cover image of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Read A Sample. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Harry Potter Series, Book 1 ยท Harry Potter. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. J.K. Rowling. Here are the characters of the book. Underline in red the French name and the English name in blue. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone is not an adventure game in the ing mix of J. K. ROWLING and her books: Harry Potter and Harry leaned forward toward.

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Thank you for the A2A. There are many website hosting Harry Potter's ebooks, but from my experience with them they are not a completed ebooks some. HARRY POTTER AND THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE. 2 sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister. HARRY POTTER AND THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger bars and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people.

Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comfortingthought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters wereinvolved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about 5 them and their kind He couldn't see how he and Petunia could getmixed up in anything that might be going on -- he yawned and turned over-- it couldn't affect them How very wrong he was.

Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the caton the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting asstill as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner ofPrivet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on thenext street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearlymidnight before the cat moved at all.

A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared sosuddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of theground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed. Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall,thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, whichwere both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes,a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots.

His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moonspectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had beenbroken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in astreet where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He wasbusy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem torealize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat,which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. Forsome reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. It seemed to be asilver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, andclicked it.

The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. Heclicked it again -- the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve timeshe clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole streetwere two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the catwatching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyedMrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happeningdown on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside hiscloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down 6 on the wall next to the cat.

He didn't look at it, but after a moment hespoke to it. Instead he was smilingat a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactlythe shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes.

She, too, waswearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tightbun.

She looked distinctly ruffled. When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed adozen feasts and parties on my way here. It was on their news. Flocksof owls Well, they're not completely stupid.

Theywere bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent -- I'll betthat was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense. People are being downright careless, out onthe streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes,swapping rumors.

I suppose he 7 really has gone, Dumbledore? Would you care for a lemon drop? All this 'You- Know-Who' nonsense -- for eleven years Ihave been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name:Voldemort. Everyone knows you'rethe only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of.

I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfreytold me she liked my new earmuffs. You know whateveryone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finallystopped him? Dumbledore, however, was choosinganother lemon drop and did not answer. He went to find the Potters. The rumor isthat Lily and James Potter are -- are -- that they're -- dead. Professor McGonagall gasped. I can't believe it I didn't want to believe it Oh, Albus Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on.

They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. But -- hecouldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how,but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort'spower somehow broke -- and that's why he's gone. Dumbledore nodded glumly. It's just astounding Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took agolden watch from his pocket and examined it.

It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were movingaround the edge. I suppose it washe who told you I'd be here, by the way? They're the only familyhe has left now. I've been watching them all day. You couldn'tfind two people who are less like us. And they've got this son -- I sawhim kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here! I'vewritten them a letter. These people will never understand him!

He'll be famous -- alegend -- I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter dayin the future -- there will be books written about Harry -- every childin our world will know his name!

Famousbefore he can walk and talk!

Famous for something he won't evenremember! CarA you see how much better off he'll be, growing up awayfrom all that until he's ready to take it?

But how is the boygetting here, Dumbledore? He doestend to -- what was that? It grewsteadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a 10 headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky -- anda huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front ofthem.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astrideit. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five timesas wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild - longtangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had handsthe size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots werelike baby dolphins.

In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundleof blankets. And where didyou get that motorcycle? I've got him, sir. He fell asleep as we wasflyin' over Bristol. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under atuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiouslyshaped cut, like a bolt of lightning. Scars can come in handy. I have one myselfabove my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground.

Well-- give him here, Hagrid -- we'd better get this over with. He bent his 11 great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a veryscratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like awounded dog. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter outof his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back tothe other two.

For a full minute the three of them stood and looked atthe little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagallblinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone fromDumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out. We've no business stayinghere. We may as well go and join the celebrations. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply. Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street.

On the corner hestopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, andtwelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that PrivetDrive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinkingaround the corner at the other end of the street.

He could just see thebundle of blankets on the step of number four. He turned on his heel and with a swishof his cloak, he was gone.

Harry Potter rolled over inside hisblankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter besidehim and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he wasfamous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milkbottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded andpinched by his cousin Dudley The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brassnumber four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their livingroom, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night whenMr.

Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only thephotographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like alarge pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets -- but DudleyDursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a largeblond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing acomputer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother.

The room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house, too. Yet Harry Potter was still there, asleep at the moment, but not forlong. His Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that madethe first noise of the day. Get up! His aunt rapped on the door again. Harry heard her walking toward the kitchen and thenthe sound of the frying pan being put on the stove.

He rolled onto hisback and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a 13 good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it.

He had a funnyfeeling he'd had the same dream before. His aunt was back outside the door. And don't youdare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday. Harry got slowly outof bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and,after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Harry was used tospiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, andthat was where he slept.

When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen.

The tablewas almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked asthough Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention thesecond television and the racing bike.

Exactly why Dudley wanted aracing bike was a mystery to Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hatedexercise -- unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley'sfavorite punching bag was Harry, but he couldn't often catch him. Harrydidn't look it, but he was very fast. Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harryhad always been small and skinny for his age.

He looked even smaller andskinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothesof Dudley's, and Dudley was about four times bigger than he was. Harryhad a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. Hewore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because ofall the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only thing Harryliked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead thatwas shaped like a bolt of lightning.

He had had it as long as he couldremember, and the first question he could ever remember asking his Aunt 14 Petunia was how he had gotten it. Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon.

About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper andshouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircutsthan the rest of the boys in his class puttogether, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way --all over the place.

Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with hismother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face,not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that laysmoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudleylooked like a baby angel -- Harry often said that Dudley looked like apig in a wig.

Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficultas there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell. Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing downhis bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.

How'sthat, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right'' 15 Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer itwhile Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, avideo camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, anda VCR. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petuniacame back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.

Figg's broken her leg. She can'ttake him. Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but Harry's heart gave a leap. Everyyear on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for theday, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies.

Everyyear, Harry was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived twostreets away. Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbageand Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she'd everowned. Harry knew he ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg hadbroken her leg, but it wasn't easy when he reminded himself it would bea whole year before he had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr.

Paws, andTufty again. Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon. In fact, he wasn't really crying -- it hadbeen years since he'd really cried -- but he knew that if he screwed uphis face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

Piers was a scrawny boy with a facelike a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind theirbacks while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once. Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn't believe his luck, was sitting inthe back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to thezoo for the first time in his life. His aunt and uncle hadn't been ableto think of anything else to do with him, but before they'd left, UncleVernon had taken Harry aside.

But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. No one ever did. The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and it wasjust no good telling the Dursleys he didn't make them happen. Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as ithad been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off He had been given a weekin his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that hecouldn't explain how it had grown back so quickly.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revoltingold sweater of Dudley's brown with orange puff balls -- The harder shetried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, untilfinally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fitHarry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, tohis great relief, Harry wasn't punished. On the other hand, he'd gotten into terrible trouble for being found onthe roof of the school kitchens.

Dudley's gang had been chasing him asusual when, as much to Harry's surprise as anyone else's, there he wassitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letterfrom Harry's headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing schoolbuildings.

But all he'd tried to do as he shouted at Uncle Vernonthrough the locked door of his cupboard was jump behind the big trashcans outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed that the wind must havecaught him in mid- jump. But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being withDudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school,his cupboard, or Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living room.

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He liked tocomplain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, thebank, and Harry were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning,it was motorcycles. If there was one thing theDursleys hated even more than his asking questions, it was his talkingabout anything acting in a way it shouldn't, no matter if it was in adream or even a cartoon -- they seemed to think he might get dangerousideas. It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. TheDursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at theentrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harrywhat he wanted before they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheaplemon ice pop.

It wasn't bad, either, Harry thought, licking it as theywatched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley,except that it wasn't blond. Harry had the best morning he'd had in a long time. He was careful towalk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, whowere starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn't fallback on their favorite hobby of hitting him.

They ate in the zoorestaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbockerglory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought himanother one and Harry was allowed to finish the first. Harry felt, afterward, that he should have known it was all too good tolast. It was cool and dark inthere, with lit windows all along the walls.

Behind the glass, all sortsof lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood andstone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick,man-crushing pythons.

Dudley quickly found the largest snake in theplace. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's carand crushed it into a trash can -- but at the moment it didn't look inthe mood.

In fact, it was fast asleep. Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at theglistening brown coils. Uncle Vernon tapped on theglass, but the snake didn't budge.

(Book 1) Harry Potter And The Sorcerer's Stone

Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartlywith his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on. He shuffled away. Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. Hewouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself -- nocompany except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass tryingto disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as abedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the doorto wake you up; at least he got to visit the rest of the house.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raisedits head until its eyes were on a level with Harry's. It winked. Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone waswatching.

They weren't. He looked back at the snake and winked, too. The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raisedits eyes to the ceiling. The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harrypeered at it. Boa Constrictor, Brazil. Caught bysurprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor.

What came next happenedso fast no one saw how it happened -- one second, Piers and Dudley wereleaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back withhowls of horror.

Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tankhad vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slitheringout onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed andstarted running for the exits. Thanksss, amigo. Piers and Dudley could onlygibber. As far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn't done anything exceptsnap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they wereall back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it hadnearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried tosqueeze him to death.

He was so angry he could hardly speak. Harry lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch. Hedidn't know what time it was and he couldn't be sure the Dursleys wereasleep yet. Until they were, he couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchenfor some food. He'd lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, aslong as he could remember, ever since he'd been a baby and his parentshad died in that car crash.

He couldn't remember being in the car whenhis parents had died. Sometimes, when he strained his memory during longhours in his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blindingflash of green light and a burn- ing pain on his forehead. This, hesupposed, was the crash, though he couldn't imagine where all the greenlight came from.

He couldn't remember his parents at all. His aunt anduncle never spoke about them, and of course he was forbidden to askquestions. There were no photographs of them in the house. When he had been younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknownrelation coming to take him away, but it had never happened; theDursleys were his only family.

Yet sometimes he thought or maybe hoped that strangers in the street seemed to know him.

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

Very strange strangersthey were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to him oncewhile out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harryfuriously if he knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of theshop without downloading anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all ingreen had waved merrily at him once on a bus. A bald man in a very longpurple coat had actually shaken his hand in the street the other day andthen walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all thesepeople was the way they seemed to vanish the second Harry tried to get a 22 closer look.

At school, Harry had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley's gang hatedthat odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, andnobody liked to disagree with Dudley's gang.

By the time he was allowed out of his cupboardagain, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken hisnew video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first timeout on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed PrivetDrive on her crutches. Harry was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley's gang,who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, andGordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest andstupidest of the lot, he was the leader.

The rest of them were all quitehappy to join in Dudley's favorite sport: Harry Hunting. This was why Harry spent as much time as possible out of the house,wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where hecould see a tiny ray of hope.

When September came he would be going offto secondary school and, for the first time in his life, he wouldn't bewith Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old privateschool, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Harry, on theother hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudleythought this was very funny. Figg wasn 't as bad asusual. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, 23 and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before.

She let Harry watchtelevision and gave him a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as thoughshe'd had it for several years. That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family inhis brand-new uniform.

Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orangeknickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carriedknobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren'tlooking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon saidgruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burstinto tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, helooked so handsome and grown-up. Harry didn't trust himself to speak. Hethought two of his ribs might already have cracked from trying not tolaugh.

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harrywent in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub inthe sink. He went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked likedirty rags swimming in gray water. Her lips tightened as they alwaysdid if he dared to ask a question. Harry looked in the bowl again. It'll look just like everyone else's when I'vefinished.

He satdown at the table and tried not to think about how he was going to lookon his first day at Stonewall High -- like he was wearing bits of oldelephant skin, probably. Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of thesmell from Harry's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper asusual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, 24 on the table. They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on thedoormat. Three thingslay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who wasvacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like abill, and -- a letter for Harry.

Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giantelastic band.

No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. He had no friends, no other relatives -- he didn't belong to thelibrary, so he'd never even got rude notes asking for books back.

Yethere it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:Mr. PotterThe Cupboard under the Stairs4 Privet DriveLittle WhingingSurreyThe envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and theaddress was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp. Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple waxseal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snakesurrounding a large letter H. Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter.

He handedUncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began toopen the yellow envelope. Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped overthe postcard. His face went from red to green fasterthan a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within secondsit was the grayish white of old porridge. Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held ithigh out of his reach.

Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the firstline. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched herthroat and made a choking noise. Oh my goodness -- Vernon! Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. Hegave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious butsilent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry,his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen atthe crack between door and floor.

You don't thinkthey're watching the house? Should we write back? If they don't get ananswer Yes, that's best Didn't we swear when we tookhim in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense? He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into asmile, which looked quite painful. Your aunt and I have beenthinking It only took Harry one tripupstairs to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room. Hesat down on the bed and stared around him.

Nearly everything in here wasbroken. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, workingtank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbor's dog; in thecorner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he'd put his footthrough when his favorite program had been canceled; there was a largebirdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at schoolfor a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bentbecause Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books.

He was holding a rifle in his hands โ€” now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them. The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor. A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. Yer mad. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head. Uncle Vernon roared. Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard. In me third year. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore.

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? In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he and Hagrid could see it. Before he could mention this, Hagrid had steered him inside. For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. He remembers me! A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone was looking at him. Hagrid was beaming. Then there was a great scraping of chairs and, next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron. I hate them Gringotts carts. Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

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. 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.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away. Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top-security vault, Harry was sure, and he leant forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least โ€” but at first he thought it was empty.

Then he noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor.

Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Harry longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else. They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.Palin has sworn off magic and these days acts as city mayor. Inside was alarge, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Harry written on it ingreen icing. There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room.

Hope you're Well.

Well, they're not completely stupid. Poor, blundering Neville โ€” Harry knew what it must have cost him to try and find them in the dark, to warn them. When September came he would be going offto secondary school and, for the first time in his life, he wouldn't bewith Dudley. A wild-looking old woman dressed all ingreen had waved merrily at him once on a bus. Why should he be afraid of Snape?