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

by J.K. Rowling

Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four. “Good luck, Harry,” he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous,

He couldn’t know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: “To Harry Potter — the boy who lived!”