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

by J.K. Rowling

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

The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.

“Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall.”

I wouldn’t be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter Day in the future

“Hagrid’s bringing him.” “You think it — wise — to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?” “I would trust Hagrid with my life,” said Dumbledore.

“To Harry Potter — the boy who lived!”

Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel — Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.

As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, “Brazil, here I come. . . . Thanksss, amigo.”

Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn’t much left ter do.”

Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent. “Still got yer letter, Harry?” he asked as he counted stitches.

toad

hag

stalagmite and a stalactite?”

spindly

Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. . . . 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.”

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 yerself. I know it’s hard. Yeh’ve been singled out, an’ that’s always hard. But yeh’ll have a great time at Hogwarts — I did — still do, ’smatter of fact.”

“Fred, you next,” the plump woman said. “I’m not Fred, I’m George,” said the boy. “Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can’t you tell I’m George?” “Sorry, George, dear.” “Only joking, I am Fred,” said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone — but how had he done it?

“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.”

“We’ll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat.” “George!” “Only joking, Mum.”

“But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos.” “Do they? What, they don’t move at all?” Ron sounded amazed. “Weird!”

tripe.

I’ve learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough — I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?”

thronging

The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts.

“I’m half-and-half,” said Seamus. “Me dad’s a Muggle. Mum didn’t tell him she was a witch ’til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him.”

goblet.

Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard.

“Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you’ll get caughty.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn’t gone off chasing dragons.”

“How could a troll get in?” Harry asked as they climbed the stairs. “Don’t ask me, they’re supposed to be really stupid,” said Ron. “Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke.”

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.

“Wonder what’s wrong with his leg?” “Dunno, but I hope it’s really hurting him,” said Ron bitterly.

wheedled

The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

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.

laden

It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that.

Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something Harry and Ron thought was very good for her.

Harry suddenly turned to Ron. “Charlie,” he said. “You’re losing it, too,” said Ron. “I’m Ron, remember?”

“He’s got lots o’ rats an’ some brandy fer the journey,” said Hagrid in a muffled voice. “An’ I’ve packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely.”

“Always the innocent are the first victims,” he said. “So it has been for ages past, so it is now.”

And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down.”

“Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They’re not throwing me out after that.”

“I won’t let you do it,” he said, hurrying to stand in front of the portrait hole. “I’ll — I’ll fight you!” “Neville,” Ron exploded, “get away from that hole and don’t be an idiot —” “Don’t you call me an idiot!” said Neville. “I don’t think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!” “Yes, but not to us,” said Ron in exasperation. “Neville, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“So light a fire!” Harry choked. “Yes — of course — but there’s no wood!” Hermione cried, wringing her hands. “HAVE YOU GONE MAD?” Ron bellowed. “ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?”

“Oh, right!” said Hermione, and she whipped out her wand, waved it, muttered something, and sent a jet of the same bluebell flames she had used on Snape at the plant.

“Yeah,” said Ron, “and lucky Harry doesn’t lose his head in a crisis —‘there’s no wood,’ honestly.”

Hermione’s lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him. “Hermione!” “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!”

“Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn’t realize that love as powerful as your mother’s for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign . . . to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good.”

It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at him from every page were his mother and father. “Sent owls off ter all yer parents’ old school friends, askin’ fer photos . . . knew yeh didn’ have any . . . d’yeh like it?” Harry couldn’t speak, but Hagrid understood.