Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street.

None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.

None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.

At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls.

«Little tyke,» chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house.

It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar—a cat reading a map.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by.

It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.

«Sorry,» he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell.

On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, «Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today!

Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last!

It just gave him a stern look.

While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden.

While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden.

Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness.

It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead.

His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice.

He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something.

He chuckled and muttered, «I should have known.»

He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it.

Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes.

Flocks of owls... shooting stars...

People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors.»

Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice.

«I know you haven 't, said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring.

«You flatter me,» said Dumbledore calmly.

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now.

«What they're saying,» she pressed on, «is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow.

«It's—it's true?» faltered Professor McGonagall.

It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?»

«I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place,» said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, «but you can't pretend he's not careless.

It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky—and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky—and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild—long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins.

«Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found,» Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door.

For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen.

One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley...

The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls.

Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets—but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother.

His Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.

In fact, he wasn't really crying—it had been years since he'd really cried—but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

«Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!» she cried, flinging her arms around him.

Just then, the doorbell rang—»Oh, good Lord, they're here!» said Aunt Petunia frantically—and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother.

Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old sweater of Dudley's (brown with orange puff balls)—The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit Harry.

Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn't punished.

Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

«Make it move,» he whined at his father.

Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.

Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake.

He wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself—no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long.

The snake nodded vigorously.

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.

Sometimes, when he strained his memory during long hours in his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on his forehead.

This was why Harry spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where he could see a tiny ray of hope.

«Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley.»

«Who'd be writing to you?» sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it.

Harry leapt into the air; he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat—something alive!

Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway.

He was hungry, he'd missed five television programs he'd wanted to see, and he'd never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer.

Dudley and Harry shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets.

They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day.

Dud ley sniveled.

Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine.

A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them.

Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows.

Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows.

«Where's the cannon?» he said stupidly.

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.

«Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune,» said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted.

Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little.

The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry with a bewildered stare.

Yours sincerely,

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm.

«Where was I?» said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

«Knew!» shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly.

Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school-and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats.

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on.

It's an outrage!

«Gulpin' gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared.

He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

Now he came to think about it... every odd thing that had ever made his aunt and uncle furious with him had happened when he, Harry, had been upset or angry... chased by Dudley's gang, he had somehow found himself out of their reach... dreading going to school with that ridiculous haircut, he'd managed to make it grow back... and the very last time Dudley had hit him, hadn't he got his revenge, without even realizing he was doing it?

Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, «NEVER,» he thundered, «INSULTALBUSDUMBLEDOREINFRONTOFME!»

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley—there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain.

«Shouldn'ta lost me temper,» he said ruefully, «but it didn't work anyway.

«Shouldn'ta lost me temper,» he said ruefully, «but it didn't work anyway.

The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

Harry tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat.

The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight.

Harry sat and thought about this while Hagrid read his newspaper, the Daily Prophet.

Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic Switch

OTHER EQUIPMENT wand cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) set glass or crystal phials telescope set brass scales

«I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic,» he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby.

«P-P-Potter,» stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, «c-can't t-tell you how ppleased I am to meet you.»

At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.

Cauldrons—All Sizes—Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver—Self-Stirring—Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, «Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad...»

«Look,» Harry heard one of them say, «the new Nimbus Two Thousand—fastest ever —» There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon...

«Look,» Harry heard one of them say, «the new Nimbus Two Thousand—fastest ever —» There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon...

Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was —

He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet.

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses.

Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them.

Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late— they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped.

They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Harry was sure, and he leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least—but at first he thought it was empty.

«Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut,» said Hagrid.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow.»

They bought Harry's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all.

Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, TongueTying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling.

While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Harry, Harry himself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).

Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B. C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling.

Pliable.

We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons.

«That will do,» he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor.

Harry didn't speak at all as they walked down the road; he didn't even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Harry's lap.

Harry didn't speak at all as they walked down the road; he didn't even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Harry's lap.

People jostled him on their way to platforms nine and ten.

Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it, He had done it.

Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Harry noticed a shiny silver badge on his chest with the letter P on it.

«You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo.

Ron blurted out.

Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.

«Am I?» said Harry, feeling dazed.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they'd heard footsteps, because a second later, Hermione Granger had come in.

«Scabbers has been fighting, not us,» said Ron, scowling at her.

Ron glared at her as she left.

Harry's stomach lurched with nerves and Ron, he saw, looked pale under his freckles.

They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path.

Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right -the rest of the school must already be here—but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall.

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose.

This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty.

Your top hats sleek and tall,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;

Those patient Hufflepuffis are true And unafraid of toil;

Where those of wit and learning,

Those cunning folk use any means

And don't get in a flap!

« Brocklehurst, Mandy» went to Ravenclaw too, but «Brown, Lavender» became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

When it finally shouted, «GRYFFINDOR,» Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to «MacDougal, Morag.»

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, «SLYTHERIN!»

Tweak!

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood.

Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding—»

He was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries.

At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...

I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...

I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...

I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...

Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes.

«Take him up to the hospital wing,» Snape spat at Seamus.

It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, «Come and get it, Potter!»

He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him -and in a rush of fierce joy he realized he'd found something he could do without being taught—this was easy, this was wonderful.

He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down—next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball—wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching—he stretched out his hand—a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.

He didn't have a clue what was going on, but he didn't seem to be being expelled, and some of the feeling started coming back to his legs.

Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at Harry.

«Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week.

Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows.

The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere.»

The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them.

Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness.

Horror-struck, Harry waved madly at the other three to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice.

Harry mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor.

Harry groped for the doorknob—between Filch and death, he'd take Filch.

«Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus.»

Harry and Ron headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion.

As seven o'clock drew nearer, Harry left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field.

«The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score,» Harry recited.

Harry asked, hoping he sounded offhand.

«That Quidditch cup'll have our name on it this year,» said Wood happily as they trudged back up to the castle.

Harry caught a glimpse of her face—and was startled to see that she was in tears.

Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face.

Harry sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.

They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.

Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut.

Wheeling around, they sprinted back to the door and turned the key, fumbling in their panic.

It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise.

Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look.

He pushed the door ajar and peered inside—and a horrible scene met his eyes.

«Blasted thing*,» Snape was saying.

«He's doing something—jinxing the broom,» said Hermione.

A sudden yelp told her she had done her job.

«How do you know about Fluffy?» he said.

So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking.

Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

«Oh yeah, you're right,» said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.

And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.

Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at him.

«It's an invisibility cloak,» said Ron, a look of awe on his face.

A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce—and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table.

These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside.

Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice.

Harry watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry's amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided.

When Harry finally left the table, he was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of nonexplodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set.

The library was pitch-black and very eerie.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet.

They tried retracing Harry's route from the library, wandering around the dark passageways for nearly an hour.

Then, during one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood gave the team a bit of bad news.

Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry told the other two about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.

Hermione screamed, leaping onto her seat to watch as Harry sped straight at Snape—she didn't even notice Malfoy and Ron rolling around under her seat, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Neville, Crabbe, and Goyle.

He recognized the figure's prowling walk.

«We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie.»

It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden—anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous.

It was stifling hot inside.

He ushered them inside.

«Midnight on Saturday!» he said in a hoarse voice.

«What utter rubbish!

They showed Harry and Hermione the harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them.

It was a bit late to repair the damage, but Harry swore to himself not to meddle in things that weren't his business from now on.

Professor McGonagall Harry had forgotten they still had detentions to do in the furor over the points they'd lost.

His relief must have showed in his -face, because Filch said, «I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf?

Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions.

Hagrid seized Harry and Hermione and hoisted them off the path behind a towering oak.

«Hullo, Bane,» said Hagrid.

There's a unicorn bin injured—would yeh know anythin' about it?»

Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast.

He looked carefully at Harry, his eyes lingering on the scar that stood out, livid, on Harry's forehead.

«That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn,» said Firenze.

Harry stared at the back of Firenze's head, which was dappled silver in the moonlight.

He turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest, leaving Harry shivering behind him.

It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers.

The idea of Voldemort certainly scared them, but he didn't keep visiting them in dreams, and they were so busy with their studying they didn't have much time to fret about what Snape or anyone else might be up to.

The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows.

His whole body rigid, he swayed where he stood and then fell flat on his face, stiff as a board.

But leaving Neville lying motionless on the floor didn't feel like a very good omen.

At the foot of the first set of stairs, they spotted Mrs. Norris skulking near the top.

In a matter of seconds, the two boys felt it loosening its grip as it cringed away from the light and warmth.

He had a knack for spotting things other people didn't.

The feeling suddenly surged back into Harry's legs.

At once, a needle-sharp pain seared across Harry's scar; his head felt as though it was about to split in two; he yelled, struggling with all his might, and to his surprise, Quirrell let go of him.

«Well, they did rather detest each other.

«Just five minutes,» Harry pleaded.

Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the Body-Bind Curse put on him.

Even Neville scraped through, his good Herbology mark making up for his abysmal Potions one.

A wizened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gate in twos and threes so they didn't attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles.