasses?” + “Did you see his face?” + “Did you see his scar?” + Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next +day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or +doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. Harry wished they +wouldn’t, because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes. + There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, +sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a +Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to +jump. Then there were doors that wouldn’t open unless you asked politely, or +tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren’t really doors at all, +but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where +anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the +portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor +could walk. + The ghosts didn’t help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of +them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless +Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but +Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you +met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on +your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak +up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, “GOT YOUR CONK!” + Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus +Filch. Harry and Ron managed to get on the wrong side of him on their very first +morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that +unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third +floor. He wouldn’t believe they were lost, was sure they were trying to break into +it on purpose, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were +rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing. + Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature +with bulging, lamp like eyes just like Filch’s. She patrolled the corridors alone. +Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she’d whisk off for +Filch, who’d appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret +passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley +twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated +him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick. + And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes +themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out, than +waving your wand and saying a few funny words. + They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every +Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements +of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the +castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, +where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and +found out what they were used for. Easily the most boring class was History of +Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very +old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up +next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on +while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emetic the Evil and Uric +the Oddball mixed up. + Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had +to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he +took the roll call, and when he reached Harry’s name he gave an excited squeak +and toppled out of sight. + Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry had been quite right to +think she wasn’t a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to +the moment they sat down in her first class. + “Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you +will learn at Hogwarts,” she said. “Anyone messing around in my class will +leave and not come back. You have been warned.” + Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very +impressed and couldn’t wait to get started, but soon realized they weren’t going +to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of +complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into +a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger had made any +difference to her match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone +all silver and pointy and gave Hermione a rare smile. + The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense +Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell’s lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His +classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a +vampire he’d met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him +one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African +prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren’t +sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked +eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and +started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell +hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of +garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went. + Harry was very relieved to find out that he wasn’t miles behind everyone +else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn’t had +any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that +even people like Ron didn’t have much of a head start. + Friday was an important day for Harry and Ron. They finally managed to +find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once. + “What have we got today?” Harry asked Ron as he poured sugar on his +porridge. + “Double Potions with the Slytherins,” said Ron. “Snape’s Head of +Slytherin House. They say he always favors them — we’ll be able to see if it’s +true.” + “Wish McGonagall favored us,” said Harry. Professor McGonagall was +head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn’t stopped her from giving them a huge pile +of homework the day before. + Just then, the mail arrived. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but it +had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls +had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables +until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps. + Hedwig hadn’t brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to +nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with +the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the +marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry’s plate. Harry tore +it open at once. It said, in a very untidy scrawl: + +Dear Harry, +I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a +cup of tea with me around three? +I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with +Hedwig. +Hagrid + +Harry borrowed Ron’s quill, scribbled Yes, please, see you later on the back +of the note, and sent Hedwig off again. + It was lucky that Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because +the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to him so +far. + At the start-of-term banquet, Harry had gotten the idea that Professor +Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he’d been +wrong. Snape didn’t dislike Harry — he hated him. + Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder +here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough +without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls. + Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like +Flitwick, he paused at Harry’s name. + “Ah, Yes,” he said softly, “Harry Potter. Our new — celebrity.” + Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their +hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes +were black like Hagrid’s, but they had none of Hagrid’s warmth. They were cold +and empty and made you think of dark tunnels. + “You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking,” +he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word +— like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent +without effort. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will +hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty +of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power +of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the +senses.…I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — +if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.” + More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks +with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked +desperate to start proving that she wasn’t a dunderhead. + “Potter!” said Snape suddenly. “What would I get if I added powdered +root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” + Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, +who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione’s hand had shot into the air. + “I don’t know, sir,” said Harry. + Snape’s lips curled into a sneer. + “Tut, tut — fame clearly isn’t everything.” + He ignored Hermione’s hand. + “Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a +bezoar?” + Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without +her leaving her seat, but Harry didn’t have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. +He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with +laughter. + “I don’t know, sir.” + “Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter?” Harry +forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. He had looked +through his books at the Dursleys’, but did Snape expect him to remember +everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi? + Snape was still ignoring Hermione’s quivering hand. + “What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?” + At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon +ceiling. + “I don’t know,” said Harry quietly. “I think Hermione does, though, why +don’t you try her?” + A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus’s eye, and Seamus winked. +Snape, however, was not pleased. + “Sit down,” he snapped at Hermione. “For your information, Potter, +asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the +Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat +and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they +are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren’t +you all copying that down?” + There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, +Snape said, “And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, +Potter.” + Things didn’t improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson +continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple +potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them +weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except +Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the +perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green +smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to +melt Seamus’s cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across +the stone floor, burning holes in people’s shoes. Within seconds, the whole class +was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion +when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all +over his arms and legs. + “Idiot boy!” snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one +wave of his wand. “I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the +cauldron off the fire?” + Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose. + “Take him up to the hospital wing,” Snape spat at Seamus. Then he +rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville. + “You — Potter — why didn’t you tell him not to add the quills? Thought +he’d make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That’s another point +you’ve lost for Gryffindor.” + This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked +him behind their cauldron. + “Don’t push it,” he muttered, “I’ve heard Snape can turn very nasty.” + As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry’s mind +was racing and his spirits were low. He’d lost two points for Gryffindor in his +very first week — why did Snape hate him so much? + “Cheer up,” said Ron, “Snape’s always taking points off Fred and +George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?” + At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the +grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden +forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door. + When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and +several booming barks. Then Hagrid’s voice rang out, saying, “Back, Fang — +back.” + Hagrid’s big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open. + “Hang on,” he said. “Back, Fang.” + He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous +black boarhound. + There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from +the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a +massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it. + “Make yerselves at home,” said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded +straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as +fierce as he looked. + “This is Ron,” Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a +large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate. + “Another Weasley, eh?” said Hagrid, glancing at Ron’s freckles. I spent +half me life chasin’ yer twin brothers away from the forest.” + The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their +teeth, but Harry and Ron pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all +about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry’s knee and drooled all +over his robes. + Harry and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch “that old git.” + “An’ as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I’d like ter introduce her to Fang +sometime. D’yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me +everywhere? Can’t get rid of her — Filch puts her up to it.” + Harry told Hagrid about Snape’s lesson. Hagrid, like Ron, told Harry not +to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students. + “But he seemed to really hate me.” + “Rubbish!” said Hagrid. “Why should he?” + Yet Harry couldn’t help thinking that Hagrid didn’t quite meet his eyes +when he said that. + “How’s yer brother Charlie?” Hagrid asked Ron. “I liked him a lot — +great with animals.” + Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While +Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie’s work with dragons, Harry picked up a piece +of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the +Daily Prophet: + +GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST +Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely +believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. +Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that +was searched had in fact been emptied the same day. +“But we’re not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you +know what’s good for you,” said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon. + +Harry remembered Ron telling him on the train that someone had tried to rob +Gringotts, but Ron hadn’t mentioned the date. + “Hagrid!” said Harry, “that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! +It might’ve been happening while we were there!” + There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn’t meet Harry’s eyes +this time. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the story +again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same +day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it +emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves +were looking for? + As Harry and Ron walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets +weighed down with rock cakes they’d been too polite to refuse, Harry thought +that none of the lessons he’d had so far had given him as much to think about as +tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it +now? And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn’t want to tell +Harry? + + +HP 1 - Harry Potter and the +Sorcerer's Stone +CHAPTER NINE + +THE MIDNIGHT DUEL + +H arry had never believed he would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley, +but that was before he met Draco Malfoy. Still, first-year Gryffindors only had +Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn’t have to put up with Malfoy much. Or +at least, they didn’t until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor +common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on +Thursday — and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together. + “Typical,” said Harry darkly. “Just what I always wanted. To make a fool +of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy.” + He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else. + “You don’t know that you’ll make a fool of yourself,” said Ron +reasonably. “Anyway, I know Malfoy’s always going on about how good he is at +Quidditch, but I bet that’s all talk.” + Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about +first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful +stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in +helicopters. He wasn’t the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, +he’d spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his +broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who’d listen about the time he’d +almost hit a hang glider on Charlie’s old broom. Everyone from wizarding +families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big argument +with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn’t see +what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to +fly. Harry had caught Ron prodding Dean’s poster of West Ham soccer team, +trying to make the players move. + Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his +grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harry felt she’d had good +reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents +even with both feet on the ground. + Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. +This was something you couldn’t learn by heart out of a book — not that she +hadn’t tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips +she’d gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages. Neville +was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him +hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when +Hermione’s lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail. + Harry hadn’t had a single letter since Hagrid’s note, something that +Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy’s eagle owl was always +bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the +Slytherin table. + A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He +opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, +which seemed to be full of white smoke. + “It’s a Remembrall!” he explained. “Gran knows I forget things — this +tells you if there’s something you’ve forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like +this and if it turns red — oh…” His face fell, because the Remembrall had +suddenly glowed scarlet, “…you’ve forgotten something….” + Neville was trying to remember what he’d forgotten when Draco Malfoy, +who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand. + Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason +to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than +any teacher in the school, was there in a flash. + “What’s going on?” + “Malfoy’s got my Remembrall, Professor.” + Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table. + “Just looking,” he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle +behind him. + +At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Ron, and the other Gryffindors hurried +down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, +breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the +sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to +the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance. + The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying +in neat lines on the ground. Harry had heard Fred and George Weasley complain +about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew +too high, or always flew slightly to the left. + Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and +yellow eyes like a hawk. + “Well, what are you all waiting for?” she barked. “Everyone stand by a +broomstick. Come on, hurry up.” + Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck +out at odd angles. + “Stick out your right hand over your broom,” called Madam Hooch at the +front, “and say ‘Up!’” + “UP” everyone shouted. + Harry’s broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few +that did. Hermione Granger’s had simply rolled over on the ground, and +Neville’s hadn’t moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you +were afraid, thought Harry; there was a quaver in Neville’s voice that said only +too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground. + Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without +sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. +Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he’d been doing it wrong +for years. + “Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,” said +Madam Hooch. “Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come +straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle — three — two +—” + But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the +ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch’s lips. + “Come back, boy!” she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a +cork shot out of a bottle — twelve feet — twenty feet. Harry saw his scared +white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways +off the broom and — + WHAM — a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the +grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to +drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight. + Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his. + “Broken wrist,” Harry heard her mutter. “Come on, boy — it’s all right, +up you get.” + She turned to the rest of the class. + “None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You +leave those brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can +say ‘Quidditch.’ Come on, dear.” + Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with +Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him. + No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter. + “Did you see his face, the great lump?” + The other Slytherins joined in. + “Shut up, Malfoy,” snapped Parvati Patil. + “Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?” said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced +Slytherin girl. “Never thought you’d like fat little crybabies, Parvati.” + “Look!” said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the +grass. “It’s that stupid thing Longbottom’s gran sent him.” + The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up. + “Give that here, Malfoy,” said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to +watch. + Malfoy smiled nastily. + “I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find — how about — +up a tree?” + “Give it here!” Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick +and taken off. He hadn’t been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the +topmost branches of an oak he called, “Come and get it, Potter!” + Harry grabbed his broom. + “No!” shouted Hermione Granger. “Madam Hooch told us not to move +— you’ll get us all into trouble.” + Harry ignored her. Blood was pounding in his ears. He mounted the +broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed +through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him — and in a rush of fierce +joy he realized he’d found something he could do without being taught — this +was easy, this was wonderful. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even +higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring +whoop from Ron. + He turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy +looked stunned. + “Give it here,” Harry called, “or I’ll knock you off that broom!” + “Oh, yeah?” said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried. + Harry knew, somehow, what to do. He leaned forward and grasped the +broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy +only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp about-face and held the +broom steady. A few people below were clapping. + “No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy,” Harry called. + The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy. + “Catch it if you can, then!” he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high +into the air and streaked back toward the ground. + Harry saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then +start to fall. He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down — next +second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball — wind whistled +in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching — he stretched out his +hand — a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom +straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched +safely in his fist. + “HARRY POTTER!” + His heart sank faster than he’d just dived. Professor McGonagall was +running toward them. He got to his feet, trembling. + “Never — in all my time at Hogwarts —” + Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses +flashed furiously, “— how dare you — might have broken your neck —” + “It wasn’t his fault, Professor —” + “Be quiet, Miss Patil —” + “But Malfoy —” + “That’s enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now.” + Harry caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle’s triumphant faces as +he left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall’s wake as she strode toward +the castle. He was going to be expelled, he just knew it. He wanted to say +something to defend himself, but there seemed to be something wrong with his +voice. Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at him; +he had to jog to keep up. Now he’d done it. He hadn’t even lasted two weeks. +He’d be packing his bags in ten minutes. What would the Dursleys say when he +turned up on the doorstep? + Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor +McGonagall didn’t say a word to him. She wrenched open doors and marched +along corridors with Harry trotting miserably behind her. Maybe she was taking +him to Dumbledore. He thought of Hagrid, expelled but allowed to stay on as +gamekeeper. Perhaps he could be Hagrid’s assistant. His stomach twisted as he +imagined it, watching Ron and the others becoming wizards, while he stumped +around the grounds carrying Hagrid’s bag. + Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door +and poked her head inside. + “Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?” + Wood? thought Harry, bewildered; was Wood a cane she was going to +use on him? + But Wood turned out to be a person, a burly fifth-year boy who came out +of Flitwick’s class looking confused. + “Follow me, you two,” said Professor McGonagall, and they marched on +up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Harry. + “In here.” + Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty +except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard. + “Out, Peeves!” she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which +clanged loudly, and he swooped out cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the +door behind him and turned to face the two boys. + “Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood — I’ve found you a Seeker.” + Wood’s expression changed from puzzlement to delight. + “Are you serious, Professor?” + “Absolutely,” said Professor McGonagall crisply. “The boy’s a natural. +I’ve never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, +Potter?” + Harry nodded silently. He didn’t have a clue what was going on, but he +didn’t seem to be being expelled, and some of the feeling started coming back to +his legs. + “He caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive,” Professor +McGonagall told Wood. “Didn’t even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn’t +have done it.” + Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once. + “Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?” he asked excitedly. + “Wood’s captain of the Gryffindor team,” Professor McGonagall +explained. + “He’s just the build for a Seeker, too,” said Wood, now walking around +Harry and staring at him. “Light —speedy — we’ll have to get him a decent +broom, Professor — a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I’d say.” + “I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can’t bend the first- +year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that +last match by Slytherin, I couldn’t look Severus Snape in the face for weeks.…” + Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Harry. + “I want to hear you’re training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind +about punishing you.” + Then she suddenly smiled. + “Your father would have been proud,” she said. “He was an excellent +Quidditch player himself.” + +“You’re joking.” + It was dinnertime. Harry had just finished telling Ron what had happened +when he’d left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ron had a piece of steak +and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he’d forgotten all about it. + “Seeker?” he said. “But first years never — you must be the youngest +house player in about —” + “ — a century,” said Harry, shoveling pie into his mouth. He felt +particularly hungry after the excitement of the afternoon. “Wood told me.” + Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at Harry. + “I start training next week,” said Harry. “Only don’t tell anyone, Wood +wants to keep it a secret.” + Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Harry, and +hurried over. + “Well done,” said George in a low voice. “Wood told us. We’re on the +team too — Beaters.” + “I tell you, we’re going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year,” said +Fred. “We haven’t won since Charlie left, but this year’s team is going to be +brilliant. You must be good, Harry, Wood was almost skipping when he told us.” + “Anyway, we’ve got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he’s found a new secret +passageway out of the school.” + “Bet it’s that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found +in our first week. See you.” + Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome +turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. + “Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the +Muggles?” + “You’re a lot braver now that you’re back on the ground and you’ve got +your little friends with you,” said Harry coolly. There was of course nothing at +all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, +neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl. + “I’d take you on anytime on my own,” said Malfoy. “Tonight, if you +want. Wizard’s duel. Wands only — no contact. What’s the matter? Never heard +of a wizard’s duel before, I suppose?” + “Of course he has,” said Ron, wheeling around. “I’m his second, who’s +yours?” + Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up. + “Crabbe,” he said. “Midnight all right? We’ll meet you in the trophy +room; that’s always unlocked.” + When Malfoy had gone, Ron and Harry looked at each other. + “What is a wizard’s duel?” said Harry. “And what do you mean, you’re +my second?” + “Well, a second’s there to take over if you die,” said Ron casually, getting +started at last on his cold pie. Catching the look on Harry’s face, he added +quickly, “But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The +most you and Malfoy’ll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you +knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, +anyway.” + “And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?” + “Throw it away and punch him on the nose,” Ron suggested. + “Excuse me.” + They both looked up. It was Hermione Granger. + “Can’t a person eat in peace in this place?” said Ron. + Hermione ignored him and spoke to Harry. + “I couldn’t help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying —” + “Bet you could,” Ron muttered. + “— and you mustn’t go wandering around the school at night, think of +the points you’ll lose Gryffindor if you’re caught, and you’re bound to be. It’s +really very selfish of you.” + “And it’s really none of your business,” said Harry. + “Good-bye,” said Ron. + +All the same, it wasn’t what you’d call the perfect end to the day, Harry +thought, as he lay awake much later listening to Dean and Seamus falling asleep +(Neville wasn’t back from the hospital wing). Ron had spent all evening giving +him advice such as “If he tries to curse you, you’d better dodge it, because I +can’t remember how to block them.” There was a very good chance they were +going to get caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris, and Harry felt he was pushing his +luck, breaking another school rule today. On the other hand, Malfoy’s sneering +face kept looming up out of the darkness — this was his big chance to beat +Malfoy face-to-face. He couldn’t miss it. + “Half-past eleven,” Ron muttered at last, “we’d better go.” + They pulled on their bathrobes, picked up their wands, and crept across +the tower room, down the spiral staircase, and into the Gryffindor common +room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs +into hunched black shadows. They had almost reached the portrait hole when a +voice spoke from the chair nearest them, “I can’t believe you’re going to do this, +Harry.” + A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink bathrobe +and a frown. + “You!” said Ron furiously. “Go back to bed!” + “I almost told your brother,” Hermione snapped, “Percy — he’s a prefect, +he’d put a stop to this.” + Harry couldn’t believe anyone could be so interfering. + “Come on,” he said to Ron. He pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady +and climbed through the hole. + Hermione wasn’t going to give up that easily. She followed Ron through +the portrait hole, hissing at them like an angry goose. + “Don’t you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I +don’t want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you’ll lose all the points I got +from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells.” + “Go away.” + “All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you’re +on the train home tomorrow, you’re so —” + But what they were, they didn’t find out. Hermione had turned to the +portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty +painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermione was locked +out of Gryffindor tower. + “Now what am I going to do?” she asked shrilly. + “That’s your problem,” said Ron. “We’ve got to go, we’re going to be +late.” + They hadn’t even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught +up with them. + “I’m coming with you,” she said. + “You are not.” + “D’you think I’m going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? +If he finds all three of us I’ll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and +you can back me up.” + “You’ve got some nerve —” said Ron loudly. + “Shut up, both of you!” said Harry sharply. I heard something.” + It was a sort of snuffling. + “Mrs. Norris?” breathed Ron, squinting through the dark. + It wasn’t Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast +asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer. + “Thank goodness you found me! I’ve been out here for hours, I couldn’t +remember the new password to get in to bed.” + “Keep your voice down, Neville. The password’s ‘Pig snout’ but it won’t +help you now, the Fat Lady’s gone off somewhere.” + “How’s your arm?” said Harry. + “Fine,” said Neville, showing them. “Madam Pomfrey mended it in +about a minute.” + “Good — well, look, Neville, we’ve got to be somewhere, we’ll see you +later —” + “Don’t leave me!” said Neville, scrambling to his feet, “I don’t want to +stay here alone, the Bloody Baron’s been past twice already.” + Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and +Neville. + “If either of you get us caught, I’ll never rest until I’ve learned that Curse +of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you.” + Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron exactly how to use the +Curse of the Bogies, but Harry hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned them all +forward. + They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high +windows. At every turn Harry expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they +were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the +trophy room. + Malfoy and Crabbe weren’t there yet. The crystal trophy cases +glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues +winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping +their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harry took out his wand in case +Malfoy leapt in and started at once. The minutes crept by. + “He’s late, maybe he’s chickened out,” Ron whispered. + Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Harry had only just +raised his wand when they heard someone speak — and it wasn’t Malfoy. + “Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner.” + It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Harry waved madly +at the other three to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried silently +toward the door, away from Filch’s voice. Neville’s robes had barely whipped +round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room. + “They’re in here somewhere,” they heard him mutter, “probably hiding.” + “This way!” Harry mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to +creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting +nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run he +tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a +suit of armor. + The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle. + “RUN!” Harry yelled, and the four of them sprinted down the gallery, not +looking back to see whether Filch was following — they swung around the +doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harry in the lead, without +any idea where they were or where they were going — they ripped through a +tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came +out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy +room. + “I think we’ve lost him,” Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and +wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering. + I — told — you,” Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, +“I — told — you.” + “We’ve got to get back to Gryffindor tower,” said Ron, “quickly as +possible.” + “Malfoy tricked you,” Hermione said to Harry. “You realize that, don’t +you? He was never going to meet you — Filch knew someone was going to be in +the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off.” + Harry thought she was probably right, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. + “Let’s go.” + It wasn’t going to be that simple. They hadn’t gone more than a dozen +paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom +in front of them. + It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight. + “Shut up, Peeves — please — you’ll get us thrown out.” + Peeves cackled. + “Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, +naughty, you’ll get caughty.” + “Not if you don’t give us away, Peeves, please.” + “Should tell Filch, I should,” said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes +glittered wickedly. “It’s for your own good, you know.” + “Get out of the way,” snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves this was a +big mistake. + “STUDENTS OUT OF BED!” Peeves bellowed, “STUDENTS OUT OF +BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!” + Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the +corridor where they slammed into a door — and it was locked. + “This is it!” Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, “We’re +done for! This is the end!” + They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward +Peeves’s shouts. + “Oh, move over,” Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry’s wand, tapped +the lock, and whispered, “Alohomora!” + The lock clicked and the door swung open — they piled through it, shut +it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening. + “Which way did they go, Peeves?” Filch was saying. “Quick, tell me.” + “Say ‘please.’” + “Don’t mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?” + “Shan’t say nothing if you don’t say please,” said Peeves in his annoying +singsong voice. + “All right — please.” + “NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn’t say nothing if you didn’t say +please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!” And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away +and Filch cursing in rage. + “He thinks this door is locked,” Harry whispered. “I think we’ll be okay +— get off, Neville!” For Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of Harry’s +bathrobe for the last minute. “What?” + Harry turned around — and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, he +was sure he’d walked into a nightmare — this was too much, on top of +everything that had happened so far. + They weren’t in a room, as he had supposed. They were in a corridor. +The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was +forbidden. + They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that +filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs +of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three +drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs. + It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew +that the only reason they weren’t already dead was that their sudden appearance +had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no +mistaking what those thunderous growls meant. + Harry groped for the doorknob — between Filch and death, he’d take +Filch. + They fell backward — Harry slammed the door shut, and they ran, they +almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for +them somewhere else, because they didn’t see him anywhere, but they hardly +cared — all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them +and that monster. They didn’t stop running until they reached the portrait of the +Fat Lady on the seventh floor. + “Where on earth have you all been?” she asked, looking at their +bathrobes hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces. + “Never mind that — pig snout, pig snout,” panted Harry, and the portrait +swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, +trembling, into armchairs. + It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville, indeed, looked +as if he’d never speak again. + “What do they think they’re doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in +a school?” said Ron finally. “If any dog needs exercise, that one does.” + Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again. “You +don’t use your eyes, any of you, do you?” she snapped. “Didn’t you see what it +was standing on. + “The floor?” Harry suggested. “I wasn’t looking at its feet, I was too +busy with its heads.” + “No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It’s obviously guarding +something.” + She stood up, glaring at them. + “I hope you’re pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed — +or worse, expelled. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to bed.” + Ron stared after her, his mouth open. + “No, we don’t mind,” he said. “You’d think we dragged her along, +wouldn’t you. + But Hermione had given Harry something else to think about as he +climbed back into bed. The dog was guarding something…What had Hagrid +said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to +hide — except perhaps Hogwarts. + It looked as though Harry had found out where the grubby little package +from vault seven hundred and thirteen was. + + +HP 1 - Harry Potter and the +Sorcerer's Stone +CHAPTER TEN + +HALLOWEEN + +M alfoy couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw that Harry and Ron were still +at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful. Indeed, by the +next morning Harry and Ron thought that meeting the three-headed dog had +been an excellent adventure, and they were quite keen to have another one. In +the meantime, Harry filled Ron in about the package that seemed to have been +moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what +could possibly need such heavy protection. + “It’s either really valuable or really dangerous,” said Ron. + “Or both,” said Harry. + But as all they knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was +about two inches long, they didn’t have much chance of guessing what it was +without further clues. + Neither Neville nor Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay +underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going +near the dog again. + Hermione was now refusing to speak to Harry and Ron, but she was such +a bossy know-it-all that they saw this as an added bonus. All they really wanted +now was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to their great delight, just such a +thing arrived in the mail about a week later. + As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone’s attention +was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. +Harry was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel, +and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of him, +knocking his bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when +another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel. + Harry ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said: + +DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE. + It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don’t want +everybody knowing you’ve got a broomstick or they’ll all want one. Oliver +Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o’clock for your first +training session. + + Professor McGonagall + +Harry had difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron to read. + “A Nimbus Two Thousand!” Ron moaned enviously. “I’ve never even +touched one.” + They left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private +before their first class, but halfway across the entrance hall they found the way +upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Harry and +felt it. + “That’s a broomstick,” he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture +of jealousy and spite on his face. “You’ll be in for it this time, Potter, first years +aren’t allowed them.” + Ron couldn’t resist it. + “It’s not any old broomstick,” he said, “it’s a Nimbus Two Thousand. +What did you say you’ve got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?” Ron +grinned at Harry. “Comets look flashy, but they’re not in the same league as the +Nimbus.” + “What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn’t afford half the +handle,” Malfoy snapped back. “I suppose you and your brothers have to save up +twig by twig.” + Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy’s +elbow. + “Not arguing, I hope, boys?” he squeaked. + “Potter’s been sent a broomstick, Professor,” said Malfoy quickly. + “Yes, yes, that’s right,” said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. +“Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And +what model is it?” + “A Nimbus Two Thousand, it is,” said Harry, fighting not to laugh at the +look of horror on Malfoy’s face. “And it’s really thanks to Malfoy here that I’ve +got it,” he added. + Harry and Ron headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy’s +obvious rage and confusion. + “Well, it’s true,” Harry chortled as they reached the top of the marble +staircase, “If he hadn’t stolen Neville’s Remembrall I wouldn’t be on the team. +…” + “So I suppose you think that’s a reward for breaking rules?” came an +angry voice from just behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, +looking disapprovingly at the package in Harry’s hand. + “I thought you weren’t speaking to us?” said Harry. + “Yes, don’t stop now,” said Ron, “it’s doing us so much good.” + Hermione marched away with her nose in the air. + Harry had a lot of trouble keeping his mind on his lessons that day. It +kept wandering up to the dormitory where his new broomstick was lying under +his bed, or straying off to the Quidditch field where he’d be learning to play that +night. He bolted his dinner that evening without noticing what he was eating, +and then rushed upstairs with Ron to unwrap the Nimbus Two Thousand at last. + “Wow,” Ron sighed, as the broomstick rolled onto Harry’s bedspread. + Even Harry, who knew nothing about the different brooms, thought it +looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of +neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top. + As seven o’clock drew nearer, Harry left the castle and set off in the dusk +toward the Quidditch field. Held never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds +of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high +enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden +poles with hoops on the end. They reminded Harry of the little plastic sticks +Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high. + Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, Harry mounted his broomstick +and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling — he swooped in and out of the +goal posts and then sped up and down the field. The Nimbus Two Thousand +turned wherever he wanted at his lightest touch. + “Hey, Potter, come down!” + Oliver Wood had arrived. He was carrying a large wooden crate under his +arm. Harry landed next to him. + “Very nice,” said Wood, his eyes glinting. “I see what McGonagall +meant…you really are a natural. I’m just going to teach you the rules this +evening, then you’ll be joining team practice three times a week.” + He opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls. + “Right,” said Wood. “Now, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even +if it’s not too easy to play. There are seven players on each side. Three of them +are called Chasers.” + “Three Chasers,” Harry repeated, as Wood took out a bright red ball +about the size of a soccer ball. + “This ball’s called the Quaffle,” said Wood. “The Chasers throw the +Quaffle to each other and try and get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. +Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of the hoops. Follow me?” + “The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score,” +Harry recited. “So — that’s sort of like basketball on broomsticks with six +hoops, isn’t it?” + “What’s basketball?” said Wood curiously. + “Never mind,” said Harry quickly. + “Now, there’s another player on each side who’s called the Keeper — I’m +Keeper for Gryffindor. I have to fly around our hoops and stop the other team +from scoring.” + “Three Chasers, one Keeper,” said Harry, who was determined to +remember it all. “And they play with the Quaffle. Okay, got that. So what are +they for?” He pointed at the three balls left inside the box. + “I’ll show you now,” said Wood. “Take this.” + He handed Harry a small club, a bit like a short baseball bat. + “I’m going to show you what the Bludgers do,” Wood said. “These two +are the Bludgers.” + He showed Harry two identical balls, jet black and slightly smaller than +the red Quaffle. Harry noticed that they seemed to be straining to escape the +straps holding them inside the box. + “Stand back,” Wood warned Harry. He bent down and freed one of the +Bludgers. + At once, the black ball rose high in the air and then pelted straight at +Harry’s face. Harry swung at it with the bat to stop it from breaking his nose, and +sent it zigzagging away into the air — it zoomed around their heads and then +shot at Wood, who dived on top of it and managed to pin it to the ground. + “See?” Wood panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate +and strapping it down safely. “The Bludgers rocket around, trying to knock +players off their brooms. That’s why you have two Beaters on each team — the +Weasley twins are ours — it’s their job to protect their side from the Bludgers +and try and knock them toward the other team. So — think you’ve got all that?” + “Three Chasers try and score with the Quaffle; the Keeper guards the +goal posts; the Beaters keep the Bludgers away from their team,” Harry reeled +off. + “Very good,” said Wood. + “Er — have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?” Harry asked, hoping he +sounded offhand. + “Never at Hogwarts. We’ve had a couple of broken jaws but nothing +worse than that. Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker. That’s you. And +you don’t have to worry about the Quaffle or the Bludgers —” + “— unless they crack my head open.” + “Don’t worry, the Weasleys are more than a match for the Bludgers — I +mean, they’re like a pair of human Bludgers themselves.” + Wood reached into the crate and took out the fourth and last ball. +Compared with the Quaffle and the Bludgers, it was tiny, about the size of a +large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings. + “This,” said Wood, “is the Golden Snitch, and it’s the most important ball +of the lot. It’s very hard to catch because it’s so fast and difficult to see. It’s the +Seeker’s job to catch it. You’ve got to weave in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, +Bludgers, and Quaffle to get it before the other team’s Seeker, because +whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty +points, so they nearly always win. That’s why Seekers get fouled so much. A +game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages +— I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing on substitutes so +the players could get some sleep. + “Well, that’s it any questions?” + Harry shook his head. He understood what he had to do all right, it was +doing it that was going to be the problem. + “We won’t practice with the Snitch yet,” said Wood, carefully shutting it +back inside the crate, “it’s too dark, we might lose it. Let’s try you out with a few +of these.” + He pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket and a few +minutes later, he and Harry were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf balls as +hard as he could in every direction for Harry to catch. + Harry didn’t miss a single one, and Wood was delighted. After half an +hour, night had really fallen and they couldn’t carry on. + “That Quidditch Cup’ll have our name on it this year,” said Wood +happily as they trudged back up to the castle. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you turn +out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he +hadn’t gone off chasing dragons.” + +Perhaps it was because he was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice +three evenings a week on top of all his homework, but Harry could hardly +believe it when he realized that he’d already been at Hogwarts two months. The +castle felt more like home than Privet Drive ever had. His lessons, too, were +becoming more and more interesting now that they had mastered the basics. + On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking +pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick +announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, +something they had all been dying to try since they’d seen him make Neville’s +toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to +practice. Harry’s partner was Seamus Finnigan (which was a relief, because +Neville had been trying to catch his eye). Ron, however, was to be working with +Hermione Granger. It was hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione was angrier +about this. She hadn’t spoken to either of them since the day Harry’s broomstick +had arrived. + “Now, don’t forget that nice wrist movement we’ve been practicing!” +squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. +“Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words +properly is very important, too — never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said ‘s’ +instead of ‘f’ and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest.” + It was very difficult. Harry and Seamus swished and flicked, but the +feather they were supposed to be sending skyward just lay on the desktop. +Seamus got so impatient that he prodded it with his wand and set fire to it — +Harry had to put it out with his hat. + Ron, at the next table, wasn’t having much more luck. + “Wingardium Leviosa!” he shouted, waving his long arms like a +windmill. + “You’re saying it wrong,” Harry heard Hermione snap. “It’s Wing-gar- +dium Levi-o-sa, make the ‘gar’ nice and long.” + “You do it, then, if you’re so clever,” Ron snarled. + Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, +“Wingardium Leviosa!” + Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their +heads. + “Oh, well done!” cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. “Everyone see here, +Miss Granger’s done it!” + Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class. + “It’s no wonder no one can stand her,” he said to Harry as they pushed +their way into the crowded corridor, “she’s a nightmare, honestly.” + Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was Hermione. +Harry caught a glimpse of her face — and was startled to see that she was in +tears. + “I think she heard you.” + “So?” said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. “She must’ve noticed +she’s got no friends.” + Hermione didn’t turn up for the next class and wasn’t seen all afternoon. +On their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Harry and Ron +overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender that Hermione was crying in +the girls’ bathroom and wanted to be left alone. Ron looked still more awkward +at this, but a moment later they had entered the Great Hall, where the Halloween +decorations put Hermione out of their minds. + A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand +more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the +pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at +the start-of-term banquet. + Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell +came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone +stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore’s chair, slumped against the table, +and gasped, “Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know.” + He then sank to the floor in a dead faint. + There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from +the end of Professor Dumbledore’s wand to bring silence. + “Prefects,” he rumbled, “lead your Houses back to the dormitories +immediately!” + Percy was in his element. + “Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you +follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming +through! Excuse me, I’m a prefect!” + “How could a troll get in?” Harry asked as they climbed the stairs. + “Don’t ask me, they’re supposed to be really stupid,” said Ron. “Maybe +Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke.” + They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. +As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, Harry +suddenly grabbed Ron’s arm. + “I’ve just thought — Hermione.” + “What about her?” + “She doesn’t know about the troll.” + Ron bit his lip. + “Oh, all right,” he snapped. “But Percy’d better not see us.” + Ducking down, they joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped +down a deserted side corridor, and hurried off toward the girls’ bathroom. They +had just turned the corner when they heard quick footsteps behind them. + “Percy!” hissed Ron, pulling Harry behind a large stone griffin. + Peering around it, however, they saw not Percy but Snape. He crossed the +corridor and disappeared from view. + “What’s he doing?” Harry whispered. “Why isn’t he down in the +dungeons with the rest of the teachers?” + “Search me.” + Quietly as possible, they crept along the next corridor after Snape’s +fading footsteps. + “He’s heading for the third floor,” Harry said, but Ron held up his hand. + “Can you smell something?” + Harry sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old +socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean. + And then they heard it — a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of +gigantic feet. Ron pointed — at the end of a passage to the left, something huge +was moving toward them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it +emerged into a patch of moonlight. + It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, +its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a +coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell +coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which +dragged along the floor because its arms were so long. + The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long +ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room. + “The keys in the lock,” Harry muttered. “We could lock it in.” + “Good idea,” said Ron nervously. + They edged toward the open door, mouths dry, praying the troll wasn’t +about to come out of it. With one great leap, Harry managed to grab the key, +slam the door, and lock it. + “Yes!” + Flushed with their victory, they started to run back up the passage, but as +they reached the corner they heard something that made their hearts stop — a +high, petrified scream — and it was coming from the chamber they’d just +chained up. + “Oh, no,” said Ron, pale as the Bloody Baron. + “It’s the girls’ bathroom!” Harry gasped. + “Hermione!” they said together. + It was the last thing they wanted to do, but what choice did they have? +Wheeling around, they sprinted back to the door and turned the key, fumbling in +their panic. Harry pulled the door open and they ran inside. + Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if +she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the +walls as it went. + “Confuse it!” Harry said desperately to Ron, and, seizing a tap, he threw +it as hard as he could against the wall. + The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking +stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Harry. It +hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went. + “Oy, pea-brain!” yelled Ron from the other side of the chamber, and he +threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn’t even seem to notice the pipe hitting its +shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward +Ron instead, giving Harry time to run around it. + “Come on, run, run!” Harry yelled at Hermione, trying to pull her toward +the door, but she couldn’t move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth +open with terror. + The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It +roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape. + Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He +took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll’s neck +from behind. The troll couldn’t feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will +notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry’s wand had still been +in his hand when he’d jumped – it had gone straight up one of the troll’s nostrils. + Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry +clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch +him a terrible blow with the club. + Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Ron pulled out his own wand +— not knowing what he was going to do he heard himself cry the first spell that +came into his head: “Wingardium Leviosa!” + The club flew suddenly out of the troll’s hand, rose high, high up into the +air, turned slowly over — and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner’s +head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that +made the whole room tremble. + Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath. Ron was +standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done. + It was Hermione who spoke first. + “Is it — dead?” + “I don’t think so,” said Harry, I think it’s just been knocked out.” + He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll’s nose. It was covered +in what looked like lumpy gray glue. + “Urgh — troll boogers.” + He wiped it on the troll’s trousers. + A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. +They hadn’t realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, +someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll’s roars. A moment +later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed +by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, +let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart. + Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron and +Harry. Harry had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white. Hopes of +winning fifty points for Gryffindor faded quickly from Harry’s mind. + “What on earth were you thinking of?” said Professor McGonagall, with +cold fury in her voice. Harry looked at Ron, who was still standing with his +wand in the air. “You’re lucky you weren’t killed. Why aren’t you in your +dormitory?” + Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Harry looked at the floor. He +wished Ron would put his wand down. + Then a small voice came out of the shadows. + “Please, Professor McGonagall — they were looking for me.” + “Miss Granger!” + Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last. + “I went looking for the troll because I — I thought I could deal with it on +my own — you know, because I’ve read all about them.” + Ron dropped his wand. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a +teacher? + “If they hadn’t found me, I’d be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its +nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn’t have time to come +and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived.” + Harry and Ron tried to look as though this story wasn’t new to them. + “Well — in that case ...” said Professor McGonagall, staring at the three +of them, “Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a +mountain troll on your own?” + Hermione hung her head. Harry was speechless. Hermione was the last +person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to +get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets. + “Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this,” said +Professor McGonagall. “I’m very disappointed in you. If you’re not hurt at all, +you’d better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their +houses.” + Hermione left. + Professor McGonagall turned to Harry and Ron. + “Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have +taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. +Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go.” + They hurried out of the chamber and didn’t speak at all until they had +climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite +apart from anything else. + “We should have gotten more than ten points,” Ron grumbled. + “Five, you mean, once she’s taken off Hermione’s.” + “Good of her to get us out of trouble like that,” Ron admitted. “Mind +you, we did save her.” + “She might not have needed saving if we hadn’t locked the thing in with +her,” Harry reminded him. + They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. + “Pig snout,” they said and entered. + The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food +that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for +them. There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of them looking at each +other, they all said “Thanks,” and hurried off to get plates. + But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. There +are some things you can’t share without ending up liking each other, and +knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them. + + +HP 1 - Harry Potter and the +Sorcerer's Stone +CHAPTER ELEVEN + +QUIDDITCH + +A s they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains +around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning +the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows +defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin +overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots. + The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing +in his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If +Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house +championship. + Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Wood had decided that, as +their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was +playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Harry didn’t know which was +worse — people telling him he’d be brilliant or people telling him they’d be +running around underneath him holding a mattress. + It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermione as a friend. He didn’t +know how he’d have gotten through all his homework without her, what with all +the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. She had also lent +him Quidditch Through the Ages, which turned out to be a very interesting read. + Harry learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a +Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in +1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most +serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people +rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up +months later in the Sahara Desert. + Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since +Harry and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer +for it. The day before Harry’s first Quidditch match the three of them were out in +the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured them up a bright blue +fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. They were standing with their +backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. Harry noticed at once +that Snape was limping. Harry, Ron, and Hermione moved closer together to +block the fire from view; they were sure it wouldn’t be allowed. Unfortunately, +something about their guilty faces caught Snape’s eye. He limped over. He +hadn’t seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off +anyway. + “What’s that you’ve got there, Potter?” + It was Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry showed him. + “Library books are not to be taken outside the school,” said Snape. “Give +it to me. Five points from Gryffindor.” + “He’s just made that rule up,” Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped +away. “Wonder what’s wrong with his leg?” + “Dunno, but I hope it’s really hurting him,” said Ron bitterly. + +The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harry, Ron, and +Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking Harry and +Ron’s Charms homework for them. She would never let them copy (“How will +you learn?”), but by asking her to read it through, they got the right answers +anyway. + Harry felt restless. He wanted Quidditch Through the Ages back, to take +his mind off his nerves about tomorrow. Why should he be afraid of Snape? +Getting up, he told Ron and Hermione he was going to ask Snape if he could +have it. + “Better you than me,” they said together, but Harry had an idea that +Snape wouldn’t refuse if there were other teachers listening. + He made his way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no +answer. He knocked again. Nothing. + Perhaps Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try. He pushed +the door ajar and peered inside – and a horrible scene met his eyes. + Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above +his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape +bandages. + “Blasted thing,” Snape was saying. “How are you supposed to keep your +eyes on all three heads at once?” + Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but — + “POTTER!” + Snape’s face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to +hide his leg. Harry gulped. + “I just wondered if I could have my book back.” + “GET OUT! OUT!” + Harry left, before Snape could take any more points from Gryffindor. He +sprinted back upstairs. + “Did you get it?” Ron asked as Harry joined them. “What’s the matter?” + In a low whisper, Harry told them what he’d seen. + “You know what this means?” he finished breathlessly. “He tried to get +past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That’s where he was going when we +saw him — he’s after whatever it’s guarding! And I’d bet my broomstick he let +that troll in, to make a diversion!” + Hermione’s eyes were wide. + “No — he wouldn’t, she said. “I know he’s not very nice, but he +wouldn’t try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe.” + “Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something,” +snapped Ron. “I’m with Harry. I wouldn’t put anything past Snape. But what’s +he after? What’s that dog guarding?” + Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with the same question. Neville +was snoring loudly, but Harry couldn’t sleep. He tried to empty his mind — he +needed to sleep, he had to, he had his first Quidditch match in a few hours – but +the expression on Snape’s face when Harry had seen his leg wasn’t easy to +forget. + +The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of +the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking +forward to a good Quidditch match. + “You’ve got to eat some breakfast.” + “I don’t want anything.” + “Just a bit of toast,” wheedled Hermione. + “I’m not hungry.” + Harry felt terrible. In an hour’s time he’d be walking onto the field. + “Harry, you need your strength,” said Seamus Finnigan. “Seekers are +always the ones who get clobbered by the other team.” + “Thanks, Seamus,” said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his +sausages. + +By eleven o’clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around +the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised +high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes. + Ron and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean the West Ham fan +up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one +of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said Potter for President, and Dean, who +was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then +Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different +colors. + Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were +changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in +green). + Wood cleared his throat for silence. + “Okay, men,” he said. + “And women,” said Chaser Angelina Johnson. + “And women,” Wood agreed. “This is it.” + “The big one,” said Fred Weasley. + “The one we’ve all been waiting for,” said George. + “We know Oliver’s speech by heart,” Fred told Harry, “we were on the +team last year.” + “Shut up, you two,” said Wood. “This is the best team Gryffindor’s had +in years. We’re going to win. I know it.” + He glared at them all as if to say, “Or else.” + “Right. It’s time. Good luck, all of you.” + Harry followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping his +knees weren’t going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers. + Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field +waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand. + “Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you,” she said, once they were all +gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to +the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a sixth year. Harry thought Flint looked as if +he had some troll blood in him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fluttering +banner high above, flashing Potter for President over the crowd. His heart +skipped. He felt braver. + “Mount your brooms, please.” + Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand. + Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle. + Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off. + “And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of +Gryffindor — what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too —” + “JORDAN!” + “Sorry, Professor.” + The Weasley twins’ friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for +the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall. + “And she’s really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a +good find of Oliver Wood’s, last year only a reserve — back to Johnson and — +no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains +the Quaffle and off he goes — Flint flying like an eagle up there — he’s going to +sc— no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the +Gryffindors take the Quaffle — that’s Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice +dive around Flint, off up the field and — OUCH — that must have hurt, hit in +the back of the head by a Bludger — Quaffle taken by the Slytherins — that’s +Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he’s blocked by a second +Bludger — sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can’t tell which — nice +play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the +Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes — she’s really flying — dodges a +speeding Bludger — the goal posts are ahead — come on, now, Angelina — +Keeper Bletchley dives — misses — GRYFFINDORS SCORE!” + Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the +Slytherins. + “Budge up there, move along.” + “Hagrid!” + Ron and Hermione squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to +join them. + “Bin watchin’ from me hut,” said Hagrid, patting a large pair of +binoculars around his neck, “But it isn’t the same as bein’ in the crowd. No sign +of the Snitch yet, eh?” + “Nope,” said Ron. “Harry hasn’t had much to do yet.” + “Kept outta trouble, though, that’s somethin’,” said Hagrid, raising his +binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry. + Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about +for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Wood’s game plan. + “Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch,” Wood had said. +“We don’t want you attacked before you have to be.” + When Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops to +let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once he +caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the +Weasleys’ wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, +more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley +came chasing after it. + “All right there, Harry?” he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger +furiously toward Marcus Flint. + “Slytherin in possession,” Lee Jordan was saying, “Chaser Pucey ducks +two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the — wait a +moment — was that the Snitch?” + A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, +too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left +ear. + Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downward after the +streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck +they hurtled toward the Snitch — all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what +they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch. + Harry was faster than Higgs — he could see the little round ball, wings +fluttering, darting up ahead — he put on an extra spurt of speed — + WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below — Marcus +Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry’s broom spun off course, Harry +holding on for dear life. + “Foul!” screamed the Gryffindors. + Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the +goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch +had disappeared from sight again. + Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, “Send him off, ref! Red +card!” + “What are you talking about, Dean?” said Ron. + “Red card!” said Dean furiously. “In soccer you get shown the red card +and you’re out of the game!” + “But this isn’t soccer, Dean,” Ron reminded him. + Hagrid, however, was on Dean’s side. + “They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air.” + Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides. + “So — after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating —” + “Jordan!” growled Professor McGonagall. + “I mean, after that open and revolting foul…” + “Jordan, I’m warning you —” + “All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could +happen to anyone, I’m sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinner, who +puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession.” + It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning +dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, +frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped +the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He’d never felt anything like +that. + It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him +off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. +Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal-posts — he had half a mind +to ask Wood to call time-out — and then he realized that his broom was +completely out of his control. He couldn’t turn it. He couldn���t direct it at all. It +was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing +movements that almost unseated him. + Lee was still commentating. + “Slytherin in possession — Flint with the Quaffle — passes Spinnet — +passes Bell — hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose — only +joking, Professor — Slytherins score — A no…” + The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that +Harry’s broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away +from the game, jerking and twitching as it went. + “Dunno what Harry thinks he’s doing,” Hagrid mumbled. He stared +through his binoculars. “If I didn’ know better, I’d say he’d lost control of his +broom…but he can’t have.…” + Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His +broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. +Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry’s broom had given a wild jerk and Harry +swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand. + “Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?” Seamus +whispered. + “Can’t have,” Hagrid said, his voice shaking. “Can’t nothing interfere +with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic — no kid could do that to a +Nimbus Two Thousand.” + At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid’s binoculars, but instead of +looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd. + “What are you doing?” moaned Ron, gray-faced. + “I knew it,” Hermione gasped, “Snape — look.” + Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands +opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under +his breath. + “He’s doing something — jinxing the broom,” said Hermione. + “What should we do?” + “Leave it to me.” + Before Ron could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. Ron +turned the binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was +almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its +feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely +onto one of their brooms, but it was no good – every time they got near him, the +broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, +obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and +scored five times without anyone noticing. + “Come on, Hermione,” Ron muttered desperately. + Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood, and +was now racing along the row behind him; she didn’t even stop to say sorry as +she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. Reaching Snape, +she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and whispered a few, well-chosen +words. Bright blue flames shot from her wand onto the hem of Snape’s robes. + It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire. A +sudden yelp told her she had done her job. Scooping the fire off him into a little +jar in her pocket, she scrambled back along the row — Snape would never know +what had happened. + It was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on +to his broom. + “Neville, you can look!” Ron said. Neville had been sobbing into +Hagrid’s jacket for the last five minutes. + Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his +hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick — he hit the field on all +fours — coughed — and something gold fell into his hand. + “I’ve got the Snitch!” he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game +ended in complete confusion. + “He didn’t catch it, he nearly swallowed it,” Flint was still howling +twenty minutes later, but it made no difference — Harry hadn’t broken any rules +and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results — Gryffindor had won by +one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harry heard none of this, though. He +was being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid’s hut, with Ron and +Hermione. + “It was Snape,” Ron was explaining, “Hermione and I saw him. He was +cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn’t take his eyes off you.” + “Rubbish,” said Hagrid, who hadn’t heard a word of what had gone on +next to him in the stands. “Why would Snape do somethin’ like that?” + Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another, wondering what to tell +him. Harry decided on the truth. + “I found out something about him,” he told Hagrid. “He tried to get past +that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal +whatever it’s guarding.” + Hagrid dropped the teapot. + “How do you know about Fluffy?” he said. + “Fluffy?” + “Yeah — he’s mine — bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub +las’ year — I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the —” + “Yes?�� said Harry eagerly. + “Now, don’t ask me anymore,” said Hagrid gruffly. “That’s top secret, +that is.” + “But Snape’s trying to steal it.” + “Rubbish,” said Hagrid again. “Snape’s a Hogwarts teacher, he’d do +nothin’ of the sort.” + “So why did he just try and kill Harry?” cried Hermione. + The afternoon’s events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about +Snape. + “I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I’ve read all about them! You’ve +got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn’t blinking at all, I saw him!” + “I’m tellin’ yeh, yer wrong!” said Hagrid hotly. “I don’ know why +Harry’s broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn’ try an’ kill a student! Now, +listen to me, all three of yeh — yer meddlin’ in things that don’ concern yeh. It’s +dangerous. You forget that dog, an’ you forget what it’s guardin’, that’s between +Professor Dumbledore an’ Nicolas Flamel —” + “Aha!” said Harry, “so there’s someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, +is there?” + Hagrid looked furious with himself. + + + +HP 1 - Harry Potter and the +Sorcerer's Stone +CHAPTER TWELVE + +THE MIRROR OF ERISED + +C hristmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to +find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley +twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed +Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed +to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back +to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again. + No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor +common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had +become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all +were Professor Snape’s classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in +a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons. + “I do feel so sorry,” said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, “for all those +people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they’re not wanted +at home.” + He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. +Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them. Malfoy +had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted +that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide- +mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he’d realized +that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way +Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and +angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family. + It was true that Harry wasn’t going back to Privet Drive for Christmas. +Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of +students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harry had signed up at +once. He didn’t feel sorry for himself at all; this would probably be the best +Christmas he’d ever had. Ron and his brothers were staying, too, because Mr. +and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie. + When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir +tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom +and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it. + “Hi, Hagrid, want any help?” Ron asked, sticking his head through the +branches. + “Nah, I’m all right, thanks, Ron.” + “Would you mind moving out of the way?” came Malfoy’s cold drawl +from behind them. “Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping +to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose — that hut of +Hagrid’s must seem like a palace compared to what your family’s used to.” + Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs. + “WEASLEY!” + Ron let go of the front of Malfoy’s robes. + “He was provoked, Professor Snape,” said Hagrid, sticking his huge +hairy face out from behind the tree. “Malfoy was insultin’ his family.” + “Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid,” said +Snape silkily. “Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn’t +more. Move along, all of you.” + Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering +needles everywhere and smirking. + “I’ll get him,” said Ron, grinding his teeth at Malfoy’s back, “one of +these days, I’ll get him —” + “I hate them both,” said Harry, “Malfoy and Snape.” + “Come on, cheer up, it’s nearly Christmas,” said Hagrid. “Tell yeh what, +come with me an’ see the Great Hall, looks a treat.” + So the three of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, +where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the +Christmas decorations. + “Ah, Hagrid, the last tree — put it in the far corner, would you?” + The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all +around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around +the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of +candles. + “How many days you got left until yer holidays?” Hagrid asked. + “Just one,” said Hermione. “And that reminds me — Harry, Ron, we’ve +got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library.” + “Oh yeah, you’re right,” said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor +Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing +them over the branches of the new tree. + “The library?” said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. “Just before +the holidays? Bit keen, aren’t yeh?” + “Oh, we’re not working,” Harry told him brightly. “Ever since you +mentioned Nicolas Flamel we’ve been trying to find out who he is.” + “You what?” Hagrid looked shocked. “Listen here — I’ve told yeh — +drop it. It’s nothin’ to you what that dog’s guardin’.” + “We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that’s all,” said Hermione. + “Unless you’d like to tell us and save us the trouble?” Harry added. “We +must’ve been through hundreds of books already and we can’t find him +anywhere — just give us a hint — I know I’ve read his name somewhere.” + “I’m sayin’ nothin’, said Hagrid flatly. + “Just have to find out for ourselves, then,” said Ron, and they left Hagrid +looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library. + They had indeed been searching books for Flamel’s name ever since +Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape +was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, +not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn’t +in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our +Time; he was missing, too, from Important Modern Magical Discoveries, and A +Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. And then, of course, there was the +sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; +hundreds of narrow rows. + Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search +while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the +shelves at random. Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section. He had been +wondering for a while if Flamel wasn’t somewhere in there. Unfortunately, you +needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the +restricted books, and he knew he’d never get one. These were the books +containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and only read by +older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts. + “What are you looking for, boy?” + “Nothing,” said Harry. + Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at him. + “You’d better get out, then. Go on — out!” + Wishing he’d been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Harry left the +library. He, Ron, and Hermione had already agreed they’d better not ask Madam +Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure she’d be able to tell them, +but they couldn’t risk Snape hearing what they were up to. + Harry waited outside in the corridor to see if the other two had found +anything, but he wasn’t very hopeful. They had been looking for two weeks, +after A, but as they only had odd moments between lessons it wasn’t surprising +they’d found nothing. What they really needed was a nice long search without +Madam Pince breathing down their necks. + Five minutes later, Ron and Hermione joined him, shaking their heads. +They went off to lunch. + “You will keep looking while I’m away, won’t you?” said Hermione. +“And send me an owl if you find anything.” + “And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is,” said Ron. +“It’d be safe to ask them.” + “Very safe, as they’re both dentists,” said Hermione. + +Once the holidays had started, Ron and Harry were having too good a time to +think much about Flamel. They had the dormitory to themselves and the +common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good +armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a +toasting fork — bread, English muffins, marshmallows — and plotting ways of +getting Malfoy expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldn’t +work. + Ron also started teaching Harry wizard chess. This was exactly like +Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like +directing troops in battle. Ron’s set was very old and battered. Like everything +else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family — in this +case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren’t a drawback at all. Ron +knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted. + Harry played with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had lent him, and they +didn’t trust him at all. He wasn’t a very good player yet and they kept shouting +different bits of advice at him, which was confusing. “Don’t send me there, can’t +you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him.” + On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for +the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When he woke early +in the morning, however, the first thing he saw was a small pile of packages at +the foot of his bed. + “Merry Christmas,” said Ron sleepily as Harry scrambled out of bed and +pulled on his bathrobe. + “You, too,” said Harry. “Will you look at this? I’ve got some presents!” + “What did you expect, turnips?” said Ron, turning to his own pile, which +was a lot bigger than Harry’s. + Harry picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and +scrawled across it was To Harry, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden +flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it — it sounded a bit +like an owl. + A second, very small parcel contained a note. + We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From +Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece. + “That’s friendly,” said Harry. + Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence. + “Weird!” he said, ‘What a shape! This is money?” + “You can keep it,” said Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron was. “Hagrid +and my aunt and uncle — so who sent these?” + “I think I know who that one’s from,” said Ron, turning a bit pink and +pointing to a very lumpy parcel. “My mom. I told her you didn’t expect any +presents and — oh, no,” he groaned, “she’s made you a Weasley sweater.” + Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in +emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge. + “Every year she makes us a sweater,” said Ron, unwrapping his own, +“and mine’s always maroon.” + “That’s really nice of her,” said Harry, trying the fudge, which was very +tasty. + His next present also contained candy — a large box of Chocolate Frogs +from Hermione. + This only left one parcel. Harry picked it up and felt it. It was very light. +He unwrapped it. + Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay +in gleaming folds. Ron gasped. + “I’ve heard of those,” he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of +Every Flavor Beans he’d gotten from Hermione. “If that’s what I think it is — +they’re really rare, and really valuable.” + “What is it?” + Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the +touch, like water woven into material. + “It’s an invisibility cloak,” said Ron, a look of awe on his face. “I’m sure +it is — try it on.” + Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell. + “It is! Look down!” + Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed to the +mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended +in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulled the cloak over his head and +his reflection vanished completely. + “There’s a note!” said Ron suddenly. “A note fell out of it!” + Harry pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy +writing he had never seen before were the following words: + +Your father left this in my possession before he died. +It is time it was returned to you. +Use it well. +A Very Merry Christmas to you. + +There was no signature. Harry stared at the note. Ron was admiring the +cloak. + “I’d give anything for one of these,” he said. “Anything. What’s the +matter?” + “Nothing,” said Harry. He felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had +it really once belonged to his father? + Before he could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung +open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in. Harry stuffed the cloak quickly +out of sight. He didn’t feel like sharing it with anyone else yet. + “Merry Christmas!” + “Hey, look — Harry’s got a Weasley sweater, too!” + Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F +on it, the other a G. + “Harry’s is better than ours, though,” said Fred, holding up Harry’s +sweater. “She obviously makes more of an effort if you’re not family.” + “Why aren’t you wearing yours, Ron?” George demanded. “Come on, +get it on, they’re lovely and warm.” + “I hate maroon,” Ron moaned halfheartedly as he pulled it over his head. + “You haven’t got a letter on yours,” George observed. “I suppose she +thinks you don’t forget your name. But we’re not stupid — we know we’re +called Gred and Forge.” + “What’s all this noise?” + Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving. He +had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a +lumpy sweater over his arm, which Fred seized. + “P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we’re all wearing ours, even +Harry got one.” + “I — don’t — want —” said Percy thickly, as the twins forced the +sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew. + “And you’re not sitting with the prefects today, either,” said George. +“Christmas is a time for family.” + They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by +his sweater. + +Harry had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, +roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; +tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce – +and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic +party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually +bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harry +pulled a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn’t just bang, it went off with a blast +like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the +inside exploded a rear admiral’s hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High +Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard’s hat for a flowered bonnet, +and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him. + Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly broke his +teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his slice. Harry watched Hagrid getting +redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing +Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry’s amazement, giggled and +blushed, her top hat lopsided. + When Harry finally left the table, he was laden down with a stack of +things out of the crackers, including a pack of nonexplodable, luminous +balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set. The +white mice had disappeared and Harry had a nasty feeling they were going to +end up as Mrs. Norris’s Christmas dinner. + Harry and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious +snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they +returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry broke in his +new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron. He suspected he wouldn’t have +lost so badly if Percy hadn’t tried to help him so much. + After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, +everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch +Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because they’d stolen his +prefect badge. + It had been Harry’s best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been +nagging at the back of his mind all day. Not until he climbed into bed was he +free to think about it: the invisibility cloak and whoever had sent it. + Ron, full of turkey and cake and with nothing mysterious to bother him, +fell asleep almost as soon as he’d drawn the curtains of his four-poster. Harry +leaned over the side of his own bed and pulled the cloak out from under it. + His father’s…this had been his father’s. He let the material flow over his +hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the note had said. + He had to try it, now. He slipped out of bed and wrapped the cloak +around himself. Looking down at his legs, he saw only moonlight and shadows. +It was a very funny feeling. + Use it well. + Suddenly, Harry felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to +him in this cloak. Excitement flooded through him as he stood there in the dark +and silence. He could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never +know. + Ron grunted in his sleep. Should Harry wake him? Something held him +back — his father’s cloak — he felt that this time — the first time — he wanted +to use it alone. + He crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, +and climbed through the portrait hole. + “Who’s there?” squawked the Fat Lady. Harry said nothing. He walked +quickly down the corridor. + Where should he go? He stopped, his heart racing, and thought. And then +it came to him. The Restricted Section in the library. He’d be able to read as long +as he liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. He set off, drawing the +invisibility cloak tight around him as he walked. + The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lit a lamp to see his +way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in +midair, and even though Harry could feel his arm supporting it, the sight gave +him the creeps. + The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Stepping +carefully over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library, he +held up his lamp to read the titles. + They didn’t tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled +words in languages Harry couldn’t understand. Some had no title at all. One +book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back +of Harry’s neck prickled. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe not, but he thought +a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone +was there who shouldn’t be. + He had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, +he looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting looking book. A large black +and silver volume caught his eye. He pulled it out with difficulty, because it was +very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee, let it fall open. + A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence — the book was +screaming! Harry snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and on, one high, +unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbled backward and knocked over his lamp, +which went out at once. Panicking, he heard footsteps coming down the corridor +outside — stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, he ran for it. He passed +Filch in the doorway; Filch’s pale, wild eyes looked straight through him, and +Harry slipped under Filch’s outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the +book’s shrieks still ringing in his ears. + He came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He had been so +busy getting away from the library, he hadn’t paid attention to where he was +going. Perhaps because it was dark, he didn’t recognize where he was at all. +There was a suit of armor near the kitchens, he knew, but he must be five floors +above there. + “You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was +wandering around at night, and somebody’s been in the library Restricted +Section.” + Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he was, Filch must +know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to his +horror, it was Snape who replied, “The Restricted Section? Well, they can’t be +far, we’ll catch them.” + Harry stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner +ahead. They couldn’t see him, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they +came much nearer they’d knock right into him — the cloak didn’t stop him from +being solid. + He backed away as quietly as he could. A door stood ajar to his left. It +was his only hope. He squeezed through it, holding his breath, trying not to +move it, and to his relief he managed to get inside the room without their +noticing anything. They walked straight past, and Harry leaned against the wall, +breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. That had been close, +very close. It was a few seconds before he noticed anything about the room he +had hidden in. + It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs +were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket – but +propped against the wall facing him was something that didn’t look as if it +belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep +it out of the way. + It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold +frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the +top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. His panic fading now that there +was no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to +look at himself but see no reflection again. He stepped in front of it. + He had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He +whirled around. His heart was pounding far more furiously than when the book +had screamed — for he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but a whole +crowd of people standing right behind him. + But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to +the mirror. + There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, +reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Harry looked over his shoulder — +but still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible, too? Was he in fact in a +room full of invisible people and this mirror’s trick was that it reflected them, +invisible or not? + He looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind his +reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air +behind him. If she was really there, he’d touch her, their reflections were so +close together, but he felt only air – she and the others existed only in the mirror. + She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes — her +eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright +green — exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; +smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing +next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very +untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry’s did. + Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching +that of his reflection. + “Mom?” he whispered. “Dad?” + They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the faces +of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other +noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry’s +knobbly knees — Harry was looking at his family, for the first time in his life. + The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at +them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall +right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half +joy, half terrible sadness. + How long he stood there, he didn’t know. The reflections did not fade +and he looked and looked until a distant noise brought him back to his senses. +He couldn’t stay here, he had to find his way back to bed. He tore his eyes away +from his mother’s face, whispered, “I’ll come back,” and hurried from the room. + +“You could have woken me up,” said Ron, crossly. + “You can come tonight, I’m going back, I want to show you the mirror. + “I’d like to see your mom and dad,” Ron said eagerly. + “And I want to see all your family, all the Weasleys, you’ll be able to +show me your other brothers and everyone.” + “You can see them any old time,” said Ron. “Just come round my house +this summer. Anyway, maybe it only shows dead people. Shame about not +finding Flamel, though. Have some bacon or something, why aren’t you eating +anything?” + Harry couldn’t eat. He had seen his parents and would be seeing them +again tonight. He had almost forgotten about Flamel. It didn’t seem very +important anymore. Who cared what the three headed dog was guarding? What +did it matter if Snape stole it, really? + “Are you all right?” said Ron. “You look odd.” + +What Harry feared most was that he might not be able to find the mirror +room again. With Ron covered in the cloak, too, they had to walk much more +slowly the next night. They tried retracing Harry’s route from the library, +wandering around the dark passageways for nearly an hour. + “I’m freezing,” said Ron. “Let’s forget it and go back.” + “No!” Harry hissed. I know it’s here somewhere.” + They passed the ghost of a tall witch gliding in the opposite direction, but +saw no one else. just as Ron started moaning that his feet were dead with cold, +Harry spotted the suit of armor. + “It’s here — just here — yes!” + They pushed the door open. Harry dropped the cloak from around his +shoulders and ran to the mirror. + There they were. His mother and father beamed at the sight of him. + “See?” Harry whispered. + “I can’t see anything.” + “Look! Look at them all…there are loads of them.…” + “I can only see you.” + “Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am.” + Harry stepped aside, but with Ron in front of the mirror, he couldn’t see +his family anymore, just Ron in his paisley pajamas. + Ron, though, was staring transfixed at his image. + “Look at me!” he said. + “Can you see all your family standing around you?” + “No — I’m alone — but I’m different — I look older — and I’m head +boy!” + “What?” + “I am — I’m wearing the badge like Bill used to — and I’m holding the +house cup and the Quidditch cup — I’m Quidditch captain, too.” + Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at +Harry. + “Do you think this mirror shows the future?” + “How can it? All my family are dead — let me have another look —” + “You had it to yourself all last night, give me a bit more time.” + “You’re only holding the Quidditch cup, what’s interesting about that? I +want to see my parents.” + “Don’t push me —” + A sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to their discussion. +They hadn’t realized how loudly they had been talking. + “Quick!” + Ron threw the cloak back over them as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris +came round the door. Ron and Harry stood quite still, both thinking the same +thing — did the cloak work on cats? After what seemed an age, she turned and +left. + “This isn’t safe — she might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us. +Come on.” + And Ron pulled Harry out of the room. + +The snow still hadn’t melted the next morning. + “Want to play chess, Harry?” said Ron. + “No.” + “Why don’t we go down and visit Hagrid?” + “No…you go…” + “I know what you’re thinking about, Harry, that mirror. Don’t go back +tonight.” + “Why not?” + “I dunno, I’ve just got a bad feeling about it — and anyway, you’ve had +too many close shaves already. Filch, Snape, and Mrs. Norris are wandering +around. So what if they can’t see you? What if they walk into you? What if you +knock something over?” + “You sound like Hermione.” + “I’m serious, Harry, don’t go.” + But Harry only had one thought in his head, which was to get back in +front of the mirror, and Ron wasn’t going to stop him. + +That third night he found his way more quickly than before. He was walking +so fast he knew he was making more noise than was wise, but he didn’t meet +anyone. + And there were his mother and father smiling at him again, and one of +his grandfathers nodding happily. Harry sank down to sit on the floor in front of +the mirror. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his +family. Nothing at all. + Except — + “So — back again, Harry?” + Harry felt as though his insides had turned to ice. He looked behind him. +Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore. +Harry must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror he +hadn’t noticed him. + “I — I didn’t see you, sir.” + “Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you,” said +Dumbledore, and Harry was relieved to see that he was smiling. + “So,” said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with +Harry, “you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror +of Erised.” + “I didn’t know it was called that, Sir.” + “But I expect you’ve realized by now what it does?” + “It — well — it shows me my family —” + “And it showed your friend Ron himself as head boy.” + “How did you know —?” + “I don’t need a cloak to become invisible,” said Dumbledore gently. +“Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?” + Harry shook his head. + “Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the +Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see +himself exactly as he is. Does that help?” + Harry thought. Then he said slowly, “It shows us what we want… +whatever we want…” + “Yes and no,” said Dumbledore quietly. “It shows us nothing more or less +than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never +known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has +always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best +of all of them. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men +have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven +mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible. + “The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask +you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be +prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. +Now, why don’t you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?” + Harry stood up. + “Sir — Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?” + “Obviously, you’ve just done so,” Dumbledore smiled. “You may ask me +one more thing, however.” + “What do you see when you look in the mirror?” + “I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks.” + Harry stared. + “One can never have enough socks,” said Dumbledore. “Another +Christmas has come and gone and I didn’t get a single pair. People will insist on +giving me books.” + It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that +Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. But then, he thought, as he +shoved Scabbers off his pillow, it had been quite a personal question. + + + +HP 1 - Harry Potter and the +Sorcerer's Stone +CHAPTER THIRTEEN + +NICHOLAS FLAMEL + +D umbledore had convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised +again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the invisibility cloak stayed +folded at the bottom of his trunk. Harry wished he could forget what he’d seen in +the mirror as easily, but he couldn’t. He started having nightmares. Over and +over again he dreamed about his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, +while a high voice cackled with laughter. + “You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad,” said +Ron, when Harry told him about these dreams. + Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different +view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of Harry being out of +bed, roaming the school three nights in a row (“If Filch had caught you!”), and +disappointment that he hadn’t at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was. + They had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, +even though Harry was still sure he’d read the name somewhere. Once term had +started, they were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their +breaks. Harry had even less time than the other two, because Quidditch practice +had started again. + Wood was working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that +had replaced the snow couldn’t dampen his spirits. The Weasleys complained +that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but Harry was on Wood’s side. If they won +their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the house +championship for the first time in seven years. Quite apart from wanting to win, +Harry found that he had fewer nightmares when he was tired out after training. + Then, during one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood +gave the team a bit of bad news. He’d just gotten very angry with the Weasleys, +who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their brooms. + “Will you stop messing around!” he yelled. “That’s exactly the sort of +thing that’ll lose us the match! Snape’s refereeing this time, and he’ll be looking +for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!” + George Weasley really did fall off his broom at these words. + “Snape’s refereeing?” he spluttered through a mouthful of mud. “When’s +he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He’s not going to be fair if we might +overtake Slytherin.” + The rest of the team landed next to George to complain, too. + “It’s not my fault,” said Wood. “We’ve just got to make sure we play a +clean game, so Snape hasn’t got an excuse to pick on us.” + Which was all very well, thought Harry, but he had another reason for +not wanting Snape near him while he was playing Quidditch.… + The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end +of practice, but Harry headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, +where he found Ron and Hermione playing chess. Chess was the only thing +Hermione ever lost at, something Harry and Ron thought was very good for her. + “Don’t talk to me for a moment,” said Ron when Harry sat down next to +him, “I need to concen—” He caught sight of Harry’s face. + “What’s the matter with you? You look terrible.” + Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry told the other two +about Snape’s sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee. + “Don’t play,” said Hermione at once. + “Say you’re ill,” said Ron. + “Pretend to break your leg,” Hermione suggested. + “Really break your leg,” said Ron. + “I can’t,” said Harry. “There isn’t a reserve Seeker. If I back out, +Gryffindor can’t play at all.” + At that moment Neville toppled into the common room. How he had +managed to climb through the portrait hole was anyone’s guess, because his legs +had been stuck together with what they recognized at once as the Leg-Locker +Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor tower. + Everyone fell over laughing except Hermione, who leapt up and +performed the countercurse. Neville’s legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, +trembling. “What happened?” Hermione asked him, leading him over to sit with +Harry and Ron. + “Malfoy,” said Neville shakily. “I met him outside the library. He said +he’d been looking for someone to practice that on.” + “Go to Professor McGonagall!” Hermione urged Neville. “Report him!” + Neville shook his head. + “I don’t want more trouble,” he mumbled. + “You’ve got to stand up to him, Neville!” said Ron. “He’s used to +walking all over people, but that’s no reason to lie down in front of him and +make it easier.” + “There’s no need to tell me I’m not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, +Malfoy’s already done that,” Neville choked out. + Harry felt in the pocket of his robes and pulled out a Chocolate Frog, the +very last one from the box Hermione had given him for Christmas. He gave it to +Neville, who looked as though he might cry. + “You’re worth twelve of Malfoy,” Harry said. “The Sorting Hat chose +you for Gryffindor, didn’t it? And where’s Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin.” + Neville’s lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog. + “Thanks, Harry…I think I’ll go to bed.…D’you want the card, you +collect them, don’t you?” + As Neville walked away, Harry looked at the Famous Wizard card. + “Dumbledore again,” he said, “He was the first one I ever —” + He gasped. He stared at the back of the card. Then he looked up at Ron +and Hermione. + “I’ve found him!” he whispered. “I’ve found Flamel! I told you I’d read +the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here — listen to this: +‘Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard +Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood, and +his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel’!” + Hermione jumped to her feet. She hadn’t looked so excited since they’d +gotten back the marks for their very first piece of homework. + “Stay there!” she said, and she sprinted up the stairs to the girls’ +dormitories. Harry and Ron barely had time to exchange mystified looks before +she was dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms. + “I never thought to look in here!” she whispered excitedly. “I got this out +of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading.” + “Light?” said Ron, but Hermione told him to be quiet until she’d looked +something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to +herself. + At last she found what she was looking for. + “I knew it! I knew it!” + “Are we allowed to speak yet?” said Ron grumpily. Hermione ignored +him. + “Nicolas Flamel,” she whispered dramatically, “is the only known maker +of the Sorcerer’s Stone!” + This didn’t have quite the effect she’d expected. + “The what?” said Harry and Ron. + “Oh, honestly, don’t you two read? Look – read that, there.” + She pushed the book toward them, and Harry and Ron read: + +The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer’s Stone, +a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any +metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the +drinker immortal. +There have been many reports of the Sorcerer’s Stone over the centuries, but +the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted +alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty- +fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six +hundred and fifty-eight). + +“See?” said Hermione, when Harry and Ron had finished. “The dog must be +guarding Flamel’s Sorcerer’s Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe +for him, because they’re friends and he knew someone was after it, that’s why he +wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!” + “A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!” said Harry. +“No wonder Snape’s after it! Anyone would want it.” + “And no wonder we couldn’t find Flamel in that Study of Recent +Developments in Wizardry,” said Ron. “He’s not exactly recent if he’s six +hundred and sixty-five, is he?” + +The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down +different ways of treating werewolf bites, Harry and Ron were still discussing +what they’d do with a Sorcerer’s Stone if they had one. It wasn’t until Ron said +he’d buy his own Quidditch team that Harry remembered about Snape and the +coming match. + “I’m going to play,” he told Ron and Hermione. “If I don’t, all the +Slytherins will think I’m just too scared to face Snape. I’ll show them…it’ll +really wipe the smiles off their faces if we win.” + “Just as long as we’re not wiping you off the field,” said Hermione. + +As the match drew nearer, however, Harry became more and more nervous, +whatever he told Ron and Hermione. The rest of the team wasn’t too calm, +either. The idea of overtaking Slytherin in the house championship was +wonderful, no one had done it for seven years, but would they be allowed to, +with such a biased referee? + Harry didn’t know whether he was imagining it or not, but he seemed to +keep running into Snape wherever he went. At times, he even wondered whether +Snape was following him, trying to catch him on his own. Potions lessons were +turning into a sort of weekly torture, Snape was so horrible to Harry. Could +Snape possibly know they’d found out about the Sorcerer’s Stone? Harry didn’t +see how he could — yet he sometimes had the horrible feeling that Snape could +read minds. + +Harry knew, when they wished him good luck outside the locker rooms the +next afternoon, that Ron and Hermione were wondering whether they’d ever see +him alive again. This wasn’t what you’d call comforting. Harry hardly heard a +word of Wood’s pep talk as he pulled on his Quidditch robes and picked up his +Nimbus Two Thousand. + Ron and Hermione, meanwhile, had found a place in the stands next to +Neville, who couldn’t understand why they looked so grim and worried, or why +they had both brought their wands to the match. Little did Harry know that Ron +and Hermione had been secretly practicing the Leg-Locker Curse. They’d gotten +the idea from Malfoy using it on Neville, and were ready to use it on Snape if he +showed any sign of wanting to hurt Harry. + “Now, don’t forget, it’s Locomotor Mortis,” Hermione muttered as Ron +slipped his wand up his sleeve. + “I know,” Ron snapped. “Don’t nag.” + Back in the locker room, Wood had taken Harry aside. + “Don’t want to pressure you, Potter, but if we ever need an early capture +of the Snitch it’s now. Finish the game before Snape can favor Hufflepuff too +much.” + “The whole school’s out there!” said Fred Weasley, peering out of the +door. “Even — blimey — Dumbledore’s come to watch!” + Harry’s heart did a somersault. + “Dumbledore?��� he said, dashing to the door to make sure. Fred was right. +There was no mistaking that silver beard. + Harry could have laughed out loud with relief He was safe. There was +simply no way that Snape would dare to try to hurt him if Dumbledore was +watching. + Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams marched +onto the field, something that Ron noticed, too. + “I’ve never seen Snape look so mean,” he told Hermione. “Look — +they’re off. Ouch!” + Someone had poked Ron in the back of the head. It was Malfoy. + “Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn’t see you there.” + Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle. + “Wonder how long Potter’s going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone +want a bet? What about you, Weasley?” + Ron didn’t answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because +George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Hermione, who had all her fingers +crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly at Harry, who was circling the game +like a hawk, looking for the Snitch. + “You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?” +said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another +penalty for no reason at all. “It’s people they feel sorry for. See, there’s Potter, +who’s got no parents, then there’s the Weasleys, who’ve got no money — you +should be on the team, Longbottom, you’ve got no brains.” + Neville went bright red but turned in his seat to face Malfoy. + “I’m worth twelve of you, Malfoy,” he stammered. + Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle howled with laughter, but Ron, still not +daring to take his eyes from the game, said, “You tell him, Neville.” + “Longbottom, if brains were gold you’d be poorer than Weasley, and +that’s saying something.” + Ron’s nerves were already stretched to the breaking point with anxiety +about Harry. + “I’m warning you, Malfoy — one more word—” + “Ron!” said Hermione suddenly, “Harry —” + “What? Where?” + Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and +cheers from the crowd. Hermione stood up, her crossed fingers in her mouth, as +Harry streaked toward the ground like a bullet. + “You’re in luck, Weasley, Potter’s obviously spotted some money on the +ground!” said Malfoy. + Ron snapped. Before Malfoy knew what was happening, Ron was on top +of him, wrestling him to the ground. Neville hesitated, then clambered over the +back of his seat to help. + “Come on, Harry!” Hermione screamed, leaping onto her seat to watch +as Harry sped straight at Snape — she didn’t even notice Malfoy and Ron rolling +around under her seat, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists +that was Neville, Crabbe, and Goyle. + Up in the air, Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see +something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches — the next second, +Harry had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in +his hand. + The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the +Snitch being caught so quickly. + “Ron! Ron! Where are you? The game’s over! Harry’s won! We’ve won! +Gryffindor is in the lead!” shrieked Hermione, dancing up and down on her seat +and hugging Parvati Patil in the row in front. + Harry jumped off his broom, a foot from the ground. He couldn’t believe +it. He’d done it — the game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. As +Gryffindors came spilling onto the field, he saw Snape land nearby, white-faced +and tight-lipped — then Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into +Dumbledore’s smiling face. + “Well done,” said Dumbledore quietly, so that only Harry could hear. +“Nice to see you haven’t been brooding about that mirror...been keeping +busy...excellent...” + Snape spat bitterly on the ground. + +Harry left the locker room alone some time later, to take his Nimbus Two +Thousand back to the broomshed. He couldn’t ever remember feeling happier. +He’d really done something to be proud of now – no one could say he was just a +famous name any more. The evening air had never smelled so sweet. He walked +over the damp grass, reliving the last hour in his head, which was a happy blur: +Gryffindors running to lift him onto their shoulders; Ron and Hermione in the +distance, jumping up and down, Ron cheering through a heavy nosebleed. + Harry had reached the shed. He leaned against the wooden door and +looked up at Hogwarts, with its windows glowing red in the setting sun. +Gryffindor in the lead. He’d done it, he’d shown Snape .... + And speaking of Snape… + A hooded figure came swiftly down the front steps of the castle. Clearly +not wanting to be seen, it walked as fast as possible toward the forbidden forest. +Harry’s victory faded from his mind as he watched. He recognized the figure’s +prowling walk. Snape, sneaking into the forest while everyone else was at dinner +— what was going on? + Harry jumped back on his Nimbus Two Thousand and took off. Gliding +silently over the castle he saw Snape enter the forest at a run. He followed. + The trees were so thick he couldn’t see where Snape had gone. He flew +in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees until he heard +voices. He glided toward them and landed noiselessly in a towering beech tree. + He climbed carefully along one of the branches, holding tight to his +broomstick, trying to see through the leaves. + Below, in a shadowy clearing, stood Snape, but he wasn’t alone. Quirrell +was there, too. Harry couldn’t make out the look on his face, but he was +stuttering worse than ever. Harry strained to catch what they were saying. + “…d-don’t know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, +Severus…” + “Oh, I thought we’d keep this private,” said Snape, his voice icy. +“Students aren’t supposed to know about the Sorcerer’s Stone, after all.” + Harry leaned forward. Quirrell was mumbling something. Snape +interrupted him. + “Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid’s yet?” + “B-b-but Severus, I —” + “You don’t want me as your enemy, Quirrell,” said Snape, taking a step +toward him. + “I-I don’t know what you—” + “You know perfectly well what I mean.” + An owl hooted loudly, and Harry nearly fell out of the tree. He steadied +himself in time to hear Snape say, “— your little bit of hocus-pocus. I’m +waiting.” + “B-but I d-d-don’t —” + “Very well,” Snape cut in. “We’ll have another little chat soon, when +you’ve had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie.” + He threw his cloak over his head and strode out of the clearing. It was +almost dark now, but Harry could see Quirrell, standing quite still as though he +was petrified. + +“Harry, where have you been?” Hermione squeaked. + “We won! You won! We won!” shouted Ron, thumping Harry on the +back. “And I gave Malfoy a black eye, and Neville tried to take on Crabbe and +Goyle single-handed! He’s still out cold but Madam Pomfrey says he’ll be all +right — talk about showing Slytherin! I’ve waiting for you in the common room, +we’re having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from the +kitchens.” + “Never mind that now,” said Harry breathlessly. “Let’s find an empty +room, you wait ’til you hear this....” + He made sure Peeves wasn’t inside before shutting the door behind them, +then he told them what he’d seen and heard. + “So we were right, it is the Sorcerer’s Stone, and Snape’s trying to force +Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy — and he +said something about Quirrell’s ‘hocus pocus’ — I reckon there are other things +guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and +Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break +through —” + “So you mean the Stone’s only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to +Snape?” said Hermione in alarm. + “It’ll be gone by next Tuesday,” said Ron. + + + +HP 1 - Harry Potter and the +Sorcerer's Stone +CHAPTER FOURTEEN + +NORBERT THE NORWEGIAN RIDGEBACK + +Q uirrell, however, must have been braver than they’d thought. In the weeks +that followed he did seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it didn’t look as +though he’d cracked yet. + Every time they passed the third-floor corridor, Harry, Ron, and +Hermione would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy was still +growling inside. Snape was sweeping about in his usual bad temper, which +surely meant that the Stone was still safe. Whenever Harry passed Quirrell these +days he gave him an encouraging sort of smile, and Ron had started telling +people off for laughing at Quirrell’s stutter. + Hermione, however, had more on her mind than the Sorcerer’s Stone. +She had started drawing up study schedules and color coding all her notes. Harry +and Ron wouldn’t have minded, but she kept nagging them to do the same. + “Hermione, the exams are ages away.” + “Ten weeks,” Hermione snapped. “That’s not ages, that’s like a second to +Nicolas Flamel.” + “But we’re not six hundred years old,” Ron reminded her. “Anyway, +what are you studying for, you already know it’s an A.” + “What am I studying for? Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass +these exams to get into the second year? They’re very important, I should have +started studying a month ago, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.…” + Unfortunately, the teachers seemed to be thinking along the same lines as +Hermione. They piled so much homework on them that the Easter holidays +weren’t nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. It was hard to relax with +Hermione next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon’s blood or practicing +wand movements. Moaning and yawning, Harry and Ron spent most of their free +time in the library with her, trying to get through all their extra work. + “I’ll never remember this,” Ron burst out one afternoon, throwing down +his quill and looking longingly out of the library window. It was the first really +fine day they’d had in months. The sky was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and +there was a feeling in the air of summer coming. + Harry, who was looking up “Dittany” in One Thousand Magical Herbs +and Fungi, didn’t look up until he heard Ron say, “Hagrid! What are you doing +in the library?” + Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked +very out of place in his moleskin overcoat. + “Jus’ lookin’,” he said, in a shifty voice that got their interest at once. +“An’ what’re you lot up ter?” He looked suddenly suspicious. “Yer not still +lookin’ fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?” + “Oh, we found out who he is ages ago,” said Ron impressively. “And we +know what that dog’s guarding, it’s a Sorcerer’s St—” + “Shhhh!” Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. +“Don’ go shoutin’ about it, what’s the matter with yeh?” + “There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact,” said +Harry, “about what’s guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy —” + “SHHHH!” said Hagrid again. “Listen — come an’ see me later, I’m not +promisin’ I’ll tell yeh anythin’, mind, but don’ go rabbitin’ about it in here, +students aren’ s’pposed ter know. They’ll think I’ve told yeh —” + “See you later, then,” said Harry. + Hagrid shuffled off. + “What was he hiding behind his back?” said Hermione thoughtfully. + “Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?” + “I’m going to see what section he was in,” said Ron, who’d had enough +of working. He came back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and +slammed them down on the table. + “Dragons!” he whispered. “Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! +Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to +Inferno, A Dragon Keeper’s Guide.” + “Hagrid’s always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met +him, “ said Harry. + “But it’s against our laws,” said Ron. “Dragon breeding was outlawed by +the Warlocks’ Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It’s hard to stop +Muggles from noticing us if we’re keeping dragons in the back garden — +anyway, you can’t tame dragons, it’s dangerous. You should see the burns +Charlie’s got off wild ones in Romania.” + “But there aren’t wild dragons in Britain?” said Harry. + “Of course there are,” said Ron. “Common Welsh Green and Hebridean +Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our +kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles who’ve spotted them, to make them +forget.” + “So what on earth’s Hagrid up to?” said Hermione. + +When they knocked on the door of the gamekeeper’s hut an hour later, they +were surprised to see that all the curtains were closed. Hagrid called “Who is it?” +before he let them in, and then shut the door quickly behind them. + It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was +a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made them tea and offered them stoat +sandwiches, which they refused. + “So — yeh wanted to ask me somethin’?” + “Yes,” said Harry. There was no point beating around the bush. “We were +wondering if you could tell us what’s guarding the Sorcerer’s Stone apart from +Fluffy.” + Hagrid frowned at him. + “O’ course I can’t,“ he said. “Number one, I don’ know meself. Number +two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn’ tell yeh if I could. That Stone’s +here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts — I s’ppose yeh’ve +worked that out an’ all? Beats me how yeh even know abou’ Fluffy.” + “Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know, +you know everything that goes on round here,” said Hermione in a warm, +flattering voice. Hagrid’s beard twitched and they could tell he was smiling. “We +only wondered who had done the guarding, really.” Hermione went on. “We +wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you.” + Hagrid’s chest swelled at these last words. Harry and Ron beamed at +Hermione. + “Well, I don’ s’pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that…let’s see…he +borrowed Fluffy from me…then some o’ the teachers did enchantments… +Professor Sprout — Professor Flitwick — Professor McGonagall —” he ticked +them off on his fingers, “Professor Quirrell — an’ Dumbledore himself did +somethin’, o’ course. Hang on, I’ve forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor +Snape.” + “Snape?” + “Yeah — yer not still on abou’ that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect +the Stone, he’s not about ter steal it.” + Harry knew Ron and Hermione were thinking the same as he was. If +Snape had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out +how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything — except, +it seemed, Quirrell’s spell and how to get past Fluffy. + “You’re the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy. aren’t you, +Hagrid?” said Harry anxiously. “And you wouldn’t tell anyone, would you? Not +even one of the teachers?” + “Not a soul knows except me an’ Dumbledore,” said Hagrid proudly. + “Well, that’s something,” Harry muttered to the others. “Hagrid, can we +have a window open? I’m boiling.” + “Can’t, Harry, sorry,” said Hagrid. Harry noticed him glance at the fire. +Harry looked at it, too. + “Hagrid — what’s that?” + But he already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath +the kettle, was a huge, black egg. + “Ah,” said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, “That’s — er…” + “Where did you get it, Hagrid?” said Ron, crouching over the fire to get a +closer look at the egg. “It must’ve cost you a fortune.” + “Won it,” said Hagrid. “Las’ night. I was down in the village havin’ a few +drinks an’ got into a game o’ cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter +get rid of it, ter be honest.” + “But what are you going to do with it when it’s hatched?” said Hermione. + “Well, I’ve bin doin’ some readin’,” said Hagrid, pulling a large book +from under his pillow. “Got this outta the library — Dragon Breeding for +Pleasure and Profit — it’s a bit outta date, o’ course, but it’s all in here. Keep the +egg in the fire, ‘cause their mothers breathe on I em, see, an’ when it hatches, +feed it on a bucket o’ brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An’ see +here — how ter recognize diff’rent eggs — what I got there’s a Norwegian +Ridgeback. They’re rare, them.” + He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione didn’t. + “Hagrid, you live in a wooden house,” she said. + But Hagrid wasn’t listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the +fire. + +So now they had something else to worry about: what might happen to +Hagrid if anyone found out he was hiding an illegal dragon in his hut. + “Wonder what it’s like to have a peaceful life,” Ron sighed, as evening +after evening they struggled through all the extra homework they were getting. +Hermione had now started making study schedules for Harry and Ron, too. It +was driving them nuts. + Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Harry another note from +Hagrid. He had written only two words: It’s hatching. + Ron wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut. Hermione +wouldn’t hear of it. + “Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon +hatching?” + “We’ve got lessons, we’ll get into trouble, and that’s nothing to what +Hagrid’s going to be in when someone finds out what he’s doing—” + “Shut up!” Harry whispered. + Malfoy was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. How +much had he heard? Harry didn’t like the look on Malfoy’s face at all. + Ron and Hermione argued all the way to Herbology and in the end, +Hermione agreed to run down to Hagrid’s with the other two during morning +break. When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of their lesson, the three +of them dropped their trowels at once and hurried through the grounds to the +edge of the forest. Hagrid greeted them, looking flushed and excited. + “It’s nearly out.” He ushered them inside. + The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something +was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it. + They all drew their chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath. + All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby +dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn’t exactly pretty; Harry thought it looked +like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its +skinny jet body, it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and +bulging, orange eyes. + It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout. + “Isn’t he beautiful?” Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke +the dragon’s head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs. + “Bless him, look, he knows his mommy!” said Hagrid. + “Hagrid,” said Hermione, “how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, +exactly?” + Hagrid was about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his +face — he leapt to his feet and ran to the window. + “What’s the matter?” + “Someone was lookin’ through the gap in the curtains — it’s a kid — +he’s runnin’ back up ter the school.�� + Harry bolted to the door and looked out. Even at a distance there was no +mistaking him. + Malfoy had seen the dragon. + +Something about the smile lurking on Malfoy’s face during the next week +made Harry, Ron, and Hermione very nervous. They spent most of their free +time in Hagrid’s darkened hut, trying to reason with him. + “Just let him go,” Harry urged. “Set him free.” + “I can’t,” said Hagrid. “He’s too little. He’d die.” + They looked at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a +week. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn’t been doing his +gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There were +empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor. + “I’ve decided to call him Norbert,” said Hagrid, looking at the dragon +with misty eyes. “He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where’s +Mommy?” + “He’s lost his marbles,” Ron muttered in Harry’s ear. + “Hagrid,” said Harry loudly, “give it two weeks and Norbert’s going to +be as long as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment.” + Hagrid bit his lip. + “I — I know I can’t keep him forever, but I can’t jus’ dump him, I can’t.” + Harry suddenly turned to Ron. “Charlie.” he said. + “You’re losing it, too,” said Ron. “I’m Ron, remember?” + “No — Charlie — your brother, Charlie. In Romania. Studying dragons. +We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put him +back in the wild!” + “Brilliant!” said Ron. “How about it, Hagrid?” + And in the end, Hagrid agreed that they could send an owl to Charlie to +ask him. + +The following week dragged by. Wednesday night found Hermione and +Harry sitting alone in the common room, long after everyone else had gone to +bed. The clock on the wall had just chimed midnight when the portrait hole burst +open. Ron appeared out of nowhere as he pulled off Harry’s invisibility cloak. +He had been down at Hagrid’s hut, helping him feed Norbert, who was now +eating dead rats by the crate. + “It bit me!” he said, showing them his hand, which was wrapped in a +bloody handkerchief. “I’m not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell +you, that dragon’s the most horrible animal I’ve ever met, but the way Hagrid +goes on about it, you’d think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me he +told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby.” + There was a tap on the dark window. + “It’s Hedwig!” said Harry, hurrying to let her in. “She’ll have Charlie’s +answer!” + The three of them put their heads together to read the note. + +Dear Ron, + +How are you? Thanks for the letter — I’d be glad to take the Norwegian +Ridgeback, but it won’t be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to +send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. +Trouble is, they mustn’t be seen carrying an illegal dragon. +Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? +They can meet you there and take him away while it’s still dark. +Send me an answer as soon as possible. + +Love, +Charlie + +They looked at one another. + “We’ve got the invisibility cloak,” said Harry. “It shouldn’t be too +difficult – I think the cloaks big enough to cover two of us and Norbert.” + It was a mark of how bad the last week had been that the other two +agreed with him. Anything to get rid of Norbert — and Malfoy. + +There was a hitch. By the next morning, Ron’s bitten hand had swollen to +twice its usual size. He didn’t know whether it was safe to go to Madam +Pomfrey — would she recognize a dragon bite? By the afternoon, though, he had +no choice. The cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked as if Norbert’s +fangs were poisonous. + Harry and Hermione rushed up to the hospital wing at the end of the day +to find Ron in a terrible state in bed. + “It’s not just my hand,” he whispered, “although that feels like it’s about +to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books +so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her +what really bit me — I’ve told her it was a dog, but I don’t think she believes me +— I shouldn’t have hit him at the Quidditch match, that’s why he’s doing this.” + Harry and Hermione tried to calm Ron down. + “It’ll all be over at midnight on Saturday,” said Hermione, but this didn’t +soothe Ron at all. On the contrary, he sat bolt upright and broke into a sweat. + “Midnight on Saturday!” he said in a hoarse voice. “Oh no oh no — I’ve +just remembered — Charlie’s letter was in that book Malfoy took, he’s going to +know we’re getting rid of Norbert.” + Harry and Hermione didn’t get a chance to answer. Madam Pomfrey +came over at that moment and made them leave, saying Ron needed sleep. + +“It’s too late to change the plan now,” Harry told Hermione. “We haven’t got +time to send Charlie another owl, and this could be our only chance to get rid of +Norbert. We’ll have to risk it. And we have got the invisibility cloak, Malfoy +doesn’t know about that.” + They found Fang, the boarhound, sitting outside with a bandaged tail +when they went to tell Hagrid, who opened a window to talk to them. + “I won’t let you in,” he puffed. “Norbert’s at a tricky stage — nothin’ I +can’t handle.” + When they told him about Charlie’s letter, his eyes filled with tears, +although that might have been because Norbert had just bitten him on the leg. + “Aargh! It’s all right, he only got my boot — jus’ playin’ — he’s only a +baby, after all.” + The baby banged its tail on the wall, making the windows rattle. Harry +and Hermione walked back to the castle feeling Saturday couldn’t come quickly +enough. + +They would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came for him to say +good-bye to Norbert if they hadn’t been so worried about what they had to do. It +was a very dark, cloudy night, and they were a bit late arriving at Hagrid’s hut +because they’d had to wait for Peeves to get out of their way in the entrance hall, +where he’d been playing tennis against the wall. Hagrid had Norbert packed and +ready in a large crate. + “He’s got lots o’ rats an’ some brandy fer the journey,” said Hagrid in a +muffled voice. “An’ I’ve packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely.” + From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded to Harry as +though the teddy was having his head torn off. + “Bye-bye, Norbert!” Hagrid sobbed, as Harry and Hermione covered the +crate with the invisibility cloak and stepped underneath it themselves. “Mommy +will never forget you!” + How they managed to get the crate back up to the castle, they never +knew. Midnight ticked nearer as they heaved Norbert up the marble staircase in +the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. UP another staircase, then another +– even one of Harry’s shortcuts didn’t make the work much easier. + “Nearly there!” Harry panted as they reached the corridor beneath the +tallest tower. + Then a sudden movement ahead of them made them almost drop the +crate. Forgetting that they were already invisible, they shrank into the shadows, +staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other ten feet +away. A lamp flared. + Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, had Malfoy by +the ear. + “Detention!” she shouted. “And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering +around in the middle of the night, how dare you —” + “You don’t understand, Professor. Harry Potter’s coming — he’s got a +dragon!” + “What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on — I shall see +Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!” + The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest +thing in the world after that. Not until they’d stepped out into the cold night air +did they throw off the cloak, glad to be able to breathe properly again. Hermione +did a sort of jig. + “Malfoy’s got detention! I could sing!” + “Don’t,” Harry advised her. + Chuckling about Malfoy, they waited, Norbert thrashing about in his +crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the +darkness. + Charlie’s friends were a cheery lot. They showed Harry and Hermione +the harness they’d rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. They +all helped buckle Norbert safely into it and then Harry and Hermione shook +hands with the others and thanked them very much. + At last, Norbert was going…going…gone. + They slipped back down the spiral staircase, their hearts as light as their +hands, now that Norbert was off them. No more dragon — Malfoy in detention +— what could spoil their happiness? + The answer to that was waiting at the foot of the stairs. As they stepped +into the corridor, Filch’s face loomed suddenly out of the darkness. + “Well, well, well,” he whispered, “we are in trouble.” + They’d left the invisibility cloak on top of the tower. + + +HP 1 - Harry Potter and the +Sorcerer's Stone +CHAPTER FIFTEEN + +THE FORBIDDEN FOREST + +T hings couldn’t have been worse. + Filch took them down to Professor McGonagall’s study on the first floor, +where they sat and waited without saying a word to each other. Hermione was +trembling. Excuses, alibis, and wild cover- up stories chased each other around +Harry’s brain, each more feeble than the last. He couldn’t see how they were +going to get out of trouble this time. They were cornered. How could they have +been so stupid as to forget the cloak? There was no reason on earth that +Professor McGonagall would accept for their being out of bed and creeping +around the school in the dead of night, let alone being up the tallest astronomy +tower, which was out-of-bounds except for classes. Add Norbert and the +invisibility cloak, and they might as well be packing their bags already. + Had Harry thought that things couldn’t have been worse? He was wrong. +When Professor McGonagall appeared, she was leading Neville. + “Harry!” Neville burst out, the moment he saw the other two. “I was +trying to find you to warn you, I heard Malfoy saying he was going to catch you, +he said you had a drag—” + Harry shook his head violently to shut Neville up, but Professor +McGonagall had seen. She looked more likely to breathe fire than Norbert as she +towered over the three of them. + “I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were +up in the astronomy tower. It’s one o’clock in the morning. Explain yourselves.” + It was the first time Hermione had ever failed to answer a teacher’s +question. She was staring at her slippers, as still as a statue. + “I think I’ve got a good idea of what’s been going on,” said Professor +McGonagall. “It doesn’t take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy +some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into +trouble. I’ve already caught him. I suppose you think it’s funny that Longbottom +here heard the story and believed it, too?” + Harry caught Neville’s eye and tried to tell him without words that this +wasn’t true, because Neville was looking stunned and hurt. Poor, blundering +Neville — Harry knew what it must have cost him to try and find them in the +dark, to warn them. + “I’m disgusted,” said Professor McGonagall. “Four students out of bed in +one night! I’ve never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought +you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to +you than this. All three of you will receive detentions — yes, you too, Mr. +Longbottom, nothing gives you the right to walk around school at night, +especially these days, it’s very dangerous — and fifty points will be taken from +Gryffindor.” + “Fifty?” Harry gasped — they would lose the lead, the lead he’d won in +the last Quidditch match. + “Fifty points each,” said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily +through her long, pointed nose. + “Professor — please —” + “You can’t —” + “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Potter. Now get back to bed, all +of you. I’ve never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students.” + A hundred and fifty points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. In one +night, they’d ruined any chance Gryffindor had had for the house cup. Harry felt +as though the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. How could they ever +make up for this? + Harry didn’t sleep all night. He could hear Neville sobbing into his +pillow for what seemed like hours. Harry couldn’t think of anything to say to +comfort him. He knew Neville, like himself, was dreading the dawn. What +would happen when the rest of Gryffindor found out what they’d done? + +At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses that recorded the house +points the next day thought there’d been a mistake. How could they suddenly +have a hundred and fifty points fewer than yesterday? And then the story started +to spread: Harry Potter, the famous Harry Potter, their hero of two Quidditch +matches, had lost them all those points, him and a couple of other stupid first +years. + From being one of the most popular and admired people at the school, +Harry was suddenly the most hated. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on +him, because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the house cup. +Everywhere Harry went, people pointed and didn’t trouble to lower their voices +as they insulted him. Slytherins, on the other hand, clapped as he walked past +them, whistling and cheering, “Thanks Potter, we owe you one!” + Only Ron stood by him. + “They’ll all forget this in a few weeks. Fred and George have lost loads +of points in all the time they’ve been here, and people still like them.” + “They’ve never lost a hundred and fifty points in one go, though, have +they?” said Harry miserably. + “Well — no,” Ron admitted. + It was a bit late to repair the damage, but Harry swore to himself not to +meddle in things that weren’t his business from now on. He’d had it with +sneaking around and spying. He felt so ashamed of himself that he went to Wood +and offered to resign from the Quidditch team. + “Resign?” Wood thundered. “What good’ll that do? How are we going to +get any points back if we can’t win at Quidditch?” + But even Quidditch had lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn’t speak +to Harry during practice, and if they had to speak about him, they called him +“the Seeker.” + Hermione and Neville were suffering, too. They didn’t have as bad a time +as Harry, because they weren’t as well-known, but nobody would speak to them, +either. Hermione had stopped drawing attention to herself in class, keeping her +head down and working in silence. + Harry was almost glad that the exams weren’t far away. All the studying +he had to do kept his mind off his misery. He, Ron, and Hermione kept to +themselves, working late into the night, trying to remember the ingredients in +complicated potions, learn charms and spells by heart, memorize the dates of +magical discoveries and goblin rebellions.... + Then, about a week before the exams were due to start, Harry’s new +resolution not to interfere in anything that didn’t concern him was put to an +unexpected test. Walking back from the library on his own one afternoon, he +heard somebody whimpering from a classroom up ahead. As he drew closer, he +heard Quirrell’s voice. + “No — no — not again, please —” + It sounded as though someone was threatening him. Harry moved closer. + “All right — all right —” he heard Quirrell sob. + Next second, Quirrell came hurrying out of the classroom straightening +his turban. He was pale and looked as though he was about to cry. He strode out +of sight; Harry didn’t think Quirrell had even noticed him. He waited until +Quirrell’s footsteps had disappeared, then peered into the classroom. It was +empty, but a door stood ajar at the other end. Harry was halfway toward it before +he remembered what he’d promised himself about not meddling. + All the same, he’d have gambled twelve Sorcerer’s Stones that Snape had +just left the room, and from what Harry had just heard, Snape would be walking +with a new spring in his step — Quirrell seemed to have given in at last. + Harry went back to the library, where Hermione was testing Ron on +Astronomy. Harry told them what he’d heard. + “Snape’s done it, then!” said Ron. “If Quirrell’s told him how to break +his Anti-Dark Force spell —” + “There’s still Fluffy, though,” said Hermione. + “Maybe Snape’s found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid,” +said Ron, looking up at the thousands of books surrounding them. “I bet there’s a +book somewhere in here telling you how to get past a giant three-headed dog. So +what do we do, Harry?” + The light of adventure was kindling again in Ron’s eyes, but Hermione +answered before Harry could. + “Go to Dumbledore. That’s what we should have done ages ago. If we try +anything ourselves we’ll be thrown out for sure.” + “But we’ve got no proof!” said Harry. “Quirrell’s too scared to back us +up. Snape’s only got to say he doesn’t know how the troll got in at Halloween +and that he was nowhere near the third floor — who do you think they’ll believe, +him or us? It’s not exactly a secret we hate him, Dumbledore’ll think we made it +up to get him sacked. Filch wouldn’t help us if his life depended on it, he’s too +friendly with Snape, and the more students get thrown out, the better, he’ll think. +And don’t forget, we’re not supposed to know about the Stone or Fluffy. That’ll +take a lot of explaining.” + Hermione looked convinced, but Ron didn’t. + “If we just do a bit of poking around —” + “No,” said Harry flatly, “we’ve done enough poking around.” + He pulled a map of Jupiter toward him and started to learn the names of +its moons. + +The following morning, notes were delivered to Harry, Hermione, and +Neville at the breakfast table. They were all the same: +Your detention will take place at eleven o’clock tonight. +Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall. + +Professor McGonagall + +Harry had forgotten they still had detentions to do in the furor over the points +they’d lost. He half expected Hermione to complain that this was a whole night +of studying lost, but she didn’t say a word. Like Harry, she felt they deserved +what they’d got. + At eleven o’clock that night, they said good-bye to Ron in the common +room and went down to the entrance hall with Neville. Filch was already there +— and so was Malfoy. Harry had also forgotten that Malfoy had gotten a +detention, too. + “Follow me,” said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside. + “I bet you’ll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won’t you, +eh?” he said, leering at them. “Oh yes…hard work and pain are the best teachers +if you ask me….It’s just a pity they let the old punishments die out…hang you +by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I’ve got the chains still in my +office, keep ‘em well oiled in case they’re ever needed…Right, off we go, and +don’t think of running off, now, it’ll be worse for you if you do.” + They marched off across the dark grounds. Neville kept sniffing. Harry +wondered what their punishment was going to be. It must be something really +horrible, or Filch wouldn’t be sounding so delighted. + The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing them +into darkness. Ahead, Harry could see the lighted windows of Hagrid’s hut. Then +they heard a distant shout. + “Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started.” + Harry’s heart rose; if they were going to be working with Hagrid it +wouldn’t be so bad. His relief must have showed in his face, because Filch said, +“I suppose you think you’ll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, +boy — it’s into the forest you’re going and I’m much mistaken if you’ll all come +out in one piece.” + At this, Neville let out a little moan, and Malfoy stopped dead in his +tracks. + “The forest?” he repeated, and he didn’t sound quite as cool as usual. +“We can’t go in there at night — there’s all sorts of things in there — +werewolves, I heard.” + Neville clutched the sleeve of Harry’s robe and made a choking noise. + “That’s your problem, isn’t it?” said Filch, his voice cracking with glee. +“Should’ve thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn’t +you?” + Hagrid came striding toward them out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He +was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder. + “Abou’ time,” he said. “I bin waitin’ fer half an hour already. All right, +Harry, Hermione?” + “I shouldn’t be too friendly to them, Hagrid,” said Filch coldly, they’re +here to be punished, after all.” + “That’s why yer late, is it?” said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. “Bin lecturin’ +them, eh? ‘Snot your place ter do that. Yeh’ve done yer bit, I’ll take over from +here.” + “I’ll be back at dawn,” said Filch, “for what’s left of them,” he added +nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away +in the darkness. + Malfoy now turned to Hagrid. + “I’m not going in that forest,” he said, and Harry was pleased to hear the +note of panic in his voice. + “Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts,” said Hagrid fiercely. “Yeh’ve +done wrong an’ now yeh’ve got ter pay fer it.” + “But this is servant stuff, it’s not for students to do. I thought we’d be +copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he’d—” + “—tell yer that’s how it is at Hogwarts,” Hagrid growled. “Copyin’ lines! +What good’s that ter anyone? Yeh’ll do summat useful or yeh’ll get out. If yeh +think yer father’d rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an’ +pack. Go on.” + Malfoy didn’t move. He looked at Hagrid furiously, but then dropped his +gaze. + “Right then,” said Hagrid, “now, listen carefully, ‘cause it’s dangerous +what we’re gonna do tonight, an’ I don’ want no one takin’ risks. Follow me over +here a moment.” + He led them to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he +pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black +trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the forest. + “Look there,” said Hagrid, “see that stuff shinin’ on the ground? Silvery +stuff? That’s unicorn blood. There’s a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. +This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We’re +gonna try an’ find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery.” + “And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?” said Malfoy, +unable to keep the fear out of his voice. + “There’s nothin’ that lives in the forest that’ll hurt yeh if yer with me or +Fang,” said Hagrid. “An’ keep ter the path. Right, now, we’re gonna split inter +two parties an’ follow the trail in diff’rent directions. There’s blood all over the +place, it must’ve bin staggerin’ around since last night at least.” + “I want Fang,” said Malfoy quickly, looking at Fang’s long teeth. + “All right, but I warn yeh, he’s a coward,” said Hagrid. “So me, Harry, +an’ Hermione’ll go one way an’ Draco, Neville, an’ Fang’ll go the other. Now, if +any of us finds the unicorn, we’ll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out +an’ practice now — that’s it — an’ if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, +an’ we’ll all come an’ find yeh — so, be careful — let’s go.” + The forest was black and silent. A little way into it they reached a fork in +the earth path, and Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid took the left path while Malfoy, +Neville, and Fang took the right. + They walked in silence, their eyes on the ground. Every now and then a +ray of moonlight through the branches above lit a spot of silver-blue blood on +the fallen leaves. + Harry saw that Hagrid looked very worried. + “Could a werewolf be killing the unicorns?” Harry asked. + “Not fast enough,” said Hagrid. “It’s not easy ter catch a unicorn, they’re +powerful magic creatures. I never knew one ter be hurt before.” + They walked past a mossy tree stump. Harry could hear running water; +there must be a stream somewhere close by. There were still spots of unicorn +blood here and there along the winding path. + “You all right, Hermione?” Hagrid whispered. “Don’ worry, it can’t’ve +gone far if it’s this badly hurt, an’ then we’ll be able ter — GET BEHIND THAT +TREE!” + Hagrid seized Harry and Hermione and hoisted them off the path behind +a towering oak. He pulled out an arrow and fitted it into his crossbow, raising it, +ready to fire. The three of them listened. Something was slithering over dead +leaves nearby: it sounded like a cloak trailing along the ground. Hagrid was +squinting up the dark path, but after a few seconds, the sound faded away. + “I knew it,” he murmured. “There’s summat in here that shouldn’ be.” + “A werewolf?” Harry suggested. + “That wasn’ no werewolf an’ it wasn’ no unicorn, neither,” said Hagrid +grimly. “Right, follow me, but careful, now.” + They walked more slowly, ears straining for the faintest sound. Suddenly, +in a clearing ahead, something definitely moved. + “Who’s there?” Hagrid called. “Show yerself — I’m armed!” + And into the clearing came — was it a man, or a horse? To the waist, a +man, with red hair and beard, but below that was a horse’s gleaming chestnut +body with a long, reddish tail. Harry and Hermione’s jaws dropped. + “Oh, it’s you, Ronan,” said Hagrid in relief. “How are yeh?” + He walked forward and shook the centaur’s hand. + “Good evening to you, Hagrid,” said Ronan. He had a deep, sorrowful +voice. “Were you going to shoot me?” + “Can’t be too careful, Ronan,” said Hagrid, patting his crossbow. +“There’s summat bad loose in this forest. This is Harry Potter an’ Hermione +Granger, by the way. Students up at the school. An’ this is Ronan, you two. He’s +a centaur. + “We’d noticed,” said Hermione faintly. + “Good evening,” said Ronan. “Students, are you? And do you learn +much, up at the school?” + “Erm —” + “A bit,” said Hermione timidly. + “A bit. Well, that’s something.” Ronan sighed. He flung back his head +and stared at the sky. “Mars is bright tonight.” + “Yeah,” said Hagrid, glancing up, too. “Listen, I’m glad we’ve run inter +yeh, Ronan, ‘cause there’s a unicorn bin hurt — you seen anythin’?” + Ronan didn’t answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upward, then +sighed again. + “Always the innocent are the first victims,” he said. “So it has been for +ages past, so it is now.” + “Yeah,” said Hagrid, “but have yeh seen anythin’ Ronan? Anythin’ +unusual?” + “Mars is bright tonight,” Ronan repeated, while Hagrid watched him +impatiently. “Unusually bright.” + “Yeah, but I was meanin’ anythin’ unusual a bit nearer home, said +Hagrid. “So yeh haven’t noticed anythin’ strange?” + Yet again, Ronan took a while to answer. At last, he said, “The forest +hides many secrets.” + A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again, +but it was only a second centaur, black-haired and -bodied and wilder-looking +than Ronan. + “Hullo, Bane,” said Hagrid. “All right?” + “Good evening, Hagrid, I hope you are well?” + “Well enough. Look, I’ve jus’ bin askin’ Ronan, you seen anythin’ odd in +here lately? There’s a unicorn bin injured — would yeh know anythin’ about it?” + Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan. He looked skyward. “Mars is +bright tonight,” he said simply. + “We’ve heard,” said Hagrid grumpily. “Well, if either of you do see +anythin’, let me know, won’t yeh? We’ll be off, then.” + Harry and Hermione followed him out of the clearing, staring over their +shoulders at Ronan and Bane until the trees blocked their view. + “Never,” said Hagrid irritably, “try an’ get a straight answer out of a +centaur. Ruddy stargazers. Not interested in anythin’ closer’n the moon.” + “Are there many of them in here?” asked Hermione. + “Oh, a fair few….Keep themselves to themselves mostly, but they’re +good enough about turnin’ up if ever I want a word. They’re deep, mind, +centaurs…they know things…jus’ don’ let on much.” + “D’you think that was a centaur we heard earlier?” said Harry. + “Did that sound like hooves to you? Nah, if yeh ask me, that was what’s +bin killin’ the unicorns – never heard anythin’ like it before.” + They walked on through the dense, dark trees. Harry kept looking +nervously over his shoulder. He had the nasty feeling they were being watched. +He was very glad they had Hagrid and his crossbow with them. They had just +passed a bend in the path when Hermione grabbed Hagrid’s arm. + “Hagrid! Look! Red sparks, the others are in trouble!” + “You two wait here!” Hagrid shouted. “Stay on the path, I’ll come back +for yeh!” + They heard him crashing away through the undergrowth and stood +looking at each other, very scared, until they couldn’t hear anything but the +rustling of leaves around them. + “You don’t think they’ve been hurt, do you?” whispered Hermione. + “I don’t care if Malfoy has, but if something’s got Neville…it’s our fault +he’s here in the first place.” + The minutes dragged by. Their ears seemed sharper than usual. Harry’s +seemed to be picking up every sigh of the wind, every cracking twig. What was +going on? Where were the others? + At last, a great crunching noise announced Hagrid’s return. Malfoy, +Neville, and Fang were with him. Hagrid was fuming. Malfoy, it seemed, had +sneaked up behind Neville and grabbed him as a joke. Neville had panicked and +sent up the sparks. + “We’ll be lucky ter catch anythin’ now, with the racket you two were +makin’. Right, we’re changin’ groups — Neville, you stay with me an’ +Hermione, Harry, you go with Fang an’ this idiot. I’m sorry,” Hagrid added in a +whisper to Harry, “but he’ll have a harder time frightenin’ you, an’ we’ve gotta +get this done.” + So Harry set off into the heart of the forest with Malfoy and Fang. They +walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the path +became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick. Harry +thought the blood seemed to be getting thicker. There were splashes on the roots +of a tree, as though the poor creature had been thrashing around in pain close by. +Harry could see a clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient +oak. + “Look —” he murmured, holding out his arm to stop Malfoy. + Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer. + It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Harry had never seen +anything so beautiful and sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles +where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves. + Harry had taken one step toward it when a slithering sound made him +freeze where he stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered.…Then, out +of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some +stalking beast. Harry, Malfoy, and Fang stood transfixed. The cloaked figure +reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal’s side, and +began to drink its blood. + “AAAAAAAAAARGH!” + Malfoy let out a terrible scream and bolted — so did Fang. The hooded +figure raised its head and looked right at Harry — unicorn blood was dribbling +down its front. It got to its feet and came swiftly toward Harry — he couldn’t +move for fear. + Then a pain like he’d never felt before pierced his head; it was as though +his scar were on fire. Half blinded, he staggered backward. He heard hooves +behind him, galloping, and something jumped clean over Harry, charging at the +figure. + The pain in Harry’s head was so bad he fell to his knees. It took a minute +or two to pass. When he looked up, the figure had gone. A centaur was standing +over him, not Ronan or Bane; this one looked younger; he had white-blond hair +and a palomino body. + “Are you all right?” said the centaur, pulling Harry to his feet. + “Yes — thank you — what was that?” + The centaur didn’t answer. He had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale +sapphires. He looked carefully at Harry, his eyes lingering on the scar that stood +out, livid, on Harry’s forehead. + “You are the Potter boy,” he said. “You had better get back to Hagrid. +The forest is not safe at this time — especially for you. Can you ride? It will be +quicker this way. + “My name is Firenze,” he added, as he lowered himself on to his front +legs so that Harry could clamber onto his back. + There was suddenly a sound of more galloping from the other side of the +clearing. Ronan and Bane came bursting through the trees, their flanks heaving +and sweaty. + “Firenze!” Bane thundered. “What are you doing? You have a human on +your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?” + “Do you realize who this is?” said Firenze. “This is the Potter boy. The +quicker he leaves this forest, the better.” + “What have you been telling him?” growled Bane. “Remember, Firenze, +we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is +to come in the movements of the planets?” + Ronan pawed the ground nervously. “I’m sure Firenze thought he was +acting for the best, “ he said in his gloomy voice. + Bane kicked his back legs in anger. + “For the best! What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with +what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after +stray humans in our forest!” + Firenze suddenly reared on to his hind legs in anger, so that Harry had to +grab his shoulders to stay on. + “Do you not see that unicorn?” Firenze bellowed at Bane. “Do you not +understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I +set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Bane, yes, with humans +alongside me if I must.” + And Firenze whisked around; with Harry clutching on as best he could, +they plunged off into the trees, leaving Ronan and Bane behind them. + Harry didn’t have a clue what was going on. + “Why’s Bane so angry?” he asked. “What was that thing you saved me +from, anyway?” + Firenze slowed to a walk, warned Harry to keep his head bowed in case +of low-hanging branches, but did not answer Harry’s question. They made their +way through the trees in silence for so long that Harry thought Firenze didn’t +want to talk to him anymore. They were passing through a particularly dense +patch of trees, however, when Firenze suddenly stopped. + “Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?” + “No,” said Harry, startled by the odd question. “We’ve only used the horn +and tail hair in Potions.” + “That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn,” said Firenze. +“Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a +crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from +death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to +save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment +the blood touches your lips.” + Harry stared at the back of Firenze’s head, which was dappled silver in +the moonlight. + “But who’d be that desperate?” he wondered aloud. “If you’re going to +be cursed forever, death’s better, isn’t it?” + “It is,” Firenze agreed, “unless all you need is to stay alive long enough +to drink something else — something that will bring you back to full strength +and power — something that will mean you can never die. Mr. Potter, do you +know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?” + “The Sorcerer’s Stone! Of course — the Elixir of Life! But I don’t +understand who —” + “Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, +who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?” + It was as though an iron fist had clenched suddenly around Harry’s heart. +Over the rustling of the trees, he seemed to hear once more what Hagrid had told +him on the night they had met: “Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. +Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die.” + “Do you mean,” Harry croaked, “that was Vol-” + “Harry! Harry, are you all right?” + Hermione was running toward them down the path, Hagrid puffing along +behind her. + “I’m fine,” said Harry, hardly knowing what he was saying. “The +unicorn’s dead, Hagrid, it’s in that clearing back there.” + “This is where I leave you,” Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to +examine the unicorn. “You are safe now.” + Harry slid off his back. + “Good luck, Harry Potter,” said Firenze. “The planets have been read +wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times.” + He turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest, leaving Harry +shivering behind him. + +Ron had fallen asleep in the dark common room, waiting for them to return. +He shouted something about Quidditch fouls when Harry roughly shook him +awake. In a matter of seconds, though, he was wide-eyed as Harry began to tell +him and Hermione what had happened in the forest. + Harry couldn’t sit down. He paced up and down in front of the fire. He +was still shaking. + “Snape wants the stone for Voldemort…and Voldemort’s waiting in the +forest…and all this time we thought Snape just wanted to get rich….” + “Stop saying the name!” said Ron in a terrified whisper, as if he thought +Voldemort could hear them. + Harry wasn’t listening. + “Firenze saved me, but he shouldn’t have done so.…Bane was furious… +he was talking about interfering with what the planets say is going to +happen….They must show that Voldemort’s coming back.…Bane thinks Firenze +should have let Voldemort kill me.…I suppose that’s written in the stars as well.” + “Will you stop saying the name!” Ron hissed. + “So all I’ve got to wait for now is Snape to steal the Stone,” Harry went +on feverishly, “then Voldemort will be able to come and finish me off ... Well, I +suppose Bane’ll be happy.” + Hermione looked very frightened, but she had a word of comfort. + “Harry, everyone says Dumbledore’s the only one You-Know-Who was +ever afraid of with Dumbledore around, You-Know-Who won’t touch you. +Anyway, who says the centaurs are right? It sounds like fortune-telling to me, +and Professor McGonagall says that’s a very imprecise branch of magic.” + The sky had turned light before they stopped talking. They went to bed +exhausted, their throats sore. But the night’s surprises weren’t over. + When Harry pulled back his sheets, he found his invisibility cloak folded +neatly underneath them. There was a note pinned to it: +Just in case. + + +HP 1 - Harry Potter and the +Sorcerer's Stone +CHAPTER SIXTEEN + +THROUGH THE TRAPDOOR + +I n years to come, Harry would never quite remember how he had managed +to get through his exams when he half expected Voldemort to come bursting +through the door at any moment. Yet the days crept by, and there could be no +doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door. + It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did +their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, +which had been bewitched with an Anticheating spell. + They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by +one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tapdance across a desk. +Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox — points +were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers. +Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to +remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion. + Harry did the best he could, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his +forehead, which had been bothering him ever since his trip into the forest. +Neville thought Harry had a bad case of exam nerves because Harry couldn’t +sleep, but the truth was that Harry kept being woken by his old nightmare, +except that it was now worse than ever because there was a hooded figure +dripping blood in it. + Maybe it was because they hadn’t seen what Harry had seen in the forest, +or because they didn’t have scars burning on their foreheads, but Ron and +Hermione didn’t seem as worried about the Stone as Harry. The idea of +Voldemort certainly scared them, but he didn’t keep visiting them in dreams, and +they were so busy with their studying they didn’t have much time to fret about +what Snape or anyone else might be up to. + Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering +questions about batty old wizards who’d invented selfstirring cauldrons and +they’d be free, free for a whole wonderful week until their exam results came +out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and +roll up their parchment, Harry couldn’t help cheering with the rest. + “That was far easier than I thought it would be,” said Hermione as they +joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. “I needn’t have learned +about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager.” + Hermione always liked to go through their exam papers afterward, but +Ron said this made him feel ill, so they wandered down to the lake and flopped +under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a +giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows. “No more studying,” Ron +sighed happily, stretching out on the grass. “You could look more cheerful, +Harry, we’ve got a week before we find out how badly we’ve done, there’s no +need to worry yet.” + Harry was rubbing his forehead. + “I wish I knew what this means!” he burst out angrily. “My scar keeps +hurting — it’s happened before, but never as often as this.” + “Go to Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione suggested. + “I’m not ill,” said Harry. “I think it’s a warning…it means danger’s +coming….” + Ron couldn’t get worked up, it was too hot. + “Harry, relax, Hermione’s right, the Stone’s safe as long as Dumbledore’s +around. Anyway, we’ve never had any proof Snape found out how to get past +Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he’s not going to try it again in a +hurry. And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets +Dumbledore down.” + Harry nodded, but he couldn’t shake off a lurking feeling that there was +something he’d forgotten to do, something important. When he tried to explain +this, Hermione said, “That’s just the exams. I woke up last night and was +halfway through my Transfiguration notes before I remembered we’d done that +one.” + Harry was quite sure the unsettled feeling didn’t have anything to do with +work, though. He watched an owl flutter toward the school across the bright blue +sky, a note clamped in its mouth. Hagrid was the only one who ever sent him +letters. Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore. Hagrid would never tell anyone +how to get past Fluffy…never…but…. + Harry suddenly jumped to his feet. + “Where’re you going?” said Ron sleepily. + “I’ve just thought of something,” said Harry. He had turned white. +“We’ve got to go and see Hagrid, now.” + “Why?” panted Hermione, hurrying to keep up. + “Don’t you think it’s a bit odd,” said Harry, scrambling up the grassy +slope, “that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a +stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many +people wander around with dragon eggs if it’s against wizard law? Lucky they +found Hagrid, don’t you think? Why didn’t I see it before?” + “What are you talking about?” said Ron, but Harry, sprinting across the +grounds toward the forest, didn’t answer. + Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and +sleeves were rolled up, and he was shelling peas into a large bowl. + “Hullo,” he said, smiling. “Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?” + “Yes, please,” said Ron, but Harry cut him off. + “No, we’re in a hurry. Hagrid, I’ve got to ask you something. You know +that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with +look like?” + “Dunno,” said Hagrid casually, “he wouldn’ take his cloak off.” + He saw the three of them look stunned and raised his eyebrows. + “It’s not that unusual, yeh get a lot o’ funny folk in the Hog’s Head — +that’s the pub down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn’ he? I +never saw his face, he kept his hood up.” + Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas. “What did you talk to him +about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?” + “Mighta come up,” said Hagrid, frowning as he tried to remember. +“Yeah…he asked what I did, an’ I told him I was gamekeeper here…He asked a +bit about the sorta creatures I took after…so I told him…an’ I said what I’d +always really wanted was a dragon…an’ then…I can’ remember too well, ‘cause +he kept buyin’ me drinks…Let’s see…yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg +an’ we could play cards fer it if I wanted…but he had ter be sure I could handle +it, he didn’ want it ter go ter any old home….So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon +would be easy.…” + “And did he — did he seem interested in Fluffy?” Harry asked, trying to +keep his voice calm. + “Well — yeah — how many three-headed dogs d’yeh meet, even around +Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy’s a piece o’ cake if yeh know how to calm him +down, jus’ play him a bit o’ music an’ he’ll go straight off ter sleep —” + Hagrid suddenly looked horrified. + “I shouldn’ta told yeh that!” he blurted out. “Forget I said it! Hey — +where’re yeh goin’?” + Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn’t speak to each other at all until they +came to a halt in the entrance hall, which seemed very cold and gloomy after the +grounds. + “We’ve got to go to Dumbledore,” said Harry. “Hagrid told that stranger +how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak — +it must’ve been easy, once he’d got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore +believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn’t stop him. Where’s +Dumbledore’s office?” + They looked around, as if hoping to see a sign pointing them in the right +direction. They had never been told where Dumbledore lived, nor did they know +anyone who had been sent to see him. + “We’ll just have to —” Harry began, but a voice suddenly rang across the +hall. + “What are you three doing inside?” + It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books. + “We want to see Professor Dumbledore,” said Hermione, rather bravely, +Harry and Ron thought. + “See Professor Dumbledore?” Professor McGonagall repeated, as though +this was a very fishy thing to want to do. “Why?” + Harry swallowed — now what? + “It’s sort of secret,” he said, but he wished at once he hadn’t, because +Professor McGonagall’s nostrils flared. + “Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago,” she said coldly. “He +received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at +once.” + “He’s gone?” said Harry frantically. “Now?” + “Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many +demands on his time – ” + “But this is important.” + “Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of +Magic, Potter?” + “Look,” said Harry, throwing caution to the winds, “Professor — it’s +about the Sorcerer’s Stone —” + Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn’t that. The books +she was carrying tumbled out of her arms, but she didn’t pick them up. + “How do you know —?” she spluttered. + “Professor, I think — I know — that Sn— that someone’s going to try +and steal the Stone. I’ve got to talk to Professor Dumbledore.” + She eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion. + “Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow,” she said finally. I don’t +know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly +steal it, it’s too well protected.” + “But Professor —” + “Potter, I know what I’m talking about,” she said shortly. She bent down +and gathered up the fallen books. I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the +sunshine.” + But they didn’t. + “It’s tonight,” said Harry, once he was sure Professor McGonagall was +out of earshot. “Snape’s going through the trapdoor tonight. He’s found out +everything he needs, and now he’s got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that +note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns +up.” + “But what can we —” + Hermione gasped. Harry and Ron wheeled round. + Snape was standing there. + “Good afternoon,” he said smoothly. + They stared at him. + “You shouldn’t be inside on a day like this,” he said, with an odd, twisted +smile. + “We were —” Harry began, without any idea what he was going to say. + “You want to be more careful,” said Snape. “Hanging around like this, +people will think you’re up to something. And Gryffindor really can’t afford to +lose any more points, can it?” + Harry flushed. They turned to go outside, but Snape called them back. + “Be warned, Potter — any more nighttime wanderings and I will +personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you.” + He strode off in the direction of the staffroom. + Out on the stone steps, Harry turned to the others. + “Right, here’s what we’ve got to do,” he whispered urgently. “One of us +has got to keep an eye on Snape — wait outside the staff room and follow him if +he leaves it. Hermione, you’d better do that.” + “Why me?” + “It’s obvious,” said Ron. “You can pretend to be waiting for Professor +Flitwick, you know.” He put on a high voice, “‘Oh Professor Flitwick, I’m so +worried, I think I got question fourteen b wrong….’” + “Oh, shut up,” said Hermione, but she agreed to go and watch out for +Snape. + “And we’d better stay outside the third-floor corridor,” Harry told Ron. +“Come on.” + But that part of the plan didn’t work. No sooner had they reached the +door separating Fluffy from the rest of the school than Professor McGonagall +turned up again and this time, she lost her temper. + “I suppose you think you’re harder to get past than a pack of +enchantments!” she stormed. “Enough of this nonsense! If I hear you’ve come +anywhere near here again, I’ll take another fifty points from Gryffindor! Yes, +Weasley, from my own house!” + Harry and Ron went back to the common room, Harry had just said, “At +least Hermione’s on Snape’s tail,” when the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open +and Hermione came in. + “I’m sorry, Harry!” she wailed. “Snape came out and asked me what I +was doing, so I said I was waiting for Flitwick, and Snape went to get him, and +I’ve only just got away, I don’t know where Snape went.” + “Well, that’s it then, isn’t it?” Harry said. + The other two stared at him. He was pale and his eyes were glittering. + “I’m going out of here tonight and I’m going to try and get to the Stone +first.” + “You’re mad!” said Ron. + “You can’t!” said Hermione. “After what McGonagall and Snape have +said? You’ll be expelled!” + “SO WHAT” Harry shouted. “Don’t you understand? If Snape gets hold +of the Stone, Voldemort’s coming back! Haven’t you heard what it was like +when he was trying to take over? There won’t be any Hogwarts to get expelled +from! He’ll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points +doesn’t matter anymore, can’t you see? D’you think he’ll leave you and your +families alone if Gryffindor wins the house cup? If I get caught before I can get +to the Stone, well, I’ll have to go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to +find me there, it’s only dying a bit later than I would have, because I’m never +going over to the Dark Side! I’m going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing +you two say is going to stop me! Voldemort killed my parents, remember?” + He glared at them. + “You’re right Harry,” said Hermione in a small voice. + “I’ll use the invisibility cloak,” said Harry. “It’s just lucky I got it back.” + “But will it cover all three of us?” said Ron. + “All — all three of us?” + “Oh, come off it, you don’t think we’d let you go alone?” + “Of course not,” said Hermione briskly. “How do you think you’d get to +the Stone without us? I’d better go and took through my books, there might be +something useful….” + “But if we get caught, you two will be expelled, too.” + “Not if I can help it,” said Hermione grimly. “Flitwick told me in secret +that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They’re not throwing me +out after that.” + +After dinner the three of them sat nervously apart in the common room. +Nobody bothered them; none of the Gryffindors had anything to say to Harry +any more, after all. This was the first night he hadn’t been upset by it. Hermione +was skimming through all her notes, hoping to come across one of the +enchantments they were about to try to break. Harry and Ron didn’t talk much. +Both of them were thinking about what they were about to do. + Slowly, the room emptied as people drifted off to bed. + “Better get the cloak,” Ron muttered, as Lee Jordan finally left, +stretching and yawning. Harry ran upstairs to their dark dormitory. He pulled out +the cloak and then his eyes fell on the flute Hagrid had given him for Christmas. +He pocketed it to use on Fluffy — he didn’t feel much like singing. + He ran back down to the common room. + “We’d better put the cloak on here, and make sure it covers all three of us +– if Filch spots one of our feet wandering along on its own —” + “What are you doing?” said a voice from the corner of the room. Neville +appeared from behind an armchair, clutching Trevor the toad, who looked as +though he’d been making another bid for freedom. + “Nothing, Neville, nothing,” said Harry, hurriedly putting the cloak +behind his back. + Neville stared at their guilty faces. + “You’re going out again,” he said. + “No, no, no,” said Hermione. “No, we’re not. Why don’t you go to bed, +Neville?” + Harry looked at the grandfather clock by the door. They couldn’t afford +to waste any more time, Snape might even now be playing Fluffy to sleep. + “You can’t go out,” said Neville, “you’ll be caught again. Gryffindor will +be in even more trouble.” + “You don’t understand,” said Harry, “this is important.” + But Neville was clearly steeling himself to do something desperate. + I won’t let you do it,” he said, hurrying to stand in front of the portrait +hole. “I’ll — I’ll fight you!” + “Neville, “Ron exploded, “get away from that hole and don’t be an idiot +—” + “Don’t you call me an idiot!” said Neville. I don’t think you should be +breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to +people!” + “Yes, but not to us,” said Ron in exasperation. “Neville, you don’t know +what you’re doing.” + He took a step forward and Neville dropped Trevor the toad, who leapt +out of sight. + “Go on then, try and hit me!” said Neville, raising his fists. “I’m ready!” + Harry turned to Hermione. + “Do something,” he said desperately. + Hermione stepped forward. + “Neville,” she said, “I’m really, really sorry about this.” + She raised her wand. + “Petrificus Totalus!” she cried, pointing it at Neville. + Neville’s arms snapped to his sides. His legs sprang together. His whole +body rigid, he swayed where he stood and then fell flat on his face, stiff as a +board. + Hermione ran to turn him over. Neville’s jaws were jammed together so +he couldn’t speak. Only his eyes were moving, looking at them in horror. + “What’ve you done to him?” Harry whispered. + “It’s the full Body-Bind,” said Hermione miserably. “Oh, Neville, I’m so +sorry.” + “We had to, Neville, no time to explain,” said Harry. + “You’ll understand later, Neville,” said Ron as they stepped over him and +pulled on the invisibility cloak. + But leaving Neville lying motionless on the floor didn’t feel like a very +good omen. In their nervous state, every statue’s shadow looked like Filch, every +distant breath of wind sounded like Peeves swooping down on them. At the foot +of the first set of stairs, they spotted Mrs. Norris skulking near the top. + “Oh, let’s kick her, just this once,” Ron whispered in Harry’s ear, but +Harry shook his head. As they climbed carefully around her, Mrs. Norris turned +her lamplike eyes on them, but didn’t do anything. + They didn’t meet anyone else until they reached the staircase up to the +third floor. Peeves was bobbing halfway up, loosening the carpet so that people +would trip. + “Who’s there?” he said suddenly as they climbed toward him. He +narrowed his wicked black eyes. “Know you’re there, even if I can’t see you. +Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?” + He rose up in the air and floated there, squinting at them. + “Should call Filch, I should, if something’s a-creeping around unseen.” + Harry had a sudden idea. + “Peeves,” he said, in a hoarse whisper, “the Bloody Baron has his own +reasons for being invisible.” + Peeves almost fell out of the air in shock. He caught himself in time and +hovered about a foot off the stairs. + “So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr. Baron, Sir,” he said greasily. “My +mistake, my mistake — I didn’t see you — of course I didn’t, you’re invisible — +forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir.” + “I have business here, Peeves,” croaked Harry. “Stay away from this +place tonight.” + “I will, sir, I most certainly will,” said Peeves, rising up in the air again. +“Hope your business goes well, Baron, I’ll not bother you.” + And he scooted off. + “Brilliant, Harry!” whispered Ron. + A few seconds later, they were there, outside the third-floor corridor — +and the door was already ajar. + “Well, there you are,” Harry said quietly, “Snape’s already got past +Fluffy.” + Seeing the open door somehow seemed to impress upon all three of them +what was facing them. Underneath the cloak, Harry turned to the other two. + “If you want to go back, I won’t blame you,” he said. “You can take the +cloak, I won’t need it now.” + “Don’t be stupid,” said Ron. + “We’re coming,” said Hermione. + Harry pushed the door open. + As the door creaked, low, rumbling growls met their ears. All three of the +dog’s noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it couldn’t see them. + “What’s that at its feet?” Hermione whispered. + “Looks like a harp,” said Ron. “Snape must have left it there.” + “It must wake up the moment you stop playing,” said Harry. “Well, here +goes ….” + He put Hagrid’s flute to his lips and blew. It wasn’t really a tune, but +from the first note the beast’s eyes began to droop. Harry hardly drew breath. +Slowly, the dog’s growls ceased — it tottered on its paws and fell to its knees, +then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep. + “Keep playing,” Ron warned Harry as they slipped out of the cloak and +crept toward the trapdoor. They could feel the dog’s hot, smelly breath as they +approached the giant heads. “I think we’ll be able to pull the door open,” said +Ron, peering over the dog’s back. “Want to go first, Hermione?” + “No, I don’t!” + “All right.” Ron gritted his teeth and stepped carefully over the dog’s +legs. He bent and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung up and open. + “What can you see?” Hermione said anxiously. + “Nothing — just black — there’s no way of climbing down, we’ll just +have to drop.” + Harry, who was still playing the flute, waved at Ron to get his attention +and pointed at himself. + “You want to go first? Are you sure?” said Ron. “I don’t know how deep +this thing goes. Give the flute to Hermione so she can keep him asleep.” + Harry handed the flute over. In the few seconds’ silence, the dog growled +and twitched, but the moment Hermione began to play, it fell back into its deep +sleep. + Harry climbed over it and looked down through the trapdoor. There was +no sign of the bottom. + He lowered himself through the hole until he was hanging on by his +fingertips. Then he looked up at Ron and said, “If anything happens to me, don’t +follow. Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, right?” + “Right,” said Ron. + “See you in a minute, I hope …” + And Harry let go. Cold, damp air rushed past him as he fell down, down, +down and — + FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump he landed on something +soft. He sat up and felt around, his eyes not used to the gloom. It felt as though +he was sitting on some sort of plant. + “It’s okay!” he called up to the light the size of a postage stamp, which +was the open trapdoor, “it’s a soft landing, you can jump!” + Ron followed right away. He landed, sprawled next to Harry. + “What’s this stuff?” were his first words. + “Dunno, some sort of plant thing. I suppose it’s here to break the fall. +Come on, Hermione!” + The distant music stopped. There was a loud bark from the dog, but +Hermione had already jumped. She landed on Harry’s other side. + “We must be miles under the school,” she said. + “Lucky this plant thing’s here, really,” said Ron. + “Lucky!” shrieked Hermione. “Look at you both!” + She leapt up and struggled toward a damp wall. She had to struggle +because the moment she had landed, the plant had started to twist snakelike +tendrils around her ankles. As for Harry and Ron, their legs had already been +bound tightly in long creepers without their noticing. + Hermione had managed to free herself before the plant got a firm grip on +her. Now she watched in horror as the two boys fought to pull the plant off them, +but the more they strained against it, the tighter and faster the plant wound +around them. + “Stop moving!” Hermione ordered them. “I know what this is — it’s +Devil’s Snare!” + “Oh, I’m so glad we know what it’s called, that’s a great help,” snarled +Ron, leaning back, trying to stop the plant from curling around his neck. “Shut +up, I’m trying to remember how to kill it!” said Hermione. + “Well, hurry up, I can’t breathe!” Harry gasped, wrestling with it as it +curled around his chest. + “Devil’s Snare, Devil’s Snare…what did Professor Sprout say? — it likes +the dark and the damp.” + “So light a fire!” Harry choked. + “Yes — of course — but there’s no wood!” Hermione cried, wringing her +hands. + “HAVE YOU GONE MAD?” Ron bellowed. “ARE YOU A WITCH OR +NOT?” + “Oh, right!” said Hermione, and she whipped out her wand, waved it, +muttered something, and sent a jet of the same bluebell flames she had used on +Snape at the plant. In a matter of seconds, the two boys felt it loosening its grip +as it cringed away from the light and warmth. Wriggling and flailing, it +unraveled itself from their bodies, and they were able to pull free. + “Lucky you pay attention in Herbology, Hermione,” said Harry as he +joined her by the wall, wiping sweat off his face. + “Yeah,” said Ron, “and lucky Harry doesn’t lose his head in a crisis — +‘there’s no wood,’ honestly.” + “This way,” said Harry, pointing down a stone passageway, which was +the only way forward. + All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water +trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downward, and Harry was +reminded of Gringotts. With an unpleasant jolt of the heart, he remembered the +dragons said to be guarding vaults in the wizards’ bank. If they met a dragon, a +fully-grown dragon — Norbert had been bad enough…. + “Can you hear something?” Ron whispered. + Harry listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up +ahead. + “Do you think it’s a ghost?” + “I don’t know…sounds like wings to me.” + “There’s light ahead — I can see something moving.” + They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a +brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, +jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite +side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door. + “Do you think they’ll attack us if we cross the room?” said Ron. + “Probably,” said Harry. “They don’t look very vicious, but I suppose if +they all swooped down at once…well, there’s no other choice…I’ll run.” + He took a deep breath, covered his face with his arms, and sprinted +across the room. He expected to feel sharp beaks and claws tearing at him any +second, but nothing happened. He reached the door untouched. He pulled the +handle, but it was locked. + The other two followed him. They tugged and heaved at the door, but it +wouldn’t budge, not even when Hermione tried her Alohomora charm. + “Now what?” said Ron. + “These birds…they can’t be here just for decoration,” said Hermione. + They watched the birds soaring overhead, glittering — glittering? + “They’re not birds!” Harry said suddenly. “They’re keys! Winged keys +— look carefully. So that must mean…” he looked around the chamber while the +other two squinted up at the flock of keys. “…yes — look! Broomsticks! We’ve +got to catch the key to the door!” + “But there are hundreds of them!” + Ron examined the lock on the door. + “We’re looking for a big, old-fashioned one — probably silver, like the +handle.” + They each seized a broomstick and kicked off into the air, soaring into +the midst of the cloud of keys. They grabbed and snatched, but the bewitched +keys darted and dived so quickly it was almost impossible to catch one. + Not for nothing, though, was Harry the youngest Seeker in a century. He +had a knack for spotting things other people didn’t. After a minute’s weaving +about through the whirl of rainbow feathers, he noticed a large silver key that +had a bent wing, as if it had already been caught and stuffed roughly into the +keyhole. + “That one!” he called to the others. “That big one — there — no, there +— with bright blue wings — the feathers are all crumpled on one side.” + Ron went speeding in the direction that Harry was pointing, crashed into +the ceiling, and nearly fell off his broom. + “We’ve got to close in on it!” Harry called, not taking his eyes off the key +with the damaged wing. “Ron, you come at it from above — Hermione, stay +below and stop it from going down and I’ll try and catch it. Right, NOW!” + Ron dived, Hermione rocketed upward, the key dodged them both, and +Harry streaked after it; it sped toward the wall, Harry leaned forward and with a +nasty, crunching noise, pinned it against the stone with one hand. Ron and +Hermione’s cheers echoed around the high chamber. + They landed quickly, and Harry ran to the door, the key struggling in his +hand. He rammed it into the lock and turned – it worked. The moment the lock +had clicked open, the key took flight again, looking very battered now that it had +been caught twice. + “Ready?” Harry asked the other two, his hand on the door handle. They +nodded. He pulled the door open. + The next chamber was so dark they couldn’t see anything at all. But as +they stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing +sight. + They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black +chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like +black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. Harry, +Ron and Hermione shivered slightly – the towering white chessmen had no +faces. + “Now what do we do?” Harry whispered. + “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” said Ron. “We’ve got to play our way across the +room.” + Behind the white pieces they could see another door. + “How?” said Hermione nervously. + “I think,” said Ron, “we’re going to have to be chessmen.” + He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight’s +horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the +knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron. + “Do we — er — have to join you to get across?” The black knight +nodded. Ron turned to the other two. + “This needs thinking about…” he said. “I suppose we’ve got to take the +place of three of the black pieces….” + Harry and Hermione stayed quiet, watching Ron think. Finally he said, +“Now, don’t be offended or anything, but neither of you are that good at chess +—” + “We’re not offended,” said Harry quickly. “Just tell us what to do.” + “Well, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, you next +to him instead of that castle.” + “What about you?” + “I’m going to be a knight,” said Ron. + The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a +knight, a bishop, and a castle turned their backs on the white pieces and walked +off the board, leaving three empty squares that Harry, Ron, and Hermione took. + “White always plays first in chess,” said Ron, peering across the board. +“Yes…look…” + A white pawn had moved forward two squares. + Ron started to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever he +sent them. Harry’s knees were trembling. What if they lost? + “Harry — move diagonally four squares to the right.” + Their first real shock came when their other knight was taken. The white +queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay +quite still, facedown. + “Had to let that happen,” said Ron, looking shaken. “Leaves you free to +take that bishop, Hermione, go on.” + Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. +Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, +Ron only just noticed in time that Harry and Hermione were in danger. He +himself darted around the board, taking almost as many white pieces as they had +lost black ones. + “We’re nearly there,” he muttered suddenly. “Let me think — let me +think…” + The white queen turned her blank face toward him. + “Yes…” said Ron softly, “It’s the only way…I’ve got to be taken.” + “NO!” Harry and Hermione shouted. + “That’s chess!” snapped Ron. “You’ve got to make some sacrifices! I +take one step forward and she’ll take me — that leaves you free to checkmate +the king, Harry!” + “But —” + “Do you want to stop Snape or not?” + “Ron —” + “Look, if you don’t hurry up, he’ll already have the Stone!” + There was no alternative. + “Ready?” Ron called, his face pale but determined. “Here I go — now, +don’t hang around once you’ve won.” + He stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard +across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor — Hermione +screamed but stayed on her square — the white queen dragged Ron to one side. +He looked as if he’d been knocked out. + Shaking, Harry moved three spaces to the left. + The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry’s feet. They had +won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. With one +last desperate look back at Ron, Harry and Hermione charged through the door +and up the next passageway. + “What if he’s —?” + “He’ll be all right,” said Harry, trying to convince himself. “What do you +reckon’s next?” + “We’ve had Sprout’s, that was the Devil’s Snare; Flitwick must’ve put +charms on the keys; McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive; +that leaves Quirrell’s spell, and Snape’s.” + They had reached another door. + “All right?” Harry whispered. + “Go on.” + Harry pushed it open. + A disgusting smell filled their nostrils, making both of them pull their +robes up over their noses. Eyes watering, they saw, flat on the floor in front of +them, a troll even larger than the one they had tackled, out cold with a bloody +lump on its head. + “I���m glad we didn’t have to fight that one,” Harry whispered as they +stepped carefully over one of its massive legs. “Come on, I can’t breathe.” + He pulled open the next door, both of them hardly daring to look at what +came next - but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with +seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line. + “Snape’s,” said Harry. “What do we have to do?” + They stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind +them in the doorway. It wasn’t ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same +instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. They were trapped. + “Look!” Hermione seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. Harry +looked over her shoulder to read it: + +Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind, +Two of us will help you, which ever you would find, +One among us seven will let you move ahead, +Another will transport the drinker back instead, +Two among our number hold only nettle wine, +Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line. +Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore, +To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four: +First, however slyly the poison tries to hide +You will always find some on nettle wine’s left side; +Second, different are those who stand at either end, +But if you would move onward, neither is your friend; +Third, as you see clearly, all are different size, +Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides; +Fourth, the second left and the second on the right +Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight. + +Hermione let out a great sigh and Harry, amazed, saw that she was smiling, +the very last thing he felt like doing. + “Brilliant,” said Hermione. “This isn’t magic — it’s logic — a puzzle. A +lot of the greatest wizards haven’t got an ounce of logic, they’d be stuck in here +forever.” + “But so will we, won’t we?” + “Of course not,” said Hermione. “Everything we need is here on this +paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely +through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple.” + “But how do we know which to drink?” + “Give me a minute.” + Hermione read the paper several times. Then she walked up and down +the line of bottles, muttering to herself and pointing at them. At last, she clapped +her hands. + “Got it,” she said. “The smallest bottle will get us through the black +fire — toward the Stone.” + Harry looked at the tiny bottle. + “There’s only enough there for one of us,” he said. “That’s hardly one +swallow.” + They looked at each other. + “Which one will get you back through the purple flames?” + Hermione pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line. + “You drink that,” said Harry. “No, listen, get back and get Ron. Grab +brooms from the flying-key room, they’ll get you out of the trapdoor and past +Fluffy — go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need +him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I’m no match for him, +really.” + “But Harry — what if You-Know-Who’s with him?” + “Well — I was lucky once, wasn’t I?” said Harry, pointing at his scar. “I +might get lucky again.” + Hermione’s lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her +arms around him. + “Hermione!” + “Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.” + “I’m not as good as you,” said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of +him. + “Me!” said Hermione. “Books! And cleverness! There are more +important things — friendship and bravery and — oh Harry — be careful!” + “You drink first,” said Harry. “You are sure which is which, aren’t you?” + “Positive,” said Hermione. She took a long drink from the round bottle at +the end, and shuddered. + “It’s not poison?” said Harry anxiously. + “No — but it’s like ice.” + “Quick, go, before it wears off.” + “Good luck — take care.” + “GO!” + Hermione turned and walked straight through the purple fire. + Harry took a deep breath and picked up the smallest bottle. He turned to +face the black flames. + “Here I come,” he said, and he drained the little bottle in one gulp. + It was indeed as though ice was flooding his body. He put the bottle +down and walked forward; he braced himself, saw the black flames licking his +body, but couldn’t feel them — for a moment he could see nothing but dark fire +— then he was on the other side, in the last chamber. + There was already someone there — but it wasn’t Snape. It wasn’t even +Voldemort. + + +HP 1 - Harry Potter and the +Sorcerer's Stone +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN + +THE MAN WITH TWO FACES + +I t was Quirrell. + “You!” gasped Harry. + Quirrell smiled. His face wasn’t twitching at all. + “Me,” he said calmly. “I wondered whether I’d be meeting you here, +Potter.” + “But I thought — Snape —” + “Severus?” Quirrell laughed, and it wasn’t his usual quivering treble, +either, but cold and sharp. “Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn’t he? So +useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who +would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?” + Harry couldn’t take it in. This couldn’t be true, it couldn’t. + “But Snape tried to kill me!” + “No, no, no. I tried to kill you. Your friend Miss Granger accidentally +knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match. She +broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I’d have got you off +that broom. I’d have managed it before then if Snape hadn’t been muttering a +countercurse, trying to save you.” + “Snape was trying to save me?” + “Of course,” said Quirrell coolly. “Why do you think he wanted to +referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn’t do it again. Funny, +really…he needn’t have bothered. I couldn’t do anything with Dumbledore +watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor +from winning, he did make himself unpopular…and what a waste of time, when +after all that, I’m going to kill you tonight.” + Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped +themselves tightly around Harry. + “You’re too nosy to live, Potter. Scurrying around the school on +Halloween like that, for all I knew you’d seen me coming to look at what was +guarding the Stone.” + “You let the troll in?” + “Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls — you must have seen what I +did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else +was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went +straight to the third floor to head me off — and not only did my troll fail to beat +you to death, that three-headed dog didn’t even manage to bite Snape’s leg off +properly. + “Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror.” + It was only then that Harry realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It +was the Mirror of Erised. + “This mirror is the key to finding the Stone,” Quirrell murmured, tapping +his way around the frame. “Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like +this…but he’s in London…I’ll be far away by the time he gets back…” + All Harry could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him +from concentrating on the mirror. + “I saw you and Snape in the forest —” he blurted out. + “Yes,” said Quirrell idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. +“He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I’d got. He suspected +me all along. Tried to frighten me — as though he could, when I had Lord +Voldemort on my side….” + Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it. + “I see the Stone…I’m presenting it to my master…but where is it?” + Harry struggled against the ropes binding him, but they didn’t give. He +had to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror. + “But Snape always seemed to hate me so much.” + “Oh, he does,” said Quirrell casually, “heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts +with your father, didn’t you know? They loathed each other. But he never +wanted you dead.” + “But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing — I thought Snape was +threatening you.…” + For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell’s face. + “Sometimes,” he said, “I find it hard to follow my master’s instructions +— he is a great wizard and I am weak —” + “You mean he was there in the classroom with you?” Harry gasped. + “He is with me wherever I go,” said Quirrell quietly. “I met him when I +traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous +ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There +is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it…Since +then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He +has had to be very hard on me.” Quirrell shivered suddenly. “He does not forgive +mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most +displeased. He punished me…decided he would have to keep a closer watch on +me.…” + Quirrell’s voice trailed away. Harry was remembering his trip to Diagon +Alley — how could he have been so stupid? He’d seen Quirrell there that very +day, shaken hands with him in the Leaky Cauldron. + Quirrell cursed under his breath. + “I don’t understand…is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?” + Harry’s mind was racing. + What I want more than anything else in the world at the moment, he +thought, is to find the Stone before Quirrell does. So if I look in the mirror, I +should see myself finding it — which means I’ll see where it’s hidden! But how +can I look without Quirrell realizing what I’m up to? + He tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell +noticing, but the ropes around his ankles were too tight: he tripped and fell over. +Quirrell ignored him. He was still talking to himself. + “What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!” + And to Harry’s horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come +from Quirrell himself. + “Use the boy…Use the boy.…” + Quirrell rounded on Harry. + “Yes — Potter — come here.” + He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fell off. Harry +got slowly to his feet. + “Come here,” Quirrell repeated. “Look in the mirror and tell me what +you see.” + Harry walked toward him. + I must lie, he thought desperately. I must look and lie about what I see, +that’s all. + Quirrell moved close behind him. Harry breathed in the funny smell that +seemed to come from Quirrell’s turban. He closed his eyes, stepped in front of +the mirror, and opened them again. + He saw his reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment +later, the reflection smiled at him. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a +blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket — and as it did +so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his real pocket. Somehow — incredibly +— he’d gotten the Stone. + “Well?” said Quirrell impatiently. “What do you see?” + Harry screwed up his courage. + “I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore,” he invented. “I — I’ve +won the house cup for Gryffindor.” + Quirrell cursed again. + “Get out of the way,” he said. As Harry moved aside, he felt the +Sorcerer’s Stone against his leg. Dare he make a break for it? + But he hadn’t walked five paces before a high voice spoke, though +Quirrell wasn’t moving his lips. + “He lies…He lies.…” + “Potter, come back here!” Quirrell shouted. “Tell me the truth! What did +you just see?” + The high voice spoke again. + “Let me speak to him…face-to-face…” + “Master, you are not strong enough!” + “I have strength enough…for this…” + Harry felt as if Devil’s Snare was rooting him to the spot. He couldn’t +move a muscle. Petrified, he watched as Quirrell reached up and began to +unwrap his turban. What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell’s head +looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot. + Harry would have screamed, but he couldn’t make a sound. Where there +should have been a back to Quirrell’s head, there was a face, the most terrible +face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for +nostrils, like a snake. + “Harry Potter…” it whispered. + Harry tried to take a step backward but his legs wouldn’t move. + “See what I have become?” the face said. “Mere shadow and vapor….I +have form only when I can share another’s body…but there have always been +those willing to let me into their hearts and minds…Unicorn blood has +strengthened me, these past weeks…you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me +in the forest…and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body +of my own….Now…why don’t you give me that Stone in your pocket?” + So he knew. The feeling suddenly surged back into Harry’s legs. He +stumbled backward. + “Don’t be a fool,” snarled the face. “Better save your own life and join +me…or you’ll meet the same end as your parents…They died begging me for +mercy…” + “LIAR!” Harry shouted suddenly. + Quirrell was walking backward at him, so that Voldemort could still see +him. The evil face was now smiling. + “How touching…” it hissed. “I always value bravery….Yes, boy, your +parents were brave…I killed your father first; and he put up a courageous +fight…but your mother needn’t have died…she was trying to protect you…Now +give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain.” + “NEVER!” + Harry sprang toward the flame door, but Voldemort screamed “SEIZE +HIM!” and the next second, Harry felt Quirrell’s hand close on his wrist. At +once, a needle-sharp pain seared across Harry’s scar; his head felt as though it +was about to split in two; he yelled, struggling with all his might, and to his +surprise, Quirrell let go of him. The pain in his head lessened — he looked +around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone, and saw him hunched in pain, +looking at his fingers — they were blistering before his eyes. + “Seize him! SEIZE HIM!” shrieked Voldemort again, and Quirrell +lunged, knocking Harry clean off his feet landing on top of him, both hands +around Harry’s neck — Harry’s scar was almost blinding him with pain, yet he +could see Quirrell howling in agony. + “Master, I cannot hold him — my hands — my hands!” + And Quirrell, though pinning Harry to the ground with his knees, let go +of his neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms — Harry could see they +looked burned, raw, red, and shiny. + “Then kill him, fool, and be done!” screeched Voldemort. + Quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but Harry, by instinct, +reached up and grabbed Quirrell’s face — + “AAAARGH!” + Quirrell rolled off him, his face blistering, too, and then Harry knew: +Quirrell couldn’t touch his bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain — his +only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him +from doing a curse. + Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell by the arm, and hung on as tight +as he could. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harry off — the pain in +Harry’s head was building — he couldn’t see — he could only hear Quirrell’s +terrible shrieks and Voldemort’s yells of, “KILL HIM! KILL HIM!” and other +voices, maybe in Harry’s own head, crying, “Harry! Harry!” + He felt Quirrell’s arm wrenched from his grasp, knew all was lost, and +fell into blackness, down…down… down…. + +Something gold was glinting just above him. The Snitch! He tried to catch it, +but his arms were too heavy. + He blinked. It wasn’t the Snitch at all. It was a pair of glasses. How +strange. + He blinked again. The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into +view above him. + “Good afternoon, Harry,” said Dumbledore. + Harry stared at him. Then he remembered: “Sir! The Stone! It was +Quirrell! He’s got the Stone! Sir, quick —” + “Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times,” said +Dumbledore. “Quirrell does not have the Stone.” + “Then who does? Sir, I —” + “Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out.” + Harry swallowed and looked around him. He realized he must be in the +hospital wing. He was lying in a bed with white linen sheets, and next to him +was a table piled high with what looked like half the candy shop. + “Tokens from your friends and admirers,” said Dumbledore, beaming. +“What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a +complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends +Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet +seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt +it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it.” + “How long have I been in here?” + “Three days. Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most +relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried.” + “But sir, the Stone —” + “I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor +Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. I arrived in time to prevent that, +although you were doing very well on your own, I must say.” + “You got there? You got Hermione’s owl?” + “We must have crossed in midair. No sooner had I reached London than +it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I +arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you.” + “It was you.” + “I feared I might be too late.” + “You nearly were, I couldn’t have kept him off the Stone much longer –” + “Not the Stone, boy, you — the effort involved nearly killed you. For one +terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been +destroyed.” + “Destroyed?” said Harry blankly. “But your friend — Nicolas Flamel —” + “Oh, you know about Nicolas?” said Dumbledore, sounding quite +delighted. “You did do the thing properly, didn’t you? Well, Nicolas and I have +had a little chat, and agreed it’s all for the best.” + “But that means he and his wife will die, won’t they?” + “They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, +they will die.” + Dumbledore smiled at the look of amazement on Harry’s face. + “To one as young as you, I’m sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and +Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the +well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone +was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could +want! The two things most human beings would choose above all — the trouble +is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for +them.” + Harry lay there, lost for words. Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled +at the ceiling. + “Sir?” said Harry. “I’ve been thinking…sir — even if the Stone’s gone, +Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who —” + “Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear +of a name increases fear of the thing itself.” + “Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort’s going to try other ways of coming back, isn’t +he? I mean, he hasn’t gone, has he?” + “No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking +for another body to share…not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left +Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. +Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it +will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing +battle next time — and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never +return to power.” + Harry nodded, but stopped quickly, because it made his head hurt. Then +he said, “Sir, there are some other things I’d like to know, if you can tell me… +things I want to know the truth about.…” + “The truth.” Dumbledore sighed. “It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and +should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your +questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you’ll +forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie.” + “Well…Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried +to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first +place?” + Dumbledore sighed very deeply this time. + “Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. +You will know, one day…put it from your mind for now, Harry. When you are +older…I know you hate to hear this…when you are ready, you will know.” + And Harry knew it would be no good to argue. + “But why couldn’t Quirrell touch me?” + “Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot +understand, it is love. He didn’t realize that love as powerful as your mother’s +for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign…to have been loved so +deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some +protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and +ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It +was agony to touch a person marked by something so good.” + Dumbledore now became very interested in a bird out on the windowsill, +which gave Harry time to dry his eyes on the sheet. When he had found his voice +again, Harry said, “And the invisibility cloak — do you know who sent it to +me?” + “Ah — your father happened to leave it in my possession, and I thought +you might like it.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “Useful things…your father +used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here.” + “And there’s something else…” + “Fire away.” + “Quirrell said Snape —” + “Professor Snape, Harry.” + “Yes, him — Quirrell said he hates me because he hated my father. Is that +true?” + “Well, they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourself and Mr. +Malfoy. And then, your father did something Snape could never forgive.” + “What?” + “He saved his life.” + “What?” + “Yes…” said Dumbledore dreamily. “Funny, the way people’s minds +work, isn’t it? Professor Snape couldn’t bear being in your father’s debt…I do +believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would +make him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father’s +memory in peace.…” + Harry tried to understand this but it made his head pound, so he stopped. + “And sir, there’s one more thing…” + “Just the one?” + “How did I get the Stone out of the mirror?” + “Ah, now, I’m glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant +ideas, and between you and me, that’s saying something. You see, only one who +wanted to find the Stone — find it, but not use it — would be able to get it, +otherwise they’d just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My +brain surprises even me sometimes…Now, enough questions. I suggest you +make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bettie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans! I was +unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit flavored one, and since +then I’m afraid I’ve rather lost my liking for them — but I think I’ll be safe with +a nice toffee, don’t you?” + He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he +choked and said, “Alas! Ear wax!” + +Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was a nice woman, but very strict. + “Just five minutes,” Harry pleaded. + “Absolutely not.” + “You let Professor Dumbledore in….” + “Well, of course, that was the headmaster, quite different. You need rest.” + “I am resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Madam +Pomfrey…” + “Oh, very well,” she said. “But five minutes only.” + And she let Ron and Hermione in. + “Harry!” + Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around him again, but Harry +was glad she held herself in as his head was still very sore. + “Oh, Harry, we were sure you were going to — Dumbledore was so +worried —” + “The whole school’s talking about it,” said Ron. “What really +happened?” + It was one of those rare occasions when the true story is even more +strange and exciting than the wild rumors. Harry told them everything: Quirrell; +the mirror; the Stone; and Voldemort. Ron and Hermione were a very good +audience; they gasped in all the right places, and when Harry told them what was +under Quirrell’s turban, Hermione screamed out loud. + “So the Stone’s gone?” said Ron finally. “Flamel’s just going to die?” + “That’s what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that — what was it? — ‘to +the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.’” + “I always said he was off his rocker,” said Ron, looking quite impressed +at how crazy his hero was. + “So what happened to you two?” said Harry. + “Well, I got back all right,” said Hermione. “I brought Ron round — that +took a while — and we were dashing up to the owlery to contact Dumbledore +when we met him in the entrance hall — he already knew — he just said, +‘Harry’s gone after him, hasn’t he?’ and hurtled off to the third floor.” + “D’you think he meant you to do it?” said Ron. “Sending you your +father’s cloak and everything?” + “Well, ” Hermione exploded, “if he did — I mean to say that’s terrible — +you could have been killed.” + “No, it isn’t,” said Harry thoughtfully. “He’s a funny man, Dumbledore. I +think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less +everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we +were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I +don’t think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It’s +almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could….” + “Yeah, Dumbledore’s off his rocker, all right,” said Ron proudly. “Listen, +you’ve got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and +Slytherin won, of course — you missed the last Quidditch match, we were +steamrollered by Ravenclaw without you — but the food’ll be good.” + At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over. + “You’ve had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT” she said firmly. + +After a good night’s sleep, Harry felt nearly back to normal. + I want to go to the feast,” he told Madam Pomfrey as she straightened his +many candy boxes. I can, can’t I?” + “Professor Dumbledore says you are to be allowed to go,” she said +stiffly, as though in her opinion Professor Dumbledore didn’t realize how risky +feasts could be. “And you have another visitor.” + “Oh, good,” said Harry. “Who is it?” + Hagrid sidled through the door as he spoke. As usual when he was +indoors, Hagrid looked too big to be allowed. He sat down next to Harry, took +one look at him, and burst into tears. + “It’s — all — my — ruddy — fault!” he sobbed, his face in his hands. I +told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! It was the only thing he +didn’t know, an’ I told him! Yeh could’ve died! All fer a dragon egg! I’ll never +drink again! I should be chucked out an’ made ter live as a Muggle!” + “Hagrid!” said Harry, shocked to see Hagrid shaking with grief and +remorse, great tears leaking down into his beard. “Hagrid, he’d have found out +somehow, this is Voldemort we’re talking about, he’d have found out even if you +hadn’t told him.” + “Yeh could’ve died!” sobbed Hagrid. “An’ don’ say the name!” + “VOLDEMORT!” Harry bellowed, and Hagrid was so shocked, he +stopped crying. “I’ve met him and I’m calling him by his name. Please cheer up, +Hagrid, we saved the Stone, it’s gone, he can’t use it. Have a Chocolate Frog, +I’ve got loads.…” + Hagrid wiped his nose on the back of his hand and said, “That reminds +me. I’ve got yeh a present.” + “It’s not a stoat sandwich, is it?” said Harry anxiously, and at last Hagrid +gave a weak chuckle. + “Nah. Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday ter fix it. ‘course, he +shoulda sacked me instead — anyway, got yeh this.…” + It seemed to be a handsome, leather-covered book. Harry opened it +curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at him from +every page were his mother and father. + “Sent owls off ter all yer parents’ old school friends, askin’ fer photos… +knew yeh didn’ have any…d’yeh like it?” + Harry couldn’t speak, but Hagrid understood. + +Harry made his way down to the end-of-year feast alone that night. He had +been held up by Madam Pomfrey’s fussing about, insisting on giving him one +last checkup, so the Great Hall was already full. It was decked out in the +Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin’s winning the house +cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent +covered the wall behind the High Table. + When Harry walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everybody +started talking loudly at once. He slipped into a seat between Ron and Hermione +at the Gryffindor table and tried to ignore the fact that people were standing up +to look at him. + Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away. + “Another year gone!” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “And I must trouble +you with an old man’s wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our +delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little +fuller than they were…you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and +empty before next year starts.… + “Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the +points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve +points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has +four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two.” + A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. +Harry could see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table. It was a sickening +sight. + “Yes, Yes, well done, Slytherin,” said Dumbledore. “However, recent +events must be taken into account.” + The room went very still. The Slytherins’ smiles faded a little. + “Ahem,” said Dumbledore. “I have a few last-minute points to dish out. +Let me see. Yes… + “First — to Mr. Ronald Weasley…” + Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn. + “…for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I +award Gryffindor house fifty points.” + Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead +seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, “My brother, +you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall’s giant chess set!” + At last there was silence again. + “Second — to Miss Hermione Granger…for the use of cool logic in the +face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points.” + Hermione buried her face in her arms; Harry strongly suspected she had +burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves — +they were a hundred points up. + “Third — to Mr. Harry Potter…” said Dumbledore. The room went +deadly quiet. “…for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor +house sixty points.” + The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling +themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two +points — exactly the same as Slytherin. They had tied for the house cup — if +only Dumbledore had given Harry just one more point. + Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent. + “There are all kinds of courage,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “It takes a +great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to +our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom.” + Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some +sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the +Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood up to yell and cheer as +Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He +had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before. Harry, still cheering, +nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn’t have looked more +stunned and horrified if he’d just had the Body-Bind Curse put on him. + “Which means,” Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even +Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, “we need +a little change of decoration.” + He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet +and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering +Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall’s hand, +with a horrible, forced smile. He caught Harry’s eye and Harry knew at once that +Snape’s feelings toward him hadn’t changed one jot. This didn’t worry Harry. It +seemed as though life would be back to normal next year, or as normal as it ever +was at Hogwarts. + It was the best evening of Harry’s life, better than winning at Quidditch, +or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls…he would never, ever forget +tonight. + +Harry had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come +they did. To their great surprise, both he and Ron passed with good marks; +Hermione, of course, had the best grades of the first years. Even Neville scraped +through, his good Herbology mark making up for his abysmal Potions one. They +had hoped that Goyle, who was almost as stupid as he was mean, might be +thrown out, but he had passed, too. It was a shame, but as Ron said, you couldn’t +have everything in life. + And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, +Neville’s toad was found lurking in a corner of the toilets; notes were handed out +to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays (“I always hope +they’ll forget to give us these,” said Fred Weasley sadly); Hagrid was there to +take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; they were +boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside became +greener and tidier; eating Bettie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans as they sped past +Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; +pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King’s Cross Station. + It took quite a while for them all to get off the platform. A wizened old +guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gate in twos and +threes so they didn’t attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once +and alarming the Muggles. + “You must come and stay this summer,” said Ron, “both of you — I’ll +send you an owl.” + “Thanks,” said Harry, “I’ll need something to look forward to.” People +jostled them as they moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle +world. Some of them called: + “Bye, Harry!” + “See you, Potter!” + “Still famous,” said Ron, grinning at him. + “Not where I’m going, I promise you,” said Harry. + He, Ron, and Hermione passed through the gateway together. “There he +is, Mom, there he is, look!” + It was Ginny Weasley, Ron’s younger sister, but she wasn’t pointing at +Ron. + “Harry Potter!” she squealed. “Look, Mom! I can see —” + “Be quiet, Ginny, and it’s rude to point.” + Mrs. Weasley smiled down at them. + “Busy year?” she said. + “Very,” said Harry. “Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. +Weasley.” + “Oh, it was nothing, dear.” + “Ready, are you?” + It was Uncle Vernon, still purple-faced, still mustached, still looking +furious at the nerve of Harry, carrying an owl in a cage in a station full of +ordinary people. Behind him stood Aunt Petunia and Dudley, looking terrified at +the very sight of Harry. + “You must be Harry’s family!” said Mrs. Weasley. + “In a manner of speaking,” said Uncle Vernon. “Hurry up, boy, we +haven’t got all day.” He walked away. + Harry hung back for a last word with Ron and Hermione. + “See you over the summer, then.” + “Hope you have — er — a good holiday,” said Hermione, looking +uncertainly after Uncle Vernon, shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant. + “Oh, I will,” said Harry, and they were surprised at the grin that was +spreading over his face. “They don’t know we’re not allowed to use magic at +home. I’m going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer.… +