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

by J.K. Rowling

Harry had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow. ‘I don’t know how the Muggles manage without magic,’ he said, as they climbed a broken-down escalator which led up to a bustling road lined with shops. Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger bars and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Might this not all be some huge joke that the Dursleys had cooked up? If Harry hadn’t known that the Dursleys had no sense of humour, he might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told him so far was unbelievable, Harry couldn’t help trusting him. ‘This is it,’ said Hagrid, coming to a halt, ‘the Leaky Cauldron. It’s a famous place.’ It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn’t pointed it out, Harry wouldn’t have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn’t glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn’t see the Leaky Cauldr...

‘So proud, Mr Potter, I’m just so proud.’ ‘Always wanted to shake your hand – I’m all of a flutter.’ ‘Delighted, Mr Potter, just can’t tell you. Diggle’s the name, Dedalus Diggle.’ ‘I’ve seen you before!’ said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle’s top hat fell off in his excitement. ‘You bowed to me once in a shop.’ ‘He remembers!’ cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. ‘Did you hear that? He remembers me!’ Harry shook hands again and again – Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

‘You’ll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I’ve g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself.’ He looked terrified at the very thought. But the others wouldn’t let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble. ‘Must get on – lots ter buy. Come on, Harry.’ Doris Crockford shook Harry’s hand one last time and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a dustbin and a few weeds. Hagrid grinned at Harry. ‘Told yeh, didn’t I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin’ ter meet yeh – mind you, he’s usually tremblin’.’ ‘Is he always that nervous?’ ‘Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin’ outta books but then he took a year off ter get some first-hand experience … They say he met vampires in the Black Forest and there was a nasty bit o’ trouble with a hag – never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject – now, where’s me umbrella?’ Vampires? Hags? Harry’s head was swimming.

A plump woman outside an apothecary’s was shaking her head as they passed, saying, ‘Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce, they’re mad …’

They had reached a snowy-white building which towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was – ‘Yeah, that’s a goblin,’ said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps towards him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them: Enter, stranger, but take heed Of what awaits the sin of greed, For those who take, but do not earn, Must pay most dearly in their turn, So if you seek beneath our floors A treasure that was never yours, Thief, you have been warned, beware Of finding more than treasure there. ‘Like I said, yeh’d be mad ter try an’ rob it,’ said Hagrid. A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall.

and he started emptying his pockets on to the counter, scattering a handful of mouldy dog-biscuits over the goblin’s book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.

handing it back to Hagrid, ‘I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!’ Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog-biscuits back inside his pockets, he and Harry followed Griphook towards one of the doors leading off the hall. ‘What’s the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?’ Harry asked. ‘Can’t tell yeh that,’ said Hagrid mysteriously. ‘Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore’s trusted me. More’n my job’s worth ter tell yeh that.’ Griphook held the door open for them. Harry, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downwards and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks towards them. They climbed in – Hagrid with some difficulty – and were off. At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn’t steering. Harry’s eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late – they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor. ‘I never know,’ Harry called to Hagrid over the nois...

Hagrid helped Harry pile some of it into a bag. ‘The gold ones are Galleons,’ he explained. ‘Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it’s easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o’ terms, we’ll keep the rest safe for yeh.’ He turned to Griphook. ‘Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?’ ‘One speed only,’ said Griphook. They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine and Harry leant over the side to try and see what was down at the dark bottom but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck.

‘If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they’d be sucked through the door and trapped in there,’ said Griphook. ‘How often do you check to see if anyone’s inside?’ Harry asked. ‘About once every ten years,’ said Griphook, with a rather nasty grin.

‘Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don’t talk to me on the way back, it’s best if I keep me mouth shut,’ said Hagrid. * One wild cart-ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry didn’t know where to run first now that he had a bag full of money. He didn’t have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that he was holding more money than he’d had in his whole life – more money than even Dudley had ever had. ‘Might as well get yer uniform,’ said Hagrid, nodding towards Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. ‘Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts.’ He did still look a bit sick, so Harry entered Madam Malkin’s shop alone, feeling nervous. Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve. ‘Hogwarts, dear?’ she said, when Harry started to speak. ‘Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.’ In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head and began to pin it to the right length. ‘Hullo,’ said the boy, ‘Hogwarts too?’ ‘Yes,’ said Harry. ‘My father’s next door buying my books and mother’s up the street looking at wands,’ said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. ‘Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first-ye...

empty except for a single spindly chair which Hagrid sat on to wait.

Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.

‘You have your mother’s eyes.

Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.’

‘Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it – it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.’ Mr Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes. ‘And that’s where …’ Mr Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead with a long, white finger. ‘I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it,’ he said softly. ‘Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands … Well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do …’ He shook his head and then, to Harry’s relief, spotted Hagrid. ‘Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again … Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn’t it?’ ‘It was, sir, yes,’ said Hagrid. ‘Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?’ said Mr Ollivander, suddenly stern. ‘Er – yes, they did, yes,’ said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. ‘I’ve still got the pieces, though,’ he added brightly. ‘But you don’t use them?’ said Mr Ollivander sharply. ‘Oh, no, sir,’ said Hagrid quickly. Harry noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke. ‘Hmmm,’ said Mr Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. ‘Well, now – Mr Potter. Let me see.’ He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. ‘Which is your wand arm?’ ‘Er – well, I’m ...

The late-afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Harry and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Harry didn’t speak at all as they walked down the road; he didn’t even notice how much people were gawping at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the sleeping snowy owl on Harry’s lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Harry only realised where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves,’ he said. He bought Harry a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Harry kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow. ‘You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet,’ said Hagrid. Harry wasn’t sure he could explain. He’d just had the best birthday of his life – and yet – he chewed his hamburger, trying to find the words. ‘Everyone thinks I’m special,’ he said at last. ‘All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr Ollivander … but I don’t know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I’m famous and I can’t even remember what I’m famous for. I don’t know what happened when Vol– sorry – I mean, the night my parents died.’ Hagrid leant across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile. ‘Don’ you worry, Harry. You’ll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you’ll be just fine. Just be ye...

Harry’s last month with the Dursleys wasn’t fun. True, Dudley was now so scared of Harry he wouldn’t stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn’t shut Harry in his cupboard, force him to do anything or shout at him – in fact, they didn’t speak to him at all. Half-terrified, half-furious, they acted as though any chair with Harry in it was empty. Although this was an improvement in many ways, it did become a bit depressing after a while. Harry kept to his room, with his new owl for company. He had decided to call her Hedwig, a name he had found in A History of Magic. His school books were very interesting. He lay on his bed reading late into the night, Hedwig swooping in and out of the open window as she pleased. It was lucky that Aunt Petunia didn’t come in to hoover any more, because Hedwig kept bringing back dead mice. Every night before he went to sleep, Harry ticked off another day on the piece of paper he had pinned to the wall, counting down to September the first. On the last day of August he thought he’d better speak to his aunt and uncle about getting to King’s Cross station next day, so he went down to the living-room, where they were watching a quiz show on television. He cleared his throat to let them know he was there, and Dudley screamed and ran from the room. ‘Er – Uncle Vernon?’ Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening. ‘Er – I need to be at King’s Cross tomorrow to – to go to Hogwarts.’ Uncle Vernon grunted again. ‘Would it be all...

‘Now, what’s the platform number?’ said the boys’ mother. ‘Nine and three-quarters!’ piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand. ‘Mum, can’t I go …’ ‘You’re not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first.’

Don’t stop and don’t be scared you’ll crash into it, that’s very important.

Go on, go now before Ron.’

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry pushed his trolley off down the platform in search of an empty seat. He passed a round-faced boy who was saying, ‘Gran, I’ve lost my toad again.’ ‘Oh, Neville,’ he heard the old woman sigh. A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd. ‘Give us a look, Lee, go on.’ The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg. Harry pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty compartment near the end of the train. He put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave his trunk towards the train door. He tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot. ‘Want a hand?’ It was one of the red-haired twins he’d followed through the ticket box. ‘Yes, please,’ Harry panted. ‘Oy, Fred! C’mere and help!’ With the twins’ help, Harry’s trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment. ‘Thanks,’ said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes. ‘What’s that?’ said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry’s lightning scar. ‘Blimey,’ said the other twin. ‘Are you –?’ ‘He is,’ said the first twin. ‘Aren’t you?’ he added to Harry. ‘What?’ said Harry. ‘Harry Potter,’ chorused the twins. ‘Oh, him,’ said Harry. ‘I mean, yes, I am.’ The two boys gawped at him and Harry ...

‘Hey, Ron.’ The twins were back. ‘Listen, we’re going down the middle of the train – Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.’ ‘Right,’ mumbled Ron. ‘Harry,’ said the other twin, ‘did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then.’ ‘Bye,’ said Harry and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them. ‘Are you really Harry Potter?’ Ron blurted out. Harry nodded. ‘Oh – well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George’s jokes,’ said Ron. ‘And have you really got – you know …’ He pointed at Harry’s forehead. Harry pulled back his fringe to show the lightning scar. Ron stared. ‘So that’s where You-Know-Who –?’ ‘Yes,’ said Harry, ‘but I can’t remember it.’ ‘Nothing?’ said Ron eagerly. ‘Well – I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else.’ ‘Wow,’ said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realised what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again. ‘Are all your family wizards?’ asked Harry, who found Ron just as interesting as Ron found him. ‘Er – yes, I think so,’ said Ron. ‘I think Mum’s got a second cousin who’s an accountant, but we never talk about him.’ ‘So you must know loads of magic already.’ The Weasleys were clearly one of those old wizarding families the pale boy in Diagon Alley had talked about. ‘I heard you went to live with Muggles,’ said Ron. ‘What are they like?’ ‘Horrible – well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, t...

Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully and bit into a corner. ‘Bleaaargh – see? Sprouts.’ They had a good time eating the Every-Flavour Beans. Harry got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny grey one Ron wouldn’t touch, which turned out to be pepper. The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers and dark green hills. There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Harry had passed on platform nine and three-quarters came in. He looked tearful. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘but have you seen a toad at all?’ When they shook their heads, he wailed, ‘I’ve lost him! He keeps getting away from me!’ ‘He’ll turn up,’ said Harry. ‘Yes,’ said the boy miserably. ‘Well, if you see him …’ He left. ‘Don’t know why he’s so bothered,’ said Ron. ‘If I’d brought a toad I’d lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can’t talk.’ The rat was still snoozing on Ron’s lap. ‘He might have died and you wouldn’t know the difference,’ said Ron in disgust. ‘I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn’t work. I’ll show you, look …’ He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end. ‘Unicorn hair’s nearly poking out. Anyway –’ He had just raised his wa...

She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.

and fast asleep.

just for practice and it’s all worked for me. Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it’s the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard – I’ve learnt all our set books off by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough – I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?’

‘Are you really?’ said Hermione. ‘I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books for background reading, and you’re in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. ‘Am I?’ said Harry, feeling dazed. ‘Goodness, didn’t you know, I’d have found out everything I could if it was me,’ said Hermione. ‘Do either of you know what house you’ll be in? I’ve been asking around and I hope I’m in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best, I hear Dumbledore himself was one, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad … Anyway, we’d better go and look for Neville’s toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we’ll be there soon.’ And she left, taking the toadless boy with her. ‘Whatever house I’m in, I hope she’s not in it,’ said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. ‘Stupid spell – George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud.’ ‘What house are your brothers in?’ asked Harry. ‘Gryffindor,’ said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. ‘Mum and Dad were in it, too. I don’t know what they’ll say if I’m not. I don’t suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin.’ ‘That’s the house Vol– I mean, You-Know-Who was in?’ ‘Yeah,’ said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed. ‘You know, I think the ends of Scabbers’s whiskers are a bit lighter,’ said Harry, trying to take Ron’s mind off houses. ‘So what do your oldest brothers do now they’ve left, anyway?’ Har...

‘No more’n four to a boat!’ Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and Ron were followed into their boat by Neville and Hermione. ‘Everyone in?’ shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself, ‘Right then – FORWARD!’

‘Heads down!’ yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy which hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbour, where they clambered out on to rocks and pebbles. ‘Oy, you there! Is this your toad?’ said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them. ‘Trevor!’ cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid’s lamp, coming out at last on to smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door. ‘Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?’ Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry’s first thought was that this was not someone to cross. ‘The firs’-years, Professor McGonagall,’ said Hagrid. ‘Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.’

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville’s cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron’s smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair. ‘I shall return when we are ready for you,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘Please wait quietly.’ She left the chamber. Harry swallowed. ‘How exactly do they sort us into houses?’ he asked Ron. ‘Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking.’ Harry’s heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? But he didn’t know any magic yet – what on earth would he have to do? He hadn’t expected something like this the moment they arrived. He looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she’d learnt and wondering which one she’d need. Harry tried hard not to listen to her. He’d never been more nervous, never, not even when he’d had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that he’d somehow turned his teacher’s wig blue. He kept his eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead him to his doom. Then something happened which made him jump about a foot in the air – several people behind him screamed. ‘What the –?’ He gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to each other and ha...

‘Oh, you may not think I’m pretty, But don’t judge on what you see, I’ll eat myself if you can find A smarter hat than me. You can keep your bowlers black, Your top hats sleek and tall, For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat And I can cap them all. There’s nothing hidden in your head The Sorting Hat can’t see, So try me on and I will tell you Where you ought to be. You might belong in Gryffindor, Where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart; You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil; Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, If you’ve a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind; Or perhaps in Slytherin You’ll make your real friends, Those cunning folk use any means To achieve their ends. So put me on! Don’t be afraid! And don’t get in a flap! You’re in safe hands (though I have none) For I’m a Thinking Cap!’ The whole Hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again. ‘So we’ve just got to try on the hat!’ Ron whispered to Harry. ‘I’ll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll.’

‘Abbott, Hannah!’ A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment’s pause – ‘HUFFLEPUFF!’ shouted the hat. The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

‘Boot, Terry!’ ‘RAVENCLAW!’ The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them. ‘Brocklehurst, Mandy’ went to Ravenclaw too, but ‘Brown, Lavender’ became the first new Gryffindor and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron’s twin brothers catcalling. ‘Bulstrode, Millicent’ then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry’s imagination, after all he’d heard about Slytherin, but he thought they looked an unpleasant lot. He was starting to feel definitely sick now. He remembered being picked for teams during sports lessons at his old school. He had always been last to be chosen, not because he was no good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked him. ‘Finch-Fletchley, Justin!’ ‘HUFFLEPUFF!’ Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. ‘Finnigan, Seamus’, the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor. ‘Granger, Hermione!’ Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.