"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so

all aboard!"

It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down

their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed

like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and

sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.

The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed,

the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the

fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms.

Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and

four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just

smoked and shriveled up.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said

cheerfully.

He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood

a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Harry

privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer him up at all.

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray

from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce

wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy

blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the

moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed

next door, and Harry was left to find the softest bit of floor he

could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket.

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went

on. Harry couldn't sleep. He shivered and turned over, trying to get

comfortable, his stomach rumbling with hunger. Dudley's snores were

drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The

lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of

the sofa on his fat wrist, told Harry he'd be eleven in ten minutes'

time. He lay and watched his birthday tick nearer, wondering if the

Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer

was now.

Five minutes to go. Harry heard something creak outside. He hoped

the roof wasn't going to fall in, although he might be warmer if

it did. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would

be so full of letters when they got back that he'd be able to steal

one somehow.

Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock

like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching

noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea?

One minute to go and he'd be eleven. Thirty seconds... twenty

... ten... nine -- maybe he'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him --

three... two... one...

BOOM.

The whole shack shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, staring

at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE KEEPER OF THE KEYS

BOOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake. "Where's the

cannon?" he said stupidly.

There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding

into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands -- now they knew

what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you -- I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then --

SMASH!

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. He turned to look at them all.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an

easy journey..."

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was

crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here's Harry!" said the giant.

Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw

that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh

look a lot like yet dad, but yeh've got yet mom's eyes."

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.

I demand that you leave at once, sit!" he said. "You are breaking

and entering!"

天啊，这么长，累死人了

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he

reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle

Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been

made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being

trodden on.

"Anyway -- Harry," said the giant, turning his back on the

Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here --

I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly

squashed box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a

large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Harry written on

it in green icing.

Harry looked up at the giant. He meant to say thank you, but the

words got lost on the way to his mouth, and what he said instead was,

"Who are you?"

The giant chuckled.

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of

Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry's whole arm.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands

together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it,

mind."

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in

it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see

what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was

a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering

light and Harry felt the warmth wash over him as though he'd sunk

into a hot bath.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his

weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of

his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker,

a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid

that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut

was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a

thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat,

juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a

little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives

you, Dudley."

The giant chuckled darkly.

"Yet great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley,

don' worry."

He passed the sausages to Harry, who was so hungry he had never

tasted anything so wonderful, but he still couldn't take his eyes

off the giant. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything,

he said, "I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are."

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back

of his hand.

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh,

I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts -- yeh'll know all about Hogwarts,

o' course.

"Er -- no," said Harry.

Hagrid looked shocked.

"Sorry," Harry said quickly.

"Sony?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who

shrank back into the shadows. "It' s them as should be sorry! I knew

yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't

even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder

where yet parents learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Harry.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"

He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the

whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that

this boy -- this boy! -- knows nothin' abou' -- about ANYTHING?"

Harry thought this was going a bit far. He had been to school,

after all, and his marks weren't bad.

"I know some things," he said. "I can, you know, do math and

stuff." But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world,

I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world."

"What world?"

Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.

"DURSLEY!" he boomed.

Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that

sounded like "Mimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at Harry.

"But yeh must know about yet mom and dad," he said. "I mean,

they're famous. You're famous."

"What? My -- my mom and dad weren't famous, were they?"

"Yeh don' know... yeh don' know..." Hagrid ran his fingers

through his hair, fixing Harry with a bewildered stare.

"Yeh don' know what yeh are?" he said finally.

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.

"Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sit! I forbid you to

tell the boy anything!"

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the

furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every

syllable trembled with rage.

"You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter

Dumbledore left fer him? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it,

Dursley! An' you've kept it from him all these years?"

"Kept what from me?" said Harry eagerly.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.

Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

"Ah, go boil yet heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Harry --

yet a wizard."

There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling

wind could be heard.

"-- a what?" gasped Harry.

"A wizard, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the

sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good'un,

I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad

like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time

yeh read yer letter."

Harry stretched out his hand at last to take the yellowish

envelope, addressed in emerald green to Mr. H. Potter, The Floor,

Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. He pulled out the letter and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed

a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than

July 31. Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Questions exploded inside Harry's head like fireworks and he

couldn't decide which to ask first. After a few minutes he stammered,

"What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a

hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse,

and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl --

a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl -- a long quill, and a

roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled

a note that Harry could read upside down:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Given Harry his letter.

Taking him to buy his things tomorrow.

Weather's horrible. Hope you're Well.

Hagrid

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped

it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the

storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal

as talking on the telephone.

Harry realized his mouth was open and closed it quickly.

"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon,

still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

"He's not going," he said.

Hagrid grunted.

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him," he said.

"A what?" said Harry, interested.

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call nonmagic folk like

thern. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest

Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to that rubbish,"

said Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of him! Wizard indeed!"

"You knew?" said Harry. "You knew I'm a -- a wizard?"

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we

knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh,

she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that

school-and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog

spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her

for what she was -- a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no,

it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch

in the family!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It

seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married

and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just

as strange, just as -- as -- abnormal -- and then, if you please,

she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"

Harry had gone very white. As soon as he found his voice he said,

"Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!"

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the

Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill

Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter

not knowin' his own story when every kid in our world knows his

name!" "But why? What happened?" Harry asked urgently.

The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious.

"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I

had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin'

hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harry, I don' know

if I'm the right person ter tell yeh -- but someone 3 s gotta --

yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh -- mind,

I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it...."

He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then

said, "It begins, I suppose, with -- with a person called -- but it's

incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows --"

"Who? "

"Well -- I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No

one does."

"Why not?"

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey,

this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went... bad. As

bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was..."

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Could you write it down?" Harry suggested.

"Nah -can't spell it. All right -- Voldemort. " Hagrid

shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this -- this wizard,

about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em,

too -- some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause

he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry. Didn't

know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or

witches... terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course,

some stood up to him -- an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the

only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only

one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school,

not jus' then, anyway.

"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I

ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose

the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side

before... probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want

anythin' ter do with the Dark Side.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em... maybe he just wanted

'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village

where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just

a year old. He came ter yer house an' -- an' --"

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief

and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad -- knew yer mum an' dad,

an' nicer people yeh couldn't find -- anyway..."

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then -- an' this is the real

myst'ry of the thing -- he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter

make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin'

by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that

mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get

when a Powerful, evil curse touches yeh -- took care of yer mum an'

dad an' yer house, even -- but it didn't work on you, an' that's why

yer famous, Harry. 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. As Hagrid's

story came to a close, he saw again the blinding flash of green

light, more clearly than he had ever remembered it before -- and he

remembered something else, for the first time in his life: a high,

cold, cruel laugh.

Hagrid was watching him sadly.

"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's

orders. Brought yeh ter this lot..."

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Harry jumped; he had

almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly

seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and

his fists were clenched.

"Now, you listen here, boy," he snarled, "I accept there's

something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating

wouldn't have cured -- and as for all this about your parents,

well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off

without them in my opinion -- asked for all they got, getting mixed

up with these wizarding types -- just what I expected, always knew

they'd come to a sticky end --"

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a

battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle

Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley -I'm warning

you -- one more word... "

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a

bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened

himself against the wall and fell silent.

"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back

down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Harry, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them.

"But what happened to Vol--, sorry -- I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he

tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest

myst'ry, see... he was gettin' more an' more powerful -- why'd he go?

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had

enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there,

bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his

side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don~

reckon they could've done if he was comin' back.

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his

powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished

him, Harry. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't

counted on -- I dunno what it was, no one does -- but somethin'

about you stumped him, all right."

Hagrid looked at Harry with warmth and respect blazing in

his eyes, but Harry, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt

quite sure there had been a horrible mistake. A wizard? Him? How

could he possibly be? He'd spent his life being clouted by Dudley,

and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if he was really a

wizard, why hadn't they been turned into warty toads every time

they'd tried to lock him in his cupboard? If he'd once defeated

the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been

able to kick him around like a football?

"Hagrid," he said quietly, "I think you must have made a

mistake. I don't think I can be a wizard."

To his surprise, Hagrid chuckled.

"Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared

or angry?"

Harry looked into the fire. Now he came to think about

it... every odd thing that had ever made his aunt and uncle

furious with him had happened when he, Harry, had been upset or

angry... chased by Dudley's gang, he had somehow found himself out

of their reach... dreading going to school with that ridiculous

haircut, he'd managed to make it grow back... and the very last

time Dudley had hit him, hadn't he got his revenge, without even

realizing he was doing it? Hadn't he set a boa constrictor on him?

Harry looked back at Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was

positively beaming at him.

"See?" said Hagrid. "Harry Potter, not a wizard -- you wait,

you'll be right famous at Hogwarts."

But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.

"Haven't I told you he's not going?" he hissed. "He's going to

Stonewall High and he'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters

and he needs all sorts of rubbish -- spell books and wands and --"

"If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop

him," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter' s son goin'

ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. His name's been down ever since he was

born. He's off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in

the world. Seven years there and he won't know himself. He'll be

with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an' he'll be under

the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Albus Dumbled--"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL To TEACH HIM MAGIC

TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.

But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and

whirled it over his head, "NEVER," he thundered, "- INSULT- ALBUS-

DUMBLEDORE- IN- FRONT- OF- ME!"

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point

at Dudley -- there was a flash of violet light, a sound like

a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was

dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom,

howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harry saw a curly

pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the

other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed

the door behind them.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't

work anyway. 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."

He cast a sideways look at Harry under his bushy eyebrows.

"Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at

Hogwarts," he said. "I'm -- er -- not supposed ter do magic,

strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an'

get yer letters to yeh an' stuff -- one o' the reasons I was so

keen ter take on the job

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry.

"Oh, well -- I was at Hogwarts meself but I -- er -- got

expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped

me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as

gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore." "Why were you expelled?"

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said

Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."

He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry.

"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a

bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."

CHAPTER FIVE

DIAGON ALLEY

Harry woke early the next morning. Although he could tell it

was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight.

"It was a dream, he told himself firmly. "I dreamed a

giant called Hagrid came to tell me I was going to a school for

wizards. When I open my eyes I'll be at home in my cupboard."

There was suddenly a loud tapping noise.

And there's Aunt Petunia knocking on the door, Harry thought,

his heart sinking. But he still didn't open his eyes. It had been

such a good dream.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"All right," Harry mumbled, "I'm getting up."

He sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off him. The hut was full

of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the

collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window,

a newspaper held in its beak.

Harry scrambled to his feet, so happy he felt as though a large

balloon was swelling inside him. He went straight to the window

and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper

on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto

the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat.

"Don't do that."

Harry tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its

beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat.

"Hagrid!" said Harry loudly. "There's an owl

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.

"What?"

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the

pockets." Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets --

bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs,

teabags... finally, Harry pulled out a handful of strange-looking

coins.

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

"Knuts?"

"The little bronze ones."

Harry counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held

out his leg so Harry could put the money into a small leather pouch

tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.

"Best be Off, Harry, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London

an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

Harry was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them. He

had just thought of something that made him feel as though the

happy balloon inside him had got a puncture.

"Um -- Hagrid?"

"Mm?" said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots.

"I haven't got any money -- and you heard Uncle Vernon last

night ... he won't pay for me to go and learn magic."

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching

his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed --"

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop

fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not

bad cold -- an' I wouldn' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake,

neither."

"Wizards have banks?"

"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins."

Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding.

"Goblins?"

"Yeah -- so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh

that. Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place

in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe -- 'cept maybe

Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer

Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He

usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you gettin'

things from Gringotts -- knows he can trust me, see.

"Got everythin'? Come on, then."

Harry followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite

clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon

had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after

the storm.

"How did you get here?" Harry asked, looking around for another

boat. "Flew," said Hagrid.

"Flew?"

"Yeah -- but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic

now I've got yeh."

They settled down in the boat, Harry still staring at Hagrid,

trying to imagine him flying.

"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Harry

another of his sideways looks. "If I was ter -- er -- speed things

up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"

"Of course not," said Harry, eager to see more magic. Hagrid

pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of

the boat, and they sped off toward land.

"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Harry asked.

"Spells -- enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper

as he spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the highsecurity

vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way -- Gringotts is hundreds

of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die

of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer

hands on summat."

Harry sat and thought about this while Hagrid read his

newspaper, the Daily Prophet. Harry had learned from Uncle Vernon

that people liked to be left alone while they did this, but it was

very difficult, he'd never had so many questions in his life.

"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered,

turning the page.

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked, before he could

stop himself.

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister,

0 ' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge

got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore

with owls every morning, askin' fer advice."

"But what does a Ministry of Magic do?"

"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that

there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country."

"Why?"

"Why? Blimey, Harry, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to

their problems. Nah, we're best left alone."

At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor

wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the

stone steps onto the street.

Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the

little town to the station. Harry couldn't blame them. Not only was

Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly

ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that,

Harry? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

"Hagrid," said Harry, panting a bit as he ran to keep up,

"did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

"You'd like one?"

"Wanted one ever since I was a kid -- here we go."

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in

five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as

he called it, gave the bills to Harry so he could buy their tickets.

People stared more than ever on the train. 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. Harry took the parchment envelope out of his pocket.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything

yeh need."

Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn't noticed the

night before, and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

wand cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) set

glass or crystal phials

telescope set

brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR

OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry wondered aloud.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.

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 that 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 restaurants 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 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.

"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 Cauldron at all. 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. A little man in a top hat was

talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a

toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked

in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him,

and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping

his great hand on Harry's shoulder and making Harry's knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry, "is this --

can this be --?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry

Potter... what an honor."

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and

seized his hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."

Harry didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The

old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had

gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment,

Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky

Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you

at last."

"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.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of

his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Professor Quirrell

will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's

hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor

Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that

you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "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 trash can 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

firsthand 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. Hagrid, meanwhile,

was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.

"Three up... two across he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harry."

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered -- it wriggled -- in the

middle, a small hole appeared -- it grew wider and wider -- a second

later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an

archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

He grinned at Harry's amazement. They stepped through the

archway. Harry looked quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway

shrink instantly back into solid wall.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the

nearest shop. Cauldrons -- All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver

-- Self-Stirring -- Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get

yer money first."

Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head

in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at

everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people

doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was

shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen

Sickles an ounce, they're mad...."

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign

saying Eeylops Owl Emporium -- Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and

Snowy. Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed

against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry heard

one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand -- fastest ever --"

There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange

silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with

barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell

books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of

the moon....

"Gringotts," said Hagrid.

They had reached a snowy white building that 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 toward 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. About a hundred more goblins were sitting

on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers,

weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through

eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall,

and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid

and Harry made for the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take

some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe."

"You have his key, Sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying

his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy 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.

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.

The goblin looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore,"

said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the

YouKnow-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, 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 toward 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 downward and there were

little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small

cart came hurtling up the tracks toward 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 noise of the cart,

"what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me

questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick."

He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside

a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean

against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing

out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold

coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

All Harry's -- it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't

have known about this or they'd have had it from him faster than

blinking. How often had they complained how much Harry cost them

to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging

to him, buried deep under London.

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 leaned over

the side to try to 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.

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door

gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.

"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.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security

vault, Harry was sure, and he leaned forward eagerly, expecting to

see fabulous jewels at the very least -- 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.

"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 toward

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, clear?" 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.

"Hello," 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 took at racing brooms. I

don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully

father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," said Harry.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch

could be.

"I do -- Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for

my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I

know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been -- imagine being

in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" "Mmm," said Harry,

wishing he could say something a bit more interesting.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward

the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and

pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," said Harry, pleased to know something the boy

didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant,

isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," said Harry. He was liking the boy less

and less every second.

"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.

"Do you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with

you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like

going into the matter with this boy.

"Oh, sorry," said the other,. not sounding sorry at all. "But

they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do

you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to

know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until

they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the

old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

But before Harry could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you

done, my dear," and Harry, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking

to the boy, hopped down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling

boy.

Harry was rather quiet as he ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought

him (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts).

"What's up?" said Hagrid.

"Nothing," Harry lied. They stopped to buy parchment and

quills. Harry cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that

changed color as you wrote. When they had left the shop, he said,

"Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know -- not

knowin' about Quidditch!"

"Don't make me feel worse," said Harry. He told Hagrid about

the pate boy in Madam Malkin's.

"--and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be

allowed in."

"Yer not from a Muggle family. If he'd known who yeh were

-- he's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin'

folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when

they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best

I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line 0'

Muggles -- look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"

"So what is Quidditch?"

"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like -- like soccer in the

Muggle world -- everyone follows Quidditch -- played up in the air

on broomsticks and there's four balls -- sorta hard ter explain

the rules." "And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a

lot o' duffers, but --"

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff" said Harry gloomily.

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's

not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in

Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."

"Vol-, sorry - You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"

"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid.

They bought Harry's school books in a shop called Flourish

and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with

books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the

size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar

symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Dudley,

who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on

some of these. Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and

Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with

the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue- Tying and Much,

Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley."

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use

magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances,"

said Hagrid. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet,

yeh'll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level."

Hagrid wouldn't let Harry buy a solid gold cauldron, either

("It says pewter on yer list"), but they got a nice set of

scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass

telescope. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating

enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs

and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor;

jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls;

bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from

the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a

supply of some basic potion ingredients for Harry, Harry himself

examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and

minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry's list again.

"Just yer wand left - A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a

birthday present."

Harry felt himself go red.

"You don't have to --"

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not

a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at - an'

I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the

kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which

had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright

eyes. Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy

owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. He couldn't stop

stammering his thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell.

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had

a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now -

only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

A magic wand... this was what Harry had been really looking

forward to.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over

the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A

single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they

stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single,

spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Harry felt strangely as

though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot

of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead

at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the

ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very

dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped. Hagrid must

have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he

got quickly off the spindly chair.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining

like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Harry awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing

you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your

mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself,

buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy,

made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would

blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany

wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for

transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored 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, sit," 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 right-handed," said Harry.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder

to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit

and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander

wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We

use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings

of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two

unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course,

you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which

was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its

own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down

boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a

heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood

and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take

it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit,

but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try --"

Harry tried -- but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too,

was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no -here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches,

springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was

waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher

on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from

the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect

match here somewhere -- I wonder, now - - yes, why not -- unusual

combination -- holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice

and supple."

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He

raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the

dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like

a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid

whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes,

indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... 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."

Harry swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. 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."

Harry shivered. He wasn't sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too

much. He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander

bowed them from his shop.

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 gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all

their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on

Harry's lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Harry

only realized 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 leaned 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 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."

Hagrid helped Harry on to the train that would take him back

to the Dursleys, then handed him an envelope.

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts, " he said. "First o' September --

King's Cross -- it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the

Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find

me.... See yeh soon, Harry."

The train pulled out of the station. Harry wanted to watch

Hagrid until he was out of sight; he rose in his seat and pressed

his nose against the window, but he blinked and Hagrid had gone.

CHAPTER SIX

THE JOURNEY FROM PLATFORM NINE AND THREE-QUARTERS

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 were 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 vacuum anymore, 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 the 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 right if you gave me a lift?"

Grunt. Harry supposed that meant yes.

"Thank you."

He was about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually

spoke.

"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets

all got punctures, have they?"

Harry didn't say anything.

"Where is this school, anyway?"

"I don't know," said Harry, realizing this for the first time. He

pulled the ticket Hagrid had given him out of his pocket.

"I just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters

at eleven o'clock," he read.

His aunt and uncle stared.

"Platform what?"

"Nine and three-quarters."

"Don't talk rubbish," said Uncle Vernon. "There is no platform

nine and three-quarters."

"It's on my ticket."

"Barking," said Uncle Vernon, "howling mad, the lot of

them. You'll see. You just wait. All right, we'll take you to

King's Cross. We're going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I

wouldn't bother."

"Why are you going to London?" Harry asked, trying to keep

things friendly.

"Taking Dudley to the hospital," growled Uncle Vernon. "Got to

have that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings."

Harry woke at five o'clock the next morning and was too excited

and nervous to go back to sleep. He got up and pulled on his jeans

because he didn't want to walk into the station in his wizard's

robes -- he'd change on the train. He checked his Hogwarts list yet

again to make sure he had everything he needed, saw that Hedwig was

shut safely in her cage, and then paced the room, waiting for the

Dursleys to get up. Two hours later, Harry's huge, heavy trunk had

been loaded into the Dursleys' car, Aunt Petunia had talked Dudley

into sitting next to Harry, and they had set off.

They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon

dumped Harry's trunk onto a cart and wheeled it into the station

for him. Harry thought this was strangely kind until Uncle Vernon

stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

"Well, there you are, boy. Platform nine -- platform ten. Your

platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to

have built it yet, do they?"

He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number

nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one

next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all.

"Have a good term," said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier

smile. He left without another word. Harry turned and saw the

Dursleys drive away. All three of them were laughing. Harry's mouth

went rather dry. What on earth was he going to do? He was starting

to attract a lot of funny looks, because of Hedwig. He'd have to

ask someone.

He stopped a passing guard, but didn't dare mention platform

nine and three-quarters. The guard had never heard of Hogwarts and

when Harry couldn't even tell him what part of the country it was

in, he started to get annoyed, as though Harry was being stupid on

purpose. Getting desperate, Harry asked for the train that left at

eleven o'clock, but the guard said there wasn't one. In the end

the guard strode away, muttering about time wasters. Harry was

now trying hard not to panic. According to the large clock over

the arrivals board, he had ten minutes left to get on the train to

Hogwarts and he had no idea how to do it; he was stranded in the

middle of a station with a trunk he could hardly lift, a pocket

full of wizard money, and a large owl.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell him something you had to do,

like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. He

wondered if he should get out his wand and start tapping the ticket

inspector's stand between platforms nine and ten.

At that moment a group of people passed just behind him and he

caught a few words of what they were saying.

"-- packed with Muggles, of course --"

Harry swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking

to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing

a trunk like Harry's in front of him -- and they had an owl.

Heart hammering, Harry pushed his cart after them. They stopped

and so did he, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

"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, "Mom, can't I go... "

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy,

you go first."

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine

and ten. Harry watched, careful not to blink in case he missed it

-- but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the

two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front

of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy

had vanished.

"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman,

you call yourself our mother? CarA 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?

Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier

he was almost there -- and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.

There was nothing else for it.

"Excuse me," Harry said to the plump woman.

"Hello, dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new,

too."

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall,

thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a

long nose.

"Yes," said Harry. "The thing is -- the thing is, I don't know

how to --"

"How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly, and Harry

nodded.

"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight

at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't

be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it

at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."

"Er -- okay," said Harry.