Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (Harry Potter, #1)

by J.K. Rowling

‘What does it mean, they await my owl?’ ‘Gallopin’ Gorgons, that reminds me,’ said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl – a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl – a long quill and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note which Harry could read upside-down: Dear Mr Dumbledore, Given Harry his letter. Taking him to buy his things tomorrow. Weather’s horrible. Hope you’re well. Hagrid Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone. Harry realised his mouth was open and closed it quickly. ‘Where was I?’ said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight. ‘He’s not going,’ he said. Hagrid grunted. ‘I’d like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him,’ he said. ‘A what?’ said Harry, interested. ‘A Muggle,’ said Hagrid. ‘It’s what we call non-magic folk like them. An’ it’s your bad luck you grew up in a family o’ the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on.’ ‘We swore when we took him in we’d put a stop to that rubbish,’ said Uncle Vernon, ‘swore we’d stamp it out of him! Wizard, indeed!’ ‘You knew?’ said Harry. ‘You knew I’m a – a wizard?’ ‘Knew!’ shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. ‘Knew! Of course we kne...