tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48215194186273020292024-02-08T06:44:24.587+05:00Wallpapers And Fashion BlogThe Ultimate Wallpapers And Updated Indian And Pakistani Fashion DriftWallpapers And Fashion Blog - The Ultimate Wallpapers And Updated Fashion Drifthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17730040362316194840noreply@blogger.comBlogger26412tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4821519418627302029.post-33538007814208415622013-11-01T00:32:00.000+05:002013-11-01T00:38:52.799+05:00Cast and crew of Harry Potter & The Philosopher's Stone 2001 BRRip 720p with snapshots<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><i>Cast and crew of Harry Potter & The Philosopher's Stone 2001</i> </span></b></h3>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Chapter
One: The Boy Who Lived</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The Dursley Family </span></div>
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<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l6 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Poppy Pomfrey </span></li>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Chapter
Two: The Vanishing Glass</span></b></div>
<ul type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l11 level1 lfo2; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Marjorie Dursley">Marge Dursley</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l11 level1 lfo2; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Arabella Figg">Arabella Figg</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l11 level1 lfo2; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Tibbles">Tibbles</a>, <a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Snowy">Snowy</a>, <a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Mr Paws">Mr Paws</a>,
and <a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Tufty">Tufty</a>
</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l11 level1 lfo2; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Yvonne">Yvonne</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l11 level1 lfo2; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Piers Polkiss">Piers Polkiss</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l11 level1 lfo2; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Piers Polkiss's mother">Piers Polkiss's mother</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l11 level1 lfo2; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Keeper of the reptile house">Keeper of the reptile house</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l11 level1 lfo2; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Zoo director">Zoo director</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l11 level1 lfo2; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Boa constrictor at the Zoo">A boa constrictor</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l11 level1 lfo2; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A gorilla </span></li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 2;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Chapter
Three: Letters from No One</span></b></div>
<ul type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l9 level1 lfo3; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Dennis">Dennis</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l9 level1 lfo3; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Malcolm">Malcolm</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l9 level1 lfo3; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Gordon">Gordon</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l9 level1 lfo3; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Dudley's parrot </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l9 level1 lfo3; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Dudley's tortoise </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l9 level1 lfo3; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Owner of the Railview Hotel">Owner of the Railview Hotel</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l9 level1 lfo3; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Rowboat owner </span></li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 2;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Chapter
Four: Keeper of the Keys</span></b></div>
<ul type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l10 level1 lfo4; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Mr. Evans">Mr. Evans</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l10 level1 lfo4; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Mrs. Evans">Mrs. Evans</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l10 level1 lfo4; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="McKinnon family">McKinnon family</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l10 level1 lfo4; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Bones family">Bones family</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l10 level1 lfo4; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Prewett family </span></li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 2;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Chapter
Five: Diagon Alley</span></b></div>
<ul type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo5; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Cornelius Fudge">Cornelius Fudge</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo5; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Miranda Goshawk">Miranda Goshawk</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo5; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Bathilda Bagshot">Bathilda Bagshot</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo5; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Adalbert Waffling">Adalbert Waffling</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo5; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Emeric Switch">Emeric Switch</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo5; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Phyllida Spore">Phyllida Spore</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo5; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Arsenus Jigger">Arsenus Jigger</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo5; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Newton Scamander">Newton Scamander</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo5; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Quentin Trimble">Quentin Trimble</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo5; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Tom">Tom</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo5; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Doris Crockford">Doris Crockford</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo5; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Quirinus Quirrell">Quirinus Quirrell</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo5; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Gringotts Head Goblin">Gringotts Head Goblin</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo5; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Griphook">Griphook</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo5; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Madam Malkin">Madam Malkin</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo5; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Draco Malfoy">Draco Malfoy</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo5; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Lucius Malfoy">Lucius Malfoy</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo5; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Narcissa Malfoy">Narcissa Malfoy</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo5; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Vindictus Viridian">Vindictus Viridian</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo5; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Hedwig">Hedwig</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo5; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Mr. Ollivander </span></li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 2;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Chapter
Six: Journey from Platform Nine and Three Quarters</span></b></div>
<ul type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="King's Cross Station guard">King's Cross Station guard</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Ginevra Weasley">Ginny Weasley</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Molly Weasley">Molly Weasley</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Percy Weasley">Percy Weasley</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Fred Weasley">Fred Weasley</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="George Weasley">George Weasley</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Ronald Weasley">Ron Weasley</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Neville Longbottom">Neville Longbottom</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Augusta Longbottom">Augusta Longbottom</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Lee Jordan">Lee Jordan</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Lee Jordan's tarantula">Lee Jordan's tarantula</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="William Weasley">Bill Weasley</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Charles Weasley">Charlie Weasley</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Arthur Weasley">Arthur Weasley</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Peter Pettigrew">Peter "Wormtail" Pettigrew</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Honeydukes Express lady">Honeydukes Express lady</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Cornelius Agrippa">Cornelius Agrippa</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Claudius Ptolemy">Claudius Ptolemy</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Gellert Grindelwald">Gellert Grindelwald</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Nicolas Flamel">Nicolas Flamel</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Morgan le Fay">Morgan le Fay</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Hengist of Woodcroft">Hengist of Woodcroft</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Alberic Grunnion">Alberic Grunnion</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Circe">Circe</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Paracelsus">Paracelsus</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Merlin">Merlin</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Cliodna">Cliodna</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Bertie Bott">Bertie Bott</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Trevor">Trevor</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Hermione Granger">Hermione Granger</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Vincent Crabbe">Vincent Crabbe</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Gregory Goyle">Gregory Goyle</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Hogwarts Express conductor">Hogwarts Express conductor</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo6; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hermes </span></li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 2;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Chapter
Seven: The Sorting Hat</span></b></div>
<ul type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Fat Friar </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Peeves">Peeves</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Sorting Hat">Sorting Hat</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Hannah Abbott">Hannah Abbott</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Susan Bones">Susan Bones</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Terry Boot">Terry Boot</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Mandy Brocklehurst">Mandy Brocklehurst</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Lavender Brown">Lavender Brown</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Millicent Bulstrode">Millicent Bulstrode</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Justin Finch-Fletchley">Justin Finch-Fletchley</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Seamus Finnigan">Seamus Finnigan</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Morag MacDougal">Morag MacDougal</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Lily Moon">Moon</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Theodore Nott">Theodore Nott</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Pansy Parkinson">Pansy Parkinson</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Padma Patil">Padma Patil</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Parvati Patil">Parvati Patil</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Sally-Anne Perks">Sally-Anne Perks</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Dean Thomas">Dean Thomas</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Lisa Turpin">Lisa Turpin</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Blaise Zabini">Blaise Zabini</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington">Nearly-Headless Nick</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Bloody Baron">Bloody Baron</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Mr. Finnigan">Mr. Finnigan</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Mrs. Finnigan">Mrs. Finnigan</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Algie">Algie</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Enid">Enid</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Severus Snape">Severus Snape</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Argus Filch">Argus Filch</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Rolanda Hooch">Rolanda Hooch</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l12 level1 lfo7; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Fat Lady">Fat Lady</a> </span></li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 2;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Chapter
Eight: The Potions Master</span></b></div>
<ul type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l14 level1 lfo8; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Mrs. Norris">Mrs. Norris</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l14 level1 lfo8; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Pomona Sprout">Pomona Sprout</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l14 level1 lfo8; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Cuthbert Binns">Cuthbert Binns</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l14 level1 lfo8; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Emeric the Evil">Emeric the Evil</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l14 level1 lfo8; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Uric the Oddball">Uric the Oddball</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l14 level1 lfo8; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Filius Flitwick">Filius Flitwick</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l14 level1 lfo8; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Fang </span></li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 2;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Chapter
Nine: The Midnight Duel</span></b></div>
<ul type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo9; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Oliver Wood">Oliver Wood</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo9; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Helena Ravenclaw">The Grey Lady</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo9; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Draco Malfoy's Eagle Owl">Draco Malfoy's Eagle Owl</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo9; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Gregory the Smarmy">Gregory the Smarmy</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo9; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Fluffy </span></li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 2;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Chapter
Ten: Hallowe'en</span></b></div>
<ul type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l16 level1 lfo10; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Baruffio">Baruffio</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l16 level1 lfo10; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A mountain troll </span></li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 2;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Chapter
Eleven: Quidditch</span></b></div>
<ul type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l7 level1 lfo11; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Angelina Johnson">Angelina Johnson</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l7 level1 lfo11; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Marcus Flint">Marcus Flint</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l7 level1 lfo11; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Alicia Spinnet">Alicia Spinnet</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l7 level1 lfo11; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Katie Bell">Katie Bell</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l7 level1 lfo11; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Miles Bletchley">Miles Bletchley</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l7 level1 lfo11; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Adrian Pucey">Adrian Pucey</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l7 level1 lfo11; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Terence Higgs">Terence Higgs</a> </span></li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 2;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Chapter
Twelve: The Mirror of Erised</span></b></div>
<ul type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l13 level1 lfo12; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Irma Pince">Irma Pince</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l13 level1 lfo12; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Ron's grandfather </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l13 level1 lfo12; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Harry's relatives </span></li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 2;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Chapter
Thirteen: Nicolas Flamel</span></b></div>
<ul type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l3 level1 lfo13; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Perenelle Flamel">Perenelle Flamel</a> </span></li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 2;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Chapter
Fourteen: Norbert
the Norwegian Ridgeback</span></b></div>
<ul type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l5 level1 lfo14; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Norberta">Norbert</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l5 level1 lfo14; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Charlie Weasley's friends">Charlie Weasley's friends</a> </span></li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 2;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Chapter
Fifteen: The Forbidden Forest</span></b></div>
<ul type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l4 level1 lfo15; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Ronan">Ronan</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l4 level1 lfo15; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Bane">Bane</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l4 level1 lfo15; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Firenze">Firenze</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l4 level1 lfo15; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Unicorn">Unicorn</a> </span></li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 2;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Chapter
Sixteen: Through the Trapdoor</span></b></div>
<ul type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l15 level1 lfo16; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Elfric the Eager">Elfric the Eager</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l15 level1 lfo16; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Hogwarts Giant Squid">Hogwarts Giant Squid</a> </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l15 level1 lfo16; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" title="Quirinus Quirrell's second mountain troll">A mountain troll</a> </span></li>
</ul>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Chapter
Seventeen: The Man with Two
Faces</span></b></div>
<ul type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l8 level1 lfo17; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">King's Cross Station Station guard (wizard) </span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
<h4 style="text-align: left;">
Here are <i>Harry Potter & The Philosopher's Stone 2001 snapshots</i></h4>
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Wallpapers And Fashion Blog - The Ultimate Wallpapers And Updated Fashion Drifthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17730040362316194840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4821519418627302029.post-38448461995952246882013-10-31T22:07:00.000+05:002013-10-31T23:38:56.649+05:00Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone .pdf<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<i><b>THE BOY WHO LIVED</b></i><br />
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say<br />
that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last<br />
people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious,<br />
because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made<br />
drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did<br />
have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had<br />
nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she<br />
spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the<br />
neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their<br />
opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.<br />
The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and<br />
their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't<br />
think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs.<br />
Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years;<br />
in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her<br />
sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was<br />
possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would<br />
say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the<br />
Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy<br />
was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want<br />
Dudley mixing with a child like that.<br />
When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story<br />
starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that<br />
strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the<br />
country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for<br />
work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming<br />
Dudley into his high chair.<br />
None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.<br />
At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs.<br />
Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed,<br />
because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the<br />
walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got<br />
into his car and backed out of number four's drive.<br />
It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of<br />
something peculiar -- a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley<br />
didn't realize what he had seen -- then he jerked his head around to<br />
look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet<br />
Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking<br />
of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and<br />
stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the<br />
corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now<br />
reading the sign that said Privet Drive -- no, looking at the sign; cats<br />
couldn't read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and<br />
put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of<br />
nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.<br />
But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something<br />
else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help<br />
noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people<br />
about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in<br />
funny clothes -- the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this<br />
was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering<br />
wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite<br />
close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was<br />
enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man<br />
had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The<br />
nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some<br />
silly stunt -- these people were obviously collecting for something...<br />
yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr.<br />
Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.<br />
Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the<br />
ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate<br />
on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swoop ing past in broad<br />
daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed<br />
open- mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never<br />
seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly<br />
normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made<br />
several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a<br />
very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs<br />
and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.<br />
He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of<br />
them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't<br />
know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering<br />
excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on<br />
his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he<br />
caught a few words of what they were saying.<br />
"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard yes, their son, Harry"<br />
Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the<br />
whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better<br />
of it.<br />
He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his<br />
secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost<br />
finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the<br />
receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking... no, he was<br />
being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were<br />
lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think<br />
of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry. He'd never even<br />
seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold. There was no point<br />
in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her<br />
sister. He didn't blame her -- if he'd had a sister like that... but all<br />
the same, those people in cloaks...<br />
He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and<br />
when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that<br />
he walked straight into someone just outside the door.<br />
"Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It<br />
was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a<br />
violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the<br />
ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in<br />
a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir,<br />
for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at<br />
last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy,<br />
happy day!"<br />
And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.<br />
Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete<br />
stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that<br />
was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping<br />
he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he<br />
didn't approve of imagination.<br />
As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw --<br />
and it didn't improve his mood -- was the tabby cat he'd spotted that<br />
morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the<br />
same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.<br />
"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly. The cat didn't move. It just gave him a<br />
stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying<br />
to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still<br />
determined not to mention anything to his wife.<br />
Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all<br />
about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had<br />
learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When<br />
Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to<br />
catch the last report on the evening news:<br />
"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's<br />
owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally<br />
hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been<br />
hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since<br />
sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly<br />
changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin.<br />
"Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going<br />
to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"<br />
"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not<br />
only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as<br />
Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead<br />
of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting<br />
stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early -- it's<br />
not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."<br />
Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain?<br />
Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place?<br />
And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters...<br />
Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was<br />
no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat<br />
nervously. "Er -- Petunia, dear -- you haven't heard from your sister<br />
lately, have you?"<br />
As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all,<br />
they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.<br />
"No," she said sharply. "Why?"<br />
"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls... shooting<br />
stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today..."<br />
"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley.<br />
"Well, I just thought... maybe... it was something to do with... you<br />
know... her crowd."<br />
Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered<br />
whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he<br />
didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their son --<br />
he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"<br />
"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.<br />
"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"<br />
"Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."<br />
"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite<br />
agree."<br />
He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed.<br />
While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom<br />
window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there.<br />
It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for<br />
something.<br />
Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the<br />
Potters? If it did... if it got out that they were related to a pair of<br />
-- well, he didn't think he could bear it.<br />
The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr.<br />
Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting<br />
thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were<br />
involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs.<br />
Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about<br />
them and their kind.... He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get<br />
mixed up in anything that might be going on -- he yawned and turned over<br />
-- it couldn't affect them....<br />
How very wrong he was.<br />
Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat<br />
on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as<br />
still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of<br />
Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the<br />
next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly<br />
midnight before the cat moved at all.<br />
A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so<br />
suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the<br />
ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.<br />
Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall,<br />
thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which<br />
were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes,<br />
a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots.<br />
His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon<br />
spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been<br />
broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.<br />
Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a<br />
street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was<br />
busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to<br />
realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat,<br />
which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For<br />
some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and<br />
muttered, "I should have known."<br />
He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a<br />
silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and<br />
clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He<br />
clicked it again -- the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times<br />
he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street<br />
were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat<br />
watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed<br />
Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening<br />
down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his<br />
cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down<br />
on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he<br />
spoke to it.<br />
"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."<br />
He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling<br />
at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly<br />
the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was<br />
wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight<br />
bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.<br />
"How did you know it was me?" she asked.<br />
"My dear Professor, I 've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."<br />
"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said<br />
Professor McGonagall.<br />
"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a<br />
dozen feasts and parties on my way here."<br />
Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.<br />
"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently.<br />
"You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no -- even the Muggles<br />
have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her<br />
head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks<br />
of owls... shooting stars.... Well, they're not completely stupid. They<br />
were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent -- I'll bet<br />
that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."<br />
"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious<br />
little to celebrate for eleven years."<br />
"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no<br />
reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on<br />
the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes,<br />
swapping rumors."<br />
She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping<br />
he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A<br />
fine thing it would be if, on the very day YouKnow-Who seems to have<br />
disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he<br />
really has gone, Dumbledore?"<br />
"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful<br />
for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"<br />
"A what?"<br />
"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of"<br />
"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't<br />
think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if<br />
You-Know-Who has gone -"<br />
"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him<br />
by his name? All this 'You- Know-Who' nonsense -- for eleven years I<br />
have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name:<br />
Voldemort." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was<br />
unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so<br />
confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason<br />
to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name.<br />
"I know you haven 't, said Professor McGonagall, sounding half<br />
exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're<br />
the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."<br />
"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will<br />
never have."<br />
"Only because you're too -- well -- noble to use them."<br />
"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey<br />
told me she liked my new earmuffs."<br />
Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls<br />
are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what<br />
everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally<br />
stopped him?"<br />
It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most<br />
anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard<br />
wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed<br />
Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that<br />
whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until<br />
Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing<br />
another lemon drop and did not answer.<br />
"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort<br />
turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is<br />
that Lily and James Potter are -- are -- that they're -- dead. "<br />
Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.<br />
"Lily and James... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it...<br />
Oh, Albus..."<br />
Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know... I<br />
know..." he said heavily.<br />
Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all.<br />
They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. But -- he<br />
couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how,<br />
but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's<br />
power somehow broke -- and that's why he's gone.<br />
Dumbledore nodded glumly.<br />
"It's -- it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's<br />
done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little boy?<br />
It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the<br />
name of heaven did Harry survive?"<br />
"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."<br />
Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her<br />
eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a<br />
golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch.<br />
It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving<br />
around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because<br />
he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was<br />
he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"<br />
"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to<br />
tell me why you're here, of all places?"<br />
"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family<br />
he has left now."<br />
"You don't mean -- you can't mean the people who live here?" cried<br />
Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four.<br />
"Dumbledore -- you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't<br />
find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son -- I saw<br />
him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets.<br />
Harry Potter come and live here!"<br />
"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and<br />
uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've<br />
written them a letter."<br />
"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on<br />
the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a<br />
letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous -- a<br />
legend -- I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day<br />
in the future -- there will be books written about Harry -- every child<br />
in our world will know his name!"<br />
"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his<br />
half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous<br />
before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even<br />
remember! CarA you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away<br />
from all that until he's ready to take it?"<br />
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and<br />
then said, "Yes -- yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy<br />
getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she<br />
thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.<br />
"Hagrid's bringing him."<br />
"You think it -- wise -- to trust Hagrid with something as important as<br />
this?"<br />
I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.<br />
"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor<br />
McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does<br />
tend to -- what was that?"<br />
A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew<br />
steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a<br />
headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky -- and<br />
a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of<br />
them.<br />
If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride<br />
it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times<br />
as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild - long<br />
tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands<br />
the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were<br />
like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle<br />
of blankets.<br />
"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did<br />
you get that motorcycle?"<br />
"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sit," said the giant, climbing<br />
carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to<br />
me. I've got him, sir."<br />
"No problems, were there?"<br />
"No, sir -- house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right<br />
before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was<br />
flyin' over Bristol."<br />
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of<br />
blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a<br />
tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously<br />
shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.<br />
"Is that where -?" whispered Professor McGonagall.<br />
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."<br />
"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"<br />
"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself<br />
above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well<br />
-- give him here, Hagrid -- we'd better get this over with."<br />
Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.<br />
"Could I -- could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his<br />
great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very<br />
scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a<br />
wounded dog.<br />
"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"<br />
"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and<br />
burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it -- Lily an' James dead<br />
-- an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles -"<br />
"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or<br />
we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly<br />
on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to<br />
the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out<br />
of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to<br />
the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at<br />
the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall<br />
blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from<br />
Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.<br />
"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying<br />
here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."<br />
"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his<br />
bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall -- Professor Dumbledore, sir."<br />
Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself<br />
onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose<br />
into the air and off into the night.<br />
"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore,<br />
nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.<br />
Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he<br />
stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and<br />
twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet<br />
Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking<br />
around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the<br />
bundle of blankets on the step of number four.<br />
"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish<br />
of his cloak, he was gone.<br />
A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and<br />
tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect<br />
astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his<br />
blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside<br />
him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was<br />
famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs.<br />
Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk<br />
bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and<br />
pinched by his cousin Dudley... He couldn't know that at this very<br />
moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up<br />
their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter -- the boy<br />
who lived!"<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<b>CHAPTER TWO</b></h3>
<i><b>THE VANISHING GLASS</b></i><br />
Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find<br />
their nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at<br />
all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass<br />
number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living<br />
room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when<br />
Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the<br />
photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed.<br />
Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a<br />
large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets -- but Dudley<br />
Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large<br />
blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a<br />
computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother.<br />
The room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house, too.<br />
Yet Harry Potter was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for<br />
long. His Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made<br />
the first noise of the day.<br />
"Up! Get up! Now!"<br />
Harry woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again.<br />
"Up!" she screeched. Harry heard her walking toward the kitchen and then<br />
the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. He rolled onto his<br />
back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a<br />
good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. He had a funny<br />
feeling he'd had the same dream before.<br />
His aunt was back outside the door.<br />
"Are you up yet?" she demanded.<br />
"Nearly," said Harry.<br />
"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you<br />
dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."<br />
Harry groaned.<br />
"What did you say?" his aunt snapped through the door.<br />
"Nothing, nothing..."<br />
Dudley's birthday -- how could he have forgotten? Harry got slowly out<br />
of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and,<br />
after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Harry was used to<br />
spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and<br />
that was where he slept.<br />
When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table<br />
was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as<br />
though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the<br />
second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a<br />
racing bike was a mystery to Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hated<br />
exercise -- unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley's<br />
favorite punching bag was Harry, but he couldn't often catch him. Harry<br />
didn't look it, but he was very fast.<br />
Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry<br />
had always been small and skinny for his age. He looked even smaller and<br />
skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes<br />
of Dudley's, and Dudley was about four times bigger than he was. Harry<br />
had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. He<br />
wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of<br />
all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only thing Harry<br />
liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that<br />
was shaped like a bolt of lightning. He had had it as long as he could<br />
remember, and the first question he could ever remember asking his Aunt<br />
Petunia was how he had gotten it.<br />
"In the car crash when your parents died," she had said. "And don't ask<br />
questions."<br />
Don't ask questions -- that was the first rule for a quiet life with the<br />
Dursleys.<br />
Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon.<br />
"Comb your hair!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting.<br />
About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and<br />
shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts<br />
than the rest of the boys in his class put<br />
together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way --<br />
all over the place.<br />
Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his<br />
mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face,<br />
not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay<br />
smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley<br />
looked like a baby angel -- Harry often said that Dudley looked like a<br />
pig in a wig.<br />
Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult<br />
as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents.<br />
His face fell.<br />
"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two<br />
less than last year."<br />
"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here<br />
under this big one from Mommy and Daddy."<br />
"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face.<br />
Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down<br />
his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.<br />
Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly,<br />
"And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's<br />
that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right''<br />
Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said<br />
slowly, "So I'll have thirty ... thirty..."<br />
"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia.<br />
"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right<br />
then."<br />
Uncle Vernon chuckled. "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like<br />
his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.<br />
At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it<br />
while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a<br />
video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and<br />
a VCR. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia<br />
came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.<br />
"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't<br />
take him." She jerked her head in Harry's direction.<br />
Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but Harry's heart gave a leap. Every<br />
year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the<br />
day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every<br />
year, Harry was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two<br />
streets away. Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage<br />
and Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever<br />
owned.<br />
"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though he'd<br />
planned this. Harry knew he ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had<br />
broken her leg, but it wasn't easy when he reminded himself it would be<br />
a whole year before he had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and<br />
Tufty again.<br />
"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.<br />
"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy."<br />
The Dursleys often spoke about Harry like this, as though he wasn't<br />
there -- or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn't<br />
understand them, like a slug.<br />
"What about what's-her-name, your friend -- Yvonne?"<br />
"On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia.<br />
"You could just leave me here," Harry put in hopefully (he'd be able to<br />
watch what he wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go<br />
on Dudley's computer).<br />
Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon.<br />
"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.<br />
"I won't blow up the house," said Harry, but they weren't listening.<br />
"I suppose we could take him to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "...<br />
and leave him in the car...."<br />
"That car's new, he's not sitting in it alone...."<br />
Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying -- it had<br />
been years since he'd really cried -- but he knew that if he screwed up<br />
his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.<br />
"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special<br />
day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.<br />
"I... don't... want... him... t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge,<br />
pretend sobs. "He always sp- spoils everything!" He shot Harry a nasty<br />
grin through the gap in his mother's arms.<br />
Just then, the doorbell rang -- "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt<br />
Petunia frantically -- and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers<br />
Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face<br />
like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their<br />
backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.<br />
Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn't believe his luck, was sitting in<br />
the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the<br />
zoo for the first time in his life. His aunt and uncle hadn't been able<br />
to think of anything else to do with him, but before they'd left, Uncle<br />
Vernon had taken Harry aside.<br />
"I'm warning you," he had said, putting his large purple face right up<br />
close to Harry's, "I'm warning you now, boy -- any funny business,<br />
anything at all -- and you'll be in that cupboard from now until<br />
Christmas."<br />
"I'm not going to do anything," said Harry, "honestly..<br />
But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. No one ever did.<br />
The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and it was<br />
just no good telling the Dursleys he didn't make them happen.<br />
Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking<br />
as though he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors<br />
and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which<br />
she left "to hide that horrible scar." Dudley had laughed himself silly<br />
at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day,<br />
where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses.<br />
Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it<br />
had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off He had been given a week<br />
in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that he<br />
couldn't explain how it had grown back so quickly.<br />
Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting<br />
old sweater of Dudley's (brown with orange puff balls) -- The harder she<br />
tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until<br />
finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit<br />
Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to<br />
his great relief, Harry wasn't punished.<br />
On the other hand, he'd gotten into terrible trouble for being found on<br />
the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley's gang had been chasing him as<br />
usual when, as much to Harry's surprise as anyone else's, there he was<br />
sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter<br />
from Harry's headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school<br />
buildings. But all he'd tried to do (as he shouted at Uncle Vernon<br />
through the locked door of his cupboard) was jump behind the big trash<br />
cans outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed that the wind must have<br />
caught him in mid- jump.<br />
But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with<br />
Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school,<br />
his cupboard, or Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living room.<br />
While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to<br />
complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the<br />
bank, and Harry were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning,<br />
it was motorcycles.<br />
"... roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a<br />
motorcycle overtook them.<br />
I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Harry, remembering suddenly. "It<br />
was flying."<br />
Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right<br />
around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet<br />
with a mustache: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"<br />
Dudley and Piers sniggered.<br />
I know they don't," said Harry. "It was only a dream."<br />
But he wished he hadn't said anything. If there was one thing the<br />
Dursleys hated even more than his asking questions, it was his talking<br />
about anything acting in a way it shouldn't, no matter if it was in a<br />
dream or even a cartoon -- they seemed to think he might get dangerous<br />
ideas.<br />
It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The<br />
Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the<br />
entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry<br />
what he wanted before they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheap<br />
lemon ice pop. It wasn't bad, either, Harry thought, licking it as they<br />
watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley,<br />
except that it wasn't blond.<br />
Harry had the best morning he'd had in a long time. He was careful to<br />
walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who<br />
were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn't fall<br />
back on their favorite hobby of hitting him. They ate in the zoo<br />
restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker<br />
glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him<br />
another one and Harry was allowed to finish the first.<br />
Harry felt, afterward, that he should have known it was all too good to<br />
last.<br />
After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in<br />
there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts<br />
of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and<br />
stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick,<br />
man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the<br />
place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car<br />
and crushed it into a trash can -- but at the moment it didn't look in<br />
the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.<br />
Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the<br />
glistening brown coils.<br />
"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the<br />
glass, but the snake didn't budge.<br />
"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly<br />
with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.<br />
"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.<br />
Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He<br />
wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself -- no<br />
company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying<br />
to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a<br />
bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door<br />
to wake you up; at least he got to visit the rest of the house.<br />
The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised<br />
its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry's.<br />
It winked.<br />
Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was<br />
watching. They weren't. He looked back at the snake and winked, too.<br />
The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised<br />
its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly:<br />
"I get that all the time.<br />
"I know," Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn't sure the<br />
snake could hear him. "It must be really annoying."<br />
The snake nodded vigorously.<br />
"Where do you come from, anyway?" Harry asked.<br />
The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry<br />
peered at it.<br />
Boa Constrictor, Brazil.<br />
"Was it nice there?"<br />
The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on:<br />
This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see -- so you've never been to<br />
Brazil?"<br />
As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made both of<br />
them jump.<br />
"DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU<br />
WON'T BELIEVE<br />
WHAT IT'S DOING!"<br />
Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.<br />
"Out of the way, you," he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by<br />
surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened<br />
so fast no one saw how it happened -- one second, Piers and Dudley were<br />
leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with<br />
howls of horror.<br />
Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank<br />
had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering<br />
out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and<br />
started running for the exits.<br />
As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low,<br />
hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come.... Thanksss, amigo."<br />
The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.<br />
"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"<br />
The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea<br />
while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only<br />
gibber. As far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except<br />
snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were<br />
all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had<br />
nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to<br />
squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry at least, was Piers<br />
calming down enough to say, "Harry was talking to it, weren't you,<br />
Harry?"<br />
Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before<br />
starting on Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to<br />
say, "Go -- cupboard -- stay -- no meals," before he collapsed into a<br />
chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.<br />
Harry lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch. He<br />
didn't know what time it was and he couldn't be sure the Dursleys were<br />
asleep yet. Until they were, he couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen<br />
for some food.<br />
He'd lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as<br />
long as he could remember, ever since he'd been a baby and his parents<br />
had died in that car crash. He couldn't remember being in the car when<br />
his parents had died. Sometimes, when he strained his memory during long<br />
hours in his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding<br />
flash of green light and a burn- ing pain on his forehead. This, he<br />
supposed, was the crash, though he couldn't imagine where all the green<br />
light came from. He couldn't remember his parents at all. His aunt and<br />
uncle never spoke about them, and of course he was forbidden to ask<br />
questions. There were no photographs of them in the house.<br />
When he had been younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown<br />
relation coming to take him away, but it had never happened; the<br />
Dursleys were his only family. Yet sometimes he thought (or maybe hoped)<br />
that strangers in the street seemed to know him. Very strange strangers<br />
they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to him once<br />
while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harry<br />
furiously if he knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the<br />
shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all in<br />
green had waved merrily at him once on a bus. A bald man in a very long<br />
purple coat had actually shaken his hand in the street the other day and<br />
then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these<br />
people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Harry tried to get a<br />
closer look.<br />
At school, Harry had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley's gang hated<br />
that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and<br />
nobody liked to disagree with Dudley's gang.<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
CHAPTER THREE</h3>
<i><b>THE LETTERS FROM NO ONE</b></i><br />
The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harry his<br />
longest-ever punishment. By the time he was allowed out of his cupboard<br />
again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his<br />
new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time<br />
out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet<br />
Drive on her crutches.<br />
Harry was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley's gang,<br />
who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and<br />
Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and<br />
stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite<br />
happy to join in Dudley's favorite sport: Harry Hunting.<br />
This was why Harry spent as much time as possible out of the house,<br />
wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where he<br />
could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came he would be going off<br />
to secondary school and, for the first time in his life, he wouldn't be<br />
with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private<br />
school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Harry, on the<br />
other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley<br />
thought this was very funny.<br />
"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall,"<br />
he told Harry. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"<br />
"No, thanks," said Harry. "The poor toilet's never had anything as<br />
horrible as your head down it -- it might be sick." Then he ran, before<br />
Dudley could work out what he'd said.<br />
One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings<br />
uniform, leaving Harry at Mrs. Figg's. Mrs. Figg wasn 't as bad as<br />
usual. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats,<br />
and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before. She let Harry watch<br />
television and gave him a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though<br />
she'd had it for several years.<br />
That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in<br />
his brand-new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange<br />
knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried<br />
knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't<br />
looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.<br />
As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said<br />
gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst<br />
into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he<br />
looked so handsome and grown-up. Harry didn't trust himself to speak. He<br />
thought two of his ribs might already have cracked from trying not to<br />
laugh.<br />
There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harry<br />
went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in<br />
the sink. He went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like<br />
dirty rags swimming in gray water.<br />
"What's this?" he asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always<br />
did if he dared to ask a question.<br />
"Your new school uniform," she said.<br />
Harry looked in the bowl again.<br />
"Oh," he said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet."<br />
"DotA be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old<br />
things gray for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've<br />
finished."<br />
Harry seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. He sat<br />
down at the table and tried not to think about how he was going to look<br />
on his first day at Stonewall High -- like he was wearing bits of old<br />
elephant skin, probably.<br />
Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the<br />
smell from Harry's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as<br />
usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere,<br />
on the table.<br />
They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the<br />
doormat.<br />
"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.<br />
"Make Harry get it."<br />
"Get the mail, Harry."<br />
"Make Dudley get it."<br />
"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."<br />
Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things<br />
lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was<br />
vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a<br />
bill, and -- a letter for Harry.<br />
Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant<br />
elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who<br />
would? He had no friends, no other relatives -- he didn't belong to the<br />
library, so he'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet<br />
here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:<br />
Mr. H. Potter<br />
The Cupboard under the Stairs<br />
4 Privet Drive<br />
Little Whinging<br />
Surrey<br />
The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the<br />
address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp.<br />
Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple wax<br />
seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake<br />
surrounding a large letter H.<br />
"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you<br />
doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.<br />
Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter. He handed<br />
Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to<br />
open the yellow envelope.<br />
Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over<br />
the postcard.<br />
"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk. --."<br />
"Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Harry's got something!"<br />
Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter, which was written on the<br />
same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of<br />
his hand by Uncle Vernon.<br />
"That's mine!" said Harry, trying to snatch it back.<br />
"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open<br />
with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster<br />
than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds<br />
it was the grayish white of old porridge.<br />
"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.<br />
Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it<br />
high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first<br />
line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her<br />
throat and made a choking noise.<br />
"Vernon! Oh my goodness -- Vernon!"<br />
They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry and<br />
Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He<br />
gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.<br />
"I want to read that letter," he said loudly. want to read it," said<br />
Harry furiously, "as it's mine."<br />
"Get out, both of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back<br />
inside its envelope.<br />
Harry didn't move.<br />
<i>I WANT MY LETTER!</i>" he shouted.<br />
"Let me see it!" demanded Dudley.<br />
"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the<br />
scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the<br />
kitchen door behind them. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but<br />
silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry,<br />
his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at<br />
the crack between door and floor.<br />
"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the<br />
address -- how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think<br />
they're watching the house?"<br />
"Watching -- spying -- might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon<br />
wildly.<br />
"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't<br />
want --"<br />
Harry could see Uncle Vernon's shiny black shoes pacing up and down the<br />
kitchen.<br />
"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an<br />
answer... Yes, that's best... we won't do anything....<br />
"But --"<br />
"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took<br />
him in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"<br />
That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd<br />
never done before; he visited Harry in his cupboard.<br />
"Where's my letter?" said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed<br />
through the door. "Who's writing to me?"<br />
"No one. it was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly.<br />
"I have burned it."<br />
"It was not a mistake," said Harry angrily, "it had my cupboard on it."<br />
"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the<br />
ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a<br />
smile, which looked quite painful.<br />
"Er -- yes, Harry -- about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been<br />
thinking... you're really getting a bit big for it... we think it might<br />
be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom.<br />
"Why?" said Harry.<br />
"Don't ask questions!" snapped his uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs,<br />
now."<br />
The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt<br />
Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one<br />
where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things<br />
that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took Harry one trip<br />
upstairs to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room. He<br />
sat down on the bed and stared around him. Nearly everything in here was<br />
broken. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working<br />
tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbor's dog; in the<br />
corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he'd put his foot<br />
through when his favorite program had been canceled; there was a large<br />
birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school<br />
for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent<br />
because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They<br />
were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been<br />
touched.<br />
From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, I don't<br />
want him in there... I need that room... make him get out...."<br />
Harry sighed and stretched out on the bed. Yesterday he'd have given<br />
anything to be up here. Today he'd rather be back in his cupboard with<br />
that letter than up here without it.<br />
Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in<br />
shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been<br />
sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the<br />
greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back. Harry was<br />
thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing he'd opened the<br />
letter in the hall. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each<br />
other darkly.<br />
When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice<br />
to Harry, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with<br />
his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's<br />
another one! 'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive --'"<br />
With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the<br />
hall, Harry right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the<br />
ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact<br />
that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. After a<br />
minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the<br />
Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with<br />
Harry's letter clutched in his hand.<br />
"Go to your cupboard -- I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at Harry.<br />
"Dudley -- go -- just go."<br />
Harry walked round and round his new room. Someone knew he had moved out<br />
of his cupboard and they seemed to know he hadn't received his first<br />
letter. Surely that meant they'd try again? And this time he'd make sure<br />
they didn't fail. He had a plan.<br />
The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning. Harry<br />
turned it off quickly and dressed silently. He mustn't wake the<br />
Dursleys. He stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights.<br />
He was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and<br />
get the letters for number four first. His heart hammered as he crept<br />
across the dark hall toward the front door --<br />
Harry leapt into the air; he'd trodden on something big and squashy on<br />
the doormat -- something alive!<br />
Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Harry realized that the<br />
big, squashy something had been his uncle's face. Uncle Vernon had been<br />
lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making<br />
sure that Harry didn't do exactly what he'd been trying to do. He<br />
shouted at Harry for about half an hour and then told him to go and make<br />
a cup of tea. Harry shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the<br />
time he got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap.<br />
Harry could see three letters addressed in green ink.<br />
I want --" he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into<br />
pieces before his eyes. Uncle Vernon didnt go to work that day. He<br />
stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.<br />
"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if<br />
they can't deliver them they'll just give up."<br />
"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon."<br />
"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not<br />
like you and me," said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the<br />
piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.<br />
On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Harry. As they<br />
couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door,<br />
slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small<br />
window in the downstairs bathroom.<br />
Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got<br />
out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and<br />
back doors so no one could go out. He hummed "Tiptoe Through the Tulips"<br />
as he worked, and jumped at small noises.<br />
On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to<br />
Harry found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each<br />
of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt<br />
Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious<br />
telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone<br />
to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.<br />
"Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?" Dudley asked Harry in<br />
amazement.<br />
On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking<br />
tired and rather ill, but happy.<br />
"No post on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade<br />
on his newspapers, "no damn letters today --"<br />
Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught<br />
him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty<br />
letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys<br />
ducked, but Harry leapt into the air trying to catch one.<br />
"Out! OUT!"<br />
Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist and threw him into the hall.<br />
When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their<br />
faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters<br />
still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.<br />
"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling<br />
great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. I want you all back<br />
here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some<br />
clothes. No arguments!"<br />
He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared<br />
argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the<br />
boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway.<br />
Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the<br />
head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and<br />
computer in his sports bag.<br />
They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where they<br />
were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and<br />
drive in the opposite direction for a while. "Shake'em off... shake 'em<br />
off," he would mutter whenever he did this.<br />
They didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was<br />
howling. He'd never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he'd<br />
missed five television programs he'd wanted to see, and he'd never gone<br />
so long without blowing up an alien on his computer.<br />
Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the<br />
outskirts of a big city. Dudley and Harry shared a room with twin beds<br />
and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored but Harry stayed awake, sitting on<br />
the windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars and<br />
wondering....<br />
They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for<br />
breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the<br />
hotel came over to their table.<br />
"'Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? Only I got about an 'undred<br />
of these at the front desk."<br />
She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:<br />
<i><b>Mr. H. Potter</b></i><br />
<i><b>Room 17</b></i><br />
<i><b>Railview Hotel</b></i><br />
<i><b>Cokeworth</b></i><br />
Harry made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked his hand out<br />
of the way. The woman stared.<br />
"I'll take them," said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following<br />
her from the dining room.<br />
Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggested<br />
timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her. Exactly<br />
what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the<br />
middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in<br />
the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle<br />
of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of<br />
a multilevel parking garage.<br />
"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that<br />
afternoon. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside<br />
the car, and disappeared.<br />
It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dud ley<br />
sniveled.<br />
"It's Monday," he told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I<br />
want to stay somewhere with a television. "<br />
Monday. This reminded Harry of something. If it was Monday -- and you<br />
could usually count on Dudley to know the days the week, because of<br />
television -- then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Harry's eleventh birthday. Of<br />
course, his birthdays were never exactly fun -- last year, the Dursleys<br />
had given him a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks.<br />
Still, you weren't eleven every day.<br />
Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long,<br />
thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd<br />
bought.<br />
"Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!"<br />
It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what<br />
looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was<br />
the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was<br />
certain, there was no television in there.<br />
"Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his<br />
hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his<br />
boat!"<br />
A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather<br />
wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below<br />
them.<br />
"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!"<br />
It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their<br />
necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like<br />
hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding,<br />
led the way to the broken-down house.<br />
The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind<br />
whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was<br />
damp and empty. There were only two rooms.<br />
Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four<br />
bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked<br />
and shriveled up.<br />
"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully.<br />
He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance<br />
of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Harry privately<br />
agreed, though the thought didn't cheer him up at all.<br />
As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the<br />
high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the<br />
filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second<br />
room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle<br />
Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry was left to find<br />
the softest bit of floor he could and to curl up under the thinnest,<br />
most ragged blanket.<br />
The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry<br />
couldn't sleep. He shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable,<br />
his stomach rumbling with hunger. Dudley's snores were drowned by the<br />
low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of<br />
Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat<br />
wrist, told Harry he'd be eleven in ten minutes' time. He lay and<br />
watched his birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would<br />
remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now.<br />
Five minutes to go. Harry heard something creak outside. He hoped the<br />
roof wasn't going to fall in, although he might be warmer if it did.<br />
Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of<br />
letters when they got back that he'd be able to steal one somehow.<br />
Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like<br />
that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was<br />
the rock crumbling into the sea?<br />
One minute to go and he'd be eleven. Thirty seconds... twenty ... ten...<br />
nine -- maybe he'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him -- three... two...<br />
one...<br />
BOOM.<br />
The whole shack shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, staring at the<br />
door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
CHAPTER FOUR</h3>
<i><b>THE KEEPER OF THE KEYS</b></i><br />
BOOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake. "Where's the cannon?" he<br />
said stupidly.<br />
There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the<br />
room. He was holding a rifle in his hands -- now they knew what had been<br />
in the long, thin package he had brought with them.<br />
"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you -- I'm armed!"<br />
There was a pause. Then --<br />
SMASH!<br />
The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and<br />
with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.<br />
A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost<br />
completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled<br />
beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles<br />
under all the hair.<br />
The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just<br />
brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it<br />
easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a<br />
little. He turned to look at them all.<br />
"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy<br />
journey..."<br />
He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.<br />
"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.<br />
Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching,<br />
terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.<br />
"An' here's Harry!" said the giant.<br />
Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the<br />
beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.<br />
"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a<br />
lot like yet dad, but yeh've got yet mom's eyes."<br />
Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.<br />
I demand that you leave at once, sit!" he said. "You are breaking and<br />
entering!"<br />
"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over<br />
the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent<br />
it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it<br />
into a corner of the room.<br />
Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.<br />
"Anyway -- Harry," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a<br />
very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here -- I mighta sat on<br />
it at some point, but it'll taste all right."<br />
From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly<br />
squashed box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a<br />
large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Harry written on it in<br />
green icing.<br />
Harry looked up at the giant. He meant to say thank you, but the words<br />
got lost on the way to his mouth, and what he said instead was, "Who are<br />
you?"<br />
The giant chuckled.<br />
"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and<br />
Grounds at Hogwarts."<br />
He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry's whole arm.<br />
"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together.<br />
"I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."<br />
His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and<br />
he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he<br />
was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire<br />
there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Harry felt<br />
the warmth wash over him as though he'd sunk into a hot bath.<br />
The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and<br />
began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a<br />
copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several<br />
chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from<br />
before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and<br />
smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was<br />
working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt<br />
sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said<br />
sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."<br />
The giant chuckled darkly.<br />
"Yet great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don'<br />
worry."<br />
He passed the sausages to Harry, who was so hungry he had never tasted<br />
anything so wonderful, but he still couldn't take his eyes off the<br />
giant. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, he said,<br />
"I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are."<br />
The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his<br />
hand.<br />
"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm<br />
Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts -- yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course.<br />
"Er -- no," said Harry.<br />
Hagrid looked shocked.<br />
"Sorry," Harry said quickly.<br />
"Sony?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back<br />
into the shadows. "It' s them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't<br />
gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou'<br />
Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yet parents<br />
learned it all?"<br />
"All what?" asked Harry.<br />
"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"<br />
He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut.<br />
The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.<br />
"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that this boy --<br />
this boy! -- knows nothin' abou' -- about ANYTHING?"<br />
Harry thought this was going a bit far. He had been to school, after<br />
all, and his marks weren't bad.<br />
"I know some things," he said. "I can, you know, do math and stuff." But<br />
Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world, I mean. Your<br />
world. My world. Yer parents' world."<br />
"What world?"<br />
Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.<br />
"DURSLEY!" he boomed.<br />
Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded<br />
like "Mimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at Harry.<br />
"But yeh must know about yet mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're<br />
famous. You're famous."<br />
"What? My -- my mom and dad weren't famous, were they?"<br />
"Yeh don' know... yeh don' know..." Hagrid ran his fingers through his<br />
hair, fixing Harry with a bewildered stare.<br />
"Yeh don' know what yeh are?" he said finally.<br />
Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.<br />
"Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sit! I forbid you to tell the<br />
boy anything!"<br />
A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious<br />
look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled<br />
with rage.<br />
"You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore<br />
left fer him? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An'<br />
you've kept it from him all these years?"<br />
"Kept what from me?" said Harry eagerly.<br />
"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.<br />
Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.<br />
"Ah, go boil yet heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Harry -- yet a<br />
wizard."<br />
There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind<br />
could be heard.<br />
"-- a what?" gasped Harry.<br />
"A wizard, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which<br />
groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good'un, I'd say, once<br />
yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else<br />
would yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh read yer letter."<br />
Harry stretched out his hand at last to take the yellowish envelope,<br />
addressed in emerald green to Mr. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock,<br />
The Sea. He pulled out the letter and read:<br />
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY<br />
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE<br />
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme<br />
Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)<br />
Dear Mr. Potter,<br />
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts<br />
School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all<br />
necessary books and equipment.<br />
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.<br />
Yours sincerely,<br />
Minerva McGonagall,<br />
Deputy Headmistress<br />
Questions exploded inside Harry's head like fireworks and he couldn't<br />
decide which to ask first. After a few minutes he stammered, "What does<br />
it mean, they await my owl?"<br />
"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to<br />
his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet<br />
another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl -- a real, live,<br />
rather ruffled-looking owl -- a long quill, and a roll of parchment.<br />
With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harry could<br />
read upside down:<br />
Dear Professor Dumbledore,<br />
Given Harry his letter.<br />
Taking him to buy his things tomorrow.<br />
Weather's horrible. Hope you're Well.<br />
Hagrid<br />
Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its<br />
beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he<br />
came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the<br />
telephone.<br />
Harry realized his mouth was open and closed it quickly.<br />
"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still<br />
ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.<br />
"He's not going," he said.<br />
Hagrid grunted.<br />
"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him," he said.<br />
"A what?" said Harry, interested.<br />
"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call nonmagic folk like thern.<br />
An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I<br />
ever laid eyes on."<br />
"We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said<br />
Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of him! Wizard indeed!"<br />
"You knew?" said Harry. "You knew I'm a -- a wizard?"<br />
"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How<br />
could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a<br />
letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school-and came<br />
home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups<br />
into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was -- a freak!<br />
But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that,<br />
they were proud of having a witch in the family!"<br />
She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed<br />
she had been wanting to say all this for years.<br />
"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and<br />
had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange,<br />
just as -- as -- abnormal -- and then, if you please, she went and got<br />
herself blown up and we got landed with you!"<br />
Harry had gone very white. As soon as he found his voice he said, "Blown<br />
up? You told me they died in a car crash!"<br />
"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys<br />
scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an'<br />
James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter not knowin' his<br />
own story when every kid in our world knows his name!" "But why? What<br />
happened?" Harry asked urgently.<br />
The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious.<br />
"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no<br />
idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of<br />
yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harry, I don' know if I'm the right<br />
person ter tell yeh -- but someone 3 s gotta -- yeh can't go off ter<br />
Hogwarts not knowin'."<br />
He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.<br />
"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh -- mind, I can't<br />
tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it...."<br />
He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It<br />
begins, I suppose, with -- with a person called -- but it's incredible<br />
yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows --"<br />
"Who? "<br />
"Well -- I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."<br />
"Why not?"<br />
"Gulpin' gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is<br />
difficult. See, there was this wizard who went... bad. As bad as you<br />
could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was..."<br />
Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.<br />
"Could you write it down?" Harry suggested.<br />
"Nah -can't spell it. All right -- Voldemort. " Hagrid shuddered. "Don'<br />
make me say it again. Anyway, this -- this wizard, about twenty years<br />
ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too -- some were<br />
afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin'<br />
himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry. Didn't know who ter trust,<br />
didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches... terrible<br />
things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him --<br />
an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was<br />
Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of.<br />
Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway.<br />
"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew.<br />
Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why<br />
You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before... probably knew<br />
they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the<br />
Dark Side.<br />
"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em... maybe he just wanted 'em<br />
outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where<br />
you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old.<br />
He came ter yer house an' -- an' --"<br />
Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew<br />
his nose with a sound like a foghorn.<br />
"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad -- knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer<br />
people yeh couldn't find -- anyway..."<br />
"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then -- an' this is the real myst'ry of<br />
the thing -- he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of<br />
it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't<br />
do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no<br />
ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a Powerful, evil curse touches<br />
yeh -- took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even -- but it didn't<br />
work on you, an' that's why yer famous, Harry. No one ever lived after<br />
he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the<br />
best witches an' wizards of the age -- the McKinnons, the Bones, the<br />
Prewetts -- an' you was only a baby, an' you lived."<br />
Something very painful was going on in Harry's mind. As Hagrid's story<br />
came to a close, he saw again the blinding flash of green light, more<br />
clearly than he had ever remembered it before -- and he remembered<br />
something else, for the first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel<br />
laugh.<br />
Hagrid was watching him sadly.<br />
"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought<br />
yeh ter this lot..."<br />
"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Harry jumped; he had almost<br />
forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to<br />
have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were<br />
clenched.<br />
"Now, you listen here, boy," he snarled, "I accept there's something<br />
strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured<br />
-- and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no<br />
denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion --<br />
asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types --<br />
just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end --"<br />
But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink<br />
umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a<br />
sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley -I'm warning you -- one more<br />
word... "<br />
In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant,<br />
Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the<br />
wall and fell silent.<br />
"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on<br />
the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.<br />
Harry, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them.<br />
"But what happened to Vol--, sorry -- I mean, You-Know-Who?"<br />
"Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter<br />
kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see...<br />
he was gettin' more an' more powerful -- why'd he go?<br />
"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough<br />
human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his<br />
time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back<br />
ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don~ reckon they<br />
could've done if he was comin' back.<br />
"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers.<br />
Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Harry.<br />
There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on -- I dunno<br />
what it was, no one does -- but somethin' about you stumped him, all<br />
right."<br />
Hagrid looked at Harry with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but<br />
Harry, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had<br />
been a horrible mistake. A wizard? Him? How could he possibly be? He'd<br />
spent his life being clouted by Dudley, and bullied by Aunt Petunia and<br />
Uncle Vernon; if he was really a wizard, why hadn't they been turned<br />
into warty toads every time they'd tried to lock him in his cupboard? If<br />
he'd once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley<br />
had always been able to kick him around like a football?<br />
"Hagrid," he said quietly, "I think you must have made a mistake. I<br />
don't think I can be a wizard."<br />
To his surprise, Hagrid chuckled.<br />
"Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or<br />
angry?"<br />
Harry looked into the fire. Now he came to think about it... every odd<br />
thing that had ever made his aunt and uncle furious with him had<br />
happened when he, Harry, had been upset or angry... chased by Dudley's<br />
gang, he had somehow found himself out of their reach... dreading going<br />
to school with that ridiculous haircut, he'd managed to make it grow<br />
back... and the very last time Dudley had hit him, hadn't he got his<br />
revenge, without even realizing he was doing it? Hadn't he set a boa<br />
constrictor on him?<br />
Harry looked back at Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively<br />
beaming at him.<br />
"See?" said Hagrid. "Harry Potter, not a wizard -- you wait, you'll be<br />
right famous at Hogwarts."<br />
But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.<br />
"Haven't I told you he's not going?" he hissed. "He's going to Stonewall<br />
High and he'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and he needs<br />
all sorts of rubbish -- spell books and wands and --"<br />
"If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop him," growled<br />
Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter' s son goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad.<br />
His name's been down ever since he was born. He's off ter the finest<br />
school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and he<br />
won't know himself. He'll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a<br />
change, an' he'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had<br />
Albus Dumbled--"<br />
<i>"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM</i><br />
<i>MAGIC TRICKS!"</i><br />
yelled Uncle Vernon.<br />
But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled<br />
it over his head, "NEVER," he thundered, "- INSULT- ALBUS- DUMBLEDOREIN-<br />
FRONT- OF- ME!"<br />
He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley<br />
-- there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a<br />
sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with<br />
his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned<br />
his back on them, Harry saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in<br />
his trousers.<br />
Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other<br />
room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door<br />
behind them.<br />
Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.<br />
"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work<br />
anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like<br />
a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do."<br />
He cast a sideways look at Harry under his bushy eyebrows.<br />
"Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he<br />
said. "I'm -- er -- not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was<br />
allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff<br />
-- one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job<br />
"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry.<br />
"Oh, well -- I was at Hogwarts meself but I -- er -- got expelled, ter<br />
tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an'<br />
everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man,<br />
Dumbledore." "Why were you expelled?"<br />
"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid<br />
loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."<br />
He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry.<br />
"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I<br />
think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
CHAPTER FIVE</h3>
<i><b>DIAGON ALLEY</b></i><br />
Harry woke early the next morning. Although he could tell it was<br />
daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight.<br />
"It was a dream, he told himself firmly. "I dreamed a giant called<br />
Hagrid came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards. When I open<br />
my eyes I'll be at home in my cupboard."<br />
There was suddenly a loud tapping noise.<br />
And there's Aunt Petunia knocking on the door, Harry thought, his heart<br />
sinking. But he still didn't open his eyes. It had been such a good<br />
dream.<br />
Tap. Tap. Tap.<br />
"All right," Harry mumbled, "I'm getting up."<br />
He sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off him. The hut was full of<br />
sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed<br />
sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper<br />
held in its beak.<br />
Harry scrambled to his feet, so happy he felt as though a large balloon<br />
was swelling inside him. He went straight to the window and jerked it<br />
open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who<br />
didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to<br />
attack Hagrid's coat.<br />
"Don't do that."<br />
Harry tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak<br />
fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat.<br />
"Hagrid!" said Harry loudly. "There's an owl<br />
"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.<br />
"What?"<br />
"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets."<br />
Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets -- bunches of<br />
keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags...<br />
finally, Harry pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.<br />
"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.<br />
"Knuts?"<br />
"The little bronze ones."<br />
Harry counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg<br />
so Harry could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then<br />
he flew off through the open window.<br />
Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.<br />
"Best be Off, Harry, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy<br />
all yer stuff fer school."<br />
Harry was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them. He had just<br />
thought of something that made him feel as though the happy balloon<br />
inside him had got a puncture.<br />
"Um -- Hagrid?"<br />
"Mm?" said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots.<br />
"I haven't got any money -- and you heard Uncle Vernon last night ... he<br />
won't pay for me to go and learn magic."<br />
"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his<br />
head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"<br />
"But if their house was destroyed --"<br />
"They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is<br />
Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold -- an' I<br />
wouldn' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither."<br />
"Wizards have banks?"<br />
"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins."<br />
Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding.<br />
"Goblins?"<br />
"Yeah -- so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never<br />
mess with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer<br />
anything yeh want ter keep safe -- 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o'<br />
fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts<br />
business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do<br />
important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you gettin' things from Gringotts --<br />
knows he can trust me, see.<br />
"Got everythin'? Come on, then."<br />
Harry followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and<br />
the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was<br />
still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.<br />
"How did you get here?" Harry asked, looking around for another boat.<br />
"Flew," said Hagrid.<br />
"Flew?"<br />
"Yeah -- but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've<br />
got yeh."<br />
They settled down in the boat, Harry still staring at Hagrid, trying to<br />
imagine him flying.<br />
"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Harry another of<br />
his sideways looks. "If I was ter -- er -- speed things up a bit, would<br />
yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"<br />
"Of course not," said Harry, eager to see more magic. Hagrid pulled out<br />
the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and<br />
they sped off toward land.<br />
"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Harry asked.<br />
"Spells -- enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he<br />
spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the highsecurity vaults. And<br />
then yeh gotta find yer way -- Gringotts is hundreds of miles under<br />
London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter<br />
get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."<br />
Harry sat and thought about this while Hagrid read his newspaper, the<br />
Daily Prophet. Harry had learned from Uncle Vernon that people liked to<br />
be left alone while they did this, but it was very difficult, he'd never<br />
had so many questions in his life.<br />
"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning<br />
the page.<br />
"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked, before he could stop<br />
himself.<br />
"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, 0 '<br />
course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the<br />
job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls<br />
every morning, askin' fer advice."<br />
"But what does a Ministry of Magic do?"<br />
"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still<br />
witches an' wizards up an' down the country."<br />
"Why?"<br />
"Why? Blimey, Harry, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their<br />
problems. Nah, we're best left alone."<br />
At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid<br />
folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the<br />
street.<br />
Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town<br />
to the station. Harry couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as<br />
tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like<br />
parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Harry? Things these Muggles<br />
dream up, eh?"<br />
"Hagrid," said Harry, panting a bit as he ran to keep up, "did you say<br />
there are dragons at Gringotts?"<br />
"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."<br />
"You'd like one?"<br />
"Wanted one ever since I was a kid -- here we go."<br />
They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five<br />
minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he<br />
called it, gave the bills to Harry so he could buy their tickets.<br />
People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and<br />
sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.<br />
"Still got yer letter, Harry?" he asked as he counted stitches. Harry<br />
took the parchment envelope out of his pocket.<br />
"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."<br />
Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn't noticed the night<br />
before, and read:<br />
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY<br />
UNIFORM<br />
First-year students will require:<br />
<b><i>1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)</i></b><br />
<b><i>2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear</i></b><br />
<b><i>3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)</i></b><br />
<b><i>4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)</i></b><br />
Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags<br />
<b>COURSE BOOKS</b><br />
All students should have a copy of each of the following:<br />
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk<br />
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot<br />
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling<br />
A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic Switch<br />
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore<br />
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger<br />
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander<br />
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble<br />
<b>OTHER EQUIPMENT</b><br />
<b><i>wand cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) set</i></b><br />
<b><i>glass or crystal phials</i></b><br />
<b><i>telescope set</i></b><br />
<b><i>brass scales</i></b><br />
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad<br />
<b><i>PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED</i></b><br />
<b><i>THEIR OWN</i></b><br />
<b><i>BROOMSTICKS</i></b><br />
"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry wondered aloud.<br />
"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.<br />
Harry had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know<br />
where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an<br />
ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and<br />
complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.<br />
"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they<br />
climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined<br />
with shops.<br />
Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry had to do<br />
was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores,<br />
hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it<br />
could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of<br />
ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles<br />
beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and<br />
broomsticks? Might this not all be some huge joke that the Dursleys had<br />
cooked up? If Harry hadn't known that the Dursleys had no sense of<br />
humor, he might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything<br />
Hagrid had told him so far was unbelievable, Harry couldn't help<br />
trusting him.<br />
"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a<br />
famous place."<br />
It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out,<br />
Harry wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't<br />
glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the<br />
record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at<br />
all. In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he and<br />
Hagrid could see it. Before he could mention this, Hagrid had steered<br />
him inside.<br />
For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were<br />
sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was<br />
smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old<br />
bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The<br />
low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know<br />
Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a<br />
glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"<br />
"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great<br />
hand on Harry's shoulder and making Harry's knees buckle.<br />
"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry, "is this -- can this<br />
be --?"<br />
The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.<br />
"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter... what an<br />
honor."<br />
He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his<br />
hand, tears in his eyes.<br />
"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."<br />
Harry didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old<br />
woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out.<br />
Hagrid was beaming.<br />
Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry<br />
found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.<br />
"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."<br />
"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."<br />
"Always wanted to shake your hand -- I'm all of a flutter."<br />
"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus<br />
Diggle."<br />
"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off<br />
in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."<br />
"He remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did<br />
you hear that? He remembers me!" Harry shook hands again and again --<br />
Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.<br />
A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes<br />
was twitching.<br />
"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be<br />
one of your teachers at Hogwarts."<br />
"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand,<br />
"c-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you."<br />
"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"<br />
"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as<br />
though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh,<br />
P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your<br />
equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires,<br />
m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.<br />
But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. It<br />
took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid<br />
managed to make himself heard over the babble.<br />
"Must get on -- lots ter buy. Come on, Harry."<br />
Doris Crockford shook Harry's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them<br />
through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was<br />
nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.<br />
Hagrid grinned at Harry.<br />
"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell<br />
was tremblin' ter meet yeh -- mind you, he's usually tremblin'."<br />
"Is he always that nervous?"<br />
"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was<br />
studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand<br />
experience.... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there<br />
was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag -- never been the same since.<br />
Scared of the students, scared of his own subject now, where's me<br />
umbrella?"<br />
Vampires? Hags? Harry's head was swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was<br />
counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.<br />
"Three up... two across he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harry."<br />
He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.<br />
The brick he had touched quivered -- it wriggled -- in the middle, a<br />
small hole appeared -- it grew wider and wider -- a second later they<br />
were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a<br />
cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.<br />
"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."<br />
He grinned at Harry's amazement. They stepped through the archway. Harry<br />
looked quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly<br />
back into solid wall.<br />
The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop.<br />
Cauldrons -- All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver -- Self-Stirring<br />
-- Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.<br />
"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money<br />
first."<br />
Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every<br />
direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at<br />
once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their<br />
shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as<br />
they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're<br />
mad...."<br />
A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl<br />
Emporium -- Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of<br />
about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with<br />
broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus<br />
Two Thousand -- fastest ever --" There were shops selling robes, shops<br />
selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen<br />
before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes,<br />
tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion<br />
bottles, globes of the moon....<br />
"Gringotts," said Hagrid.<br />
They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other<br />
little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a<br />
uniform of scarlet and gold, was -<br />
"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white<br />
stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry.<br />
He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very<br />
long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were<br />
facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved<br />
upon them:<br />
Enter, stranger, but take heed<br />
Of what awaits the sin of greed,<br />
For those who take, but do not earn,<br />
Must pay most dearly in their turn.<br />
So if you seek beneath our floors<br />
A treasure that was never yours,<br />
Thief, you have been warned, beware<br />
Of finding more than treasure there.<br />
"Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.<br />
A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a<br />
vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high<br />
stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing<br />
coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses.<br />
There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more<br />
goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and Harry made<br />
for the counter.<br />
"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money<br />
outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe."<br />
"You have his key, Sir?"<br />
"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his<br />
pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits<br />
over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry<br />
watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as<br />
glowing coals.<br />
"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.<br />
The goblin looked at it closely.<br />
"That seems to be in order."<br />
"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid<br />
importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the YouKnow-What in<br />
vault seven hundred and thirteen."<br />
The goblin read the letter carefully.<br />
"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have Someone<br />
take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"<br />
Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog<br />
biscuits back inside his pockets, he and Harry followed Griphook toward<br />
one of the doors leading off the hall.<br />
"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry<br />
asked.<br />
"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts<br />
business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh<br />
that."<br />
Griphook held the door open for them. Harry, who had expected more<br />
marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with<br />
flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little<br />
railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came<br />
hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in -- Hagrid with some<br />
difficulty -- and were off.<br />
At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry<br />
tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left,<br />
but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way,<br />
because Griphook wasn't steering.<br />
Harry's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them<br />
wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a<br />
passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late - -<br />
they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge<br />
stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.<br />
I never know," Harry called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart,<br />
"what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"<br />
"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me questions<br />
just now, I think I'm gonna be sick."<br />
He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small<br />
door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the<br />
wall to stop his knees from trembling.<br />
Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and<br />
as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns<br />
of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.<br />
"All yours," smiled Hagrid.<br />
All Harry's -- it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about<br />
this or they'd have had it from him faster than blinking. How often had<br />
they complained how much Harry cost them to keep? And all the time there<br />
had been a small fortune belonging to him, buried deep under London.<br />
Hagrid helped Harry pile some of it into a bag.<br />
"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to<br />
a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right,<br />
that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe<br />
for yeh." He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now,<br />
please, and can we go more slowly?"<br />
"One speed only," said Griphook.<br />
They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became<br />
colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went<br />
rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to<br />
try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and<br />
pulled him back by the scruff of his neck.<br />
Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.<br />
"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with<br />
one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.<br />
"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through<br />
the door and trapped in there," said Griphook.<br />
"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harry asked.<br />
"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.<br />
Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault,<br />
Harry was sure, and he leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous<br />
jewels at the very least -- but at first he thought it was empty. Then<br />
he noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on<br />
the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Harry<br />
longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.<br />
"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way<br />
back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid.<br />
One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside<br />
Gringotts. Harry didn't know where to run first now that he had a bag<br />
full of money. He didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a<br />
pound to know that he was holding more money than he'd had in his whole<br />
life -- more money than even Dudley had ever had.<br />
"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam<br />
Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I<br />
slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them<br />
Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Harry entered Madam<br />
Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous.<br />
Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.<br />
"Hogwarts, clear?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot<br />
here -- another young man being fitted up just now, in fact. "<br />
In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on<br />
a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam<br />
Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him) slipped a long robe over his<br />
head, and began to pin it to the right length.<br />
"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"<br />
"Yes," said Harry.<br />
"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street<br />
looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then<br />
I'm going to drag them off to took at racing brooms. I don't see why<br />
first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting<br />
me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."<br />
Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley.<br />
"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.<br />
"No," said Harry.<br />
"Play Quidditch at all?"<br />
"No," Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.<br />
"I do -- Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my<br />
house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"<br />
"No," said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute.<br />
"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know<br />
I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been -- imagine being in<br />
Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" "Mmm," said Harry, wishing<br />
he could say something a bit more interesting.<br />
"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the<br />
front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing<br />
at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.<br />
"That's Hagrid," said Harry, pleased to know something the boy didn't.<br />
"He works at Hogwarts."<br />
"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't<br />
he?"<br />
"He's the gamekeeper," said Harry. He was liking the boy less and less<br />
every second.<br />
"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage -- lives in a hut on the<br />
school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic,<br />
and ends up setting fire to his bed."<br />
"I think he's brilliant," said Harry coldly.<br />
"Do you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where<br />
are your parents?"<br />
"They're dead," said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like going into<br />
the matter with this boy.<br />
"Oh, sorry," said the other,. not sounding sorry at all. "But they were<br />
our kind, weren't they?"<br />
"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."<br />
"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're<br />
just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some<br />
of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter,<br />
imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families.<br />
What's your surname, anyway?"<br />
But before Harry could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my<br />
dear," and Harry, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy,<br />
hopped down from the footstool.<br />
"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling boy.<br />
Harry was rather quiet as he ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought him<br />
(chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts).<br />
"What's up?" said Hagrid.<br />
"Nothing," Harry lied. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harry<br />
cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed color as you<br />
wrote. When they had left the shop, he said, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"<br />
"Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know -- not knowin'<br />
about Quidditch!"<br />
"Don't make me feel worse," said Harry. He told Hagrid about the pate<br />
boy in Madam Malkin's.<br />
"--and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed<br />
in."<br />
"Yer not from a Muggle family. If he'd known who yeh were -- he's grown<br />
up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what<br />
everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what<br />
does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones<br />
with magic in 'em in a long line 0' Muggles -- look at yer mum! Look<br />
what she had fer a sister!"<br />
"So what is Quidditch?"<br />
"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like -- like soccer in the Muggle<br />
world -- everyone follows Quidditch -- played up in the air on<br />
broomsticks and there's four balls -- sorta hard ter explain the rules."<br />
"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"<br />
"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o'<br />
duffers, but --"<br />
"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff" said Harry gloomily.<br />
"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a<br />
single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin.<br />
You-Know-Who was one."<br />
"Vol-, sorry - You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"<br />
"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid.<br />
They bought Harry's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts<br />
where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as<br />
paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in<br />
covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with<br />
nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have<br />
been wild to get his hands on some of these. Hagrid almost had to drag<br />
Harry away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and<br />
Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs,<br />
Tongue- Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.<br />
"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley."<br />
"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the<br />
Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said Hagrid. "An'<br />
anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more<br />
study before yeh get ter that level."<br />
Hagrid wouldn't let Harry buy a solid gold cauldron, either ("It says<br />
pewter on yer list"), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing<br />
potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited<br />
the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible<br />
smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff<br />
stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined<br />
the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung<br />
from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a<br />
supply of some basic potion ingredients for Harry, Harry himself<br />
examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule,<br />
glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).<br />
Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry's list again.<br />
"Just yer wand left - A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday<br />
present."<br />
Harry felt himself go red.<br />
"You don't have to --"<br />
"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad,<br />
toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at - an' I don'<br />
like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want<br />
owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."<br />
Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been<br />
dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry now<br />
carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with<br />
her head under her wing. He couldn't stop stammering his thanks,<br />
sounding just like Professor Quirrell.<br />
"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta<br />
presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now - only place fer<br />
wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."<br />
A magic wand... this was what Harry had been really looking forward to.<br />
The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door<br />
read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay<br />
on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.<br />
A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped<br />
inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair<br />
that Hagrid sat on to wait. Harry felt strangely as though he had<br />
entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that<br />
had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow<br />
boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of<br />
his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle<br />
with some secret magic.<br />
"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped. Hagrid must have<br />
jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly<br />
off the spindly chair.<br />
An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like<br />
moons through the gloom of the shop.<br />
"Hello," said Harry awkwardly.<br />
"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon.<br />
Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It<br />
seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten<br />
and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm<br />
work."<br />
Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those<br />
silvery eyes were a bit creepy.<br />
"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches.<br />
Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I<br />
say your father favored it -- it's really the wand that chooses the<br />
wizard, of course."<br />
Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to<br />
nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.<br />
"And that's where..."<br />
Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a<br />
long, white finger.<br />
"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly.<br />
"Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in<br />
the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into<br />
the world to do...."<br />
He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, spotted Hagrid.<br />
"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again.... Oak, sixteen<br />
inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"<br />
"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.<br />
"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got<br />
expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.<br />
"Er -- yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still<br />
got the pieces, though," he added brightly.<br />
"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.<br />
"Oh, no, sit," said Hagrid quickly. Harry noticed he gripped his pink<br />
umbrella very tightly as he spoke.<br />
"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now<br />
-- Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver<br />
markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"<br />
"Er -- well, I'm right-handed," said Harry.<br />
"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to<br />
finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round<br />
his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of<br />
a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix<br />
tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands<br />
are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite<br />
the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with<br />
another wizard's wand."<br />
Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring<br />
between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was<br />
flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.<br />
"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on<br />
the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon<br />
heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a<br />
wave."<br />
Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr.<br />
Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.<br />
"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try --"<br />
Harry tried -- but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was<br />
snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.<br />
"No, no -here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy.<br />
Go on, go on, try it out."<br />
Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting<br />
for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the<br />
spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the<br />
shelves, the happier he seemed to become.<br />
"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here<br />
somewhere -- I wonder, now - - yes, why not -- unusual combination --<br />
holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."<br />
Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised<br />
the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air<br />
and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework,<br />
throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and<br />
clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very<br />
good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious... "<br />
He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper,<br />
still muttering, "Curious... curious..<br />
"Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?"<br />
Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.<br />
"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It<br />
so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave<br />
another feather -- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you<br />
should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave<br />
you that scar."<br />
Harry swallowed.<br />
"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things<br />
happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember.... I think we must expect<br />
great things from you, Mr. Potter.... After all, He-<br />
Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things -- terrible, yes, but great."<br />
Harry shivered. He wasn't sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. He paid<br />
seven gold Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his<br />
shop.<br />
The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Harry and Hagrid made<br />
their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through<br />
the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Harry didn't speak at all as they walked<br />
down the road; he didn't even notice how much people were gawking at<br />
them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped<br />
packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Harry's lap. Up<br />
another escalator, out into Paddington station; Harry only realized<br />
where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder.<br />
"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," he said.<br />
He bought Harry a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat<br />
them. Harry kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow.<br />
"You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid.<br />
Harry wasn't sure he could explain. He'd just had the best birthday of<br />
his life -- and yet -- he chewed his hamburger, trying to find the<br />
words.<br />
"Everyone thinks I'm special," he said at last. "All those people in the<br />
Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander... but I don't know<br />
anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm<br />
famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what<br />
happened when Vol-, sorry -- I mean, the night my parents died."<br />
Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he<br />
wore a very kind smile.<br />
"Don' you worry, Harry. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the<br />
beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. just be yerself. I know it's<br />
hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a<br />
great time at Hogwarts -- I did -- still do, 'smatter of fact."<br />
Hagrid helped Harry on to the train that would take him back to the<br />
Dursleys, then handed him an envelope.<br />
"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts, " he said. "First o' September -- King's Cross<br />
-- it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a<br />
letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me.... See yeh soon,<br />
Harry."<br />
The train pulled out of the station. Harry wanted to watch Hagrid until<br />
he was out of sight; he rose in his seat and pressed his nose against<br />
the window, but he blinked and Hagrid had gone.<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<i><b>CHAPTER SIX</b></i></h3>
<b><i>THE JOURNEY FROM PLATFORM NINE AND THREE-QUARTERS</i></b><br />
Harry's last month with the Dursleys wasn't fun. True, Dudley was now so<br />
scared of Harry he wouldn't stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia<br />
and Uncle Vernon didn't shut Harry in his cupboard, force him to do<br />
anything, or shout at him -- in fact, they didn't speak to him at all.<br />
Half terrified, half furious, they acted as though any chair with Harry<br />
in it were empty. Although this was an improvement in many ways, it did<br />
become a bit depressing after a while.<br />
Harry kept to his room, with his new owl for company. He had decided to<br />
call her Hedwig, a name he had found in A History of Magic. His school<br />
books were very interesting. He lay on his bed reading late into the<br />
night, Hedwig swooping in and out of the open window as she pleased. It<br />
was lucky that Aunt Petunia didn't come in to vacuum anymore, because<br />
Hedwig kept bringing back dead mice. Every night before he went to<br />
sleep, Harry ticked off another day on the piece of paper he had pinned<br />
to the wall, counting down to September the first.<br />
On the last day of August he thought he'd better speak to his aunt and<br />
uncle about getting to King's Cross station the next day, so he went<br />
down to the living room where they were watching a quiz show on<br />
television. He cleared his throat to let them know he was there, and<br />
Dudley screamed and ran from the room.<br />
"Er -- Uncle Vernon?"<br />
Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening.<br />
"Er -- I need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to -- to go to Hogwarts."<br />
Uncle Vernon grunted again.<br />
"Would it be all right if you gave me a lift?"<br />
Grunt. Harry supposed that meant yes.<br />
"Thank you."<br />
He was about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke.<br />
"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got<br />
punctures, have they?"<br />
Harry didn't say anything.<br />
"Where is this school, anyway?"<br />
"I don't know," said Harry, realizing this for the first time. He pulled<br />
the ticket Hagrid had given him out of his pocket.<br />
"I just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven<br />
o'clock," he read.<br />
His aunt and uncle stared.<br />
"Platform what?"<br />
"Nine and three-quarters."<br />
"Don't talk rubbish," said Uncle Vernon. "There is no platform nine and<br />
three-quarters."<br />
"It's on my ticket."<br />
"Barking," said Uncle Vernon, "howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see.<br />
You just wait. All right, we'll take you to King's Cross. We're going up<br />
to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't bother."<br />
"Why are you going to London?" Harry asked, trying to keep things<br />
friendly.<br />
"Taking Dudley to the hospital," growled Uncle Vernon. "Got to have that<br />
ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings."<br />
Harry woke at five o'clock the next morning and was too excited and<br />
nervous to go back to sleep. He got up and pulled on his jeans because<br />
he didn't want to walk into the station in his wizard's robes -- he'd<br />
change on the train. He checked his Hogwarts list yet again to make sure<br />
he had everything he needed, saw that Hedwig was shut safely in her<br />
cage, and then paced the room, waiting for the Dursleys to get up. Two<br />
hours later, Harry's huge, heavy trunk had been loaded into the<br />
Dursleys' car, Aunt Petunia had talked Dudley into sitting next to<br />
Harry, and they had set off.<br />
They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped Harry's<br />
trunk onto a cart and wheeled it into the station for him. Harry thought<br />
this was strangely kind until Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the<br />
platforms with a nasty grin on his face.<br />
"Well, there you are, boy. Platform nine -- platform ten. Your platform<br />
should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it<br />
yet, do they?"<br />
He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over<br />
one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and<br />
in the middle, nothing at all.<br />
"Have a good term," said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He<br />
left without another word. Harry turned and saw the Dursleys drive away.<br />
All three of them were laughing. Harry's mouth went rather dry. What on<br />
earth was he going to do? He was starting to attract a lot of funny<br />
looks, because of Hedwig. He'd have to ask someone.<br />
He stopped a passing guard, but didn't dare mention platform nine and<br />
three-quarters. The guard had never heard of Hogwarts and when Harry<br />
couldn't even tell him what part of the country it was in, he started to<br />
get annoyed, as though Harry was being stupid on purpose. Getting<br />
desperate, Harry asked for the train that left at eleven o'clock, but<br />
the guard said there wasn't one. In the end the guard strode away,<br />
muttering about time wasters. Harry was now trying hard not to panic.<br />
According to the large clock over the arrivals board, he had ten minutes<br />
left to get on the train to Hogwarts and he had no idea how to do it; he<br />
was stranded in the middle of a station with a trunk he could hardly<br />
lift, a pocket full of wizard money, and a large owl.<br />
Hagrid must have forgotten to tell him something you had to do, like<br />
tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. He<br />
wondered if he should get out his wand and start tapping the ticket<br />
inspector's stand between platforms nine and ten.<br />
At that moment a group of people passed just behind him and he caught a<br />
few words of what they were saying.<br />
"-- packed with Muggles, of course --"<br />
Harry swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four<br />
boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like<br />
Harry's in front of him -- and they had an owl.<br />
Heart hammering, Harry pushed his cart after them. They stopped and so<br />
did he, just near enough to hear what they were saying.<br />
"Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.<br />
"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was<br />
holding her hand, "Mom, can't I go... "<br />
"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go<br />
first."<br />
What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten.<br />
Harry watched, careful not to blink in case he missed it -- but just as<br />
the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large<br />
crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last<br />
backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.<br />
"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.<br />
"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call<br />
yourself our mother? CarA you tell I'm George?"<br />
"Sorry, George, dear."<br />
"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His twin called<br />
after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later,<br />
he had gone -- but how had he done it?<br />
Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier he was<br />
almost there -- and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.<br />
There was nothing else for it.<br />
"Excuse me," Harry said to the plump woman.<br />
"Hello, dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."<br />
She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and<br />
gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.<br />
"Yes," said Harry. "The thing is -- the thing is, I don't know how to<br />
--"<br />
"How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly, and Harry nodded.<br />
"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the<br />
barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared<br />
you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a<br />
run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."<br />
"Er -- okay," said Harry.<br />
He pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very<br />
solid.<br />
He started to walk toward it. People jostled him on their way to<br />
platforms nine and ten. Harry walked more quickly. He was going to smash<br />
right into that barrier and then he'd be in trouble -- leaning forward<br />
on his cart, he broke into a heavy run -- the barrier was coming nearer<br />
and nearer -- he wouldn't be able to stop -- the cart was out of control<br />
-- he was a foot away -- he closed his eyes ready for the crash --<br />
It didn't come... he kept on running... he opened his eyes. A scarlet<br />
steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign<br />
overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven O'clock. Harry looked behind him<br />
and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the<br />
words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it, He had done it.<br />
Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd,<br />
while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls<br />
hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and<br />
the scraping of heavy trunks.<br />
The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging<br />
out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats.<br />
Harry pushed his cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat.<br />
He passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad<br />
again."<br />
"Oh, Neville," he heard the old woman sigh.<br />
A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.<br />
"Give us a look, Lee, go on."<br />
The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him<br />
shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.<br />
Harry pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty compartment<br />
near the end of the train. He put Hedwig inside first and then started<br />
to shove and heave his trunk toward the train door. He tried to lift it<br />
up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it<br />
painfully on his foot.<br />
"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins he'd followed through<br />
the barrier.<br />
"Yes, please," Harry panted.<br />
"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"<br />
With the twins' help, Harry's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner<br />
of the compartment.<br />
"Thanks," said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.<br />
"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry's<br />
lightning scar.<br />
"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you<br />
"He is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Harry.<br />
"What?" said Harry.<br />
"Harry Potter, "chorused the twins.<br />
"Oh, him," said Harry. "I mean, yes, I am."<br />
The two boys gawked at him, and Harry felt himself turning red. Then, to<br />
his relief, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.<br />
"Fred? George? Are you there?"<br />
"Coming, Mom."<br />
With a last look at Harry, the twins hopped off the train.<br />
Harry sat down next to the window where, half hidden, he could watch the<br />
red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Their<br />
mother had just taken out her handkerchief.<br />
"Ron, you've got something on your nose."<br />
The youngest boy tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and<br />
began rubbing the end of his nose.<br />
"Mom -- geroff" He wriggled free.<br />
"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" said one of the<br />
twins.<br />
"Shut up," said Ron.<br />
"Where's Percy?" said their mother.<br />
"He's coming now."<br />
The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his<br />
billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Harry noticed a shiny silver badge<br />
on his chest with the letter P on it.<br />
"Can't stay long, Mother," he said. "I'm up front, the prefects have got<br />
two compartments to themselves --"<br />
"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" said one of the twins, with an air of<br />
great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."<br />
"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the<br />
other twin. "Once --"<br />
"Or twice --"<br />
"A minute --"<br />
"All summer --"<br />
"Oh, shut up," said Percy the Prefect.<br />
"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" said one of the twins.<br />
"Because he's a prefect," said their mother fondly. "All right, dear,<br />
well, have a good term -- send me an owl when you get there."<br />
She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins.<br />
"Now, you two -- this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl<br />
telling me you've -- you've blown up a toilet or --"<br />
"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."<br />
"Great idea though, thanks, Mom."<br />
"It's not funny. And look after Ron."<br />
"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."<br />
"Shut up," said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already<br />
and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.<br />
"Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"<br />
Harry leaned back quickly so they couldn't see him looking.<br />
"You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who<br />
he is?"<br />
"Who?"<br />
"Harry Potter!"<br />
Harry heard the little girl's voice.<br />
"Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see him, Mom, eh please...."<br />
"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you<br />
goggle at in a zoo. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?"<br />
"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there - like lightning."<br />
"Poor dear - no wonder he was alone, I wondered. He was ever so polite<br />
when he asked how to get onto the platform."<br />
"Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks<br />
like?"<br />
Their mother suddenly became very stern.<br />
"I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though he needs<br />
reminding of that on his first day at school."<br />
"All right, keep your hair on."<br />
A whistle sounded.<br />
"Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the<br />
train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and<br />
their younger sister began to cry.<br />
"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls."<br />
"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."<br />
"George!"<br />
"Only joking, Mom."<br />
The train began to move. Harry saw the boys' mother waving and their<br />
sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train<br />
until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved.<br />
Harry watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the<br />
corner. Houses flashed past the window. Harry felt a great leap of<br />
excitement. He didn't know what he was going to but it had to be better<br />
than what he was leaving behind.<br />
The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy<br />
came in.<br />
"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry.<br />
"Everywhere else is full."<br />
Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and then<br />
looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn't looked. Harry saw<br />
he still had a black mark on his nose.<br />
"Hey, Ron."<br />
The twins were back.<br />
"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train -- Lee Jordan's got a<br />
giant tarantula down there."<br />
"Right," mumbled Ron.<br />
"Harry," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and<br />
George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then.<br />
"Bye," said Harry and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut<br />
behind them.<br />
"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out.<br />
Harry nodded.<br />
"Oh -well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said<br />
Ron. "And have you really got -- you know..."<br />
He pointed at Harry's forehead.<br />
Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared.<br />
"So that's where You-Know-Who<br />
"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."<br />
"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.<br />
"Well -- I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."<br />
"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then, as<br />
though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out<br />
of the window again.<br />
"Are all your family wizards?" asked Harry, who found Ron just as<br />
interesting as Ron found him.<br />
"Er -- Yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mom's got a second cousin<br />
who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."<br />
"So you must know loads of magic already."<br />
The Weasleys were clearly one of those old wizarding families the pale<br />
boy in Diagon Alley had talked about.<br />
"I heard you went to live with Muggles," said Ron. "What are they like?"<br />
"Horrible -well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are,<br />
though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."<br />
"Five," said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth<br />
in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up<br />
to. Bill and Charlie have already left -- Bill was head boy and Charlie<br />
was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess<br />
around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks<br />
they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others,<br />
but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get<br />
anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes,<br />
Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."<br />
Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was<br />
asleep.<br />
"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy<br />
got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff<br />
-- I mean, I got Scabbers instead."<br />
Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he'd said too much, because he<br />
went back to staring out of the window.<br />
Harry didn't think there was anything wrong with not being able to<br />
afford an owl. After all, he'd never had any money in his life until a<br />
month ago, and he told Ron so, all about having to wear Dudley's old<br />
clothes and never getting proper birthday presents. This seemed to cheer<br />
Ron up.<br />
"... and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about be ing a<br />
wizard or about my parents or Voldemort"<br />
Ron gasped.<br />
"What?" said Harry.<br />
"You said You-Know-Who's name!" said Ron, sounding both shocked and<br />
impressed. "I'd have thought you, of all people --"<br />
"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," said Harry, I<br />
just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to<br />
learn.... I bet," he added, voicing for the first time something that<br />
had been worrying him a lot lately, "I bet I'm the worst in the class."<br />
"You won't be. There's loads of people who come from Muggle families and<br />
they learn quick enough."<br />
While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London.<br />
Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were<br />
quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past.<br />
Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the<br />
corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said,<br />
"Anything off the cart, dears?"<br />
Harry, who hadn't had any breakfast, leapt to his feet, but Ron's ears<br />
went pink again and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. Harry went<br />
out into the corridor.<br />
He had never had any money for candy with the Dursleys, and now that he<br />
had pockets rattling with gold and silver he was ready to buy as many<br />
Mars Bars as he could carry -- but the woman didn't have Mars Bars. What<br />
she did have were Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best<br />
Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs. Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice<br />
Wands, and a number of other strange things Harry had never seen in his<br />
life. Not wanting to miss anything, he got some of everything and paid<br />
the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.<br />
Ron stared as Harry brought it all back in to the compartment and tipped<br />
it onto an empty seat.<br />
"Hungry, are you?"<br />
"Starving," said Harry, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty.<br />
Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four<br />
sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always<br />
forgets I don't like corned beef."<br />
"Swap you for one of these," said Harry, holding up a pasty. "Go on --"<br />
"You don't want this, it's all dry," said Ron. "She hasn't got much<br />
time," he added quickly, "you know, with five of us."<br />
"Go on, have a pasty," said Harry, who had never had anything to share<br />
before or, indeed, anyone to share it with. It was a nice feeling,<br />
sitting there with Ron, eating their way through all Harry's pasties,<br />
cakes, and candies (the sandwiches lay forgotten).<br />
"What are these?" Harry asked Ron, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs.<br />
"They're not really frogs, are they?" He was starting to feel that<br />
nothing would surprise him.<br />
"No," said Ron. "But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."<br />
"What?"<br />
"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know -- Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside<br />
them, you know, to collect -- famous witches and wizards. I've got about<br />
five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."<br />
Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a<br />
man's face. He wore half- moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and<br />
flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the<br />
name Albus Dumbledore.<br />
"So this is Dumbledore!" said Harry.<br />
"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron. "Can I have a<br />
frog? I might get Agrippa -- thanks<br />
Harry turned over his card and read:<br />
ALBUS DUMBLEDORE<br />
CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS<br />
Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is<br />
particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in<br />
1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his<br />
work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore<br />
enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.<br />
Harry turned the card back over and saw, to his astonishment, that<br />
Dumbledore's face had disappeared.<br />
"He's gone!"<br />
"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be<br />
back. No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her... do you<br />
want it? You can start collecting."<br />
Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be<br />
unwrapped.<br />
"Help yourself," said Harry. "But in, you know, the Muggle world, people<br />
just stay put in photos."<br />
"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed. "weird!"<br />
Harry stared as Dumbledore sidled back into the picture on his card and<br />
gave him a small smile. Ron was more interested in eating the frogs than<br />
looking at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards, but Harry couldn't keep<br />
his eyes off them. Soon he had not only Dumbledore and Morgana, but<br />
Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin.<br />
He finally tore his eyes away from the druidess Cliodna, who was<br />
scratching her nose, to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.<br />
"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned Harry. "When they say<br />
every flavor, they mean every flavor -- you know, you get all the<br />
ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and mar- malade, but then<br />
you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a boogerflavored<br />
one once."<br />
Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a<br />
corner.<br />
"Bleaaargh -- see? Sprouts."<br />
They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Harry got toast,<br />
coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was<br />
even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny gray one Ron wouldn't<br />
touch, which turned out to be pepper.<br />
The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat<br />
fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green<br />
hills.<br />
There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced<br />
boy Harry had passed on platform nine and threequarters came in. He<br />
looked tearful.<br />
"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"<br />
When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting<br />
away from me!"<br />
"He'll turn up," said Harry.<br />
"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him..."<br />
He left.<br />
"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd<br />
lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't<br />
talk."<br />
The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.<br />
"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in<br />
disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more<br />
interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..."<br />
He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking<br />
wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the<br />
end.<br />
"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway<br />
He had just raised his 'wand when the compartment door slid open again.<br />
The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was<br />
already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.<br />
"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy<br />
sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.<br />
"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl<br />
wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.<br />
"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."<br />
She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.<br />
"Er -- all right."<br />
He cleared his throat.<br />
"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."<br />
He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast<br />
asleep.<br />
"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very<br />
good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's<br />
all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such<br />
a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I<br />
mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard --<br />
I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it<br />
will be enough -- I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you.<br />
She said all this very fast.<br />
Harry looked at Ron, and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he<br />
hadn't learned all the course books by heart either.<br />
"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.<br />
"Harry Potter," said Harry.<br />
"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course -- I<br />
got a few extra books. for background reading, and you're in Modern<br />
Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great<br />
Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.<br />
"Am I?" said Harry, feeling dazed.<br />
"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it<br />
was me," said Hermione. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in?<br />
I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far<br />
the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw<br />
wouldn't be too bad.... Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's<br />
toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there<br />
soon."<br />
And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.<br />
"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his<br />
wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell -- George gave it to me, bet he<br />
knew it was a dud."<br />
"What house are your brothers in?" asked Harry.<br />
"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. "Mom<br />
and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I<br />
don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in<br />
Slytherin."<br />
"That's the house Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who was in?"<br />
"Yeah," said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.<br />
"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers' whiskers are a bit lighter,"<br />
said Harry, trying to take Ron's mind off houses. "So what do your<br />
oldest brothers do now that they've left, anyway?"<br />
Harry was wondering what a wizard did once he'd finished school.<br />
"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing<br />
something for Gringotts," said Ron. "Did you hear about<br />
Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you<br />
get that with the Muggles -- someone tried to rob a high security<br />
vault."<br />
Harry stared.<br />
"Really? What happened to them?"<br />
"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My<br />
dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts,<br />
but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course,<br />
everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case<br />
You-Know-Who's behind it."<br />
Harry turned this news over in his mind. He was starting to get a<br />
prickle of fear every time You- Know-Who was mentioned. He supposed this<br />
was all part of entering the magical world, but it had been a lot more<br />
comfortable saying "Voldemort" without worrying.<br />
"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked.<br />
"Er -- I don't know any," Harry confessed.<br />
"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the<br />
world --" And he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the<br />
positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd been to<br />
with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the<br />
money. He was just taking Harry through the finer points of the game<br />
when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the<br />
toadless boy, or Hermione Granger this time.<br />
Three boys entered, and Harry recognized the middle one at once: it was<br />
the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Harry with<br />
a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley.<br />
"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry<br />
Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"<br />
"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of them were<br />
thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale<br />
boy, they looked like bodyguards.<br />
"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly,<br />
noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."<br />
Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigget. Draco<br />
Malfoy looked at him.<br />
"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father<br />
told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than<br />
they can afford."<br />
He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families<br />
are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends<br />
with the wrong sort. I can help you there."<br />
He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.<br />
"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said<br />
coolly.<br />
Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale<br />
cheeks.<br />
"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a<br />
bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know<br />
what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the<br />
Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."<br />
Both Harry and Ron stood up.<br />
"Say that again," Ron said, his face as red as his hair.<br />
"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.<br />
"Unless you get out now," said Harry, more bravely than he felt, because<br />
Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than him or Ron.<br />
"But we don't feet like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food<br />
and you still seem to have some."<br />
Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron - Ron leapt<br />
forward, but before he'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a<br />
horrible yell.<br />
Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk<br />
deep into Goyle's knuckle - Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung<br />
Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbets finally flew off<br />
and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once. Perhaps they<br />
thought there were more rats lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they'd<br />
heard footsteps, because a second later, Hermione Granger had come in.<br />
"What has been going on?" she said, looking at the sweets all over the<br />
floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.<br />
I think he's been knocked out," Ron said to Harry. He looked closer at<br />
Scabbers. "No -- I don't believe it -- he's gone back to sleep-"<br />
And so he had.<br />
"You've met Malfoy before?"<br />
Harry explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley.<br />
"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the<br />
first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said<br />
they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's<br />
father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." He turned to<br />
Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"<br />
"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the<br />
front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't<br />
been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"<br />
"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," said Ron, scowling at her. "Would<br />
you mind leaving while we change?"<br />
"All right -- I only came in here because people outside are behaving<br />
very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said Hermione in a<br />
sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you<br />
know?"<br />
Ron glared at her as she left. Harry peered out of the window. It was<br />
getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple<br />
sky. The train did seem to be slowing down.<br />
He and Ron took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes.<br />
Ron's were a bit short for him, you could see his sneakers underneath<br />
them.<br />
A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five<br />
minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken<br />
to the school separately."<br />
Harry's stomach lurched with nerves and Ron, he saw, looked pale under<br />
his freckles. They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and<br />
joined the crowd thronging the corridor.<br />
The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way<br />
toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in<br />
the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the<br />
students, and Harry heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years<br />
over here! All right there, Harry?"<br />
Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.<br />
"C'mon, follow me -- any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs'<br />
years follow me!"<br />
Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a<br />
steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry<br />
thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the<br />
boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.<br />
"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over<br />
his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."<br />
There was a loud "Oooooh!"<br />
The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take.<br />
Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in<br />
the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.<br />
"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little<br />
boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and Ron were followed<br />
into their boat by Neville and Hermione. "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid,<br />
who had a boat to himself. "Right then -- FORWARD!"<br />
And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the<br />
lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at<br />
the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer<br />
and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.<br />
"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they<br />
all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain<br />
of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried<br />
along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the<br />
castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they<br />
clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.<br />
"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the<br />
boats as people climbed out of them.<br />
"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they<br />
clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at<br />
last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.<br />
They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, Oak<br />
front door.<br />
"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"<br />
Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle<br />
door.<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
CHAPTER SEVEN</h3>
<i><b>THE SORTING HAT</b></i><br />
The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green<br />
robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought<br />
was that this was not someone to cross.<br />
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.<br />
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."<br />
She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have<br />
fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. The stone walls were lit<br />
with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too<br />
high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to<br />
the upper floors.<br />
They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry<br />
could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right<br />
-the rest of the school must already be here -- but Professor McGonagall<br />
showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They<br />
crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have<br />
done, peering about nervously.<br />
"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term<br />
banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great<br />
Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very<br />
important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be<br />
something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with<br />
the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free<br />
time in your house common room.<br />
"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and<br />
Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced<br />
outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your<br />
triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose<br />
house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is<br />
awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a<br />
credit to whichever house becomes yours.<br />
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the<br />
rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as<br />
you can while you are waiting."<br />
Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened<br />
under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to<br />
flatten his hair.<br />
"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall.<br />
"Please wait quietly."<br />
She left the chamber. Harry swallowed.<br />
"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he asked Ron.<br />
"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he<br />
was joking."<br />
Harry's heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole<br />
school? But he didn't know any magic yet -- what on earth would he have<br />
to do? He hadn't expected something like this the moment they arrived.<br />
He looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified,<br />
too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering<br />
very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one<br />
she'd need. Harry tried hard not to listen to her. He'd never been more<br />
nervous, never, not even when he'd had to take a school report home to<br />
the Dursleys saying that he'd somehow turned his teacher's wig blue. He<br />
kept his eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall<br />
would come back and lead him to his doom.<br />
Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air --<br />
several people behind him screamed.<br />
"What the --?"<br />
He gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just<br />
streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent,<br />
they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing<br />
at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat<br />
little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him<br />
a second chance --"<br />
"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He<br />
gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost -- I<br />
say, what are you all doing here?"<br />
A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.<br />
Nobody answered.<br />
"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be<br />
Sorted, I suppose?"<br />
A few people nodded mutely.<br />
"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you<br />
know."<br />
"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to<br />
start."<br />
Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away<br />
through the opposite wall.<br />
"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and<br />
follow me."<br />
Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Harry got into line<br />
behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron behind him, and they walked out<br />
of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors<br />
into the Great Hall.<br />
Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was<br />
lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair<br />
over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting.<br />
These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the<br />
top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting.<br />
Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a<br />
halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them.<br />
The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the<br />
flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the<br />
ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry<br />
looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He<br />
heard<br />
Hermione whisper, "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read<br />
about it in Hogwarts, A History."<br />
It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the<br />
Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.<br />
Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed<br />
a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she<br />
put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and<br />
extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house.<br />
Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, Harry thought wildly,<br />
that seemed the sort of thing -- noticing that everyone in the hall was<br />
now staring at the hat, he stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there<br />
was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened<br />
wide like a mouth -- and the hat began to sing:<br />
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,<br />
But don't judge on what you see,<br />
I'll eat myself if you can find<br />
A smarter hat than me.<br />
You can keep your bowlers black,<br />
Your top hats sleek and tall,<br />
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat<br />
And I can cap them all.<br />
There's nothing hidden in your head<br />
The Sorting Hat can't see,<br />
So try me on and I will tell you<br />
Where you ought to be.<br />
You might belong in Gryffindor,<br />
Where dwell the brave at heart,<br />
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;<br />
You might belong in Hufflepuff,<br />
Where they are just and loyal,<br />
Those patient Hufflepuffis are true And unafraid of toil;<br />
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,<br />
if you've a ready mind,<br />
Where those of wit and learning,<br />
Will always find their kind;<br />
Or perhaps in Slytherin<br />
You'll make your real friends,<br />
Those cunning folk use any means<br />
To achieve their ends.<br />
So put me on! Don't be afraid!<br />
And don't get in a flap!<br />
You're in safe hands (though I have none)<br />
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"<br />
The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It<br />
bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.<br />
"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll<br />
kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."<br />
Harry. smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than<br />
having to do a spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on<br />
without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather alot;<br />
Harry didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If<br />
only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy,<br />
that would have been the one for him.<br />
Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of<br />
parchment.<br />
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to<br />
be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"<br />
A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the<br />
hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moments pause<br />
--<br />
"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.<br />
The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at<br />
the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving<br />
merrily at her.<br />
"Bones, Susan!"<br />
"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next<br />
to Hannah.<br />
"Boot, Terry!"<br />
"RAVENCLAW!"<br />
The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws<br />
stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.<br />
" Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender"<br />
became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded<br />
with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.<br />
"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry's<br />
imagination, after all he'd heard about Slytherin, but he thought they<br />
looked like an unpleasant lot. He was starting to feel definitely sick<br />
now. He remembered being picked for teams during gym at his old school.<br />
He had always been last to be chosen, not because he was no good, but<br />
because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked him.<br />
"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"<br />
"HUFFLEPUFF!"<br />
Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at<br />
others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the<br />
sandy-haired boy next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost<br />
a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.<br />
"Granger, Hermione!"<br />
Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.<br />
"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned.<br />
A horrible thought struck Harry, as horrible thoughts always do when<br />
you're very nervous. What if he wasn't chosen at all? What if he just<br />
sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor<br />
McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a<br />
mistake and he'd better get back on the train?<br />
When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called,<br />
he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide<br />
with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off<br />
still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it<br />
to "MacDougal, Morag."<br />
Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at<br />
once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"<br />
Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with<br />
himself.<br />
There weren't many people left now. "Moon" "Nott" "Parkinson" then a<br />
pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" then "Perks, Sally-Anne" and<br />
then, at last -- "Potter, Harry!"<br />
As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little<br />
hissing fires all over the hall.<br />
"Potter, did she say?"<br />
The Harry Potter?"<br />
The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the<br />
hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he<br />
was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.<br />
Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty<br />
of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, A my goodness,<br />
yes -- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting....<br />
So where shall I put you?"<br />
Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not<br />
Slytherin.<br />
"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be<br />
great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you<br />
on the way to greatness, no doubt about that -- no? Well, if you're sure<br />
-- better be GRYFFINDOR!"<br />
Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off<br />
the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. He was so<br />
relieved to have been chosen and not put in Slytherin, he hardly noticed<br />
that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and<br />
shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got<br />
Potter! We got Potter!" Harry sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff<br />
he'd seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden,<br />
horrible feeling he'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.<br />
He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat<br />
Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up. Harry grinned<br />
back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair,<br />
sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the card he'd<br />
gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair<br />
was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the<br />
ghosts. Harry spotted Professor Quirtell, too, the nervous young man<br />
from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple<br />
turban.<br />
And now there were only three people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean,"<br />
a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table.<br />
"Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was<br />
pale green by now. Harry crossed his fingers under the table and a<br />
second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"<br />
Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next<br />
to him.<br />
"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley Pompously across Harry<br />
as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled<br />
up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.<br />
Harry looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realized how<br />
hungry he was. The pumpkin pasties seemed ages ago.<br />
Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students,<br />
his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to<br />
see them all there.<br />
"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin<br />
our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit!<br />
Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!<br />
"Thank you!"<br />
He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know<br />
whether to laugh or not.<br />
"Is he -- a bit mad?" he asked Percy uncertainly.<br />
"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But<br />
he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"<br />
Harry's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with<br />
food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table:<br />
roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon<br />
and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding,<br />
peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint<br />
humbugs.<br />
The Dursleys had never exactly starved Harry, but he'd never been<br />
allowed to eat as much as he liked. Dudley had always taken anything<br />
that Harry really wanted, even if It made him sick. Harry piled his<br />
plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat.<br />
It was all delicious.<br />
"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry<br />
cut up his steak,<br />
"Can't you --?"<br />
I haven't eaten for nearly four hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't<br />
need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've in troduced<br />
myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost<br />
of Gryffindor Tower."<br />
"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you<br />
-- you're Nearly Headless Nick!"<br />
"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy --" the ghost began<br />
stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.<br />
"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"<br />
Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't<br />
going at all the way he wanted.<br />
"Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His<br />
whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on<br />
a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it<br />
properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly<br />
Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said,<br />
"So -- new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house<br />
championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without<br />
winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody<br />
Baron's becoming almost unbearable -- he's the Slytherin ghost."<br />
Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost<br />
sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained<br />
with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who, Harry was pleased to<br />
see, didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.<br />
"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.<br />
"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.<br />
When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food<br />
faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment<br />
later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you<br />
could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam<br />
doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding -- "<br />
As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their<br />
families.<br />
"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell<br />
him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock<br />
for him."<br />
The others laughed.<br />
"What about you, Neville?" said Ron.<br />
"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the<br />
family thought I was all- Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept<br />
trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me -- he<br />
pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned -- but<br />
nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for<br />
dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles<br />
when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let<br />
go. But I bounced -- all the way down the garden and into the road. They<br />
were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you<br />
should have seen their faces when I got in here -- they thought I might<br />
not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased<br />
he bought me my toad."<br />
On Harry's other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about<br />
lessons ("I do hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm<br />
particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something<br />
into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult-";<br />
"You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of<br />
thing -- ").<br />
Harry, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, looked up at<br />
the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet.<br />
Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor<br />
Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy<br />
black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.<br />
It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's<br />
turban straight into Harry's eyes -- and a sharp, hot pain shot across<br />
the scar on Harry's forehead.<br />
"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head.<br />
"What is it?" asked Percy.<br />
"N-nothing."<br />
The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the<br />
feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look -- a feeling that he<br />
didn't like Harry at all.<br />
"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked Percy.<br />
"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so<br />
nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want<br />
to -- everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about<br />
the Dark Arts, Snape."<br />
Harry watched Snape for a while, but Snape didn't look at him again.<br />
At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to<br />
his feet again. The hall fell silent.<br />
"Ahern -- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I<br />
have a few start-of-term notices to give you.<br />
"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to<br />
all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember<br />
that as well."<br />
Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley<br />
twins.<br />
"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all<br />
that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.<br />
"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone<br />
interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.<br />
"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor<br />
on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to<br />
die a very painful death."<br />
Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did.<br />
"He's not serious?" he muttered to Percy.<br />
"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he<br />
usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere -- the<br />
forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he<br />
might have told us prefects, at least."<br />
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried<br />
Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become<br />
rather fixed.<br />
Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a<br />
fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose<br />
high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.<br />
"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"<br />
And the school bellowed:<br />
"<i><b>Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,</b></i><br />
<i><b>Teach us something please,</b></i><br />
<i><b>Whether we be old and bald</b></i><br />
<i><b>Or young with scabby knees,</b></i><br />
<i><b>Our heads could do with filling</b></i><br />
<i><b>With some interesting stuff,</b></i><br />
<i><b>For now they're bare and full of air,</b></i><br />
<i><b>Dead flies and bits of fluff,</b></i><br />
<i><b>So teach us things worth knowing,</b></i><br />
<i><b>Bring back what we've forgot,</b></i><br />
<i><b>just do your best, we'll do the rest,</b></i><br />
<i><b>And learn until our brains all rot.</b></i><br />
Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the<br />
Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march.<br />
Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they<br />
had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.<br />
"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here!<br />
And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"<br />
The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds,<br />
out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry's legs were<br />
like lead again, but only because he was so tired and full of food. He<br />
was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits<br />
along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice<br />
Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging<br />
tapestries. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their<br />
feet, and Harry was just wondering how much farther they had to go when<br />
they came to a sudden halt.<br />
A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as<br />
Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.<br />
"Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised<br />
his voice, "Peeves -- show yourself"<br />
A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.<br />
"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"<br />
There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide<br />
mouth appeared, floating cross- legged in the air, clutching the walking<br />
sticks.<br />
"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"<br />
He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.<br />
"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked<br />
Percy.<br />
Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on<br />
Neville's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as<br />
he passed.<br />
"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as they set off again.<br />
"The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even<br />
listen to us prefects. Here we are."<br />
At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a<br />
pink silk dress.<br />
"Password?" she said. "Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait<br />
swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled<br />
through it -- Neville needed a leg up -- and found themselves in the<br />
Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.<br />
Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the<br />
boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase -- they were<br />
obviously in one of the towers -- they found their beds at last: five<br />
four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had<br />
already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their<br />
pajamas and fell into bed.<br />
" Great food, isn't it?" Ron muttered to Harry through the hangings.<br />
"Get off, Scabbers! He's chewing my sheets."<br />
Harry was going to ask Ron if he'd had any of the treacle tart, but he<br />
fell asleep almost at once.<br />
Perhaps Harry had eaten a bit too much, because he had a very strange<br />
dream. He was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept talking to<br />
him, telling him he must transfer to Slytherin at once, because it was<br />
his destiny. Harry told the turban he didn't want to be in Slytherin; it<br />
got heavier and heavier; he tried to pull it off but it tightened<br />
painfully -- and there was Malfoy, laughing at him as he struggled with<br />
it -then Malfoy turned into the hook-nosed teacher, Snape, whose laugh<br />
became high and cold -- there was a burst of green light and Harry woke,<br />
sweating and shaking.<br />
He rolled over and fell asleep again, and when he woke next day, he<br />
didn't remember the dream at all.<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
CHAPTER EIGHT</h3>
<i><b>THE POTIONS MASTER</b></i><br />
There, look."<br />
"Where?"<br />
"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."<br />
"Wearing the glasses?"<br />
"Did you see his face?"<br />
"Did you see his scar?"<br />
Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next<br />
day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look<br />
at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring.<br />
Harry wished they wouldn't, because he was trying to concentrate on<br />
finding his way to classes.<br />
There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide,<br />
sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different<br />
on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to<br />
remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you<br />
asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors<br />
that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It<br />
was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed<br />
to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit<br />
each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk.<br />
The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of<br />
them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly<br />
Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right<br />
direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a<br />
trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would<br />
drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet,<br />
pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab<br />
your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"<br />
Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus<br />
Filch. Harry and Ron managed to get on the wrong side of him on their<br />
very first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a<br />
door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds<br />
corridor on the third floor. He wouldn't believe they were lost, was<br />
sure they were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening<br />
to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor<br />
Quirrell, who was passing.<br />
Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature<br />
with bulging, lamp like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the<br />
corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of<br />
line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds<br />
later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than<br />
anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly<br />
as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest<br />
ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.<br />
And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes<br />
themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out,<br />
than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.<br />
They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every<br />
Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the<br />
movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the<br />
greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little<br />
witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of<br />
all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for.<br />
Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only<br />
one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old<br />
indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got<br />
up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on<br />
and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emetic the<br />
Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.<br />
Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had<br />
to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their<br />
first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he<br />
gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.<br />
Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry had been quite right to<br />
think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a<br />
talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.<br />
"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you<br />
will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class<br />
will leave and not come back. You have been warned."<br />
Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very<br />
impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they<br />
weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time.<br />
After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match<br />
and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson,<br />
only Hermione Granger had made any difference to her match; Professor<br />
McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and<br />
gave Hermione a rare smile.<br />
The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense<br />
Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of<br />
a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said<br />
was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be<br />
coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had<br />
been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of<br />
a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story.<br />
For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell<br />
had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about<br />
the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung<br />
around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed<br />
full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.<br />
Harry was very relieved to find out that he wasn't miles behind everyone<br />
else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn't<br />
had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to<br />
learn that even people like Ron didn't have much of a head start.<br />
Friday was an important day for Harry and Ron. They finally managed to<br />
find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost<br />
once.<br />
"What have we got today?" Harry asked Ron as he poured sugar on his<br />
porridge.<br />
"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron. "Snape's Head of<br />
Slytherin House. They say he always favors them -- we'll be able to see<br />
if it's true."<br />
"Wish McGonagall favored us, " said Harry. Professor McGonagall was head<br />
of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge<br />
pile of homework the day before.<br />
Just then, the mail arrived. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but<br />
it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a<br />
hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast,<br />
circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters<br />
and packages onto their laps.<br />
Hedwig hadn't brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to<br />
nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the<br />
owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered<br />
down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto<br />
Harry's plate. Harry tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy<br />
scrawl:<br />
Dear Harry,<br />
I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have<br />
a cup of tea with me around three?<br />
I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with<br />
Hedwig.<br />
Hagrid<br />
Harry borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled Yes, please, see you later on the<br />
back of the note, and sent Hedwig off again.<br />
It was lucky that Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because<br />
the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to<br />
him so far.<br />
At the start-of-term banquet, Harry had gotten the idea that Professor<br />
Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he'd<br />
been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Harry -- he hated him.<br />
Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder<br />
here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough<br />
without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.<br />
Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and<br />
like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.<br />
"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new -- celebrity."<br />
Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their<br />
hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His<br />
eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth.<br />
They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.<br />
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of<br />
potionmaking," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but<br />
they caught every word -- like Professor McGonagall, Snape had y caught<br />
every word -- like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a<br />
class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving<br />
here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you<br />
will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with<br />
its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through<br />
human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach<br />
you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't<br />
as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."<br />
More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks<br />
with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and<br />
looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.<br />
"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered<br />
root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"<br />
Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who<br />
looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand had shot into the air.<br />
"I don't know, sit," said Harry.<br />
Snape's lips curled into a sneer.<br />
"Tut, tut -- fame clearly isn't everything."<br />
He ignored Hermione's hand.<br />
"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me<br />
a bezoar?"<br />
Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without<br />
her leaving her seat, but Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a<br />
bezoar was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were<br />
shaking with laughter.<br />
"I don't know, sit." "Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming,<br />
eh, Potter?" Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those<br />
cold eyes. He had looked through his books at the Dursleys', but did<br />
Snape expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs<br />
and Fungi?<br />
Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.<br />
"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"<br />
At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon<br />
ceiling.<br />
"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why<br />
don't you try her?"<br />
A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus's eye, and Seamus winked.<br />
Snape, however, was not pleased.<br />
"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter,<br />
asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as<br />
the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach<br />
of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and<br />
wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of<br />
aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"<br />
There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise,<br />
Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your<br />
cheek, Potter."<br />
Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson<br />
continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a<br />
simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak,<br />
watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing<br />
almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just<br />
telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned<br />
slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the<br />
dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a<br />
twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor,<br />
burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was<br />
standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the<br />
potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils<br />
sprang up all over his arms and legs.<br />
"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one<br />
wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before<br />
taking the cauldron off the fire?"<br />
Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.<br />
"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he<br />
rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.<br />
"You -- Potter -- why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought<br />
he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another<br />
point you've lost for Gryffindor."<br />
This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked<br />
him behind their cauldron.<br />
"Doi* push it," he muttered, "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."<br />
As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry's mind<br />
was racing and his spirits were low. He'd lost two points for Gryffindor<br />
in his very first week -- why did Snape hate him so much? "Cheer up,"<br />
said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come<br />
and meet Hagrid with you?"<br />
At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the<br />
grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the<br />
forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the<br />
front door.<br />
When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and<br />
several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang<br />
-- back."<br />
Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door<br />
open.<br />
"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."<br />
He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous<br />
black boarhound.<br />
There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the<br />
ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner<br />
stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.<br />
"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded<br />
straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was<br />
clearly not as fierce as he looked.<br />
"This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a<br />
large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.<br />
"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. I spent<br />
half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."<br />
The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their<br />
teeth, but Harry and Ron pretended to be enjoying them as they told<br />
Hagrid all about their first -lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's<br />
knee and drooled all over his robes.<br />
Harry and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Fitch "that old git."<br />
"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang<br />
sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me<br />
everywhere? Can't get rid of her -- Fitch puts her up to it."<br />
Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Ron, told Harry not<br />
to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.<br />
"But he seemed to really hate me."<br />
"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"<br />
Yet Harry couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet his eyes<br />
when he said that.<br />
"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot --<br />
great with animals."<br />
Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron<br />
told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Harry picked up a<br />
piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a<br />
cutting from the Daily Prophet:<br />
<i><b>GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST</b></i><br />
Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July,<br />
widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.<br />
Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault<br />
that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.<br />
"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if<br />
you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this<br />
afternoon.<br />
Harry remembered Ron telling him on the train that someone had tried to<br />
rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn't mentioned the date.<br />
"Hagrid!" said Harry, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday!<br />
It might've been happening while we were there!"<br />
There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes<br />
this time. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the<br />
story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied<br />
earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and<br />
thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little<br />
package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?<br />
As Harry and Ron walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets<br />
weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Harry<br />
thought that none of the lessons he'd had so far had given him as much<br />
to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package<br />
just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about<br />
Snape that he didn't want to tell Harry?<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
CHAPTER NINE</h3>
<i><b>THE MIDNIGHT DUEL</b></i><br />
Harry had never believed he would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley,<br />
but that was before he met Draco Malfoy. Still, first-year<br />
Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn't have to<br />
put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a<br />
notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan.<br />
Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday -- and Gryffindor and<br />
Slytherin would be learning together.<br />
"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool<br />
of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."<br />
He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.<br />
"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Ron<br />
reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he<br />
is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."<br />
Malfay certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about<br />
first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long,<br />
boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping<br />
Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus<br />
Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the<br />
countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen<br />
about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom.<br />
Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron<br />
had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their<br />
dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game<br />
with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Harry had caught Ron<br />
prodding Dean's poster of West Ham soccer team, trying to make the<br />
players move.<br />
Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his<br />
grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harry felt she'd had<br />
good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of<br />
accidents even with both feet on the ground.<br />
Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This<br />
was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book -- not that she<br />
hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with<br />
flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through<br />
the Ages. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for<br />
anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but<br />
everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted<br />
by the arrival of the mail.<br />
Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that<br />
Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was<br />
always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened<br />
gloatingly at the Slytherin table.<br />
A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He<br />
opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large<br />
marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.<br />
"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things -- this<br />
tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it<br />
tight like this and if it turns red -- oh..." His face fell, because the<br />
Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet,<br />
"You've forgotten something..."<br />
Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy,<br />
who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his<br />
hand.<br />
Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason<br />
to fight Malfay, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble<br />
quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.<br />
"What's going on?"<br />
"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."<br />
Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.<br />
"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind<br />
him.<br />
At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Ron, and the other Gryffindors<br />
hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying<br />
lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their<br />
feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn<br />
on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees<br />
were swaying darkly in the distance.<br />
The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying<br />
in neat lines on the ground. Harry had heard Fred and George Weasley<br />
complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to<br />
vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.<br />
Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and<br />
yellow eyes like a hawk.<br />
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a<br />
broomstick. Come on, hurry up."<br />
Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck<br />
out at odd angles.<br />
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the<br />
front, "and say 'Up!"'<br />
"UPF everyone shouted.<br />
Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few<br />
that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and<br />
Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell<br />
when you were afraid, thought Harry; there was a quaver in Neville's<br />
voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the<br />
ground.<br />
Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding<br />
off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips.<br />
Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it<br />
wrong for years.<br />
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said<br />
Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come<br />
straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle -- three<br />
-- two --"<br />
But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the<br />
ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's<br />
lips.<br />
"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a<br />
cork shot out of a bottle -- twelve feet -- twenty feet. Harry saw his<br />
scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp,<br />
slip sideways off the broom and --<br />
WHAM -- a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass<br />
in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and<br />
started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.<br />
Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.<br />
"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy -- it's all right,<br />
up you get.".<br />
She turned to the rest of the class.<br />
"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You<br />
leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before<br />
you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."<br />
Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with<br />
Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.<br />
No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.<br />
"Did you see his face, the great lump?"<br />
The other Slytherins joined in.<br />
"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.<br />
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced<br />
Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies,<br />
Parvati."<br />
"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the<br />
grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."<br />
The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.<br />
"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking<br />
to watch.<br />
Malfoy smiled nastily.<br />
"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find -- how about --<br />
up a tree?"<br />
"Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick<br />
and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level<br />
with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it,<br />
Potter!"<br />
Harry grabbed his broom.<br />
"No!" shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move --<br />
you'll get us all into trouble."<br />
Harry ignored her. Blood was pounding in his ears. He mounted the broom<br />
and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed<br />
through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him -and in a rush of<br />
fierce joy he realized he'd found something he could do without being<br />
taught -- this was easy, this was wonderful. He pulled his broomstick up<br />
a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls<br />
back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron.<br />
He turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked<br />
stunned.<br />
"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!" "Oh,<br />
yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.<br />
Harry knew, somehow, what to do. He leaned forward and grasped the broom<br />
tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfay like a javelin. Malfoy<br />
only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp about-face and<br />
held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.<br />
"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.<br />
The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.<br />
"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball<br />
high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.<br />
Harry saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and<br />
then start to fall. He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down<br />
-- next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball<br />
-- wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people<br />
watching -- he stretched out his hand -- a foot from the ground he<br />
caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled<br />
gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.<br />
"HARRY POTTER!"<br />
His heart sank faster than he'd just dived. Professor McGonagall was<br />
running toward them. He got to his feet, trembling.<br />
"Never -- in all my time at Hogwarts --"<br />
Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses<br />
flashed furiously, "-- how dare you -- might have broken your neck --"<br />
"It wasn't his fault, Professor --"<br />
"Be quiet, Miss Patil<br />
"But Malfoy --"<br />
"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."<br />
Harry caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces as he<br />
left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode toward<br />
the castle. He was going to be expelled, he just knew it. He wanted to<br />
say something to defend himself, but there seemed to be something wrong<br />
with his voice. Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even<br />
looking at him; he had to jog to keep up. Now he'd done it. He hadn't<br />
even lasted two weeks. He'd be packing his bags in ten minutes. What<br />
would the Dursleys say when he turned up on the doorstep?<br />
Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor<br />
McGonagall didn't say a word to him. She wrenched open doors and marched<br />
along corridors with Harry trotting miserably behind her. Maybe she was<br />
taking him to Dumbledore. He thought of Hagrid, expelled but allowed to<br />
stay on as gamekeeper. Perhaps he could be Hagrid's assistant. His<br />
stomach twisted as he imagined it, watching Ron and the others becoming<br />
wizards, while he stumped around the grounds carrying Hagrid's bag.<br />
Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door<br />
and poked her head inside.<br />
"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"<br />
Wood? thought Harry, bewildered; was Wood a cane she was going to use on<br />
him?<br />
But Wood turned out to be a person, a burly fifth-year boy who came out<br />
of Flitwicles class looking confused.<br />
"Follow me, you two," said Professor McGonagall, and they marched on up<br />
the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Harry.<br />
"In here."<br />
Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except<br />
for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard.<br />
"Out, Peeves!" she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which<br />
clanged loudly, and he swooped out cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed<br />
the door behind him and turned to face the two boys.<br />
"Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood -- I've found you a Seeker."<br />
Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight.<br />
"Are you serious, Professor?"<br />
"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "The boy's a natural.<br />
I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a<br />
broomstick, Potter?"<br />
Harry nodded silently. He didn't have a clue what was going on, but he<br />
didn't seem to be being expelled, and some of the feeling started coming<br />
back to his legs.<br />
"He caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive," Professor<br />
McGonagall told Wood. "Didn't even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley<br />
couldn't have done it."<br />
Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once.<br />
"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" he asked excitedly.<br />
"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.<br />
"He's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, now walking around<br />
Harry and staring at him. "Light -- speedy -- we'll have to get him a<br />
decent broom, Professor -- a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven,<br />
I'd say."<br />
I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the<br />
first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year.<br />
Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape<br />
in the face for weeks...."<br />
Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Harry.<br />
"I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind<br />
about punishing you."<br />
Then she suddenly smiled.<br />
"Your father would have been proud," she said. "He was an excellent<br />
Quidditch player himself."<br />
"You're joking."<br />
It was dinnertime. Harry had just finished telling Ron what had happened<br />
when he'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ron had a piece of<br />
steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about<br />
it.<br />
"Seeker?" he said. "But first years never -- you must be the youngest<br />
house player in about a century, said Harry, shoveling pie into his<br />
mouth. He felt particularly hungry after the excitement of the<br />
afternoon. "Wood told me."<br />
Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at Harry.<br />
"I start training next week," said Harry. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood<br />
wants to keep it a secret."<br />
Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Harry, and<br />
hurried over.<br />
"Well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the<br />
team too -- Beaters."<br />
"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year,"<br />
said Fred. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is<br />
going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harry, Wood was almost skipping<br />
when he told us."<br />
"Anyway, we've got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret<br />
passageway out of the school."<br />
"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found<br />
in our first week. See you."<br />
Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome<br />
turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.<br />
"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the<br />
Muggles?"<br />
"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got<br />
your little friends with you," said Harry coolly. There was of course<br />
nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was<br />
full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their<br />
knuckles and scowl.<br />
"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want.<br />
Wizard's duel. Wands only -- no contact. What's the matter? Never heard<br />
of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"<br />
"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's<br />
yours?"<br />
Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.<br />
"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy<br />
room; that's always unlocked."<br />
When Malfoy had gone, Ron and Harry looked at each other. "What is a<br />
wizard's duel?" said Harry. "And what do you mean, you're my second?"<br />
"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually,<br />
getting started at last on his cold pie. Catching the look on Harry's<br />
face, he added quickly, "But people only die in proper duels, you know,<br />
with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send<br />
sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real<br />
damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."<br />
"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"<br />
"Throw it away and punch him on the nose," Ron suggested. "Excuse me."<br />
They both looked up. It was Hermione Granger.<br />
"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron.<br />
Hermione ignored him and spoke to Harry.<br />
"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying --"<br />
"Bet you could," Ron muttered.<br />
"--and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the<br />
points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be.<br />
It's really very selfish of you."<br />
"And it's really none of your business," said Harry.<br />
"Good-bye," said Ron.<br />
All the same, it wasn't what you'd call the perfect end to the day,<br />
Harry thought, as he lay awake much later listening to Dean and Seamus<br />
falling asleep (Neville wasn't back from the hospital wing). Ron had<br />
spent all evening giving him advice such as "If he tries to curse you,<br />
you'd better dodge it, because I can't remember how to block them."<br />
There was a very good chance they were going to get caught by Filch or<br />
Mrs. Norris, and Harry felt he was pushing his luck, breaking another<br />
school rule today. On the other hand, Malfoys sneering face kept looming<br />
up out of the darkness - this was his big chance to beat Malfoy<br />
face-to-face. He couldn't miss it.<br />
"Half-past eleven," Ron muttered at last, "we'd better go."<br />
They pulled on their bathrobes, picked up their wands, and crept across<br />
the tower room, down the spiral staircase, and into the Gryffindor<br />
common room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning<br />
all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. They had almost reached<br />
the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them, "I<br />
can't believe you're going to do this, Harry."<br />
A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink bathrobe<br />
and a frown.<br />
"You!" said Ron furiously. "Go back to bed!"<br />
"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped, "Percy -- he's a<br />
prefect, he'd put a stop to this."<br />
Harry couldn't believe anyone could be so interfering.<br />
"Come on," he said to Ron. He pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady<br />
and climbed through the hole.<br />
Hermione wasn't going to give up that easily. She followed Ron through<br />
the portrait hole, hissing at them like an angry goose.<br />
"Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I<br />
don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the<br />
points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching<br />
Spells."<br />
"Go away." "All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said<br />
when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so --"<br />
But what they were, they didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the<br />
portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an<br />
empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermione<br />
was locked out of Gryffindor tower.<br />
"Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.<br />
"That's your problem," said Ron. "We've got to go, we 3 re going to be<br />
late."<br />
They hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up<br />
with them.<br />
"I'm coming with you," she said.<br />
"You are not."<br />
"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me?<br />
If he finds all three of us I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying<br />
to stop you, and you can back me up."<br />
"You've got some nerve --" said Ron loudly.<br />
"Shut up, both of you!" said Harry sharply. I heard something."<br />
It was a sort of snuffling.<br />
"Mrs. Norris?" breathed Ron, squinting through the dark.<br />
It wasn't Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor,<br />
fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer.<br />
"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours, I couldn't<br />
remember the new password to get in to bed."<br />
"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't<br />
help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."<br />
"How's your arm?" said Harry.<br />
"Fine," said Neville, showing them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a<br />
minute."<br />
"Good - well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you<br />
later --"<br />
"Don't leave me!" said Neville, scrambling to his feet, "I don't want to<br />
stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."<br />
Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and<br />
Neville.<br />
"If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that<br />
Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you.<br />
Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron exactly how to use the<br />
Curse of the Bogies, but Harry hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned<br />
them all forward.<br />
They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the<br />
high windows. At every turn Harry expected to run into Filch or Mrs.<br />
Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor<br />
and tiptoed toward the trophy room.<br />
Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered<br />
where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues<br />
winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls,<br />
keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harry took<br />
out his wand in case Malfoy leapt in and started at once. The minutes<br />
crept by.<br />
"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.<br />
Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Harry had only just raised<br />
his wand when they heard someone speak -and it wasn't Malfoy.<br />
"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."<br />
It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Harry waved madly<br />
at the other three to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried<br />
silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had<br />
barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy<br />
room.<br />
"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."<br />
"This way!" Harry mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to<br />
creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch<br />
getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke<br />
into a run -he tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of<br />
them toppled right into a suit of armor.<br />
The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.<br />
"RUN!" Harry yelled, and the four of them sprinted down the gallery, not<br />
looking back to see whether Filch was following -- they swung around the<br />
doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harry in the lead,<br />
without any idea where they were or where they were going -- they ripped<br />
through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled<br />
along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was<br />
miles from the trophy room.<br />
"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall<br />
and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and<br />
spluttering.<br />
I -- told -you," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest,<br />
"I -- told -- you."<br />
"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," said Ron, "quickly as<br />
possible."<br />
"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Harry. "You realize that, don't<br />
you? He was never going to meet you -- Filch knew someone was going to<br />
be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."<br />
Harry thought she was probably right, but he wasn't going to tell her<br />
that.<br />
"Let's go."<br />
It wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen<br />
paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a<br />
classroom in front of them.<br />
It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.<br />
"Shut up, Peeves -- please -- you'll get us thrown out."<br />
Peeves cackled.<br />
"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty,<br />
naughty, you'll get caughty."<br />
"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."<br />
"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his<br />
eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."<br />
"Get out of the way," snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves this was a<br />
big mistake.<br />
"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED<br />
DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR"<br />
Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the<br />
corridor where they slammed into a door -- and it was locked.<br />
"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're<br />
done for! This is the end!" They could hear footsteps, Filch running as<br />
fast as he could toward Peeves's shouts.<br />
"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wand, tapped the<br />
lock, and whispered, 'Alohomora!"<br />
The lock clicked and the door swung open -- they piled through it, shut<br />
it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.<br />
"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."<br />
"Say 'please."'<br />
"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"<br />
"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his<br />
annoying singsong voice.<br />
"All right -please."<br />
"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say<br />
please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing<br />
away and Filch cursing in rage.<br />
"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay<br />
-- get off, Neville!" For Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of<br />
Harry's bathrobe for the last minute. "What?"<br />
Harry turned around -- and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, he<br />
was sure he'd walked into a nightmare -- this was too much, on top of<br />
everything that had happened so far.<br />
They weren't in a room, as he had supposed. They were in a corridor. The<br />
forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was<br />
forbidden.<br />
They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that<br />
filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads.<br />
Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching<br />
and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging<br />
in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.<br />
It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry<br />
knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their<br />
sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting<br />
over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.<br />
Harry groped for the doorknob -- between Filch and death, he'd take<br />
Filch.<br />
They fell backward -- Harry slammed the door shut, and they ran, they<br />
almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look<br />
for them somewhere else, because they didn't see him anywhere, but they<br />
hardly cared -- all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible<br />
between them and that monster. They didn't stop running until they<br />
reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.<br />
"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at their<br />
bathrobes hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces.<br />
"Never mind that -- pig snout, pig snout," panted Harry, and the<br />
portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and<br />
collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.<br />
It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville, indeed, looked<br />
as if he'd never speak again.<br />
"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up<br />
in a school?" said Ron finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one<br />
does."<br />
Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again. "You<br />
don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see<br />
what it was standing on.<br />
"The floor?" Harry suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too<br />
busy with its heads."<br />
"No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously<br />
guarding something."<br />
She stood up, glaring at them.<br />
I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed --<br />
or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."<br />
Ron stared after her, his mouth open.<br />
"No, we don't mind," he said. "You'd think we dragged her along,<br />
wouldn't you.<br />
But Hermione had given Harry something else to think about as he climbed<br />
back into bed. The dog was guarding something.... What had Hagrid said?<br />
Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to<br />
hide -- except perhaps Hogwarts.<br />
It looked as though Harry had found out where the grubby littie package<br />
from vault seven hundred and thirteen was.<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
CHAPTER TEN</h3>
<i><b>HALLOWEEN</b></i><br />
Malfoy couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that Harry and Ron were<br />
still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful.<br />
Indeed, by the next morning Harry and Ron thought that meeting the<br />
three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure, and they were quite<br />
keen to have another one. In the meantime, Harry filled Ron in about the<br />
package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and<br />
they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy<br />
protection. "It's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Ron.<br />
"Or both," said Harry.<br />
But as all they knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it<br />
was about two inches long, they didn't have much chance of guessing what<br />
it was without further clues.<br />
Neither Neville nor Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay<br />
underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never<br />
going near the dog again.<br />
Hermione was now refusing to speak to Harry and Ron, but she was such a<br />
bossy know-it-all that they saw this as an added bonus. All they really<br />
wanted now was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to their great<br />
delight, just such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later.<br />
As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention<br />
was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech<br />
owls. Harry was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in<br />
this large parcel, and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped<br />
it right in front of him, knocking his bacon to the floor. They had<br />
hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top<br />
of the parcel.<br />
Harry ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:<br />
DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.<br />
It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody<br />
knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood<br />
will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your<br />
first training session.<br />
Professor McGonagall<br />
Harry had difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron to<br />
read.<br />
"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even touched<br />
one."<br />
They left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private<br />
before their first class, but halfway across the entrance hall they<br />
found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the<br />
package from Harry and felt it.<br />
"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture<br />
of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time,<br />
Potter, first years aren't allowed them."<br />
Ron couldn't resist it.<br />
"It's not any old broomstick," he said, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand.<br />
What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron<br />
grinned at Harry. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same<br />
league as the Nimbus."<br />
"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the<br />
handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to<br />
save up twig by twig."<br />
Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow.<br />
"Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he squeaked.<br />
132<br />
"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Malfoy quickly.<br />
"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry.<br />
"Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances,<br />
Potter. And what model is it?"<br />
"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sit," said Harry, fighting not to laugh at the<br />
look of horror on Malfoy's face. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here<br />
that I've got it," he added.<br />
Harry and Ron headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy's<br />
obvious rage and confusion. "Well, it's true," Harry chortled as they<br />
reached the top of the marble staircase, "If he hadn't stolen Neville's<br />
Remembrall I wouln't be on the team...."<br />
"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an<br />
angry voice from just behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs,<br />
looking disapprovingly at the package in Harry's hand.<br />
"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Harry.<br />
"Yes, don't stop now," said Ron, "it's doing us so much good."<br />
Hermione marched away with her nose in the air.<br />
Harry had a lot of trouble keeping his mind on his lessons that day. It<br />
kept wandering up to the dormitory where his new broomstick was lying<br />
under his bed, or straying off to the Quidditch field where he'd be<br />
learning to play that night. He bolted his dinner that evening without<br />
noticing what he was eating, and then rushed upstairs with Ron to unwrap<br />
the Nimbus Two Thousand at last.<br />
"Wow," Ron sighed, as the broomstick rolled onto Harry's bedspread.<br />
Even Harry, who knew nothing about the different brooms, thought it<br />
looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long<br />
tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold<br />
near the top.<br />
As seven o'clock drew nearer, Harry left the castle and set off in the<br />
dusk toward the Quidditch field. Held never been inside the stadium<br />
before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that<br />
the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end<br />
of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They<br />
reminded Harry of the little plastic sticks Muggle<br />
children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high.<br />
Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, Harry mounted his broomstick<br />
and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling -- he swooped in and out<br />
of the goal posts and then sped up and down the field. The Nimbus Two<br />
Thousand turned wherever he wanted at his lightest touch.<br />
"Hey, Potter, come down!'<br />
Oliver Wood had arrived. fie was carrying a large wooden crate under his<br />
arm. Harry landed next to him.<br />
"Very nice," said Wood, his eyes glinting. "I see what McGonagall<br />
meant... you really are a natural. I'm just going to teach you the rules<br />
this evening, then you'll be joining team practice three times a week."<br />
He opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls.<br />
"Right," said Wood. "Now, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even<br />
if it's not too easy to play. There are seven players on each side.<br />
Three of them are called Chasers."<br />
"Three Chasers," Harry repeated, as Wood took out a bright red ball<br />
about the size of a soccer ball.<br />
"This ball's called the Quaffle," said Wood. "The Chasers throw the<br />
Quaffle to each other and try and get it through one of the hoops to<br />
score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of the<br />
hoops. Follow me?"<br />
"The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score,"<br />
Harry recited. "So -- that's sort of like basketball on broomsticks with<br />
six hoops, isn't it?"<br />
"What's basketball?" said Wood curiously. "Never mind," said Harry<br />
quickly.<br />
"Now, there's another player on each side who's called the Keeper -I'm<br />
Keeper for Gryffindor. I have to fly around our hoops and stop the other<br />
team from scoring."<br />
"Three Chasers, one Keeper," said Harry, who was determined to remember<br />
it all. "And they play with the Quaffle. Okay, got that. So what are<br />
they for?" He pointed at the three balls left inside the box.<br />
"I'll show you now," said Wood. "Take this."<br />
He handed Harry a small club, a bit like a short baseball bat.<br />
"I'm going to show you what the Bludgers do," Wood said. "These two are<br />
the Bludgers."<br />
He showed Harry two identical balls, jet black and slightly smaller than<br />
the red Quaffle. Harry noticed that they seemed to be straining to<br />
escape the straps holding them inside the box.<br />
"Stand back," Wood warned Harry. He bent down and freed one of the<br />
Bludgers.<br />
At once, the black ball rose high in the air and then pelted straight at<br />
Harry's face. Harry swung at it with the bat to stop it from breaking<br />
his nose, and sent it zigzagging away into the air -- it zoomed around<br />
their heads and then shot at Wood, who dived on top of it and managed to<br />
pin it to the ground.<br />
"See?" Wood panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate<br />
and strapping it down safely. "The Bludgers rocket around, trying to<br />
knock players off their brooms. That's why you have two Beaters on each<br />
team -- the Weasley twins are ours -- it's their job to protect their<br />
side from the Bludgers and try and knock them toward the other team. So<br />
-- think you've got all that?"<br />
"Three Chasers try and score with the Quaffle; the Keeper guards the<br />
goal posts; the Beaters keep the Bludgers away from their team," Harry<br />
reeled off.<br />
"Very good," said Wood.<br />
"Er -- have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?" Harry asked, hoping he<br />
sounded offhand.<br />
"Never at Hogwarts. We've had a couple of broken jaws but nothing worse<br />
than that. Now, the last member of the team is the<br />
135<br />
Seeker. That's you. And you don't have to worry about the Quaffle or the<br />
Bludgers unless they crack my head open."<br />
"Don't worry, the Weasleys are more than a match for the Bludgers -- I<br />
mean, they're like a pair of human Bludgers themselves."<br />
Wood reached into the crate and took out the fourth and last ball.<br />
Compared with the Quaffle and the Bludgers, it was tiny, about the size<br />
of a large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver<br />
wings.<br />
"This," said Wood, "is the Golden Snitch, and it's the most important<br />
ball of the lot. It's very hard to catch because it's so fast and<br />
difficult to see. It's the Seeker's job to catch it. You've got to weave<br />
in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers, and Quaffle to get it<br />
before the other team's Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the<br />
Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they<br />
nearly always win. That's why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of<br />
Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages<br />
-- I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing on<br />
substitutes so the players could get some sleep. "Well, that's it -- any<br />
questions?"<br />
Harry shook his head. He understood what he had to do all right, it was<br />
doing it that was going to be the problem.<br />
"We won't practice with the Snitch yet," said Wood, carefully shutting<br />
it back inside the crate, "it's too dark, we might lose it. Let's try<br />
you out with a few of these."<br />
He pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket and a few<br />
minutes later, he and Harry were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf<br />
balls as hard as he could in every direction for Harry to catch.<br />
Harry didn't miss a single one, and Wood was delighted. After half an<br />
hour, night had really fallen and they couldn't carry on.<br />
"That Quidditch cup'll have our name on it this year," said Wood happily<br />
as they trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you<br />
turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for<br />
England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons."<br />
Perhaps it was because he was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice<br />
three evenings a week on top of all his homework, but Harry could hardly<br />
believe it when he realized that he'd already been at Hogwarts two<br />
months. The castle felt more like home than Privet Drive ever had. His<br />
lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that they had<br />
mastered the basics.<br />
On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin<br />
wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced<br />
in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly,<br />
something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make<br />
Neville's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the<br />
class into pairs to practice. Harry's partner was Seamus Finnigan (which<br />
was a relief, because Neville had been trying to catch his eye). Ron,<br />
however, was to be working with Hermione Granger. It was hard to tell<br />
whether Ron or Hermione was angrier about this. She hadn't spoken to<br />
either of them since the day Harry's broomstick had arrived.<br />
"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!"<br />
squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as<br />
usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic<br />
words properly is very important, too -- never forget Wizard Baruffio,<br />
who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a<br />
buffalo on his chest."<br />
It was very difficult. Harry and Seamus swished and flicked, but the<br />
feather they were supposed to be sending skyward just lay on the<br />
desktop. Seamus got so impatient that he prodded it with his wand and<br />
set fire to it -- Harry had to put it out with his hat.<br />
Ron, at the next table, wasn't having much more luck.<br />
"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.<br />
"You're saying it wrong," Harry heard Hermione snap. "It's Wing-gar-dium<br />
Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."<br />
"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.<br />
Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said,<br />
"Wingardium Leviosa!"<br />
Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their<br />
heads.<br />
"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here,<br />
Miss Granger's done it!"<br />
Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class. "It's no wonder no<br />
one can stand her," he said to Harry as they pushed their way into the<br />
crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly. "<br />
Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was Hermione.<br />
Harry caught a glimpse of her face -- and was startled to see that she<br />
was in tears.<br />
"I think she heard you."<br />
"So?" said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must've noticed<br />
she's got no friends."<br />
Hermione didn't turn up for the next class and wasn't seen all<br />
afternoon. On their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast,<br />
Harry and Ron overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender that<br />
Hermione was crying in the girls' bathroom and wanted to be left alone.<br />
Ron looked still more awkward at this, but a moment later they had<br />
entered the Great Hall, where the Halloween decorations put Hermione out<br />
of their minds.<br />
A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a<br />
thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the<br />
candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the<br />
golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.<br />
Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell<br />
came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face.<br />
Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped<br />
against the table, and gasped, "Troll -- in the dungeons -- thought you<br />
ought to know."<br />
He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.<br />
There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from<br />
the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.<br />
138<br />
"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories<br />
immediately!"<br />
Percy was in his element.<br />
"Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if<br />
you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years<br />
coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"<br />
"How could a troll get in?" Harry asked as they climbed the stairs.<br />
"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Ron. "Maybe<br />
Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke."<br />
They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions.<br />
As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, Harry<br />
suddenly grabbed Ron's arm.<br />
"I've just thought -- Hermione."<br />
"What about her?"<br />
"She doesn't know about the troll."<br />
Ron bit his lip.<br />
"Oh, all right," he snapped. "But Percy'd better not see us."<br />
Ducking down, they joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped<br />
down a deserted side corridor, and hurried off toward the girls'<br />
bathroom. They had just turned the corner when they heard quick<br />
footsteps behind them.<br />
"Percy!" hissed Ron, pulling Harry behind a large stone griffin.<br />
Peering around it, however, they saw not Percy but Snape. He crossed the<br />
corridor and disappeared from view.<br />
"What's he doing?" Harry whispered. "Why isn't he down in the dungeons<br />
with the rest of the teachers?"<br />
"Search me."<br />
Quietly as possible, they crept along the next corridor after Snape's<br />
fading footsteps.<br />
"He's heading for the third floor," Harry said, but Ron held up his<br />
hand.<br />
"Can you smell something?"<br />
Harry sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old<br />
socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.<br />
And then they heard it -- a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of<br />
gigantic feet. Ron pointed -- at the end of a passage to the left,<br />
something huge was moving toward them. They shrank into the shadows and<br />
watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.<br />
It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite<br />
gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head<br />
perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks<br />
with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was<br />
holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its<br />
arms were so long.<br />
The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its<br />
long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.<br />
"The keys in the lock," Harry muttered. "We could lock it in."<br />
"Good idea," said Ron nervously.<br />
They edged toward the open door, mouths dry, praying the troll wasn't<br />
about to come out of it. With one great leap, Harry managed to grab the<br />
key, slam the door, and lock it.<br />
'Yes!"<br />
Flushed with their victory, they started to run back up the passage, but<br />
as they reached the corner they heard something that made their hearts<br />
stop -- a high, petrified scream -- and it was coming from the chamber<br />
they'd just chained up.<br />
"Oh, no," said Ron, pale as the Bloody Baron.<br />
"It's the girls' bathroom!" Harry gasped.<br />
"Hermione!" they said together.<br />
It was the last thing they wanted to do, but what choice did they have?<br />
Wheeling around, they sprinted back to the door and turned the key,<br />
fumbling in their panic. Harry pulled the door open and they ran inside.<br />
Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if<br />
she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the<br />
sinks off the walls as it went.<br />
"Confuse it!" Harry said desperately to Ron, and, seizing a tap, he<br />
threw it as hard as he could against the wall.<br />
The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking<br />
stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw<br />
Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it<br />
went.<br />
"Oy, pea-brain!" yelled Ron from the other side of the chamber, and he<br />
threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe<br />
hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning<br />
its ugly snout toward Ron instead, giving Harry time to run around it.<br />
"Come on, run, run!" Harry yelled at Hermione, trying to pull her toward<br />
the door, but she couldn't move, she was still flat against the wall,<br />
her mouth open with terror.<br />
The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It<br />
roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way to<br />
escape.<br />
Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He<br />
took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the<br />
troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there,<br />
but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its<br />
nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped -- it<br />
had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.<br />
Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry<br />
clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him<br />
off or catch him a terrible blow with the club.<br />
Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Ron pulled out his own wand --<br />
not knowing what he was going to do he heard himself cry the first spell<br />
that came into his head: "Wingardium Leviosa!"<br />
The club flew suddenly out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into<br />
the air, turned slowly over -- and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto<br />
its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its<br />
face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.<br />
Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath. Ron was<br />
standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done.<br />
It was Hermione who spoke first.<br />
"Is it -- dead?"<br />
I don't think so," said Harry, I think it's just been knocked out."<br />
He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered<br />
in what looked like lumpy gray glue.<br />
"Urgh -- troll boogers."<br />
He wiped it on the troll's trousers.<br />
A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up.<br />
They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course,<br />
someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A<br />
moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room,<br />
closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell<br />
took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly<br />
down on a toilet, clutching his heart.<br />
Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron and<br />
Harry. Harry had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white.<br />
Hopes of winning fifty points for Gryffindor faded quickly from Harry's<br />
mind.<br />
"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with<br />
cold fury in her voice. Harry looked at Ron, who was still standing with<br />
his wand in the air. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in<br />
your dormitory?"<br />
Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Harry looked at the floor. He<br />
wished Ron would put his wand down.<br />
Then a small voice came out of the shadows.<br />
"Please, Professor McGonagall -- they were looking for me."<br />
"Miss Granger!"<br />
Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last.<br />
I went looking for the troll because I -- I thought I could deal with it<br />
on my own -- you know, because I've read all about them."<br />
Ron dropped his wand. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a<br />
teacher? "If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand<br />
up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have<br />
time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they<br />
arrived."<br />
Harry and Ron tried to look as though this story wasn't new to them.<br />
"Well -- in that case..." said Professor McGonagall, staring at the<br />
three of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of<br />
tackling a mountain troll on your own?"<br />
Hermione hung her head. Harry was speechless. Hermione was the last<br />
person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending<br />
she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started<br />
handing out sweets.<br />
"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said<br />
Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt<br />
at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing<br />
the feast in their houses."<br />
Hermione left.<br />
Professor McGonagall turned to Harry and Ron.<br />
"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have<br />
taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five<br />
points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."<br />
They hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until they had<br />
climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the<br />
troll, quite apart from anything else.<br />
"We should have gotten more than ten points," Ron grumbled.<br />
"Five, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's."<br />
"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind<br />
you, we did save her."<br />
"She might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked the thing in with<br />
her," Harry reminded him.<br />
They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.<br />
"Pig snout," they said and entered.<br />
The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that<br />
had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting<br />
for them. There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of them looking<br />
at each other, they all said "Thanks," and hurried off to get plates.<br />
But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. There are<br />
some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and<br />
knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.<br />
<h3>
CHAPTER ELEVEN</h3>
<b><i>QUIDDITCH</i></b><br />
As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains<br />
around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every<br />
morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the<br />
upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled<br />
up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous<br />
beaverskin boots.<br />
The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in<br />
144<br />
his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If<br />
Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house<br />
championship.<br />
Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Wood had decided that, as<br />
their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news<br />
that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Harry didn't know<br />
which was worse -- people telling him he'd be brilliant or people<br />
telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress.<br />
It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermlone as a friend. He didn't<br />
know how he'd have gotten through all his homework without her, what<br />
with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. She<br />
had also tent him Quidditch Through the Ages, which turned out to be a<br />
very interesting read.<br />
Harry learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a<br />
Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup<br />
match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest<br />
players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to<br />
them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had<br />
been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.<br />
Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry<br />
and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer<br />
for it. The day before Harry's first Quidditch match the three of them<br />
were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured<br />
them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar.<br />
They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape<br />
crossed the yard. Harry noticed at once that Snape was limping. Harry,<br />
Ron, and Hermione moved closer together to block the fire from view;<br />
they were sure it wouldn't be allowed. Unfortunately, something about<br />
their guilty faces caught Snape's eye. He limped over. He hadn't seen<br />
the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off<br />
anyway.<br />
"What's that you've got there, Potter?"<br />
It was Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry showed him.<br />
"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape.<br />
"Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."<br />
"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped<br />
away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"<br />
"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly.<br />
The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harry, Ron, and<br />
Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking Harry and<br />
Ron's Charms homework for them. She would never let them copy ("How will<br />
you learn?"), but by asking her to read it through, they got the right<br />
answers anyway.<br />
Harry felt restless. He wanted Quidditch Through the Ages back, to take<br />
his mind off his nerves about tomorrow. Why should he be afraid of<br />
Snape? Getting up, he told Ron and Hermione he was going to ask Snape if<br />
he could have it.<br />
"Better you than me," they said together, but Harry had an idea that<br />
Snape wouldn't refuse if there were other teachers listening.<br />
He made his way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no answer.<br />
He knocked again. Nothing.<br />
Perhaps Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try. He pushed<br />
the door ajar and peered inside -- and a horrible scene met his eyes.<br />
Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above<br />
his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing<br />
Snape bandages.<br />
"Blasted thing*," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your<br />
eyes on all three heads at once?"<br />
Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but --<br />
"POTTER!"<br />
Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to<br />
hide his leg. Harry gulped.<br />
"I just wondered if I could have my book back."<br />
"GET OUT! OUT!"<br />
Harry left, before Snape could take any more points from Gryffindor. He<br />
sprinted back upstairs.<br />
"Did you get it?" Ron asked as Harry joined them. "What's the matter?"<br />
In a low whisper, Harry told them what he'd seen.<br />
"You know what this means?" he finished breathlessly. "He tried to get<br />
past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when<br />
we saw him -- he's after whatever it's guarding! And Id bet my<br />
broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"<br />
Hermione's eyes were wide.<br />
"No -- he wouldn't, she said. "I know he's not very nice, but he<br />
wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."<br />
"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something,"<br />
snapped Ron. "I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But<br />
what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"<br />
Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with the same question. Neville<br />
was snoring loudly, but Harry couldn't sleep. He tried to empty his mind<br />
-- he needed to sleep, he had to, he had his first Quidditch match in a<br />
few hours -- but the expression on Snape's face when Harry had seen his<br />
leg wasn't easy to forget.<br />
The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of<br />
the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheer ful chatter of<br />
everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.<br />
"You've got to eat some breakfast."<br />
"I don't want anything."<br />
"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.<br />
"I'm not hungry."<br />
Harry felt terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking onto the field.<br />
"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are<br />
always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."<br />
"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his<br />
sausages.<br />
By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around<br />
the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be<br />
raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going<br />
on sometimes.<br />
Ron and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean the West Ham fan up in<br />
the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on<br />
one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said Potter for President, and<br />
Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion<br />
underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that<br />
the paint flashed different colors.<br />
Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were<br />
changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing<br />
in green).<br />
Wood cleared his throat for silence.<br />
"Okay, men," he said.<br />
"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson.<br />
"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."<br />
"The big one," said Fred Weasley.<br />
"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.<br />
"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Harry, "we were on the<br />
team last year."<br />
"Shut up, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had<br />
in years. We're going to win. I know it."<br />
He glared at them all as if to say, "Or else."<br />
"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."<br />
Harry followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping his<br />
knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers.<br />
Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting<br />
for the two teams, her broom in her hand.<br />
"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all<br />
gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking<br />
particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a sixth year. Harry<br />
thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him. Out of the<br />
corner of his eye he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing<br />
Potter for President over the crowd. His heart skipped. He felt braver.<br />
"Mount your brooms, please."<br />
Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand.<br />
Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.<br />
Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off. "And the<br />
Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor -- what<br />
an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too --"<br />
"JORDAN!"<br />
"Sorry, Professor."<br />
The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the<br />
match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.<br />
"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet,<br />
a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve -- back to<br />
Johnson and -- no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin<br />
Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes -- Flint flying<br />
like an eagle up there -- he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent<br />
move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle --<br />
that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint,<br />
off up the field and -- OUCH -- that must have hurt, hit in the back of<br />
the head by a Bludger -- Quaffle taken by the Slytherins -- that's<br />
Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a<br />
second Bludger -- sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell<br />
which -- nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in<br />
possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes -- she's<br />
really flying -- dodges a speeding Bludger -- the goal posts are ahead<br />
-- come on, now, Angelina -- Keeper Bletchley dives -- misses --<br />
GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"<br />
Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the<br />
Slytherins.<br />
"Budge up there, move along."<br />
"Hagrid!"<br />
Ron and Hermione squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join<br />
them.<br />
"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of<br />
binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the<br />
crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"<br />
"Nope," said Ron. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."<br />
"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his<br />
binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.<br />
Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for<br />
some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Wood's game plan.<br />
"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood had<br />
said. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be."<br />
When Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops to<br />
let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch.<br />
Once he caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection<br />
from one of the Weasleys' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to<br />
come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry<br />
dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.<br />
"All right there, Harry?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger<br />
furiously toward Marcus Flint.<br />
"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks<br />
two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the --<br />
wait a moment -- was that the Snitch?"<br />
A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too<br />
busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his<br />
left ear.<br />
Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downward after the<br />
streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck<br />
and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch -all the Chasers seemed to have<br />
forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to<br />
watch.<br />
Harry was faster than Higgs -- he could see the little round ball, wings<br />
fluttering, darting up ahead - - he put on an extra spurt of speed --<br />
WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below -- Marcus Flint<br />
had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course, Harry<br />
holding on for dear life.<br />
"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.<br />
Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the<br />
goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the<br />
Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.<br />
Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red<br />
card!"<br />
"What are you talking about, Dean?" said Ron.<br />
"Red card!" said Dean furiously. "In soccer you get shown the red card<br />
and you're out of the game!"<br />
"But this isn't soccer, Dean," Ron reminded him.<br />
Hagrid, however, was on Dean's side.<br />
"They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the<br />
air."<br />
Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.<br />
"So -- after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating<br />
"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.<br />
"I mean, after that open and revolting foul<br />
'Jordan, I'm warning you --"<br />
"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which<br />
could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by<br />
Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor<br />
still in possession."<br />
It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously<br />
past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening<br />
lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped<br />
the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt<br />
anything like that.<br />
It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him<br />
off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their<br />
riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal- posts<br />
-- he had half a mind to ask Wood to call time-out -- and then he<br />
realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't<br />
turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the<br />
air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that<br />
almost unseated him.<br />
Lee was still commentating.<br />
"Slytherin in possession -- Flint with the Quaffle -- passes Spinnet --<br />
passes Bell -- hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose<br />
-- only joking, Professor -- Slytherins score -- A no...<br />
The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's<br />
broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying- him slowly higher, away<br />
from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.<br />
"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through<br />
his binoculars. "If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of<br />
his broom... but he can't have...."<br />
Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His<br />
broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to<br />
hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild<br />
jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on<br />
with only one hand.<br />
"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.<br />
"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere<br />
with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic -- no kid could do that to<br />
a Nimbus Two Thousand."<br />
At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of<br />
looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.<br />
"What are you doing?" moaned Ron, gray-faced.<br />
"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape -- look."<br />
Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands<br />
opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop<br />
under his breath.<br />
"He's doing something -- jinxing the broom," said Hermione.<br />
"What should we do?"<br />
"Leave it to me."<br />
Before Ron could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. Ron turned<br />
the binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was<br />
almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on<br />
its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull<br />
Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good -- every time<br />
they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower<br />
and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell.<br />
Marcus<br />
Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.<br />
"Come on, Hermione," Ron muttered desperately.<br />
Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood, and<br />
was now racing along the row behind him; she didn't even stop to say<br />
sorry as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front.<br />
Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and whispered a<br />
few, well- chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from her wand onto the<br />
hem of Snape's robes.<br />
It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire.<br />
A sudden yelp told her she had done her job. Scooping the fire off him<br />
into a little jar in her pocket, she scrambled back along the row --<br />
Snape would never know what had happened.<br />
It was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on<br />
to his broom.<br />
"Neville, you can look!" Ron said. Neville had been sobbing into<br />
Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes.<br />
Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his<br />
hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick -- he hit the field<br />
on all fours -- coughed -- and something gold fell into his hand.<br />
"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the<br />
game ended in complete confusion.<br />
"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling<br />
twenty minutes later, but it made no difference -- Harry hadn't broken<br />
any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results --<br />
Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harry<br />
heard none of this, though. He was being made a cup of strong tea back<br />
in Hagrid's hut, with Ron and Hermione.<br />
"It was Snape," Ron was explaining, "Hermione and I saw him. He was<br />
cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."<br />
"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next<br />
to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"<br />
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another, wondering what to tell<br />
him. Harry decided on the truth.<br />
"I found out something about him," he told Hagrid. "He tried to get past<br />
that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying<br />
to steal whatever it's guarding."<br />
Hagrid dropped the teapot.<br />
"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.<br />
"Fluffy?"<br />
"Yeah -- he's mine -- bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub<br />
las' year -- I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the<br />
"Yes?" said Harry eagerly.<br />
"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret,<br />
that is."<br />
"But Snape's trying to steal it."<br />
"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do<br />
nothin' of the sort."<br />
"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione.<br />
The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about<br />
Snape.<br />
I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them!<br />
You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw<br />
him!"<br />
"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why<br />
Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student!<br />
Now, listen to me, all three of yeh -- yer meddlin' in things that don'<br />
concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what<br />
it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel<br />
--"<br />
"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved,<br />
is there?"<br />
Hagrid looked furious with himself.<br />
CHAPTER TWELVE<br />
THE MIRROR OF ERISED<br />
Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find<br />
itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the<br />
Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that<br />
they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The<br />
few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to<br />
deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could<br />
fly off again.<br />
No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common<br />
room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had<br />
become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms.<br />
Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where<br />
their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as<br />
possible to their hot cauldrons.<br />
"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, "for all<br />
those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're<br />
not wanted at home."<br />
He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled.<br />
Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them.<br />
Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch<br />
match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get<br />
everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing<br />
Harry as Seeker next. Then he'd realized that nobody found this funny,<br />
because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay<br />
on his bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back<br />
to taunting Harry about having no proper family.<br />
It was true that Harry wasn't going back to Privet Drive for Christmas.<br />
Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of<br />
students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harry had signed up<br />
at once. He didn't feel sorry for himself at all; this would probably be<br />
the best Christmas he'd ever had. Ron and his brothers were staying,<br />
too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit<br />
Charlie.<br />
When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large<br />
fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at<br />
the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.<br />
"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the<br />
branches.<br />
"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron."<br />
"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Malfoys cold drawl from<br />
behind them. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping<br />
to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose -- that hut<br />
of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used<br />
to."<br />
Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.<br />
"WEASLEY!"<br />
Ron let go of the front of Malfoy's robes.<br />
"He was provoked, Professor Snape," said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy<br />
face out from behind the tree. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."<br />
"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said<br />
Snape silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it<br />
isn't more. Move along, all of you."<br />
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering<br />
needles everywhere and smirking.<br />
"I'll get him," said Ron, grinding his teeth at Malfoy's back, "one of<br />
these days, I'll get him --"<br />
"I hate them both," said Harry, "Malfoy and Snape."<br />
"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas," said Hagrid. "Tell yeh what,<br />
come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."<br />
So the three of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to -the Great<br />
Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with<br />
the Christmas decorations.<br />
"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree -- put it in the far corner, would you?"<br />
The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all<br />
around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood<br />
around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with<br />
hundreds of candles.<br />
"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.<br />
"Just one," said Hermione. "And that reminds me -Harry, Ron, we've got<br />
half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library."<br />
"Oh yeah, you're right," said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor<br />
Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was<br />
trailing them over the branches of the new tree.<br />
"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "Just before<br />
the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"<br />
"Oh, we're not working," Harry told him brightly. "Ever since you<br />
mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."<br />
"You what?" Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen here -- I've told yeh -- drop<br />
it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."<br />
"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," said Hermione.<br />
"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry added. "We<br />
must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him<br />
anywhere -- just give us a hint -- I know I've read his name somewhere."<br />
"I'm sayin' nothin, said Hagrid flatly.<br />
"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," said Ron, and they left<br />
Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.<br />
They had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid<br />
had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape<br />
was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to<br />
begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a<br />
book. He wasn't in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable<br />
Magical Names of Our Time; he was missing, too, from Important Modern<br />
Magical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. And<br />
then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of<br />
thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.<br />
Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to<br />
search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them<br />
off the shelves at random. Harry wandered over to the Restricted<br />
Section. He had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in<br />
there. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the<br />
teachers to look in any of the restricted books, and he knew he'd never<br />
get one. These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never<br />
taught at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced<br />
Defense Against the Dark Arts.<br />
"What are you looking for, boy?"<br />
"Nothing," said Harry.<br />
Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at him.<br />
"You'd better get out, then. Go on -- out!"<br />
Wishing he'd been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Harry left<br />
the library. He, Ron, and Hermione had already agreed they'd better not<br />
ask Madam Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure she'd be<br />
able to tell them, but they couldn't risk Snape hearing what they were<br />
up to.<br />
Harry waited outside in the corridor to see if the other two had found<br />
anything, but he wasn't very hopeful. They had been looking for two<br />
weeks, after A, but as they only had odd moments between lessons it<br />
wasn't surprising they'd found nothing. What they really needed was a<br />
nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks.<br />
Five minutes later, Ron and Hermione joined him, shaking their heads.<br />
They went off to lunch.<br />
"You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?" said Hermione. "And<br />
send me an owl if you find anything."<br />
"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," said Ron.<br />
"It'd be safe to ask them."<br />
"Very safe, as they're both dentists," said Hermione.<br />
Once the holidays had started, Ron and Harry were having too good a time<br />
to think much about Flamel. They had the dormitory to themselves and the<br />
common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the<br />
good armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they<br />
could spear on a toasting fork -- bread, English muffins, marshmallows<br />
-- and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled, which were fun to talk<br />
about even if they wouldn't work.<br />
Ron also started teaching Harry wizard chess. This was exactly like<br />
Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot<br />
like directing troops in battle. Ron's set was very old and battered.<br />
Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in<br />
his family -- in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen<br />
weren't a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble<br />
getting them to do what he wanted.<br />
Harry played with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had lent him, and they didn't<br />
trust him at all. He wasn't a very good player yet and they kept<br />
shouting different bits of advice at him, which was confusing. "Don't<br />
send me there, can't you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose<br />
him." On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next<br />
day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all.<br />
When he woke early in the morning, however, the first thing he saw was a<br />
small pile of packages at the foot of his bed.<br />
"Merry Christmas," said Ron sleepily as Harry scrambled out of bed and<br />
pulled on his bathrobe.<br />
"You, too," said Harry. "Will you look at this? I've got some presents!"<br />
"What did you expect, turnips?" said Ron, turning to his own pile, which<br />
was a lot bigger than Harry's.<br />
Harry picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and<br />
scrawled across it was To Harry, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut<br />
wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it --<br />
it sounded a bit like an owl.<br />
A second, very small parcel contained a note.<br />
We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle<br />
Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece.<br />
"That's friendly," said Harry.<br />
Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence.<br />
"Weird!" he said, 'NMat a shape! This is money?"<br />
"You can keep it," said Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron was. "Hagrid<br />
and my aunt and uncle -- so who sent these?"<br />
"I think I know who that one's from," said Ron, turning a bit pink and<br />
pointing to a very lumpy parcel. "My mom. I told her you didn't expect<br />
any presents and -- oh, no," he groaned, "she's made you a Weasley<br />
sweater."<br />
Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in<br />
emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.<br />
"Every year she makes us a sweater," said Ron, unwrapping his own, "and<br />
mine's always maroon."<br />
"That's really nice of her," said Harry, trying the fudge, which was<br />
very tasty.<br />
His next present also contained candy -- a large box of Chocolate Frogs<br />
from Hermione.<br />
This only left one parcel. Harry picked it up and felt it. It was very<br />
light. He unwrapped it.<br />
Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it<br />
lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.<br />
"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of<br />
Every Flavor Beans he'd gotten from Hermione. "If that's what I think it<br />
is -- they're really rare, and really valuable."<br />
"What is it?"<br />
Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to<br />
the touch, like water woven into material.<br />
"It's an invisibility cloak," said Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm<br />
sure it is -- try it on."<br />
Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell.<br />
"It is! Look down!"<br />
Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed to the<br />
mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head<br />
suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulled the cloak<br />
over his head and his reflection vanished completely.<br />
"There's a note!" said Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"<br />
Harry pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow,<br />
loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words: Your<br />
father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was<br />
returned to you. Use it well.<br />
A Very Merry Christmas to you.<br />
There was no signature. Harry stared at the note. Ron was admiring the<br />
cloak.<br />
"I'd give anything for one of these," he said. "Anything. What's the<br />
matter?"<br />
"Nothing," said Harry. He felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had<br />
it really once belonged to his father?<br />
Before he could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung<br />
open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in. Harry stuffed the cloak<br />
quickly out of sight. He didn't feel like sharing it with anyone else<br />
yet.<br />
"Merry Christmas!"<br />
"Hey, look -- Harry's got a Weasley sweater, too!"<br />
Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on<br />
it, the other a G.<br />
"Harry's is better than ours, though," said Fred, holding up Harry's<br />
sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."<br />
"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demanded. "Come on, get it<br />
on, they're lovely and warm."<br />
"I hate maroon," Ron moaned halfheartedly as he pulled it over his head.<br />
"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she<br />
thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid -- we know we're<br />
called Gred and Forge."<br />
"What's all th is noise.<br />
Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving. He<br />
had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too,<br />
carried a lumpy sweater over his arm, which<br />
Fred seized.<br />
"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even<br />
Harry got one."<br />
"I -- don't -- want said Percy thickly, as the twins forced the sweater<br />
over his head, knocking his glasses askew.<br />
"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," said<br />
George. "Christmas is a time for family."<br />
They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by<br />
his sweater.<br />
Harry had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred<br />
fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of<br />
chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy<br />
and cranberry sauce -- and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet<br />
along the table. These fantastic party favors were nothing like the<br />
feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little<br />
plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harry pulled a wizard<br />
cracker with Fred and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like<br />
a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the<br />
inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up at<br />
the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a<br />
flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick<br />
had just read him.<br />
Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly broke his<br />
teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his slice. Harry watched Hagrid<br />
getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine,<br />
finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry's<br />
amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided.<br />
When Harry finally left the table, he was laden down with a stack of<br />
things out of the crackers, including a pack of nonexplodable, luminous<br />
balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set.<br />
The white mice had disappeared and Harry had a nasty feeling they were<br />
going to end up as Mrs. Norris's Christmas dinner.<br />
Harry and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball<br />
fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they<br />
returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry broke in<br />
his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron. He suspected he<br />
wouldn't have lost so badly if Percy hadn't tried to help him so much.<br />
After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake,<br />
everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and<br />
watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because<br />
they'd stolen his prefect badge.<br />
It had been Harry's best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been<br />
nagging at the back of his mind all day. Not until he climbed into bed<br />
was he free to think about it: the invisibility cloak and whoever had<br />
sent it.<br />
Ron, full of turkey and cake and with nothing mysterious to bother him,<br />
fell asleep almost as soon as he'd drawn the curtains of his<br />
four-poster. Harry leaned over the side of his own bed and pulled the<br />
cloak out from under it.<br />
His father's... this had been his father's. He let the material flow<br />
over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the note<br />
had said.<br />
He had to try it, now. He slipped out of bed and wrapped the cloak<br />
around himself. Looking down at his legs, he saw only moonlight and<br />
shadows. It was a very funny feeling.<br />
Use it well.<br />
Suddenly, Harry felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to him<br />
in this cloak. Excitement flooded through him as he stood there in the<br />
dark and silence. He could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch<br />
would never know.<br />
Ron grunted in his sleep. Should Harry wake him? Something held him back<br />
-- his father's cloak -- he felt that this time -- the first time -- he<br />
wanted to use it alone.<br />
He crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room,<br />
and climbed through the portrait hole.<br />
"Who's there?" squawked the Fat Lady. Harry said nothing. He walked<br />
quickly down the corridor.<br />
Where should he go? He stopped, his heart racing, and thought. And then<br />
it came to him. The Restricted Section in the library. He'd be able to<br />
read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was.<br />
He set off, drawing the invisibility cloak tight around him as he<br />
walked.<br />
The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lit a lamp to see his<br />
way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along<br />
in midair, and even though Harry could feel his arm supporting it, the<br />
sight gave him the creeps.<br />
The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Step ping<br />
carefully over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the<br />
library, he held up his lamp to read the titles.<br />
They didn't tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled<br />
words in languages Harry couldn't understand. Some had no title at all.<br />
One book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The<br />
hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickled. Maybe he was imagining it,<br />
maybe not, but he thought a faint whispering was coming from the books,<br />
as though they knew someone was there who shouldn't be.<br />
He had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor,<br />
he looked along the bottom shelf for an interestinglooking book. A large<br />
black and silver volume caught his eye. He pulled it out with<br />
difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee,<br />
let it fall open.<br />
A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence -- the book was<br />
screaming! Harry snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and on, one<br />
high, unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbled backward and knocked over<br />
his lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, he heard footsteps coming<br />
down the corridor outside -- stuffing the shrieking book back on the<br />
shelf, he ran for it. He passed Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild<br />
eyes looked straight through him, and Harry slipped under Filch's<br />
outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book's shrieks<br />
still ringing in his ears.<br />
He came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He had been<br />
so busy getting away from the library, he hadn't paid attention to where<br />
he was going. Perhaps because it was dark, he didn't recognize where he<br />
was at all. There was a suit of armor near the kitchens, he knew, but he<br />
must be five floors above there.<br />
"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was<br />
wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library Restricted<br />
Section."<br />
Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he was, Filch must<br />
know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and<br />
to his horror, it was Snape who replied, "The Restricted Section? Well,<br />
they can't be far, we'll catch them."<br />
Harry stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner<br />
ahead. They couldn't see him, of course, but it was a narrow corridor<br />
and if they came much nearer they'd knock right into him -- the cloak<br />
didn't stop him from being solid.<br />
He backed away as quietly as he could. A door stood ajar to his left. It<br />
was his only hope. He squeezed through it, holding his breath, trying<br />
not to move it, and to his relief he managed to get inside the room<br />
without their noticing anything. They walked straight past, and Harry<br />
leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps<br />
dying away. That had been close, very close. It was a few seconds before<br />
he noticed anything about the room he had hidden in.<br />
It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs<br />
were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper<br />
basket -- but propped against the wall facing him was something that<br />
didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone<br />
had just put it there to keep it out of the way.<br />
It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold<br />
frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved<br />
around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. His panic<br />
fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moved<br />
nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection<br />
again. He stepped in front of it.<br />
He had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He<br />
whirled around. His heart was pounding far more furiously than when the<br />
book had screamed -- for he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but<br />
a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.<br />
But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to<br />
the mirror.<br />
There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there,<br />
reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Harry looked over his<br />
shoulder -- but still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible,<br />
too? Was he in fact in a room full of invisible people and this mirror's<br />
trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not?<br />
He looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind his<br />
reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt<br />
the air behind him. If she was really there, he'd touch her, their<br />
reflections were so close together, but he felt only air -- she and the<br />
others existed only in the mirror.<br />
She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes -- her<br />
eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the<br />
glass. Bright green -- exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that<br />
she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin,<br />
black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore<br />
glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as<br />
Harry's did.<br />
Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching<br />
that of his reflection.<br />
"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?"<br />
They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the<br />
faces of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of green<br />
eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as<br />
though he had Harry's knobbly knees -- Harry was looking at his family,<br />
for the first time in his life.<br />
The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at<br />
them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping<br />
to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache<br />
inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.<br />
How long he stood there, he didn't know. The reflections did not fade<br />
and he looked and looked until a distant noise brought him back to his<br />
senses. He couldn't stay here, he had to find his way back to bed. He<br />
tore his eyes away from his mother's face, whispered, "I'll come back,"<br />
and hurried from the room.<br />
"You could have woken me up," said Ron, crossly.<br />
"You can come tonight, I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror.<br />
"I'd like to see your mom and dad," Ron said eagerly.<br />
"And I want to see all your family, all the Weasleys, you'll be able to<br />
show me your other brothers and everyone."<br />
"You can see them any old time," said Ron. "Just come round my house<br />
this summer. Anyway, maybe it only shows dead people. Shame about not<br />
finding Flamel, though. Have some bacon or something, why aren't you<br />
eating anything?"<br />
Harry couldn't eat. He had seen his parents and would be seeing them<br />
again tonight. He had almost forgotten about Flamel. It didn't seem very<br />
important anymore. Who cared what the three headed dog was guarding?<br />
What did it matter if Snape stole it, really?<br />
"Are you all right?" said Ron. "You look odd."<br />
What Harry feared most was that he might not be able to find the mirror<br />
room again. With Ron covered in the cloak, too, they had to walk much<br />
more slowly the next night. They tried retracing Harry's route from the<br />
library, wandering around the dark passageways for nearly an hour.<br />
"I'm freezing," said Ron. "Let's forget it and go back."<br />
"No!" Harry hissed. I know it's here somewhere."<br />
They passed the ghost of a tall witch gliding in the opposite direction,<br />
but saw no one else. just as Ron started moaning that his feet were dead<br />
with cold, Harry spotted the suit of armor.<br />
"It's here -- just here -- yes!"<br />
They pushed the door open. Harry dropped the cloak from around his<br />
shoulders and ran to the mirror.<br />
There they were. His mother and father beamed at the sight of him.<br />
"See?" Harry whispered.<br />
"I can't see anything."<br />
"Look! Look at them all... there are loads of them...."<br />
"I can only see you."<br />
"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am."<br />
Harry stepped aside, but with Ron in front of the mirror, he couldn't<br />
see his family anymore, just Ron in his paisley pajamas.<br />
Ron, though, was staring transfixed at his image.<br />
"Look at me!" he said.<br />
"Can you see all your family standing around you?"<br />
"No -- I'm alone -- but I'm different -- I look older -- and I'm head<br />
boy!"<br />
"What?"<br />
"I am -- I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to -- and I'm holding the<br />
house cup and the Quidditch cup -- I'm Quidditch captain, too.<br />
Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at<br />
Harry.<br />
"Do you think this mirror shows the future?"<br />
"How can it? All my family are dead -- let me have another look --"<br />
"You had it to yourself all last night, give me a bit more time."<br />
"You're only holding the Quidditch cup, what's interesting about that? I<br />
want to see my parents."<br />
"Don't push me --"<br />
A sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to their discussion.<br />
They hadn't realized how loudly they had been talking.<br />
"Quick!"<br />
Ron threw the cloak back over them as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris<br />
came round the door. Ron and Harry stood quite still, both thinking the<br />
same thing -- did the cloak work on cats? After what seemed an age, she<br />
turned and left.<br />
"This isn't safe -- she might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us.<br />
Come on."<br />
And Ron pulled Harry out of the room.<br />
The snow still hadn't melted the next morning.<br />
"Want to play chess, Harry?" said Ron.<br />
"No."<br />
"Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?"<br />
"No... you go..."<br />
"I know what you're thinking about, Harry, that mirror. Don't go back<br />
tonight."<br />
"Why not?"<br />
"I dunno, I've just got a bad feeling about it -- and anyway, you've had<br />
too many close shaves already. Filch, Snape, and Mrs. Norris are<br />
wandering around. So what if they can't see you? What if they walk into<br />
you? What if you knock something over?"<br />
"You sound like Hermione."<br />
"I'm serious, Harry, don't go."<br />
But Harry only had one thought in his head, which was to get back in<br />
front of the mirror, and Ron wasn't going to stop him.<br />
That third night he found his way more quickly than before. He was<br />
walking so fast he knew he was making more noise than was wise, but he<br />
didn't meet anyone.<br />
And there were his mother and father smiling at him again, and one of<br />
his grandfathers nodding happily. Harry sank down to sit on the floor in<br />
front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all<br />
night with his family. Nothing at all.<br />
Except --<br />
"So -- back again, Harry?"<br />
Harry felt as though his insides had turned to ice. He looked behind<br />
him. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus<br />
Dumbledore. Harry must have walked straight past him, so desperate to<br />
get to the mirror he hadn't noticed him.<br />
" -- I didn't see you, sir."<br />
"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," said Dumbledore,<br />
and Harry was relieved to see that he was smiling.<br />
"So," said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with<br />
Harry, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of<br />
the Mirror of Erised."<br />
"I didn't know it was called that, Sir."<br />
"But I expect you've realized by now what it does?"<br />
"It -- well -- it shows me my family --"<br />
"And it showed your friend Ron himself as head boy."<br />
"How did you know --?"<br />
"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," said Dumbledore gently.<br />
"Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"<br />
Harry shook his head.<br />
"Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the<br />
Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it<br />
and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"<br />
Harry thought. Then he said slowly, "It shows us what we want...<br />
whatever we want..."<br />
"Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less<br />
than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have<br />
never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley,<br />
who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing<br />
alone, the best of all of them. However, this mirror will give us<br />
neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by<br />
what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is<br />
real or even possible.<br />
"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you<br />
not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will<br />
now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live,<br />
remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and<br />
get off to bed?"<br />
Harry stood up.<br />
"Sir -- Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"<br />
"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one<br />
more thing, however."<br />
"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"<br />
"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."<br />
Harry stared.<br />
"One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas<br />
has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on<br />
giving me books."<br />
It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that Dumbledore<br />
might not have been quite truthful. But then, he thought, as he shoved<br />
Scabbers off his pillow, it had been quite a personal question.<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
CHAPTER THIRTEEN</h3>
<b><i>NICOLAS FLAMEL</i></b><br />
Dumbledore had convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of<br />
Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the<br />
invisibility cloak stayed folded at the bottom of his trunk. Harry<br />
wished he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror as easily, but he<br />
couldn't. He started having nightmares. Over and over again he dreamed<br />
about his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high<br />
voice cackled with laughter.<br />
"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," said<br />
Ron, when Harry told him about these drearns.<br />
Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different<br />
view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of Harry being<br />
out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row ("If Filch had<br />
caught you!"), and disappointment that he hadn't at least found out who<br />
Nicolas Flamel was.<br />
They had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a li- brary<br />
book, even though Harry was still sure he'd read the name somewhere.<br />
Once term had started, they were back to skimming through books for ten<br />
minutes during their breaks. Harry had even less time than the other<br />
two, because Quidditch practice had started again.<br />
Wood was working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that<br />
had replaced the snow couldn't dampen his spirits. The Weasleys<br />
complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but Harry was on Wood's<br />
side. If they won their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would<br />
overtake Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in seven<br />
years. Quite apart from wanting to win, Harry found that he had fewer<br />
nightmares when he was tired out after training.<br />
Then, during one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood gave<br />
the team a bit of bad news. He'd just gotten very angry with the<br />
Weasleys, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off<br />
their brooms.<br />
"Will you stop messing around!" he yelled. "That's exactly the sort of<br />
thing that'll lose us the match! Snape's refereeing this time, and he'll<br />
be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!"<br />
George Weasley really did fall off his broom at these words.<br />
"Snape's refereeing?" he spluttered through a mouthful of mud. "When's<br />
he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair if we<br />
might overtake Slytherin."<br />
The rest of the team landed next to George to complain, too.<br />
"It's not my fault," said Wood. "We've just got to make sure we play a<br />
clean game, so Snape hasn't got an excuse to pick on us."<br />
Which was all very well, thought Harry, but he had another reason for<br />
not wanting Snape near him while he was playing Quidditch....<br />
The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the<br />
end of practice, but Harry headed straight back to the Gryffindor common<br />
room, where he found Ron and Hermione playing chess. Chess was the only<br />
thing Hermione ever lost at, something Harry and Ron thought was very<br />
good for her.<br />
"Don't talk to me for a moment," said Ron when Harry sat down next to<br />
him, "I need to concen --" He caught sight of Harry's face. "What's the<br />
matter with you? You look terrible."<br />
Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry told the other<br />
two about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.<br />
"Don't play," said Hermione at once.<br />
"Say you're ill," said Ron.<br />
"Pretend to break your leg," Hermione suggested.<br />
"Really break your leg," said Ron.<br />
"I can't," said Harry. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out,<br />
Gryffindor can't play at all."<br />
At that moment Neville toppled into the common room. How he had managed<br />
to climb through the portrait hole was anyone's guess, because his legs<br />
had been stuck together with what they recognized at once as the<br />
Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to<br />
Gryffindor tower.<br />
Everyone fell over laughing except Hermione, who leapt up and performed<br />
the countercurse. Neville's legs sprang apart and he got to his feet,<br />
trembling. "What happened?" Hermione asked him, leading him over to sit<br />
with Harry and Ron.<br />
"Malfoy," said Neville shakily. "I met him outside the library. He said<br />
he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."<br />
"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urged Neville. "Report him!"<br />
Neville shook his head.<br />
"I don't want more trouble," he mumbled.<br />
"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" said Ron. "He's used to<br />
walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of<br />
him and make it easier."<br />
"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor,<br />
Malfoy's already done that," Neville choked out.<br />
Harry felt in the pocket of his robes and pulled out a Chocolate Frog,<br />
the very last one from the box Hermione had given him for Christmas. He<br />
gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might cry.<br />
"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Harry said. "The Sorting Hat chose you<br />
for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."<br />
Neville's lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog.<br />
"Thanks, Harry... I think I'll go to bed.... D'you want the card, you<br />
collect them, don't you?"<br />
As Neville walked away, Harry looked at the Famous Wizard card.<br />
"Dumbledore again," he said, "He was the first one I ever-"<br />
He gasped. He stared at the back of the card. Then he looked up at Ron<br />
and Hermione.<br />
"I've found him!" he whispered. "I've found Flamel! I told you I'd read<br />
the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here -- listen<br />
to this: 'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark<br />
wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of<br />
dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas<br />
Flamel'!"<br />
Hermione jumped to her feet. She hadn't looked so excited since they'd<br />
gotten back the marks for their very first piece of homework.<br />
"Stay there!" she said, and she sprinted up the stairs to the girls'<br />
dormitories. Harry and Ron barely had time to exchange mystified looks<br />
before she was dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms.<br />
"I never thought to look in here!" she whispered excitedly. "I got this<br />
out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."<br />
"Light?" said Ron, but Hermione told him to be quiet until she'd looked<br />
something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages,<br />
muttering to herself.<br />
At last she found what she was looking for.<br />
"I knew it! I knew it!"<br />
"Are we allowed to speak yet?" said Ron grumpily. Hermione ignored him.<br />
"Nicolas Flamel," she whispered dramatically, "is the only known maker<br />
of the Sorcerer's Stone!"<br />
This didn't have quite the effect she'd expected.<br />
"The what?" said Harry and Ron.<br />
"Oh, honestly, don't you two read? Look -- read that, there."<br />
She pushed the book toward them, and Harry and Ron read: The ancient<br />
study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, a<br />
legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform<br />
any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which<br />
will make the drinker immortal.<br />
There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries,<br />
but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel,<br />
the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six<br />
hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon<br />
with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight).<br />
"See?" said Hermione, when Harry and Ron had finished. "The dog must be<br />
guarding Flamel's Sorcerer's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it<br />
safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it,<br />
that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"<br />
"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" said Harry. "No<br />
wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it."<br />
"And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that Study of Recent<br />
Developments in Wizardry," said Ron. "He's not exactly recent if he's<br />
six hundred and sixty-five, is he?"<br />
The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down<br />
different ways of treating werewolf bites, Harry and Ron were still<br />
discussing what they'd do with a Sorcerer's Stone if they had one. It<br />
wasn't until Ron said he'd buy his own Quidditch team that Harry<br />
remembered about Snape and the coming match.<br />
"I'm going to play," he told Ron and Hermione. "If I don't, all the<br />
Slytherins will think I'm just too scared to face Snape. I'll show<br />
them... it'll really wipe the smiles off their faces if we win."<br />
"Just as long as we're not wiping you off the field," said Hermione.<br />
As the match drew nearer, however, Harry became more and more nervous,<br />
whatever he told Ron and Hermione. The rest of the team wasn't too calm,<br />
either. The idea of overtaking Slytherin in the house championship was<br />
wonderful, no one had done it for seven years, but would they be allowed<br />
to, with such a biased referee?<br />
Harry didn't know whether he was imagining it or not, but he seemed to<br />
keep running into Snape wherever he went. At times, he even wondered<br />
whether Snape was following him, trying to catch him on his own. Potions<br />
lessons were turning into a sort of weekly torture, Snape was so<br />
horrible to Harry. Could Snape possibly know they'd found out about the<br />
Sorcerer's Stone? Harry didn't see how he could -- yet he sometimes had<br />
the horrible feeling that Snape could read minds.<br />
Harry knew, when they wished him good luck outside the locker rooms the<br />
next afternoon, that Ron and Hermione were wondering whether they'd ever<br />
see him alive again. This wasn't what you'd call comforting. Harry<br />
hardly heard a word of Wood's pep talk as he pulled on his Quidditch<br />
robes and picked up his Nimbus Two Thousand.<br />
Ron and Hermione, meanwhile, had found a place in the stands next to<br />
Neville, who couldn't understand why they looked so grim and worried, or<br />
why they had both brought their wands to the match. Little did Harry<br />
know that Ron and Hermione had been secretly practicing the Leg-Locker<br />
Curse. They'd gotten the idea from Malfoy using it on Neville, and were<br />
ready to use it on Snape if he showed any sign of wanting to hurt Harry.<br />
"Now, don't forget, it's Locomotor Mortis," Hermione muttered as Ron<br />
slipped his wand up his sleeve.<br />
"I know," Ron snapped. "Don't nag."<br />
Back in the locker room, Wood had taken Harry aside.<br />
"Don't want to pressure you, Potter, but if we ever need an early<br />
capture of the Snitch it's now. Finish the game before Snape can favor<br />
Hufflepuff too much."<br />
"The whole school's out there!" said Fred Weasley, peering out of the<br />
door. "Even -- blimey -- Dumbledore's come to watch!"<br />
Harry's heart did a somersault.<br />
"Dumbledore?" he said, dashing to the door to make sure. Fred was right.<br />
There was no mistaking that silver beard.<br />
Harry could have laughed out loud with relief He was safe. There was<br />
simply no way that Snape would dare to try to hurt him if Dumbledore was<br />
watching.<br />
Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams marched<br />
onto the field, something that Ron noticed, too.<br />
"I've never seen Snape look so mean," he told Hermione. "Look -they're<br />
off Ouch!"<br />
Someone had poked Ron in the back of the head. It was Malfoy.<br />
"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there."<br />
Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle.<br />
"Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone<br />
want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"<br />
Ron didn't answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because<br />
George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Hermione, who had all her<br />
fingers crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly at Harry, who was<br />
circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.<br />
"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" said<br />
Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another<br />
penalty for no reason at all. "It's people they feel sorry for. See,<br />
there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've<br />
got no money -- you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no<br />
brains."<br />
Neville went bright red but turned in his seat to face Malfoy.<br />
"I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered.<br />
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle howled with laughter, but Ron, still not<br />
daring to take his eyes from the game, said, "You tell him, Neville."<br />
"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and<br />
that's saying something."<br />
Ron's nerves were already stretched to the breaking point with anxiety<br />
about Harry.<br />
"I'm warning you, Malfoy -- one more word<br />
"Ron!" said Hermione suddenly, "Harry --"<br />
"What? Where?"<br />
Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and<br />
cheers from the crowd. Hermione stood up, her crossed fingers in her<br />
mouth, as Harry streaked toward the ground like a bullet.<br />
"You're in luck, Weasley, Potter's obviously spotted some money on the<br />
ground!" said Malfoy.<br />
Ron snapped. Before Malfoy knew what was happening, Ron was on top of<br />
him, wrestling him to the ground. Neville hesitated, then clambered over<br />
the back of his seat to help.<br />
"Come on, Harry!" Hermione screamed, leaping onto her seat to watch as<br />
Harry sped straight at Snape -- she didn't even notice Malfoy and Ron<br />
rolling around under her seat, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the<br />
whirl of fists that was Neville, Crabbe, and Goyle.<br />
Up in the air, Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see<br />
something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches -- the next<br />
second, Harry had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the<br />
Snitch clasped in his hand.<br />
The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember<br />
the Snitch being caught so quickly.<br />
"Ron! Ron! Where are you? The game's over! Harry's won! We've won!<br />
Gryffindor is in the lead!" shrieked Hermione, dancing up and down on<br />
her seat and hugging Parvati Patil in the row in front.<br />
Harry jumped off his broom, a foot from the ground. He couldn't believe<br />
it. He'd done it -- the game was over; it had barely lasted five<br />
minutes. As Gryffindors came spilling onto the field, he saw Snape land<br />
nearby, white-faced and tight-lipped -- then Harry felt a hand on his<br />
shoulder and looked up into Dumbledore's smiling face.<br />
"Well done," said Dumbledore quietly, so that only Harry could hear.<br />
"Nice to see you haven't been brooding about that mirror... been keeping<br />
busy... excellent..."<br />
Snape spat bitterly on the ground.<br />
Harry left the locker room alone some time later, to take his Nimbus Two<br />
Thousand back to the broomshed. He couldn't ever remember feeling<br />
happier. He'd really done something to be proud of now -- no one could<br />
say he was just a famous name any more. The evening air had never<br />
smelled so sweet. He walked over the damp grass, reliving the last hour<br />
in his head, which was a happy blur: Gryffindors running to lift him<br />
onto their shoulders; Ron and Hermione in the distance, jumping up and<br />
down, Ron cheering through a heavy nosebleed.<br />
Harry had reached the shed. He leaned against the wooden door and looked<br />
up at Hogwarts, with its windows glowing red in the setting sun.<br />
Gryffindor in the lead. He'd done it, he'd shown Snape....<br />
And speaking of Snape...<br />
A hooded figure came swiftly down the front steps of the castle. Clearly<br />
not wanting to be seen, it walked as fast as possible toward the<br />
forbidden forest. Harry's victory faded from his mind as he watched. He<br />
recognized the figure's prowling walk. Snape, sneaking into the forest<br />
while everyone else was at dinner -- what was going on?<br />
Harry jumped back on his Nimbus Two Thousand and took off. Gliding<br />
silently over the castle he saw Snape enter the forest at a run. He<br />
followed.<br />
The trees were so thick he couldn't see where Snape had gone. He flew in<br />
circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees until he<br />
heard voices. He glided toward them and landed noiselessly in a towering<br />
beech tree.<br />
He climbed carefully along one of the branches, holding tight to his<br />
broomstick, trying to see through the leaves. Below, in a shadowy<br />
clearing, stood Snape, but he wasn't alone. Quirrell was there, too.<br />
Harry couldn't make out the look on his face, but he was stuttering<br />
worse than ever. Harry strained to catch what they were saying.<br />
"... d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places,<br />
Severus..."<br />
"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said Snape, his voice icy.<br />
"Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone, after<br />
all."<br />
Harry leaned forward. Quirrell was mumbling something. Snape interrupted<br />
him.<br />
"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"<br />
"B-b-but Severus, I --"<br />
"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," said Snape, taking a step<br />
toward him.<br />
"I-I don't know what you<br />
"You know perfectly well what I mean."<br />
An owl hooted loudly, and Harry nearly fell out of the tree. He steadied<br />
himself in time to hear Snape say, "-- your little bit of hocus-pocus.<br />
I'm waiting."<br />
"B-but I d-d-don't --"<br />
"Very well," Snape cut in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when<br />
you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties<br />
lie."<br />
He threw his cloak over his head and strode out of the clearing. It was<br />
almost dark now, but Harry could see Quirrell, standing quite still as<br />
though he was petrified.<br />
"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione squeaked.<br />
"We won! You won! We won!" shouted Ron, thumping Harry on the back. "And<br />
I gave Malfoy a black eye, and Neville tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle<br />
single-handed! He's still out cold but Madam Pomftey says he'll be all<br />
right - talk about showing Slytherin! Everyone's waiting for you in the<br />
common room, we're having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and<br />
stuff from the kitchens."<br />
"Never mind that now," said Harry breathlessly. "Let's find an empty<br />
room, you wait 'til you hear this...."<br />
He made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them,<br />
then he told them what he'd seen and heard.<br />
"So we were right, it is the Sorcerer's Stone, and Snape's trying to<br />
force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past<br />
Fluffy - and he said something about Quirrell's 'hocus pocuss-- I reckon<br />
there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of<br />
enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts<br />
spell that Snape needs to break through --"<br />
"So you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to<br />
Snape?" said Hermione in alarm.<br />
"It'll be gone by next Tuesday," said Ron.<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
CHAPTER FOURTEEN</h3>
N<b><i>ORBERT THE NORWEGIAN RIDGEBACK</i></b><br />
Quirrell, however, must have been braver than they'd thought. In the<br />
weeks that followed he did seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it<br />
didn't look as though he'd cracked yet.<br />
Every time they passed the third-floor corridor, Harry, Ron, and<br />
Hermione would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy was<br />
still growling inside. Snape was sweeping about in his usual bad temper,<br />
which surely meant that the Stone was still safe. Whenever Harry passed<br />
Quirrell these days he gave him an encouraging sort of smile, and Ron<br />
had started telling people off for laughing at Quirrell's stutter.<br />
Hermione, however, had more on her mind than the Sorcerer's Stone. She<br />
had started drawing up study schedules and colorcoding all her notes.<br />
Harry and Ron wouldn't have minded, but she kept nagging them to do the<br />
same.<br />
"Hermione, the exams are ages away."<br />
"Ten weeks," Hermione snapped. "That's not ages, that's like a second to<br />
Nicolas Flamel."<br />
"But we're not six hundred years old," Ron reminded her. "Anyway, what<br />
are you studying for, you already know it A."<br />
"What am I studying for? Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass<br />
these exams to get into the second year? They're very important, I<br />
should have started studying a month ago, I don't know what's gotten<br />
into me...."<br />
Unfortunately, the teachers seemed to be thinking along the same lines<br />
as Hermione. They piled so much homework on them that the Easter<br />
holidays weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. It was hard<br />
to relax with Hermione next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon's<br />
blood or practicing wand movements. Moaning and yawning, Harry and Ron<br />
spent most of their free time in the library with her, trying to get<br />
through all their extra work.<br />
"I'll never remember this," Ron burst out one afternoon, throwing down<br />
his quill and looking longingly out of the library window. It was the<br />
first really fine day they'd had in months. The sky was a clear,<br />
forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming.<br />
Harry, who was looking up "Dittany" in One Thousand Magical Herbs and<br />
Fungi, didn't look up until he heard Ron say, "Hagrid! What are you<br />
doing in the library?"<br />
Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked<br />
very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.<br />
"Jus' lookin'," he said, in a shifty voice that got their interest at<br />
once. "An' what're you lot up ter?" He looked suddenly suspicious. "Yer<br />
not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?" "Oh, we found out who he<br />
is ages ago," said Ron impressively. "And we know what that dog's<br />
guarding, it's a Sorcerer's St --"<br />
"Shhhh!" Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening.<br />
"Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"<br />
"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," said<br />
Harry, "about what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy --"<br />
"SHHHH!" said Hagrid again. "Listen - come an' see me later, I'm not<br />
promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it<br />
in here, students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh<br />
--"<br />
"See you later, then," said Harry.<br />
Hagrid shuffled off.<br />
"What was he hiding behind his back?" said Hermione thoughtfully.<br />
"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?"<br />
"I'm going to see what section he was in," said Ron, who'd had enough of<br />
working. He came back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms<br />
and slammed them down on the table.<br />
"Dragons!" he whispered. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons!<br />
Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to<br />
Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide."<br />
"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever<br />
met him, " said Harry.<br />
"But it's against our laws," said Ron. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by<br />
the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's hard to stop<br />
Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden -<br />
anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous. You should see the burns<br />
Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania."<br />
"But there aren't wild dragons in Britain?" said Harry.<br />
"Of course there are," said Ron. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean<br />
Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you.<br />
Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to<br />
make them forget."<br />
"So what on earths Hagrid up to?" said Hermione.<br />
When they knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut an hour later,<br />
they were surprised to see that all the curtains were closed. Hagrid<br />
called "Who is it?" before he let them in, and then shut the door<br />
quickly behind them.<br />
It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there<br />
was a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made them tea and offered them<br />
stoat sandwiches, which they refused.<br />
"So -- yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"<br />
"Yes," said Harry. There was no point beating around the bush. "We were<br />
wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Sorcerer's Stone<br />
apart from Fluffy."<br />
Hagrid frowned at him.<br />
"0' course I cant, he said. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two,<br />
yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That<br />
Stone's here fer a good reason. It Was almost stolen outta Gringotts - I<br />
s'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou'<br />
Fluffy."<br />
"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know,<br />
you know everything that goes on round here," said Hermione in a warm,<br />
flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitched and they could tell he was<br />
smiling. "We only wondered who had done the guarding, really." Hermione<br />
went on. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him,<br />
apart from you."<br />
Hagrid's chest swelled at these last words. Harry and Ron beamed at<br />
Hermione.<br />
"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that... let's see... he<br />
borrowed Fluffy from me... then some o' the teachers did enchantments...<br />
Professor Sprout -- Professor Flitwick -- Professor McGonagall --" he<br />
ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell -- an' Dumbledore<br />
himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh<br />
yeah, Professor Snape."<br />
"Snape?"<br />
"Yeah -- yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped<br />
protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."<br />
Harry knew Ron and Hermione were thinking the same as he was. If Snape<br />
had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out<br />
how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything --<br />
except, it seemed, Quirrell's spell and how to get past Fluffy.<br />
"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy. aren't you,<br />
Hagrid?" said Harry anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you?<br />
Not even one of the teachers?"<br />
"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly.<br />
"Well, that's something," Harry muttered to the others. "Hagrid, can we<br />
have a window open? I'm boiling."<br />
"Can't, Harry, sorry," said Hagrid. Harry noticed him glance at the<br />
fire. Harry looked at it, too.<br />
"Hagrid -- what's that?"<br />
But he already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire,<br />
underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.<br />
"Ah," said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "That's er..."<br />
"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" said Ron, crouching over the fire to get<br />
a closer look at the egg. "It must've cost you a fortune."<br />
"Won it," said Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a<br />
few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was<br />
quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."<br />
"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" said Hermione.<br />
"Well, I've bin doin' some readin' , said Hagrid, pulling a large book<br />
from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library -- Dragon Breeding<br />
for Pleasure and Profit -- it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's<br />
all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on I<br />
em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with<br />
chicken blood every half hour. An' see here -- how ter recognize<br />
diff'rent eggs -- what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're<br />
rare, them."<br />
He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione didn't.<br />
"Hagrid, you live in a wooden house," she said.<br />
But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the<br />
fire.<br />
So now they had something else to worry about: what might happen to<br />
Hagrid if anyone found out he was hiding an illegal dragon in his hut.<br />
"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron sighed, as evening<br />
after evening they struggled through all the extra homework they were<br />
getting. Hermione had now started making study schedules for Harry and<br />
Ron, too. It was driving them nuts.<br />
Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Harry another note from Hagrid.<br />
He had written only two words: It's hatching.<br />
Ron wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut. Hermione<br />
wouldn't hear of it.<br />
"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon<br />
hatching?"<br />
"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what<br />
Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing --"<br />
"Shut up!" Harry whispered.<br />
Malfoy was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. How<br />
much had he heard? Harry didn't like the look on Malfoy's face at all.<br />
Ron and Hermione argued all the way to Herbology and in the end,<br />
Hermione agreed to run down to Hagrid's with the other two during<br />
morning break. When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of their<br />
lesson, the three of them dropped their trowels at once and hurried<br />
through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greeted them,<br />
looking flushed and excited.<br />
"It's nearly out." He ushered them inside.<br />
The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something<br />
was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it.<br />
They all drew their chairs up to the table and watched with bated<br />
breath.<br />
All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby<br />
dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn't exactly pretty; Harry thought<br />
it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge<br />
compared to its skinny jet body, it had a long snout with wide nostrils,<br />
the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.<br />
It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.<br />
"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke<br />
the dragon's head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs.<br />
"Bless him, look, he knows his mommy!" said Hagrid.<br />
"Hagrid," said Hermione, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow,<br />
exactly?"<br />
Hagrid was about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face<br />
-- he leapt to his feet and ran to the window.<br />
"What's the matter?"<br />
"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains -- it's a kid --<br />
he's runnin' back up ter the school."<br />
Harry bolted to the door and looked out. Even at a distance there was no<br />
mistaking him.<br />
Malfoy had seen the dragon.<br />
Something about the smile lurking on Malfoy's face during the next week<br />
made Harry, Ron, and Hermione very nervous. They spent most of their<br />
free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him.<br />
"Just let him go," Harry urged. "Set him free."<br />
"I can't," said Hagrid. "He's too little. He'd die."<br />
They looked at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a<br />
week. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing<br />
his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There<br />
were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.<br />
"I've decided to call him Norbert," said Hagrid, looking at the dragon<br />
with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert!<br />
Where's Mommy?"<br />
"He's lost his marbles," Ron muttered in Harry's ear.<br />
"Hagrid," said Harry loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to<br />
be as long as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment."<br />
Hagrid bit his lip.<br />
"I -- I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I<br />
can't."<br />
Harry suddenly turned to Ron. Charlie, he said.<br />
"You're losing it, too," said Ron. "I'm Ron, remember?"<br />
"No -- Charlie -- your brother, Charlie. In Romania. Studying dragons.<br />
We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put<br />
him back in the wild!"<br />
"Brilliant!" said Ron. "How about it, Hagrid?"<br />
And in the end, Hagrid agreed that they could send -an owl to Charlie to<br />
ask him.<br />
The following week dragged by. Wednesday night found Hermione and Harry<br />
sitting alone in the common room, long after everyone else had gone to<br />
bed. The clock on the wall had just<br />
chimed midnight when the portrait hole burst open. Ron appeared out of<br />
nowhere as he pulled off Harry's invisibility cloak. He had been down at<br />
Hagrid's hut, helping him feed Norbert, who was now eating dead rats by<br />
the crate.<br />
"It bit me!" he said, showing them his hand, which was wrapped in a<br />
bloody handkerchief. "I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a<br />
week. I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met,<br />
but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little<br />
bunny rabbit. When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when<br />
I left, he was singing it a lullaby."<br />
There was a tap on the dark window.<br />
"It's Hedwig!" said Harry, hurrying to let her in. "She'll have<br />
Charlie's answer!"<br />
The three of them put their heads together to read the note.<br />
Dear Ron,<br />
How are you? Thanks for the letter -- I'd be glad to take the Norwegian<br />
Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing<br />
will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to<br />
visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal<br />
dragon.<br />
Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on<br />
Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still<br />
dark.<br />
Send me an answer as soon as possible.<br />
Love,<br />
Charlie<br />
They looked at one another.<br />
"We've got the invisibility cloak," said Harry. "It shouldn't be too<br />
difficult -- I think the cloaks big enough to cover two of us and<br />
Norbert."<br />
It was a mark of how bad the last week had been that the other two<br />
agreed with him. Anything to get rid of Norbert -- and Malfoy.<br />
There was a hitch. By the next morning, Ron's bitten hand had swollen to<br />
twice its usual size. He didn't know whether it was safe to go to Madam<br />
Pomfrey -- would she recognize a dragon bite? By the afternoon, though,<br />
he had no choice. The cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked<br />
as if Norbert's fangs were poisonous.<br />
Harry and Hermione rushed up to the hospital wing at the end of the day<br />
to find Ron in a terrible state in bed.<br />
"It's not just my hand," he whispered, "although that feels like it's<br />
about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of<br />
my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept<br />
threatening to tell her what really bit me -- I've told her it was a<br />
dog, but I don't think she believes me -I shouldn't have hit him at the<br />
Quidditch match, that's why he's doing this."<br />
Harry and Hermione tried to calm Ron down.<br />
"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," said Hermione, but this<br />
didn't soothe Ron at all. On the contrary, he sat bolt upright and broke<br />
into a sweat.<br />
"Midnight on Saturday!" he said in a hoarse voice. "Oh no oh no -- I've<br />
just remembered -- Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took, he's<br />
going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."<br />
Harry and Hermione didn't get a chance to answer. Madam Pomfrey came<br />
over at that moment and made them leave, saying Ron needed sleep.<br />
"It's too late to change the plan now," Harry told Hermione. "We haven't<br />
got time to send Charlie another owl, and this could be our only chance<br />
to get rid of Norbert. We'll have to risk it. And we have got the<br />
invisibility cloak, Malfoy doesn't know about that."<br />
They found Fang, the boarhound, sitting outside with a bandaged tail<br />
when they went to tell Hagrid, who opened a window to talk to them.<br />
"I won't let you in," he puffed. "Norbert's at a tricky stage -- nothin'<br />
I can't handle."<br />
When they told him about Charlie's letter, his eyes filled with tears,<br />
although that might have been because Norbert had just bitten him on the<br />
leg.<br />
"Aargh! It's all right, he only got my boot -- jus' playin' -- he's only<br />
a baby, after all."<br />
The baby banged its tail on the wall, making the windows rattle. Harry<br />
and Hermione walked back to the castle feeling Saturday couldn't come<br />
quickly enough.<br />
They would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came for him to say<br />
good-bye to Norbert if they hadn't been so worried about what they had<br />
to do. It was a very dark, cloudy night, and they were a bit late<br />
arriving at Hagrid's hut because they'd had to wait for Peeves to get<br />
out of their way in the entrance hall, where he'd been playing tennis<br />
against the wall. Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate.<br />
"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," said Hagrid in<br />
a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets<br />
lonely."<br />
From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded to Harry as<br />
though the teddy was having his head torn off.<br />
"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed, as Harry and Hermione covered the<br />
crate with the invisibility cloak and stepped underneath it themselves.<br />
"Mommy will never forget you!"<br />
How they managed to get the crate back up to the castle, they never<br />
knew. Midnight ticked nearer as they heaved Norbert up the marble<br />
staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. UP another<br />
staircase, then another -- even one of Harry's shortcuts didn't make the<br />
work much easier.<br />
"Nearly there!" Harry panted as they reached the corridor beneath the<br />
tallest tower.<br />
Then a sudden movement ahead of them made them almost drop the crate.<br />
Forgetting that they were already invisible, they shrank into the<br />
shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each<br />
other ten feet away. A lamp flared.<br />
Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, had Malfoy by<br />
the ear.<br />
"Detention!" she shouted. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering<br />
around in the middle of the night, how dare you --"<br />
"You don't understand, Professor. Harry Potter's coming -- he's got a<br />
dragon!"<br />
"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on -- I shall see<br />
Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"<br />
The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest<br />
thing in the world after that. Not until they'd stepped out into the<br />
cold night air did they throw off the cloak, glad to be able to breathe<br />
properly again. Hermione did a sort of jig.<br />
"Malfoy's got detention! I could sing!"<br />
"Don't," Harry advised her.<br />
Chuckling about Malfoy, they waited, Norbert thrashing about in his<br />
crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out<br />
of the darkness.<br />
Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They showed Harry and Hermione the<br />
harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them.<br />
They all helped buckle Norbert safely into it and then Harry and<br />
Hermione shook hands with the others and thanked them very much.<br />
At last, Norbert was going... going... gone.<br />
They slipped back down the spiral staircase, their hearts as light as<br />
their hands, now that Norbert was off them. No more dragon -- Malfoy in<br />
detention -- what could spoil their happiness?<br />
The answer to that was waiting at the foot of the stairs. As they<br />
stepped into the corridor, Filch's face loomed suddenly out of the<br />
darkness.<br />
"Well, well, well," he whispered, "we are in trouble."<br />
They'd left the invisibility cloak on top of the tower.<br />
CHAPTER FIFTEEN<br />
THE FORIBIDDEN FOREST<br />
Things couldn't have been worse.<br />
Filch took them down to Professor McGonagall's study on the first floor,<br />
where they sat and waited without saying a word to each other. Hermione<br />
was trembling. Excuses, alibis, and wild cover- up stories chased each<br />
other around Harry's brain, each more feeble than the last. He couldn't<br />
see how they were going to get out of trouble this time. They were<br />
cornered. How could they have been so stupid as to forget the cloak?<br />
There was no reason on earth that Professor McGonagall would accept for<br />
their being out of bed and creeping around the school in the dead of<br />
night, let alone being up the tallest astronomy tower, which was<br />
out-of-bounds except for classes. Add Norbert and the invisibility<br />
cloak, and they might as well be packing their bags already.<br />
Had Harry thought that things couldn't have been worse? He was wrong.<br />
When Professor McGonagall appeared, she was leading Neville.<br />
"Harry!" Neville burst Out, the moment he saw the other two. "I was<br />
trying to find you to warn you, I heard Malfoy saying he was going to<br />
catch you, he said you had a drag --"<br />
Harry shook his head violently to shut Neville up, but Professor<br />
McGonagall had seen. She looked more likely to breathe fire than Norbert<br />
as she towered over the three of them.<br />
"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were<br />
up in the astronomy tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain<br />
yourselves."<br />
It was the first time Hermione had ever failed to answer a teacher's<br />
question. She was staring at her slippers, as still as a statue.<br />
"I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on," said Professor<br />
McGonagall. "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco<br />
Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of<br />
bed and into trouble. I've already caught him. I suppose you think it's<br />
funny that Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too?"<br />
Harry caught Neville's eye and tried to tell him without words that this<br />
wasn't true, because Neville was looking stunned and hurt. Poor,<br />
blundering Neville -- Harry knew what it must have cost him to try and<br />
find them in the dark, to warn them.<br />
"I'm disgusted," said Professor McGonagall. "Four students out of bed in<br />
one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I<br />
thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Potter, I thought Gryffindor<br />
meant more to you than this. All three of you will receive detentions --<br />
yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom, nothing gives you the right to walk around<br />
school at night, especially these days, it's very dangerous -- and fifty<br />
points will be taken from Gryffindor."<br />
"Fifty?" Harry gasped -- they would lose the lead, the lead he'd won in<br />
the last Quidditch match.<br />
"Fifty points each," said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily<br />
through her long, pointed nose.<br />
"Professor -- please<br />
"You can't --"<br />
"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Potter. Now get back to bed, all<br />
of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."<br />
A hundred and fifty points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. In<br />
one night, they'd ruined any chance Gryffindor had had for the house<br />
cup. Harry felt as though the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. How<br />
could they ever make up for this?<br />
Harry didn't sleep all night. He could hear Neville sobbing into his<br />
pillow for what seemed like hours. Harry couldn't think of anything to<br />
say to comfort him. He knew Neville, like himself, was dreading the<br />
dawn. What would happen when the rest of Gryffindor found out what<br />
they'd done?<br />
At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses that recorded the<br />
house points the next day thought there'd been a mistake. How could they<br />
suddenly have a hundred and fifty points fewer than yesterday? And then<br />
the story started to spread: Harry Potter, the famous Harry Potter,<br />
their hero of two Quidditch matches, had lo st them all those points,<br />
him and a couple of other stupid first years.<br />
From being one of the most popular and admired people at the school,<br />
Harry was suddenly the most hated. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs<br />
turned on him, because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose<br />
the house cup. Everywhere Harry went, people pointed and didn't trouble<br />
to lower their voices as they insulted him. Slytherins, on the other<br />
hand, clapped as he walked past them, whistling and cheering, "Thanks<br />
Potter, we owe you one!"<br />
Only Ron stood by him.<br />
"They'll all forget this in a few weeks. Fred and George have lost loads<br />
of points in all the time they've been here, and people still like<br />
them."<br />
"They've never lost a hundred and fifty points in one go, though, have<br />
they?" said Harry miserably.<br />
"Well -- no," Ron admitted.<br />
It was a bit late to repair the damage, but Harry swore to himself not<br />
to meddle in things that weren't his business from now on. He'd had it<br />
196<br />
with sneaking around and spying. He felt so ashamed of himself that he<br />
went to Wood and offered to resign from the Quidditch team.<br />
"Resign?" Wood thundered. "What good'll that do? How are we going to get<br />
any points back if we can't win at Quidditch?"<br />
But even Quidditch had lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn't speak<br />
to Harry during practice, and if they had to speak about him, they<br />
called him "the Seeker."<br />
Hermione and Neville were suffering, too. They didn't have as bad a time<br />
as Harry, because they weren't as well-known, but nobody would speak to<br />
them, either. Hermione had stopped drawing attention to herself in<br />
class, keeping her head down and working in silence.<br />
Harry was almost glad that the exams weren't far away. All the studying<br />
he had to do kept his mind off his misery. He, Ron, and Hermione kept to<br />
themselves, working late into the night, trying to remember the<br />
ingredients in complicated potions, learn charms and spells by heart,<br />
memorize the dates of magical discoveries and goblin rebellions....<br />
Then, about a week before the exams were due to start, Harry's new<br />
resolution not to interfere in anything that didn't concern him was put<br />
to an unexpected test. Walking back from the library on his own one<br />
afternoon, he heard somebody whimpering from a classroom up ahead. As he<br />
drew closer, he heard Quirrell's voice.<br />
"No -- no -- not again, please --"<br />
It sounded as though someone was threatening him. Harry moved closer.<br />
"All right -- all right --" he heard Quirrell sob.<br />
Next second, Quirrell came hurrying out of the classroom straightening<br />
his turban. He was pale and looked as though he was about to cry. He<br />
strode out of sight; Harry didn't think Quirrell had even noticed him.<br />
He waited until Quirrell's footsteps had disappeared, then peered into<br />
the classroom. It was empty, but a door stood ajar at the other end.<br />
Harry was halfway toward it before he remembered what he'd promised<br />
himself about not meddling.<br />
All the same, he'd have gambled twelve Sorcerer's Stones that Snape had<br />
just left the room, and from what Harry had just heard, Snape would be<br />
walking with a new spring in his step -- Quirrell seemed to have given<br />
in at last.<br />
Harry went back to the library, where Hermione was testing Ron on<br />
Astronomy. Harry told them what he'd heard.<br />
"Snape's done it, then!" said Ron. "If Quirrell's told him how to break<br />
his Anti-Dark Force spell --"<br />
"There's still Fluffy, though," said Hermione.<br />
"Maybe Snape's found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid,"<br />
said Ron, looking up at the thousands of books surrounding them. "I bet<br />
there's a book somewhere in here telling you how to get past a giant<br />
three-headed dog. So what do we do, Harry?"<br />
The light of adventure was kindling again in Ron's eyes, but Hermione<br />
answered before Harry could.<br />
"Go to Dumbledore. That's what we should have done ages ago. If we try<br />
anything ourselves we'll be thrown out for sure."<br />
"But we've got no proof!" said Harry. "Quirrell's too scared to back us<br />
up. Snape's only got to say he doesn't know how the troll got in at<br />
Halloween and that he was nowhere near the third floor -- who do you<br />
think they'll believe, him or us? It's not exactly a secret we hate him,<br />
Dumbledore'll think we made it up to get him sacked. Filch wouldn't help<br />
us if his life depended on it, he's too friendly with Snape, and the<br />
more students get thrown out, the better, he'll think. And don't forget,<br />
we're not supposed to know about the Stone or Fluffy. That'll take a lot<br />
of explaining."<br />
Hermione looked convinced, but Ron didn't.<br />
"If we just do a bit of poking around --"<br />
"No," said Harry flatly, "we've done enough poking around."<br />
He pulled a map of Jupiter toward him and started to learn the names of<br />
its moons.<br />
The following morning, notes were delivered to Harry, Hermione, and<br />
Neville at the breakfast table. They were all the same:<br />
Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight. Meet Mr. Filch<br />
in the entrance hall.<br />
Professor McGonagall Harry had forgotten they still had detentions to do<br />
in the furor over the points they'd lost. He half expected Hermione to<br />
complain that this was a whole night of studying lost, but she didn't<br />
say a word. Like Harry, she felt they deserved what they'd got.<br />
At eleven o'clock that night, they said good-bye to Ron in the common<br />
room and went down to the entrance hall with Neville. Filch was already<br />
there -- and so was Malfoy. Harry had also forgotten that Malfoy had<br />
gotten a detention, too.<br />
"Follow me," said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside.<br />
I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you,<br />
eh?" he said, leering at them. "Oh yes... hard work and pain are the<br />
best teachers if you ask me.... It's just a pity they let the old<br />
punishments die out... hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a<br />
few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in<br />
case they're ever needed.... Right, off we go, and don't think of<br />
running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."<br />
They marched off across the dark grounds. Neville kept sniffing. Harry<br />
wondered what their punishment was going to be. It must be something<br />
really horrible, or Filch wouldn't be sounding so delighted.<br />
The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing them<br />
into darkness. Ahead, Harry could see the lighted windows of Hagrid's<br />
hut. Then they heard a distant shout.<br />
"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."<br />
Harry's heart rose; if they were going to be working with Hagrid it<br />
wouldn't be so bad. His relief must have showed in his -face, because<br />
Filch said, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that<br />
oaf? Well, think again, boy -- it's into the forest you're going and I'm<br />
much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."<br />
At this, Neville let out a little moan, and Malfoy stopped dead in his<br />
tracks.<br />
"The forest?" he repeated, and he didn't sound quite as cool as usual.<br />
"We can't go in there at night -- there's all sorts of things in there<br />
-- werewolves, I heard."<br />
Neville clutched the sleeve of Harry's robe and made a choking noise.<br />
"That's your problem, isn't it?" said Filch, his voice cracking with<br />
glee. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble,<br />
shouldn't you?"<br />
Hagrid came striding toward them out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He<br />
was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his<br />
shoulder.<br />
"Abou' time," he said. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All<br />
right, Harry, Hermione?"<br />
"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," said Filch coldly,<br />
they're here to be punished, after all."<br />
"That's why yer late, is it?" said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. "Bin<br />
lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit,<br />
I'll take over from here."<br />
"I'll be back at dawn," said Filch, "for what's left of them," he added<br />
nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp<br />
bobbing away in the darkness.<br />
Malfoy now turned to Hagrid.<br />
"I'm not going in that forest, he said, and Harry was pleased to hear<br />
the note of panic in his voice.<br />
"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," said Hagrid fiercely.<br />
"Yeh've done wrong an' now yehve got ter pay fer it."<br />
"But this is servant stuff, it's not for students to do. I thought we'd<br />
be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he'd<br />
tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled. "Copyin' lines!<br />
What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or Yeh'll get out.<br />
If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off<br />
ter the castle an' pack. Go on"'<br />
Malfoy didn't move. He looked at Hagrid furiously, but then dropped his<br />
gaze.<br />
"Right then," said Hagrid, "now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous<br />
what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow<br />
me over here a moment."<br />
He led them to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he<br />
pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the<br />
thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into<br />
the forest.<br />
"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground?<br />
Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt<br />
badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead<br />
last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have<br />
ter put it out of its misery."<br />
"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" said Malfoy,<br />
unable to keep the fear out of his voice.<br />
"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with<br />
me or Fang," said Hagrid. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're<br />
gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent<br />
directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin'<br />
around since last night at least."<br />
"I want Fang," said Malfoy quickly, looking at Fang's long teeth.<br />
"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," said Hagrid. " So me, Harry,<br />
an' Hermione'll go one way an' Draco, Neville, an' Fang'll go the other.<br />
Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right?<br />
Get yer wands out an' practice now -- that's it -- an' if anyone gets in<br />
trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll all come an' find yeh -- so, be<br />
careful -- let's go."<br />
The forest was black and silent. A little way into it they reached a<br />
fork in the earth path, and Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid took the left<br />
path while Malfoy, Neville, and Fang took the right.<br />
They walked in silence, their eyes on the ground. Every now and then a<br />
ray of moonlight through the branches above lit a spot of silver-blue<br />
blood on the fallen leaves.<br />
Harry saw that Hagrid looked very worried.<br />
"Could a werewolf be killing the unicorns?" Harry asked.<br />
"Not fast enough," said Hagrid. "It's not easy ter catch a unicorn,<br />
they're powerful magic creatures. I never knew one ter be hurt before."<br />
They walked past a mossy tree stump. Harry could hear running water;<br />
there must be a stream somewhere close by. There were still spots of<br />
unicorn blood here and there along the winding path.<br />
"You all right, Hermione?" Hagrid whispered. "Don' worry, it can't've<br />
gone far if it's this badly hurt, an' then we'll be able ter -- <i>GET</i><br />
<i>BEHIND THAT TREE!</i>"<br />
Hagrid seized Harry and Hermione and hoisted them off the path behind a<br />
towering oak. He pulled out an arrow and fitted it into his crossbow,<br />
raising it, ready to fire. The three of them listened. Something was<br />
slithering over dead leaves nearby: it sounded like a cloak trailing<br />
along the ground. Hagrid was squinting up the dark path, but after a few<br />
seconds, the sound faded away.<br />
"I knew it, " he murmured. "There's summat in here that shouldn' be."<br />
"A werewolf?" Harry suggested.<br />
"That wasn' no werewolf an' it wasn' no unicorn, neither," said Hagrid<br />
grimly. "Right, follow me, but careful, now."<br />
They walked more slowly, ears straining for the faintest sound.<br />
Suddenly, in a clearing ahead, something definitely moved.<br />
"Who's there?" Hagrid called. "Show yerself -- I'm armed!"<br />
And into the clearing came -- was it a man, or a horse? To the waist, a<br />
man, with red hair and beard, but below that was a horse's gleaming<br />
chestnut body with a long, reddish tail. Harry and Hermione's jaws<br />
dropped.<br />
"Oh, it's you, Ronan," said Hagrid in relief. "How are yeh?"<br />
He walked forward and shook the centaur's hand.<br />
"Good evening to you, Hagrid," said Ronan. He had a deep, sorrowful<br />
voice. "Were you going to shoot me?"<br />
"Can't be too careful, Ronan," said Hagrid, patting his crossbow.<br />
"There's summat bad loose in this forest. This is Harry Potter an'<br />
Hermione Granger, by the way. Students up at the school. An' this is<br />
Ronan, you two. He's a centaur.))<br />
"We'd noticed," said Hermione faintly.<br />
"Good evening," said Ronan. "Students, are you? And do you learn much,<br />
up at the school?"<br />
"Erm --"<br />
"A bit," said Hermione timidly.<br />
"A bit. Well, that's something." Ronan sighed. He flung back his head<br />
and stared at the sky. "Mars is bright tonight."<br />
"Yeah," said Hagrid, glancing up, too. "Listen, I'm glad we've run inter<br />
yeh, Ronan, 'cause there's a unicorn bin hurt -- you seen anythin'?"<br />
Ronan didn't answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upward, then<br />
sighed again.<br />
"Always the innocent are the first victims," he said. "So it has been<br />
for ages past, so it is now."<br />
"Yeah," said Hagrid, "but have yeh seen anythin', Ronan? Anythin'<br />
unusual?"<br />
"Mars is bright tonight," Ronan repeated, while Hagrid watched him<br />
impatiently. "Unusually bright."<br />
"Yeah, but I was meanin' anythin' unusual a bit nearer home, said<br />
Hagrid. "So yeh haven't noticed anythin' strange?"<br />
Yet again, Ronan took a while to answer. At last, he said, "The forest<br />
hides many secrets."<br />
A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again,<br />
but it was only a second centaur, black-haired and -bodied and<br />
wilder-looking than Ronan.<br />
"Hullo, Bane," said Hagrid. "All right?"<br />
"Good evening, Hagrid, I hope you are well?"<br />
"Well enough. Look, I've jus' bin askin' Ronan, you seen anythin' odd in<br />
here lately? There's a unicorn bin injured -- would yeh know anythin'<br />
about it?"<br />
Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan. He looked skyward. "Mars is<br />
bright tonight," he said simply.<br />
"We've heard," said Hagrid grumpily. "Well, if either of you do see<br />
anythin', let me know, won't yeh? We'll be off, then."<br />
Harry and Hermione followed him out of the clearing, staring over their<br />
shoulders at Ronan and Bane until the trees blocked their view.<br />
"Never," said Hagrid irritably, "try an' get a straight answer out of a<br />
centaur. Ruddy stargazers. Not interested in anythin' closer'n the<br />
moon."<br />
"Are there many of them in here?" asked Hermione.<br />
"Oh, a fair few... Keep themselves to themselves mostly, but they're<br />
good enough about turnin' up if ever I want a word. They're deep, mind,<br />
centaurs... they know things... jus' don' let on much."<br />
"D'you think that was a centaur we heard earlier?" said Harry.<br />
"Did that sound like hooves to you? Nah, if yeh ask me, that was what's<br />
bin killin' the unicorns -- never heard anythin' like it before."<br />
They walked on through the dense, dark trees. Harry kept looking<br />
nervously over his shoulder. He had the nasty feeling they were being<br />
watched. He was very glad they had Hagrid and his crossbow with them.<br />
They had just passed a bend in the path when Hermione grabbed Hagrid's<br />
arm.<br />
"Hagrid! Look! Red sparks, the others are in trouble!"<br />
"You two wait here!" Hagrid shouted. "Stay on the path, I'll come back<br />
for yeh!"<br />
They heard him crashing away through the undergrowth and stood looking<br />
at each other, very scared, until they couldn't hear anything but the<br />
rustling of leaves around them.<br />
"You don't think they've been hurt, do you?" whispered Hermione.<br />
"I don't care if Malfoy has, but if something's got Neville... it's our<br />
fault he's here in the first place."<br />
The minutes dragged by. Their ears seemed sharper than usual. Harry's<br />
seemed to be picking up every sigh of the wind, every cracking twig.<br />
What was going on? Where were the others?<br />
At last, a great crunching noise announced Hagrid's return. Malfoy,<br />
Neville, and Fang were with him. Hagrid was fuming. Malfoy, it seemed,<br />
had sneaked up behind Neville and grabbed him as a joke. Neville had<br />
panicked and sent up the sparks.<br />
"We'll be lucky ter catch anythin' now, with the racket you two were<br />
makin'. Right, we're changin' groups -- Neville, you stay with me an'<br />
Hermione, Harry, you go with Fang an' this idiot. I'm sorry," Hagrid<br />
added in a whisper to Harry, "but he'll have a harder time frightenin'<br />
you, an' we've gotta get this done."<br />
So Harry set off into the heart of the forest with Malfoy and Fang. They<br />
walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until<br />
the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so<br />
thick. Harry thought the blood seemed to be getting thicker. There were<br />
splashes on the roots of a tree, as though the poor creature had been<br />
thrashing around in pain close by. Harry could see a clearing ahead,<br />
through the tangled branches of an ancient oak.<br />
"Look --" he murmured, holding out his arm to stop Malfoy.<br />
Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer.<br />
It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Harry had never seen<br />
anything so beautiful and sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck out at<br />
odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on<br />
205<br />
the dark leaves.<br />
Harry had taken one step toward it when a slithering sound made him<br />
freeze where he stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered....<br />
Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the<br />
ground like some stalking beast. Harry, Malfoy, and Fang stood<br />
transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head<br />
over the wound in the animal's side, and began to drink its blood.<br />
"AAAAAAAAAARGH!"<br />
Malfoy let out a terrible scream and bolted -- so did Fang. The hooded<br />
figure raised its head and looked right at Harry -- unicorn blood was<br />
dribbling down its front. It got to its feet and came swiftly toward<br />
Harry -- he couldn't move for fear.<br />
Then a pain like he'd never felt before pierced his head; it was as<br />
though his scar were on fire. Half blinded, he staggered backward. He<br />
heard hooves behind him, galloping, and something jumped clean over<br />
Harry, charging at the figure.<br />
The pain in Harry's head was so bad he fell to his knees. It took a<br />
minute or two to pass. When he looked up, the figure had gone. A centaur<br />
was standing over him, not Ronan or Bane; this one looked younger; he<br />
had white-blond hair and a palomino body.<br />
"Are you all right?" said the centaur, pulling Harry to his feet.<br />
"Yes -- thank you -- what was that?"<br />
The centaur didn't answer. He had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale<br />
sapphires. He looked carefully at Harry, his eyes lingering on the scar<br />
that stood out, livid, on Harry's forehead.<br />
"You are the Potter boy," he said. "You had better get back to Hagrid.<br />
The forest is not safe at this time -- especially for you. Can you ride?<br />
It will be quicker this way.<br />
"My name is Firenze," he added, as he lowered himself on to his front<br />
legs so that Harry could clamber onto his back.<br />
There was suddenly a sound of more galloping from the other side of the<br />
clearing. Ronan and Bane came bursting through the trees, their flanks<br />
heaving and sweaty.<br />
"Firenze!" Bane thundered. "What are you doing? You have a human on your<br />
back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?"<br />
"Do you realize who this is?" said Firenze. "This is the Potter boy. The<br />
quicker he leaves this forest, the better."<br />
"What have you been telling him?" growled Bane. "Remember, Firenze, we<br />
are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read<br />
what is to come in the movements of the planets?"<br />
Ronan pawed the ground nervously. "I'm sure Firenze thought he was<br />
acting for the best, " he said in his gloomy voice.<br />
Bane kicked his back legs in anger.<br />
"For the best! What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with<br />
what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like<br />
donkeys after stray humans in our forest!"<br />
Firenze suddenly reared on to his hind legs in anger, so that Harry had<br />
to grab his shoulders to stay on.<br />
"Do you not see that unicorn?" Firenze bellowed at Bane. "Do you not<br />
understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that<br />
secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Bane, yes,<br />
with humans alongside me if I must."<br />
And Firenze whisked around; with Harry clutching on as best he could,<br />
they plunged off into the trees, leaving Ronan and Bane behind them.<br />
Harry didn't have a clue what was going on.<br />
"Why's Bane so angry?" he asked. "What was that thing you saved me from,<br />
anyway?"<br />
Firenze slowed to a walk, warned Harry to keep his head bowed in case of<br />
low-hanging branches, but did not answer Harry's question. They made<br />
their way through the trees in silence for so long that Harry thought<br />
Firenze didn't want to talk to him anymore. They were passing through a<br />
particularly dense patch of trees, however, when Firenze suddenly<br />
stopped.<br />
"Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used -for?"<br />
"No," said Harry, startled by the odd question. "We've only used the<br />
horn and tail hair in Potions."<br />
"That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn," said<br />
Firenze. "Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain,<br />
would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive,<br />
even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have<br />
slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have<br />
but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your<br />
lips."<br />
Harry stared at the back of Firenze's head, which was dappled silver in<br />
the moonlight.<br />
"But who'd be that desperate?" he wondered aloud. "If you're going to be<br />
cursed forever, deaths better, isn't it?"<br />
"It is," Firenze agreed, "unless all you need is to stay alive long<br />
enough to drink something else -- something that will bring you back to<br />
full strength and power -- something that will mean you can never die.<br />
Mr. Potter, do you know what is hidden in the school at this very<br />
moment?"<br />
"The Sorcerer's Stone! Of course -- the Elixir of Life! But I don't<br />
understand who --"<br />
"Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power,<br />
who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?"<br />
It was as though an iron fist had clenched suddenly around Harry's<br />
heart. Over the rustling of the trees, he seemed to hear once more what<br />
Hagrid had told him on the night they had met: "Some say he died.<br />
Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to<br />
die."<br />
"Do you mean," Harry croaked, "that was Vol-"<br />
"Harry! Harry, are you all right?"<br />
Hermione was running toward them down the path, Hagrid puffing along<br />
behind her.<br />
"I'm fine," said Harry, hardly knowing what he was saying. "The<br />
unicorn's dead, Hagrid, it's in that clearing back there."<br />
"This is where I leave you," Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to<br />
examine the unicorn. "You are safe now."<br />
Harry slid off his back.<br />
"Good luck, Harry Potter," said Firenze. "The planets have been read<br />
wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those<br />
times."<br />
He turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest, leaving Harry<br />
shivering behind him.<br />
Ron had fallen asleep in the dark common room, waiting for them to<br />
return. He shouted something about Quidditch fouls when Harry roughly<br />
shook him awake. In a matter of seconds, though, he was wide-eyed as<br />
Harry began to tell him and Hermione what had happened in the forest.<br />
Harry couldn't sit down. He paced up and down in front of the fire. He<br />
was still shaking.<br />
"Snape wants the stone for Voldemort... and Voldemort's waiting in the<br />
forest... and all this time we thought Snape just wanted to get<br />
rich...."<br />
"Stop saying the name!" said Ron in a terrified whisper, as if he<br />
thought Voldemort could hear them.<br />
Harry wasn't listening.<br />
"Firenze saved me, but he shouldn't have done so.... Bane was furious...<br />
he was talking about interfering with what the planets say is going to<br />
happen.... They must show that Voldemort's coming back.... Bane thinks<br />
Firenze should have let Voldemort kill me.... I suppose that's written<br />
in the stars as well."<br />
"Will you stop saying the name!" Ron hissed.<br />
"So all I've got to wait for now is Snape to steal the Stone," Harry<br />
went on feverishly, "then Voldemort will be able to come and finish me<br />
off... Well, I suppose Bane'll be happy."<br />
Hermione looked very frightened, but she had a word of comfort.<br />
"Harry, everyone says Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was ever<br />
afraid of With Dumbledore around, You-Know-Who won't touch you. Anyway,<br />
who says the centaurs are right? It sounds like fortune-telling to me,<br />
and Professor McGonagall says that's a very imprecise branch of magic."<br />
The sky had turned light before they stopped talking. They went to bed<br />
exhausted, their throats sore. But the night's surprises weren't over.<br />
When Harry pulled back his sheets, he found his invisibility cloak<br />
folded neatly underneath them. There was a note pinned to it:<br />
Just in case.<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
CHAPTER SIXTEEN</h3>
<i><b>THROUGH THE TRAPDOOR</b></i><br />
In years to come, Harry would never quite remember how he had managed to<br />
get through his exams when he half expected Voldemort to come bursting<br />
through the door at any moment. Yet the days crept by, and there could<br />
be no doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door.<br />
It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did<br />
their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the<br />
exams, which had been bewitched with an AntiCheating spell.<br />
They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by<br />
one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tapdance across<br />
a desk. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox<br />
-- points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if<br />
it had whiskers. Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks<br />
while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion.<br />
Harry did the best he could, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his<br />
forehead, which had been bothering him ever since his trip into the<br />
forest. Neville thought Harry had a bad case of exam nerves because<br />
Harry couldn't sleep, but the truth was that Harry kept being woken by<br />
his old nightmare, except that it was now worse than ever because there<br />
was a hooded figure dripping blood in it.<br />
Maybe it was because they hadn't seen what Harry had seen in the forest,<br />
or because they didn't have scars burning on their foreheads, but Ron<br />
and Hermione didn't seem as worried about the Stone as Harry. The idea<br />
of Voldemort certainly scared them, but he didn't keep visiting them in<br />
dreams, and they were so busy with their studying they didn't have much<br />
time to fret about what Snape or anyone else might be up to.<br />
Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering<br />
questions about batty old wizards who'd invented selfstirring cauldrons<br />
and they'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until their exam<br />
results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put<br />
down their quills and roll up their parchment, Harry couldn't help<br />
cheering with the rest.<br />
"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione as they<br />
joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. "I needn't have<br />
learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of<br />
Elfric the Eager."<br />
Hermione always liked to go through their exam papers afterward, but Ron<br />
said this made him feel ill, so they wandered down to the lake and<br />
flopped under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the<br />
tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows. "No<br />
more studying," Ron sighed happily, stretching out on the grass. "You<br />
could look more cheerful, Harry, we've got a week before we find out how<br />
badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet."<br />
Harry was rubbing his forehead.<br />
"I wish I knew what this means!" he burst out angrily. "My scar keeps<br />
hurting -- it's happened before, but never as often as this."<br />
"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested.<br />
"I'm not ill," said Harry. "I think it's a warning... it means danger's<br />
coming...."<br />
Ron couldn't get worked up, it was too hot.<br />
"Harry, relax, Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as<br />
Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof Snape found out<br />
how to get past Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he's not<br />
going to try it again in a hurry. And Neville will play Quidditch for<br />
England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down."<br />
Harry nodded, but he couldn't shake off a lurking feeling that there was<br />
something he'd forgotten to do, something important. When he tried to<br />
explain this, Hermione said, "That's just the exams. I woke up last<br />
night and was halfway through my Transfiguration notes before I<br />
remembered we'd done that one."<br />
Harry was quite sure the unsettled feeling didn't have anything to do<br />
with work, though. He watched an owl flutter toward the school across<br />
the bright blue sky, a note clamped in its mouth. Hagrid was the only<br />
one who ever sent him letters. Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore.<br />
Hagrid would never tell anyone how to get past Fluffy... never... but --<br />
Harry suddenly jumped to his feet.<br />
"Where're you going?" said Ron sleepily.<br />
"I've just thought of something," said Harry. He had turned white.<br />
"We've got to go and see Hagrid, now."<br />
"Why?" panted Hermione, hurrying to keep up.<br />
"Don't you think it's a bit odd," said Harry, scrambling up the grassy<br />
slope, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and<br />
a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How<br />
many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law?<br />
Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't I see it before?"<br />
"What are you talking about?" said Ron, but Harry, sprinting across the<br />
grounds toward the forest, didn't answer.<br />
Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and<br />
sleeves were rolled up, and he was shelling peas into a large bowl.<br />
"Hullo," he said, smiling. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"<br />
"Yes, please," said Ron, but Harry cut him off.<br />
"No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know<br />
that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards<br />
with look like?"<br />
"Dunno," said Hagrid casually, "he wouldn' take his cloak off."<br />
He saw the three of them look stunned and raised his eyebrows.<br />
"It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head --<br />
that's the pub down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn'<br />
he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."<br />
Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas. "What did you talk to him<br />
about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?"<br />
"Mighta come up," said Hagrid, frowning as he tried to remember.<br />
"Yeah... he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here....<br />
He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I took after... so I told<br />
him... an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon... an'<br />
then... I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks....<br />
Let's see... yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play<br />
cards fer it if I wanted... but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he<br />
didn' want it ter go ter any old home.... So I told him, after Fluffy, a<br />
dragon would be easy..."<br />
"And did he -- did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry asked, try ing<br />
to keep his voice calm.<br />
"Well -- yeah -- how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around<br />
Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to<br />
calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off<br />
ter sleep --"<br />
Hagrid suddenly looked horrified.<br />
"I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted out. "Forget I said it! Hey --<br />
where're yeh goin'?"<br />
Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn't speak to each other at all until they<br />
came to a halt in the entrance hall, which seemed very cold and gloomy<br />
after the grounds.<br />
"We've got to go to Dumbledore," said Harry. "Hagrid told that stranger<br />
how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that<br />
cloak -- it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope<br />
Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't stop<br />
him. Where's Dumbledore's office?"<br />
They looked around, as if hoping to see a sign pointing them in the<br />
right direction. They had never been told where Dumbledore lived, nor<br />
did they know anyone who had been sent to see him.<br />
"We'll just have to --" Harry began, but a voice suddenly rang across<br />
the hall.<br />
"What are you three doing inside?"<br />
It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books.<br />
"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione, rather bravely,<br />
Harry and Ron thought.<br />
"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated, as though<br />
this was a very fishy thing to want to do. "Why?"<br />
Harry swallowed -- now what?<br />
"It's sort of secret," he said, but he wished at once he hadn't, because<br />
Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared.<br />
"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she said coldly. "He<br />
received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for<br />
London at once."<br />
"He's gone?" said Harry frantically. "Now?"<br />
"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many<br />
demands on his time --<br />
"But this is important."<br />
"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic,<br />
Potter.<br />
"Look," said Harry, throwing caution to the winds, "Professor -- it's<br />
about the Sorcerer's tone --"<br />
Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books<br />
she was carrying tumbled out of her arms, but she didn't pick them up.<br />
"How do you know --?" she spluttered.<br />
"Professor, I think -- I know -- that Sn- that someone's going to try<br />
and steal the Stone. I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore."<br />
She eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion.<br />
"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she said finally. I don't<br />
know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can<br />
possibly steal it, it's too well protected."<br />
"But Professor --"<br />
"Potter, I know what I'm talking about," she said shortly. She bent down<br />
and gathered up the fallen books. I suggest you all go back outside and<br />
enjoy the sunshine."<br />
But they didn't.<br />
"It's tonight," said Harry, once he was sure Professor McGonagall was<br />
out of earshot. "Snape's going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found<br />
out everything he needs, and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He<br />
sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when<br />
Dumbledore turns up."<br />
"But what can we --"<br />
Hermione gasped. Harry and Ron wheeled round.<br />
Snape was standing there.<br />
"Good afternoon," he said smoothly.<br />
They stared at him.<br />
"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he said, with an odd,<br />
twisted smile.<br />
"We were --" Harry began, without any idea what he was going to say.<br />
"You want to be more careful," said Snape. "Hanging around<br />
like this, people will think you're up to something. And Gryffindor<br />
really can't afford to lose any more points, can it?"<br />
Harry flushed. They turned to go outside, but Snape called them back.<br />
"Be warned, Potter -- any more nighttime wanderings and I will<br />
personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you."<br />
He strode off in the direction of the staffroom.<br />
Out on the stone steps, Harry turned to the others.<br />
"Right, here's what we've got to do," he whispered urgently. "One of us<br />
has got to keep an eye on Snape -- wait outside the staff room and<br />
follow him if he leaves it. Hermione, you'd better do that."<br />
"Why me?"<br />
"It's obvious," said Ron. "You can pretend to be waiting for Professor<br />
Flitwick, you know." He put on a high voice, "'Oh Professor Flitwick,<br />
I'm so worried, I think I got question fourteen b wrong....'"<br />
"Oh, shut up," said Hermione, but she agreed to go and watch out for<br />
Snape.<br />
"And we'd better stay outside the third-floor corridor," Harry told Ron.<br />
"Come on."<br />
But that part of the plan didn't work. No sooner had they reached the<br />
door separating Fluffy from the rest of the school than Professor<br />
McGonagall turned up again and this time, she lost her temper.<br />
"I suppose you think you're harder to get past than a pack of<br />
enchantments!" she stormed. "Enough of this nonsense! If I hear you 've<br />
come anywhere near here again, I'll take another fifty points from<br />
Gryffindor! Yes, Weasley, from my own house!" Harry and Ron went back to<br />
the common room, Harry had just said, "At least Hermione's on Snape's<br />
tail," when the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and Hermione came<br />
in.<br />
"I'm sorry, Harry!" she wailed. "Snape came out and asked me what I was<br />
doing, so I said I was waiting for Flitwick, and Snape went to get him,<br />
and I've only just got away, I don't know where Snape went."<br />
"Well, that's it then, isn't it?" Harry said.<br />
The other two stared at him. He was pale and his eyes were glittering.<br />
"I'm going out of here tonight and I'm going to try and get to the Stone<br />
first."<br />
"You're mad!" said Ron.<br />
"You can't!" said Hermione. "After what McGonagall and Snape have said?<br />
You'll be expelled!"<br />
"SO WHAP" Harry shouted. "Don't you understand? If Snape gets hold of<br />
the Stone, Voldemort's coming back! Haven't you heard what it was like<br />
when he was trying to take over? There won't be any Hogwarts to get<br />
expelled from! He'll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark<br />
Arts! Losing points doesn't matter anymore, can't you see? D'you think<br />
he'll leave you and your families alone if Gryffindor wins the house<br />
cup? If I get caught before I can get to the Stone, well, I'll have to<br />
go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to find me there, it's<br />
only dying a bit later than I would have, because I'm never going over<br />
to the Dark Side! I'm going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing<br />
you two say is going to stop me! Voldemort killed my parents, remember?"<br />
He glared at them.<br />
"You're right Harry," said Hermione in a small voice.<br />
"I'll use the invisibility cloak," said Harry. "It's just lucky I got it<br />
back."<br />
"But will it cover all three of us?" said Ron.<br />
"All -- all three of us?"<br />
"Oh, come off it, you don't think we'd let you go alone?"<br />
"Of course not," said Hermione briskly. "How do you think you'd get to<br />
the Stone without us? I'd better go and took through my books, there<br />
might be something useful..."<br />
"But if we get caught, you two will be expelled, too."<br />
"Not if I can help it," said Hermione grimly. "Flitwick told me in<br />
secret that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They're not<br />
throwing me out after that."<br />
After dinner the three of them sat nervously apart in the common room.<br />
Nobody bothered them; none of the Gryffindors had anything to say to<br />
Harry any more, after all. This was the first night he hadn't been upset<br />
by it. Hermione was skimming through all her notes, hoping to come<br />
across one of the enchantments they were about to try to break. Harry<br />
and Ron didn't talk much. Both of them were thinking about what they<br />
were about to do.<br />
Slowly, the room emptied as people drifted off to bed.<br />
"Better get the cloak," Ron muttered, as Lee Jordan finally left,<br />
stretching and yawning. Harry ran upstairs to their dark dormitory. He<br />
putted out the cloak and then his eyes fell on the flute Hagrid had<br />
given him for Christmas. He pocketed it to use on Fluffy -- he didn't<br />
feel much like singing.<br />
He ran back down to the common room.<br />
"We'd better put the cloak on here, and make sure it covers all three of<br />
us -- if Filch spots one of our feet wandering along on its own --"<br />
"What are you doing?" said a voice from the corner of the room. Neville<br />
appeared from behind an armchair, clutching Trevor the toad, who looked<br />
as though he'd been making another bid for freedom.<br />
"Nothing, Neville, nothing," said Harry, hurriedly putting the cloak<br />
behind his back.<br />
Neville stared at their guilty faces.<br />
"You're going out again," he said.<br />
"No, no, no," said Hermione. "No, we're not. Why don't you go to bed,<br />
Neville?"<br />
Harry looked at the grandfather clock by the door. They couldn't afford<br />
to waste any more time, Snape might even now be playing Fluffy to sleep.<br />
"You can't go out," said Neville, "you'll be caught again. Gryffindor<br />
will be in even more trouble."<br />
"You don't understand," said Harry, "this is important."<br />
But Neville was clearly steeling himself to do something desperate.<br />
I won't let you do it," he said, hurrying to stand in front of the<br />
portrait hole. "I'll -- I'll fight you!"<br />
"Neville, "Ron exploded, "get away from that hole and don't be an idiot<br />
--"<br />
"Don't you call me an idiot!" said Neville. I don't think you should be<br />
breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to<br />
people!"<br />
"Yes, but not to us," said Ron in exasperation. "Neville, you don't know<br />
what you're doing."<br />
He took a step forward and Neville dropped Trevor the toad, who leapt<br />
out of sight.<br />
"Go on then, try and hit me!" said Neville, raising his fists. "I'm<br />
ready!"<br />
Harry turned to Hermione.<br />
"Do something," he said desperately.<br />
Hermione stepped forward.<br />
"Neville," she said, "I'm really, really sorry about this."<br />
She raised her wand.<br />
"Petrificus Totalus!" she cried, pointing it at Neville.<br />
Neville's arms snapped to his sides. His legs sprang together. His whole<br />
body rigid, he swayed where he stood and then fell flat on his face,<br />
stiff as a board.<br />
Hermione ran to turn him over. Neville's jaws were jammed together so he<br />
couldn't speak. Only his eyes were moving, looking at them in horror.<br />
"What've you done to him?" Harry whispered.<br />
"It's the full Body-Bind," said Hermione miserably. "Oh, Neville, I'm so<br />
sorry."<br />
"We had to, Neville, no time to explain," said Harry.<br />
"You'll understand later, Neville," said Ron as they stepped over him<br />
and pulled on the invisibility cloak.<br />
But leaving Neville lying motionless on the floor didn't feel like a<br />
very good omen. In their nervous state, every statue's shadow looked<br />
like Filch, every distant breath of wind sounded like Peeves swooping<br />
down on them. At the foot of the first set of stairs, they spotted Mrs.<br />
Norris skulking near the top.<br />
"Oh, let's kick her, just this once," Ron whispered in Harry's ear, but<br />
Harry shook his head. As they climbed carefully around her, Mrs. Norris<br />
turned her lamplike eyes on them, but didn't do anything.<br />
They didn't meet anyone else until they reached the staircase up to the<br />
third floor. Peeves was bobbing halfway up, loosening the carpet so that<br />
people would trip.<br />
"Who's there?" he said suddenly as they climbed toward him. He narrowed<br />
his wicked black eyes. "Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are<br />
you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?"<br />
He rose up in the air and floated there, squinting at them.<br />
"Should call Filch, I should, if something's a-creeping around unseen."<br />
Harry had a sudden idea.<br />
"Peeves," he said, in a hoarse whisper, "the Bloody Baron has his own<br />
reasons for being invisible."<br />
Peeves almost fell out of the air in shock. He caught himself in time<br />
and hovered about a foot off the stairs.<br />
"So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr. Baron, Sir," he said greasily. "My<br />
mistake, my mistake -- I didn't see you -- of course I didn't, you're<br />
invisible -- forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir."<br />
"I have business here, Peeves," croaked Harry. "Stay away from this<br />
place tonight."<br />
"I will, sir, I most certainly will," said Peeves, rising up in the air<br />
again. "Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you."<br />
And he scooted off<br />
"Brilliant, Harry!" whispered Ron.<br />
A few seconds later, they were there, outside the third-floor corridor<br />
-- and the door was already ajar.<br />
"Well, there you are," Harry said quietly, "Snape's already got past<br />
Fluffy."<br />
Seeing the open door somehow seemed to impress upon all three of them<br />
what was facing them. Underneath the cloak, Harry turned to the other<br />
two.<br />
"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," he said. "You can take the<br />
cloak, I won't need it now."<br />
"Don't be stupid," said Ron.<br />
"We're coming," said Hermione.<br />
Harry pushed the door open.<br />
As the door creaked, low, rumbling growls met their ears. All three of<br />
the dog's noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it<br />
couldn't see them.<br />
"What's that at its feet?" Hermione whispered.<br />
"Looks like a harp," said Ron. "Snape must have left it there."<br />
"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," said Harry. "Well, here<br />
goes..."<br />
He put Hagrid's flute to his lips and blew. It wasn't really a tune, but<br />
from the first note the beast's eyes began to droop. Harry hardly drew<br />
breath. Slowly, the dog's growls ceased -- it tottered on its paws and<br />
fell to its knees, then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep.<br />
"Keep playing," Ron warned Harry as they slipped out of the cloak and<br />
crept toward the trapdoor. They could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath<br />
as they approached the giant heads. "I think we'll be able to pull the<br />
door open," said Ron, peering over the dog's back. "Want to go first,<br />
Hermione?"<br />
"No, I don't!"<br />
"All right." Ron gritted his teeth and stepped carefully over the dog's<br />
legs. He bent and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung up and<br />
open.<br />
"What can you see?" Hermione said anxiously.<br />
"Nothing -- just black -- there's no way of climbing down, we'll just<br />
have to drop."<br />
Harry, who was still playing the flute, waved at Ron to get his<br />
attention and pointed at himself.<br />
"You want to go first? Are you sure?" said Ron. "I don't know how deep<br />
this thing goes. Give the flute to Hermione so she can keep him asleep."<br />
Harry handed the flute over. In the few seconds' silence, the dog<br />
growled and twitched, but the moment Hermione began to play, it fell<br />
back into its deep sleep.<br />
Harry climbed over it and looked down through the trapdoor. There was no<br />
sign of the bottom.<br />
He lowered himself through the hole until he was hanging on by his<br />
fingertips. Then he looked up at Ron and said, "If anything happens to<br />
me, don't follow. Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to<br />
Dumbledore, right?"<br />
"Right," said Ron.<br />
"See you in a minute, I hope...<br />
And Harry let go. Cold, damp air rushed past him as he fell down, down,<br />
down and -- FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump he landed on<br />
something soft. He sat up and felt around, his eyes not used to the<br />
gloom. It felt as though he was sitting on some sort of plant.<br />
"It's okay!" he called up to the light the size of a postage stamp,<br />
which was the open trapdoor, "it's a soft landing, you can jump!"<br />
Ron followed right away. He landed, sprawled next to Harry.<br />
"What's this stuff?" were his first words.<br />
"Dunno, some sort of plant thing. I suppose it's here to break the fall.<br />
Come on, Hermione!"<br />
The distant music stopped. There was a loud bark from the dog, but<br />
Hermione had already jumped. She landed on Harry's other side.<br />
"We must be miles under the school , she said.<br />
"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," said Ron.<br />
"Lucky!" shrieked Hermione. "Look at you both!"<br />
She leapt up and struggled toward a damp wall. She had to struggle<br />
because the moment she had landed, the plant had started to twist<br />
snakelike tendrils around her ankles. As for Harry and Ron, their legs<br />
had already been bound tightly in long creepers without their noticing.<br />
Hermione had managed to free herself before the plant got a firm grip on<br />
her. Now she watched in horror as the two boys fought to pull the plant<br />
off them, but the more they strained against it, the tighter and faster<br />
the plant wound around them.<br />
"Stop moving!" Hermione ordered them. "I know what this is -- it's<br />
Devil's Snare!"<br />
"Oh, I'm so glad we know what it's called, that's a great help," snarled<br />
Ron, leaning back, trying to stop the plant from curling around his<br />
neck. "Shut up, I'm trying to remember how to kill it!" said Hermione.<br />
"Well, hurry up, I can't breathe!" Harry gasped, wrestling with it as it<br />
curled around his chest.<br />
"Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare... what did Professor Sprout say? -- it<br />
likes the dark and the damp<br />
"So light a fire!" Harry choked.<br />
"Yes -- of course -- but there's no wood!" Hermione cried, wringing her<br />
hands.<br />
"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" Ron bellowed. "ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?"<br />
"Oh, right!" said Hermione, and she whipped out her wand, waved it,<br />
muttered something, and sent a jet of the same bluebell flames she had<br />
used on Snape at the plant. In a matter of seconds, the two boys felt it<br />
loosening its grip as it cringed away from the light and warmth.<br />
Wriggling and flailing, it unraveled itself from their bodies, and they<br />
were able to pull free.<br />
"Lucky you pay attention in Herbology, Hermione," said Harry as he<br />
joined her by the wall, wiping sweat off his face.<br />
"Yeah," said Ron, "and lucky Harry doesn't lose his head in a crisis --<br />
'there's no wood,' honestly."<br />
"This way," said Harry, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the<br />
only way forward.<br />
All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of<br />
water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downward, and<br />
Harry was reminded of Gringotts. With an unpleasant jolt of the heart,<br />
he remembered the dragons said to be guarding vaults in the wizards'<br />
bank. If they met a dragon, a fully-grown dragon -- Norbert had been bad<br />
enough...<br />
"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered.<br />
Harry listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up<br />
ahead.<br />
"Do you think it's a ghost?"<br />
"I don't know... sounds like wings to me."<br />
"There's light ahead -- I can see something moving."<br />
They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly<br />
lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small,<br />
jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the<br />
opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.<br />
"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Ron.<br />
"Probably," said Harry. "They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if<br />
they all swooped down at once... well, there's no other choice... I'll<br />
run."<br />
He took a deep breath, covered his face with his arms, and sprinted<br />
across the room. He expected to feel sharp beaks and claws tearing at<br />
him any second, but nothing happened. He reached the door untouched. He<br />
pulled the handle, but it was locked.<br />
The other two followed him. They tugged and heaved at the door, but it<br />
wouldn't budge, not even when Hermione tried her Alohomora charm.<br />
"Now what?" said Ron.<br />
"These birds... they can't be here just for decoration," said Hermione.<br />
They watched the birds soaring overhead, glittering -- glittering?<br />
"They're not birds!" Harry said suddenly. "They're keys! Winged keys --<br />
look carefully. So that must mean..." he looked around the chamber while<br />
the other two squinted up at the flock of keys. "... yes -- look!<br />
Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"<br />
"But there are hundreds of them!"<br />
Ron examined the lock on the door.<br />
"We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one -- probably silver, like the<br />
handle."<br />
They each seized a broomstick and kicked off into the air, soaring into<br />
the midst of the cloud of keys. They grabbed and snatched, but the<br />
bewitched keys darted and dived so quickly it was almost impossible to<br />
catch one.<br />
Not for nothing, though, was Harry the youngest Seeker in a century. He<br />
had a knack for spotting things other people didn't. After a minute's<br />
weaving about through the whirl of rainbow feathers, he noticed a large<br />
silver key that had a bent wing, as if it had already been caught and<br />
stuffed roughly into the keyhole.<br />
"That one!" he called to the others. "That big one -- there -- no, there<br />
-- with bright blue wings -- the feathers are all crumpled on one side."<br />
Ron went speeding in the direction that Harry was pointing, crashed into<br />
the ceiling, and nearly fell off his broom.<br />
"We've got to close in on it!" Harry called, not taking his eyes off the<br />
key with the damaged wing. "Ron, you come at it from above -- Hermione,<br />
stay below and stop it from going down and I'll try and catch it. Right,<br />
NOW!"<br />
Ron dived, Hermione rocketed upward, the key dodged them both, and Harry<br />
streaked after it; it sped toward the wall, Harry leaned forward and<br />
with a nasty, crunching noise, pinned it against the stone with one<br />
hand. Ron and Hermione's cheers echoed around the high chamber.<br />
They landed quickly, and Harry ran to the door, the key struggling in<br />
his hand. He rammed it into the lock and turned -- it worked. The moment<br />
the lock had clicked open, the key took flight again, looking very<br />
battered now that it had been caught twice.<br />
"Ready?" Harry asked the other two, his hand on the door handle. They<br />
nodded. He pulled the door open.<br />
The next chamber was so dark they couldn't see anything at all. But as<br />
they stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an<br />
astonishing sight.<br />
They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black<br />
chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what<br />
looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the<br />
white pieces. Harry, Ron and Hermione shivered slightly -- the towering<br />
white chessmen had no faces.<br />
"Now what do we do?" Harry whispered.<br />
"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Ron. "We've got to play our way across<br />
the room."<br />
Behind the white pieces they could see another door.<br />
"How?" said Hermione nervously.<br />
"I think," said Ron, "we're going to have to be chessmen."<br />
He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the<br />
knight's horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the<br />
ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron.<br />
"Do we -- er -- have to join you to get across?" The black knight<br />
nodded. Ron turned to the other two.<br />
"This needs thinking about he said. I suppose we've got to take the<br />
place of three of the black pieces...."<br />
Harry and Hermione stayed quiet, watching Ron think. Finally he said,<br />
"Now, don't be offended or anything, but neither of you are that good at<br />
chess --"<br />
"We're not offended," said Harry quickly. "Just tell us what to do."<br />
"Well, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, YOU 90<br />
next to him instead of that castle."<br />
"What about you?"<br />
"I'm going to be a knight," said Ron.<br />
The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a<br />
knight, a bishop, and a castle turned their backs on the white pieces<br />
and walked off the board, leaving three empty squares that Harry, Ron,<br />
and Hermione took.<br />
"White always plays first in chess," said Ron, peering across the board.<br />
"Yes... look..."<br />
A white pawn had moved forward two squares.<br />
Ron started to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever he<br />
sent them. Harry's knees were trembling. What if they lost?<br />
"Harry -- move diagonally four squares to the right."<br />
Their first real shock came when their other knight was taken. The white<br />
queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he<br />
lay quite still, facedown.<br />
"Had to let that happen," said Ron, looking shaken. "Leaves you free to<br />
take that bishop, Hermione, go on."<br />
Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy.<br />
Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall.<br />
Twice, Ron only just noticed in time that Harry and Hermione were in<br />
danger. He himself darted around the board, taking almost as many white<br />
pieces as they had lost black ones.<br />
"We're nearly there," he muttered suddenly. "Let me think let me<br />
think..."<br />
The white queen turned her blank face toward him.<br />
"Yes..." said Ron softly, "It's the only way... I've got to be taken."<br />
"NOF Harry and Hermione shouted.<br />
"That's chess!" snapped Ron. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I take<br />
one step forward and she'll take me -- that leaves you free to checkmate<br />
the king, Harry!"<br />
"But --"<br />
"Do you want to stop Snape or not?"<br />
"Ron --"<br />
"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!"<br />
There was no alternative.<br />
"Ready?" Ron called, his face pale but determined. "Here I go - now,<br />
don't hang around once you've won."<br />
He stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard<br />
across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor -<br />
Hermione screamed but stayed on her square - the white queen dragged Ron<br />
to one side. He looked as if he'd been knocked out.<br />
Shaking, Harry moved three spaces to the left.<br />
The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry's feet. They had<br />
won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. With<br />
one last desperate look back at Ron, Harry and Hermione charged through<br />
the door and up the next passageway.<br />
"What if he's --?"<br />
"He'll be all right," said Harry, trying to convince himself. "What do<br />
you reckon's next?"<br />
"We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare; Flitwick must've put<br />
charms on the keys; McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them<br />
alive; that leaves Quirrell's spell, and Snape's."<br />
They had reached another door.<br />
"All right?" Harry whispered.<br />
"Go on."<br />
Harry pushed it open.<br />
A disgusting smell filled their nostrils, making both of them pull their<br />
robes up over their noses. Eyes watering, they saw, flat on the floor in<br />
front of them, a troll even larger than the one they had tackled, out<br />
cold with a bloody lump on its head.<br />
"I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," Harry whispered as they<br />
stepped carefully over one of its massive legs. "Come on, I can't<br />
breathe."<br />
He pulled open the next door, both of them hardly daring to look at what<br />
came next - but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table<br />
with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.<br />
"Snape's," said Harry. "What do we have to do?"<br />
They stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind<br />
them in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At<br />
the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward.<br />
They were trapped.<br />
"Look!" Hermione seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. Harry<br />
looked over her shoulder to read it:<br />
Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,<br />
Two of us will help you, which ever you would find,<br />
One among us seven will let you move ahead,<br />
Another will transport the drinker back instead,<br />
Two among our number hold only nettle wine,<br />
Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line.<br />
Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,<br />
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:<br />
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide<br />
You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;<br />
Second, different are those who stand at either end,<br />
But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;<br />
Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,<br />
Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;<br />
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right<br />
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.<br />
Hermione let out a great sigh and Harry, amazed, saw that she was<br />
smiling, the very last thing he felt like doing.<br />
"Brilliant," said Hermione. "This isn't magic -- it's logic -- a puzzle.<br />
A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be<br />
stuck in here forever."<br />
"But so will we, won't we?" "Of course not," said Hermione. "Everything<br />
we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are<br />
wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us<br />
back through the purple."<br />
"But how do we know which to drink?"<br />
"Give me a minute."<br />
Hermione read the paper several times. Then she walked up and down the<br />
line of bottles, muttering to herself and pointing at them. At last, she<br />
clapped her hands.<br />
"Got it," she said. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black<br />
fire -- toward the Stone."<br />
Harry looked at the tiny bottle.<br />
"There's only enough there for one of us," he said. "That's hardly one<br />
swallow."<br />
They looked at each other.<br />
"Which one will get you back through the purple flames?"<br />
Hermione pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line.<br />
"You drink that," said Harry. "No, listen, get back and get Ron. Grab<br />
brooms from the flying- key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor<br />
and past Fluffy -- go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to<br />
Dumbledore, we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while,<br />
but I'm no match for him, really."<br />
"But Harry -- what if You-Know-Who's with him?"<br />
"Well -- I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harry, pointing at his scar.<br />
"I might get lucky again."<br />
Hermione's lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her<br />
arms around him.<br />
"Hermione!"<br />
"Harry -- you're a great wizard, you know."<br />
"I'm not as good as you," said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of<br />
him.<br />
"Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important<br />
things -- friendship and bravery and -- oh Harry -- be careful!"<br />
"You drink first," said Harry. "You are sure which is which, aren't<br />
you?"<br />
"Positive," said Hermione. She took a long drink from the round bottle<br />
at the end, and shuddered.<br />
"It's not poison?" said Harry anxiously.<br />
"No -- but it's like ice."<br />
"Quick, go, before it wears off."<br />
"Good luck -- take care."<br />
"GO!"<br />
Hermione turned and walked straight through the purple fire.<br />
Harry took a deep breath and picked up the smallest bottle. He turned to<br />
face the black flames.<br />
"Here I come," he said, and he drained the little bottle in one gulp.<br />
It was indeed as though ice was flooding his body. He put the bottle<br />
down and walked forward; he braced himself, saw the black flames licking<br />
his body, but couldn't feel them -- for a moment he could see nothing<br />
but dark fire -- then he was on the other side, in the last chamber.<br />
There was already someone there -- but it wasn't Snape. It wasn't even<br />
Voldemort.<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN</h3>
<i><b>THE MAN WITH TWO FACES</b></i><br />
It was Quirrell.<br />
"You!" gasped Harry.<br />
Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all.<br />
"Me," he said calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here,<br />
Potter."<br />
"But I thought -- Snape --"<br />
"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering treble,<br />
either, but cold and sharp. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't<br />
he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to<br />
him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"<br />
Harry couldn't take it in. This couldn't be true, it couldn't.<br />
"But Snape tried to kill me!"<br />
"No, no, no. I tried to kill you. Your friend Miss Granger accidentally<br />
knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch<br />
match. She broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I'd<br />
have got you off that broom. I'd have managed it before then if Snape<br />
hadn't been muttering a countercurse, trying to save you."<br />
"Snape was trying to save me?"<br />
"Of course," said Quirrell coolly. "\Why do you think he wanted to<br />
referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn't do it<br />
again. Funny, really... he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything<br />
with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was<br />
trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he did make himself unpopular...<br />
and what a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill you<br />
tonight."<br />
Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped<br />
themselves tightly around Harry.<br />
"You're too nosy to live, Potter. Scurrying around the school on<br />
Halloween like that, for all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what<br />
was guarding the Stone."<br />
"You let the troll in?"<br />
"Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls -- you must have seen what<br />
I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while<br />
everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already<br />
suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off -- and not<br />
only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog<br />
didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly.<br />
"Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror.<br />
It was only then that Harry realized what was standing behind Quirrell.<br />
It was the Mirror of Erised.<br />
"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured,<br />
tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with<br />
something like this... but he's in London... I'll be far away by the<br />
time he gets back...."<br />
All Harry could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him<br />
from concentrating on the mirror.<br />
"I saw you and Snape in the forest --" he blurted out.<br />
"Yes," said Quirrell idly, walking around the mirror to look at the<br />
back. "He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got.<br />
He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me - as though he could,<br />
when I had Lord Voldemort on my side...."<br />
Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into<br />
it.<br />
"I see the Stone... I'm presenting it to my master... but where is it?"<br />
Harry struggled against the ropes binding him, but they didn't give. He<br />
had to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror.<br />
"But Snape always seemed to hate me so much."<br />
"Oh, he does," said Quirrell casually, "heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts<br />
with your father, didn't you know? They loathed each other. But he never<br />
wanted you dead."<br />
"But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing -- I thought Snape was<br />
threatening you...."<br />
For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face.<br />
"Sometimes," he said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions<br />
-- he is a great wizard and I am weak --"<br />
"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harry gasped.<br />
"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I<br />
traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of<br />
ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong<br />
I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too<br />
weak to seek it.... Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I<br />
have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me."<br />
Quirrell shivered suddenly. "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I<br />
failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He<br />
punished me... decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me...."<br />
Quirrell's voice trailed away. Harry was remembering his trip to Diagon<br />
Alley -how could he have been so stupid? He'd seen Quirrell there that<br />
very day, shaken hands with him in the Leaky Cauldron.<br />
Quirrell cursed under his breath.<br />
"I don't understand... is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break<br />
it?"<br />
Harry's mind was racing.<br />
What I want more than anything else in the world at the moment, he<br />
thought, is to find the Stone before Quirrell does. So if I look in the<br />
mirror, I should see myseff finding it -- which means I'll see where<br />
it's hidden! But how can I look without Quirrell realizing what I'm up<br />
to?<br />
He tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without<br />
Quirrell noticing, but the ropes around his ankles were too tight: he<br />
tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored him. He was still talking to<br />
himself. "What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"<br />
And to Harry's horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come<br />
from Quirrell himself<br />
"Use the boy... Use the boy..."<br />
Quirrell rounded on Harry.<br />
"Yes -- Potter -- come here."<br />
He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fell off. Harry<br />
got slowly to his feet.<br />
"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you<br />
see."<br />
Harry walked toward him.<br />
I must lie, he thought desperately. I must look and lie about what I<br />
see, that's all.<br />
Quirrell moved close behind him. Harry breathed in the funny smell that<br />
seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. He closed his eyes, stepped in<br />
front of the mirror, and opened them again.<br />
He saw his reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment<br />
later, the reflection smiled at him. It put its hand into its pocket and<br />
pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its<br />
pocket -- and as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his<br />
real pocket. Somehow -- incredibly -- he'd gotten the Stone.<br />
"Well?" said Quirrell impatiently. "What do you see?"<br />
Harry screwed up his courage.<br />
"I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore," he invented. "I -- I've<br />
won the house cup for Gryffindor."<br />
Quirrell cursed again.<br />
"Get out of the way," he said. As Harry moved aside, he felt the<br />
Sorcerer's Stone against his leg. Dare he make a break for it?<br />
But he hadn't walked five paces before a high voice spoke, though<br />
Quirrell wasn't moving his lips.<br />
"He lies... He lies..."<br />
"Potter, come back here!" Quirrell shouted. "Tell me the truth! What did<br />
you just see?"<br />
The high voice spoke again.<br />
"Let me speak to him... face-to-face..."<br />
"Master, you are not strong enough!"<br />
"I have strength enough... for this...."<br />
Harry felt as if Devil's Snare was rooting him to the spot. He couldn't<br />
move a muscle. Petrified, he watched as Quirrell reached up and began to<br />
unwrap his turban. What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell's<br />
head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the<br />
spot.<br />
Harry would have screamed, but he couldn't make a sound. Where there<br />
should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most<br />
terrible face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red<br />
eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.<br />
"Harry Potter..." it whispered.<br />
Harry tried to take a step backward but his legs wouldn't move.<br />
"See what I have become?" the face said. "Mere shadow and vapor ... I<br />
have form only when I can share another's body... but there have always<br />
been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds.... Unicorn<br />
blood has strengthened me, these past weeks... you saw faithful Quirrell<br />
drinking it for me in the forest... and once I have the Elixir of Life,<br />
I will be able to create a body of my own.... Now... why don't you give<br />
me that Stone in your pocket?"<br />
So he knew. The feeling suddenly surged back into Harry's legs. He<br />
stumbled backward.<br />
"Don't be a fool," snarled the face. "Better save your own life and join<br />
me... or you'll meet the same end as your parents.... They died begging<br />
me for mercy..."<br />
"LIAR!" Harry shouted suddenly.<br />
Quirrell was walking backward at him, so that Voldemort could still see<br />
him. The evil face was now smiling.<br />
"How touching..." it hissed. "I always value bravery... Yes, boy, your<br />
parents were brave.... I killed your father first; and he put up a<br />
courageous fight... but your mother needn't have died... she was trying<br />
to protect you.... Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have<br />
died in vain."<br />
"NEVER!"<br />
Harry sprang toward the flame door, but Voldemort screamed "SEIZE HIM!"<br />
and the next second, Harry felt Quirrell's hand close on his wrist. At<br />
once, a needle-sharp pain seared across Harry's scar; his head felt as<br />
though it was about to split in two; he yelled, struggling with all his<br />
might, and to his surprise, Quirrell let go of him. The pain in his head<br />
lessened -- he looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone, and<br />
saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers -- they were blistering<br />
before his eyes.<br />
"Seize him! SEIZE HIM!" shrieked Voldemort again, and Quirrell lunged,<br />
knocking Harry clean off his feet' landing on top of him, both hands<br />
around Harry's neck -- Harry's scar was almost blinding him with pain,<br />
yet he could see Quirrell howling in agony.<br />
"Master, I cannot hold him -- my hands -- my hands!"<br />
And Quirrell, though pinning Harry to the ground with his knees, let go<br />
of his neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms -- Harry could see<br />
they looked burned, raw, red, and shiny.<br />
"Then kill him, fool, and be done!" screeched Voldemort.<br />
Quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but Harry, by<br />
instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face --<br />
"AAAARGH!"<br />
Quirrell rolled off him, his face blistering, too, and then Harry knew:<br />
Quirrell couldn't touch his bare skin, not without suffering terrible<br />
pain -- his only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough<br />
pain to stop him from doing a curse.<br />
Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell by the arm, and hung on as<br />
tight as he could. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harry off -- the<br />
pain in Harry's head was building -- he couldn't see -- he could only<br />
hear Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of, "KILL HIM!<br />
KILL HIM!" and other voices, maybe in Harry's own head, crying, "Harry!<br />
Harry!"<br />
He felt Quirrell's arm wrenched from his grasp, knew all was lost, and<br />
fell into blackness, down ... down... down...<br />
Something gold was glinting just above him. The Snitch! He tried to<br />
catch it, but his arms were too heavy.<br />
He blinked. It wasn't the Snitch at all. It was a pair of glasses. How<br />
strange.<br />
He blinked again. The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view<br />
above him.<br />
"Good afternoon, Harry," said Dumbledore. Harry stared at him. Then he<br />
remembered: "Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell! He's got the Stone! Sir,<br />
quick --"<br />
"Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times," said<br />
Dumbledore. "Quirrell does not have the Stone."<br />
"Then who does? Sir, I --"<br />
"Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out.<br />
Harry swallowed and looked around him. He realized he must be in the<br />
hospital wing. He was lying in a bed with white linen sheets, and next<br />
to him was a table piled high with what looked like half the candy shop.<br />
"Tokens from your friends and admirers," said Dumbledore, beaming. "What<br />
happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a<br />
complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your<br />
friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to<br />
send you a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam<br />
Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated<br />
it."<br />
"How long have I been in here?"<br />
"Three days. Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved<br />
you have come round, they have been extremely worried."<br />
"But sit, the Stone<br />
I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor<br />
Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. I arrived in time to<br />
prevent that, although you were doing very well on your own, I must say.<br />
"You got there? You got Hermione's owl?"<br />
"We must have crossed in midair. No sooner had I reached London than it<br />
became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just<br />
left. I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you."<br />
"It was you."<br />
"I feared I might be too late."<br />
"You nearly were, I couldn't have kept him off the Stone much longer --"<br />
"Not the Stone, boy, you -- the effort involved nearly killed you. For<br />
one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has<br />
been destroyed."<br />
"Destroyed?" said Harry blankly. "But your friend -- Nicolas Flamel --"<br />
"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" said Dumbledore, sounding quite delighted.<br />
"You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had<br />
a little chat, and agreed it's all for the best."<br />
"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?"<br />
"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then,<br />
yes, they will die."<br />
Dumbledore smiled at the look of amazement on Harry's face.<br />
"To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas<br />
and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long<br />
day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great<br />
adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As<br />
much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings<br />
would choose above all -- the trouble is, humans do have a knack of<br />
choosing precisely those things that are worst for them." Harry lay<br />
there, lost for words. Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled at the<br />
ceiling.<br />
"Sir?" said Harry. "I've been thinking... sir -- even if the Stone's<br />
gone, Vol-, I mean, You-Know- Who --"<br />
"Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear<br />
of a name increases fear of the thing itself."<br />
"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back,<br />
isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"<br />
"No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking<br />
for another body to share... not being truly alive, he cannot be killed.<br />
He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers<br />
as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his<br />
return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to<br />
fight what seems a losing battle next time -- and if he is delayed<br />
again, and again, why, he may never return to power."<br />
Harry nodded, but stopped quickly, because it made his head hurt. Then<br />
he said, "Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know, if you can<br />
tell me... things I want to know the truth about...."<br />
"The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing,<br />
and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall<br />
answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which<br />
case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."<br />
"Well... Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried<br />
to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the<br />
first place?"<br />
Dumbledore sighed very deeply this time.<br />
"Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not<br />
now. You will know, one day... put it from your mind for now, Harry.<br />
When you are older... I know you hate to hear this... when you are<br />
ready, you will know."<br />
And Harry knew it would be no good to argue.<br />
"But why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"<br />
"Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot<br />
understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your<br />
mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign... to<br />
have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone,<br />
will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell,<br />
full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort,<br />
could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person<br />
marked by something so good."<br />
Dumbledore now became very interested in a bird out on the windowsill,<br />
which gave Harry time to dry his eyes on the sheet. When he had found<br />
his voice again, Harry said, "And the invisibility cloak - do you know<br />
who sent it to me?"<br />
"Ah - your father happened to leave it in my possession, and I thought<br />
you might like it." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Useful things... your<br />
father used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food<br />
when he was here."<br />
"And there's something else..."<br />
"Fire away."<br />
"Quirrell said Snape --"<br />
"Professor Snape, Harry." "Yes, him -- Quirrell said he hates me because<br />
he hated my father. Is that true?"<br />
"Well, they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourself and Mr.<br />
Malfoy. And then, your father did something Snape could never forgive."<br />
"What?"<br />
"He saved his life."<br />
"What?"<br />
"Yes..." said Dumbledore dreamily. "Funny, the way people's minds work,<br />
isn't it? Professor Snape couldn't bear being in your father's debt....<br />
I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt<br />
that would make him and your father even. Then he could go back to<br />
hating your father's memory in peace...."<br />
Harry tried to understand this but it made his head pound, so he<br />
stopped.<br />
"And sir, there's one more thing..."<br />
"Just the one?"<br />
"How did I get the Stone out of the mirror?"<br />
"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant<br />
ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only<br />
one who wanted to find the Stone -- find it, but not use it -- would be<br />
able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or<br />
drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes.... Now,<br />
enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bettie<br />
Bott's Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come<br />
across a vomitflavored one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost<br />
my liking for them -- but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't<br />
you?"<br />
He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he<br />
choked and said, "Alas! Ear wax!"<br />
Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was a nice woman, but very strict.<br />
"Just five minutes," Harry pleaded.<br />
"Absolutely not."<br />
"You let Professor Dumbledore in..."<br />
"Well, of course, that was the headmaster, quite different. You need<br />
rest."<br />
"I am resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Madam<br />
Pomfrey..."<br />
"Oh, very well," she said. "But five minutes only."<br />
And she let Ron and Hermione in.<br />
"Harry!"<br />
Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around him again, but Harry was<br />
glad she held herself in as his head was still very sore.<br />
"Oh, Harry, we were sure you were going to -- Dumbledore was so worried<br />
--"<br />
"The whole school's talking about it," said Ron. "What really happened?"<br />
It was one of those rare occasions when the true story is even more<br />
strange and exciting than the wild rumors. Harry told them everything:<br />
Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; and Voldemort. Ron and Hermione were a<br />
very good audience; they gasped in all the right places, and when Harry<br />
told them what was under Quirrell's turban, Hermione screamed out loud.<br />
"So the Stone's gone?" said Ron finally. "Flamel's just going to die?"<br />
"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that -- what was it? -- 'to<br />
the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.<br />
"I always said he was off his rocker," said Ron, looking quite impressed<br />
at how crazy his hero was.<br />
"So what happened to you two?" said Harry.<br />
"Well, I got back all right," said Hermione. "I brought Ron round --<br />
that took a while -- and we were dashing up to the owlery to contact<br />
Dumbledore when we met him in the entrance hall -- he already knew -- he<br />
just said, 'Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?' and hurtled off to the<br />
third floor."<br />
"D'you think he meant you to do it?" said Ron. "Sending you your<br />
father's cloak and everything?"<br />
"Well, " Hermione exploded, "if he did -- I mean to say that's terrible<br />
-- you could have been killed."<br />
"No, it isn't," said Harry thoughtfully. "He's a funny man, Dumbledore.<br />
I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or<br />
less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty<br />
good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just<br />
taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident he let me<br />
find out how the mirror worked. It's almost like he thought I had the<br />
right to face Voldemort if I could...."<br />
"Yeah, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right," said Ron proudly.<br />
"Listen, you've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The<br />
points are all in and Slytherin won, of course -- you missed the last<br />
Quidditch match, we were steamrollered by Ravenclaw without you -- but<br />
the food'll be good."<br />
At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over.<br />
"You've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT" she said firmly.<br />
After a good night's sleep, Harry felt nearly back to normal.<br />
I want to go to the feast," he told Madam Pomfrey as she straightened<br />
his many candy boxes. I can, can't I?"<br />
"Professor Dumbledore says you are to be allowed to go," she said<br />
stiffily, as though in her opinion Professor Dumbledore didn't realize<br />
how risky feasts could be. "And you have another visitor."<br />
"Oh, good," said Harry. "Who is it?"<br />
Hagrid sidled through the door as he spoke. As usual when he was<br />
indoors, Hagrid looked too big to be allowed. He sat down next to Harry,<br />
took one look at him, and burst into tears.<br />
"It's -- all -- my -- ruddy -- fault!" he sobbed, his face in his hands.<br />
I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! It was the only<br />
thing he didn't know, an' I told him! Yeh could've died! All fer a<br />
dragon egg! I'll never drink again! I should be chucked out an' made ter<br />
live as a Muggle!"<br />
"Hagrid!" said Harry, shocked to see Hagrid shaking with grief and<br />
remorse, great tears leaking down into his beard. "Hagrid, he'd have<br />
found out somehow, this is Voldemort we're talking about, he'd have<br />
found out even if you hadn't told him."<br />
"Yeh could've died!" sobbed Hagrid. "An' don' say the name!"<br />
"VOLDEMORT!" Harry bellowed, and Hagrid was so shocked, he stopped<br />
crying. "I've met him and I'm calling him by his name. Please cheer up,<br />
Hagrid, we saved the Stone, it's gone, he can't use it. Have a Chocolate<br />
Frog, I've got loads...."<br />
Hagrid wiped his nose on the back of his hand and said, "That reminds<br />
me. I've got yeh a present."<br />
"It's not a stoat sandwich, is it?" said Harry anxiously, and at last<br />
Hagrid gave a weak chuckle. "Nah. Dumbledore gave me the day off<br />
yesterday ter fix it. 'Course, he shoulda sacked me instead -- anyway,<br />
got yeh this..."<br />
It seemed to be a handsome, leather-covered book. Harry opened it<br />
curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at him<br />
from every page were his mother and father.<br />
"Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer<br />
photos... knew yeh didn' have any... d'yeh like it?"<br />
Harry couldn't speak, but Hagrid understood.<br />
Harry made his way down to the end-of-year feast alone that night. He<br />
had been held up by Madam Pomfrey's fussing about, insisting on giving<br />
him one last checkup, so the Great Hall was already full. It was decked<br />
out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's<br />
winning the house cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner<br />
showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.<br />
When Harry walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started<br />
talking loudly at once. He slipped into a seat between Ron and Hermione<br />
at the Gryffindor table and tried to ignore the fact that people were<br />
standing up to look at him.<br />
Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away.<br />
"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you<br />
with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our<br />
delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a<br />
little fuller than they were... you have the whole summer ahead to get<br />
them nice and empty before next year starts....<br />
"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the<br />
points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and<br />
twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two;<br />
Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred<br />
and seventy- two."<br />
A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table.<br />
Harry could see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table. It was a<br />
sickening sight.<br />
"Yes, Yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent<br />
events must be taken into account."<br />
The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little.<br />
"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out.<br />
Let me see. Yes...<br />
"First -- to Mr. Ronald Weasley..."<br />
Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn.<br />
"...for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I<br />
award Gryffindor house fifty points."<br />
Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars<br />
overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other<br />
prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past<br />
McGonagall's giant chess set!"<br />
At last there was silence again.<br />
"Second -- to Miss Hermione Granger... for the use of cool logic in the<br />
face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."<br />
Hermione buried her face in her arms; Harry strongly suspected she had<br />
burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside<br />
themselves -- they were a hundred points up. "Third -- to Mr. Harry<br />
Potter..." said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet for pure nerve<br />
and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."<br />
The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves<br />
hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points<br />
-- exactly the same as Slytherin. They had tied for the house cup -- if<br />
only Dumbledore had given Harry just one more point.<br />
Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.<br />
"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a<br />
great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to<br />
stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville<br />
Longbottom."<br />
Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some<br />
sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted<br />
from the Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood up to yell and<br />
cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people<br />
hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before.<br />
Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who<br />
couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the<br />
Body-Bind Curse put on him.<br />
"Which means, Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even<br />
Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we<br />
need a little change of decoration."<br />
He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet<br />
and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a<br />
towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor<br />
McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile. He caught Harry's eye<br />
and Harry knew at once that Snape's feelings toward him hadn't changed<br />
one jot. This didn't worry Harry. It seemed as though life would be back<br />
to normal next year, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts.<br />
It was the best evening of Harry's life, better than winning at<br />
Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls... he would<br />
never, ever forget tonight.<br />
Harry had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but<br />
come they did. To their great surprise, both he and Ron passed with good<br />
marks; Hermione, of course, had the best grades of the first years. Even<br />
Neville scraped through, his good Herbology mark making up for his<br />
abysmal Potions one. They had hoped that Goyle, who was almost as stupid<br />
as he was mean, might be thrown out, but he had passed, too. It was a<br />
shame, but as Ron said, you couldn't have everything in life.<br />
And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed,<br />
Neville's toad was found lurking in a corner of the toilets; notes were<br />
handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the<br />
holidays ("I always hope they'll forget to give us these," said Fred<br />
Weasley sadly); Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats<br />
that sailed across the lake; they were boarding the Hogwarts Express;<br />
talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier;<br />
eating Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as they sped past Muggle towns;<br />
pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling<br />
into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station.<br />
It took quite a while for them all to get off the platform. A wizened<br />
old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gate<br />
in twos and threes so they didn't attract attention by all bursting out<br />
of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles.<br />
"You must come and stay this summer," said Ron, "both of you -- I'll<br />
send you an owl."<br />
"Thanks," said Harry, "I'll need something to look forward to." People<br />
jostled them as they moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle<br />
world. Some of them called:<br />
"Bye, Harry!"<br />
"See you, Potter!"<br />
"Still famous," said Ron, grinning at him.<br />
"Not where I'm going, I promise you," said Harry.<br />
He, Ron, and Hermione passed through the gateway together. "There he is,<br />
Mom, there he is, look!"<br />
It was Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, but she wasn't pointing at<br />
Ron.<br />
"Harry Potter!" she squealed. "Look, Mom! I can see<br />
"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point."<br />
Mrs. Weasley smiled down at them.<br />
"Busy year?" she said.<br />
"Very," said Harry. "Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs.<br />
Weasley."<br />
"Oh, it was nothing, dear."<br />
"Ready, are you?"<br />
It was Uncle Vernon, still purple-faced, still mustached, still looking<br />
furious at the nerve of Harry, carrying an owl in a cage in a station<br />
full of ordinary people. Behind him stood Aunt Petunia and Dudley,<br />
looking terrified at the very sight of Harry.<br />
"You must be Harry's family!" said Mrs. Weasley.<br />
"In a manner of speaking," said Uncle Vernon. "Hurry up, boy, we haven't<br />
got all day." He walked away.<br />
Harry hung back for a last word with Ron and Hermione.<br />
"See you over the summer, then."<br />
"Hope you have -- er -- a good holiday," said Hermione, looking<br />
uncertainly after Uncle Vernon, shocked that anyone could be so<br />
unpleasant.<br />
"Oh, I will," said Harry, and they were surprised at the grin that was<br />
spreading over his face. "They don't know we're not allowed to use magic<br />
at home. I'm going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer...."<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
THE END</h3>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
about the auther:</h3>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
ref: <a href="http://wikipedia.com/">wikipedia.com</a></h3>
<b>Joanne</b> "<b>Jo</b>" <b>Rowling</b> <span class="nowrap"><span class="IPA" title="Representation in the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA)"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Help:IPA_for_English" title="Help:IPA for English">/</a></span><span class="IPA nopopups"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Help:IPA_for_English#Key" title="Help:IPA for English"><span style="border-bottom: 1px dotted;" title="/ˈ/ primary stress follows">ˈ</span></a></span><span class="IPA nopopups"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Help:IPA_for_English#Key" title="Help:IPA for English"><span style="border-bottom: 1px dotted;" title="'r' in 'rye'">r</span></a></span><span class="IPA nopopups"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Help:IPA_for_English#Key" title="Help:IPA for English"><span style="border-bottom: 1px dotted;" title="/oʊ/ long 'o' in 'bode'">oʊ</span></a></span><span class="IPA nopopups"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Help:IPA_for_English#Key" title="Help:IPA for English"><span style="border-bottom: 1px dotted;" title="'l' in 'lie'">l</span></a></span><span class="IPA nopopups"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Help:IPA_for_English#Key" title="Help:IPA for English"><span style="border-bottom: 1px dotted;" title="/ɪ/ short 'i' in 'bid'">ɪ</span></a></span><span class="IPA nopopups"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Help:IPA_for_English#Key" title="Help:IPA for English"><span style="border-bottom: 1px dotted;" title="/ŋ/ 'ng' in 'sing'">ŋ</span></a></span><span class="IPA" title="Representation in the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA)"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Help:IPA_for_English" title="Help:IPA for English">/</a></span></span>, <span style="font-size: 85%;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Order_of_the_British_Empire" title="Order of the British Empire">OBE</a> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Royal_Society_of_Literature" title="Royal Society of Literature">FRSL</a></span><sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-3"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._K._Rowling#cite_note-3"><span>[</span>3<span>]</span></a></sup> (born 31 July 1965<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-4"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._K._Rowling#cite_note-4"><span>[</span>4<span>]</span></a></sup>), pen name <b>J. K. Rowling</b>,<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-telegraph_5-0"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._K._Rowling#cite_note-telegraph-5"><span>[</span>5<span>]</span></a></sup> is a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/British_people" title="British people">British</a> novelist, best known as the author of the <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harry_Potter" title="Harry Potter">Harry Potter</a></i> fantasy series. The <i>Potter</i> books have gained worldwide attention, won multiple awards, and sold more than 400 million copies.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-6"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._K._Rowling#cite_note-6"><span>[</span>6<span>]</span></a></sup> They have become the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_best-selling_books" title="List of best-selling books">best-selling book series in history</a>,<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-7"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._K._Rowling#cite_note-7"><span>[</span>7<span>]</span></a></sup> and been the basis for a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harry_Potter_%28film_series%29" title="Harry Potter (film series)">series of films</a> which has become the <a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_highest-grossing_film_series#Highest-grossing_franchises_and_film_series" title="List of highest-grossing film series">highest-grossing film series in history</a>.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-8"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._K._Rowling#cite_note-8"><span>[</span>8<span>]</span></a></sup> Rowling had overall approval on the scripts<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-9"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._K._Rowling#cite_note-9"><span>[</span>9<span>]</span></a></sup> as well as maintaining creative control by serving as a producer on the final instalment.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-10"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._K._Rowling#cite_note-10"><span>[</span>10<span>]</span></a></sup><br />
Born in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yate" title="Yate">Yate</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gloucestershire" title="Gloucestershire">Gloucestershire</a>, Rowling was working as a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Researcher" title="Researcher">researcher</a> and <a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bilingual" title="Bilingual">bilingual</a> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Secretary" title="Secretary">secretary</a> for <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amnesty_International" title="Amnesty International">Amnesty International</a> when she conceived the idea for the <i>Harry Potter</i> series on a delayed train from Manchester to London in 1990.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-WizardBehindPotter_11-0"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._K._Rowling#cite_note-WizardBehindPotter-11"><span>[</span>11<span>]</span></a></sup>
The seven-year period that followed entailed the death of her mother,
divorce from her first husband and poverty until Rowling finished the
first novel in the series, <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harry_Potter_and_the_Philosopher%27s_Stone" title="Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone">Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone</a></i> (1997). Rowling subsequently published 6 sequels—the last, <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harry_Potter_and_the_Deathly_Hallows" title="Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows">Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows</a></i>
(2007)—as well as 3 supplements to the series. Since, Rowling has
parted with her agency and resumed writing for adult readership,
releasing the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tragicomedy" title="Tragicomedy">tragicomedy</a> <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Casual_Vacancy" title="The Casual Vacancy">The Casual Vacancy</a></i> (2012) and—using the pseudonym <b>Robert Galbraith</b>—the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crime_fiction" title="Crime fiction">crime fiction</a> novel <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Cuckoo%27s_Calling" title="The Cuckoo's Calling">The Cuckoo's Calling</a></i> (2013) which, according to Rowling, is the first of a series.<br />
Rowling has led a "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rags_to_riches" title="Rags to riches">rags to riches</a>"
life story, in which she progressed from living on state benefits to
multi-millionaire status within five years. She is the United Kingdom's
best-selling author since records began, with sales in excess of £238m.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-12"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._K._Rowling#cite_note-12"><span>[</span>12<span>]</span></a></sup> The 2008 <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sunday_Times_Rich_List" title="Sunday Times Rich List">Sunday Times Rich List</a></i> estimated Rowling's fortune at £560 million ($798 million), ranking her as the twelfth richest woman in the United Kingdom.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-richlist_13-0"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._K._Rowling#cite_note-richlist-13"><span>[</span>13<span>]</span></a></sup> <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Forbes" title="Forbes">Forbes</a></i> ranked Rowling as the forty-eighth most powerful celebrity of 2007,<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-14"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._K._Rowling#cite_note-14"><span>[</span>14<span>]</span></a></sup> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Time_%28magazine%29" title="Time (magazine)"><i>TIME</i> magazine</a> named her as a runner-up for its 2007 <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Time_Person_of_the_Year" title="Time Person of the Year">Person of the Year</a>, noting the social, moral, and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Politics_of_Harry_Potter" title="Politics of Harry Potter">political inspiration</a> she has given <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harry_Potter_fandom" title="Harry Potter fandom">her fans</a>.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-15"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._K._Rowling#cite_note-15"><span>[</span>15<span>]</span></a></sup> In October 2010, Rowling was named the "Most Influential Woman in Britain" by leading magazine editors.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-htanna_16-0"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._K._Rowling#cite_note-htanna-16"><span>[</span>16<span>]</span></a></sup> She has become a notable philanthropist, supporting such charities as <a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Comic_Relief_%28charity%29" title="Comic Relief (charity)">Comic Relief</a>, <a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/One_Parent_Families" title="One Parent Families">One Parent Families</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Multiple_Sclerosis_Society_of_Great_Britain" title="Multiple Sclerosis Society of Great Britain">Multiple Sclerosis Society of Great Britain</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lumos_%28charity%29" title="Lumos (charity)">Lumos</a> (formerly the Children's High Level Group).</div>
</div>
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