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Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.
“I would trust Hagrid with my life,” said Dumbledore.
Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.
“Even if I could, I wouldn’t. Scars can come in handy.
“I’m not going to do anything,” said Harry, “honestly . . .” But Uncle Vernon didn’t believe him. No one ever did.
“Harry — yer a wizard.”
No one ever lived after he decided ter kill ’em, no one except you, an’ he’d killed some o’ the best witches an’ wizards of the age — the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts — an’ you was only a baby, an’ you lived.” Something very painful was going on in Harry’s mind.
“Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die.
“NEVER —” he thundered, “— INSULT — ALBUS — DUMBLEDORE — IN — FRONT — OF — ME!”
If Harry hadn’t known that the Dursleys had no sense of humor, he might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told him so far was unbelievable, Harry couldn’t help trusting him.
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.
“Yes, exactly. I heard he’s a sort of savage — lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed.” “I think he’s brilliant,” said Harry coldly.
it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.”
how curious . . . how very curious . . .” He put Harry’s wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, “Curious . . . curious . . .” “Sorry,” said Harry, “but what’s curious?” Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare. “I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother — why, its brother gave you that scar.”
I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. . . . After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great.”
He didn’t know what he was going to — but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind.
“Are all your family wizards?” asked Harry, who found Ron just as interesting as Ron found him.
“I’m not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name,” said Harry, “I just never knew you shouldn’t.
“Go on, have a pasty,” said Harry, who had never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with.
“I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks,” he said coolly.
“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts.
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, If you’ve a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind;
If only the hat had mentioned a House for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him.
A horrible thought struck Harry, as horrible thoughts always do when you’re very nervous.
“Welcome!” he said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! “Thank you!”
“Ah, music,” he said, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here!
There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn’t open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren’t really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of
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“I hope you’re pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed — or worse, expelled. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to bed.”
The castle felt more like home than Privet Drive ever had.
But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. There are some things you can’t share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.
“I suppose she thinks you don’t forget your name. But we’re not stupid — we know we’re called Gred and Forge.”
Suddenly, Harry felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to him in this Cloak. Excitement flooded through him as he stood there in the dark and silence. He could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know.
“Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you,” said Dumbledore, and Harry was relieved to see that he was smiling.
“It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts.
does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that.
“What do you see when you look in the mirror?” “I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks.” Harry stared. “One can never have enough socks,” said Dumbledore. “Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn’t get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books.” It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. But then, he thought, as he shoved Scabbers off his pillow, it had been quite a personal question.
“You’re worth twelve of Malfoy,” Harry said. “The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn’t it? And where’s Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin.”
“Oh, honestly, don’t you two read?
Could Snape possibly know they’d found out about the Sorcerer’s Stone? Harry didn’t see how he could — yet he sometimes had the horrible feeling that Snape could read minds.
Ronan sighed. He flung back his head and stared at the sky. “Mars is bright tonight.”
“Always the innocent are the first victims,” he said. “So it has been for ages past, so it is now.”
“The forest hides many secrets.”
“Never,” said Hagrid irritably, “try an’ get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy stargazers. Not interested in anythin’ closer’n the moon.”
They’re deep, mind, centaurs . . . they know things . . . jus’ don’ let on much.”
“But who’d be that desperate?” he wondered aloud. “If you’re going to be cursed forever, death’s better, isn’t it?”
“I’ll use the Invisibility Cloak,” said Harry. “It’s just lucky I got it back.” “But will it cover all three of us?” said Ron. “All — all three of us?” “Oh, come off it, you don’t think we’d let you go alone?”
“Harry — you’re a great wizard, you know.” “I’m not as good as you,” said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of him. “Me!” said Hermione. “Books! And cleverness! There are more important things — friendship and bravery and — oh Harry — be careful!”
There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it.
“What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows.
After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.
