Harry Ludens: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone as a Novel and J. K. ROWLING and her books: Harry Potter and Harry leaned forward toward the bar . 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 · Harry Potter. You can Google 'Harry Potter and the [name of book] pdf'. google just search google and type download PDF of Harry Potter and the philosopher's Stone and .
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Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. CHAPTER ONE .. in the future -- there will be books written about Harry -- every child in our world will know his name!". 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 PHILOSOPHER'S STONE. 2 sister, but they .. Potter Day in future – there will be books written about Harry – every child in our.
I've got him, sir. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that. It might have been Harvey. Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place?
For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen — then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat.
It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive — no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs.
Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day. But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else.
As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about.
People in cloaks. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes — the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together.
Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt — these people were obviously collecting for something The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr.
Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swoop ing past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open- mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead.
Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people.
He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery. He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin.
It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it. He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind.
He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry.
He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her — if he'd had a sister like that He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.
It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground.
On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last!
Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!
Dursley around the middle and walked off. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination. As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw — and it didn't improve his mood — was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning.
It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes. Dursley loudly.
The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife. Dursley had had a nice, normal day.
She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word "Won't! Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news: Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise.
Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim? Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early — it's not until next week, folks!
But I can promise a wet night tonight. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place?
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. One wild cart-ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts.
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. 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 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 — 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. The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them.
There was a very embarrassed pause. But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. Harry was speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets. Students are finishing the feast in their houses.
Professor McGonagall turned to Harry and Ron. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go.
It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermione as a friend. Click here. Rowling ebook. Subjects Fantasy Young Adult Fiction. Fantasy Young Adult Fiction. Publication Details Publisher: Pottermore Publishing Publication Date: Harry Potter.