M OTHERWISE Quirrell.
“You!” Harry was shocked.
Quirrell smiled. His face didn’t twitch at all.
“Yes, I am,” he said calmly. “I’ve been wondering if I’d meet you here, Potter.”
“But I think—Snape…”
“Severus?” Quirrell laughed and it wasn’t his usual shaky laugh, but cold and shrill. “Yeah, Severus does seem like the right type, doesn’t he? He is very useful, swooping around like a wild bat. Compared to him, who would suspect P-professor Q-Quirrell y-who g-stutters and m-gives p-pity?”
Harry didn’t understand. This can’t be true, it’s impossible. “But Snape tried to kill me.”
”No, no, no. I was the one who tried to kill you. Your friend, Miss Granger, accidentally knocked me over when she was rushing to burn Snape’s robes at the Quidditch match. He broke my eye contact with you. In just a few seconds I would have succeeded in knocking you off the broom. I would have succeeded before, if Snape hadn’t muttered a warding charm, trying to save you.”
“Snape tried to save me?”
“Of course,” said Quirrell coolly. “Why do you think he wants to referee your next game? He tried to make sure I didn’t do it again. That’s funny… he doesn’t need to worry. I couldn’t do anything because Dumbledore was watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to prevent Gryffindor from winning, he did make himself unpopular… and was a complete waste of time, but after all that effort, I’m going to kill you tonight.”
Quirrell snapped his fingers. Suddenly a rope wrapped around Harry tightly.
“You are too inquisitive and too meddling to be allowed to live, Potter. Wandering around on a Hallowe’en night like that, you might catch me coming to see what’s guarding that rock.”
” You brought in the troll?”
“Of course. I have a special talent for dealing with trolls—you must have seen what I did to the troll in the front room? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for the troll, Snape, already suspicious of me, went straight up to the third floor to confront me—and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, the three-headed dog didn’t even manage to bite Snape’s leg off.
“Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to check out this interesting mirror.”
Only then did Harry realize what was standing behind Quirrell.
Mirror Tarsah.
“This mirror is the key to finding the Philosopher’s Stone,” Quirrell muttered, as he circled the frame. “Dumbledore is really clever at using this mirror… but he’s in London… I’ll be far from here when he comes home…”
All Harry could think about was how to keep Quirrell talking and prevent him from concentrating on the mirror.
“I saw you and Snape in the Forest…” he said.
“Yeah,” said Quirrell casually, walking behind the mirror to examine his backside. “He already knew my intentions at that time, trying to find out the extent of my knowledge. He’s been suspicious of me for a long time. Trying to scare me – how can I do that, with Lord Voldemort at my side…”
Quirrell appeared from behind the mirror and looked at him passionately.
“I saw the stone… I offered it to my master… but where is the stone?”
Harry struggled to free himself from the ropes that bound him, but to no avail. He had to prevent Quirrell from devoting all his attention to the mirror.
“But Snape seems to hate me a lot.”
“Oh, he does hate you,” said Quirrell casually. ”Hate you so much. He went to Hogwarts with your father, didn’t you know? They hate each other. But he never wanted your father to die .”
“But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing— I thought Snape was threatening you…”
For the first time fear crossed Quirrell’s face.
“Sometimes,” he said, “it is very difficult for me to carry out my master’s orders—he is a great wizard and I am weak…”
“You mean he’s in that class with you?” Harry was taken aback.
“He’s with me wherever I go,” said Quirrell quietly. “I met him while traveling around the world. At that time I was just a young man who was still stupid, still idealistic about good and bad things. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good or bad, only power, and those who are too weak to seek it… From then on, I served him faithfully, even though I often disappointed him. He has to be strict with me.” Quirrell suddenly shuddered. “He doesn’t easily forget mistakes. When I failed to steal the Philosopher’s Stone from Gringotts, he was furious. He punished me… decided he needed to monitor me more closely.…”
Quirrell’s voice grew quieter. Harry remembered his trip to Diagon Alley – how could he have been so stupid? He met Quirrell that day, shaking hands with him at the Leaky Cauldron.
Quirrell cursed the plan.
“I don’t understand… is the stone in the mirror? Should I break it?”
Harry’s mind was racing.
What I want more than anything in the world right now, he thought, is to find the Philosopher’s Stone before Quirrell. So if I looked in the mirror, I would see myself finding it—which means I could see where the stone was hidden! But how could I look into the mirror without Quirrell realizing my purpose?
He tried to move to the left, trying to get in front of the mirror, but the rope around his ankle was too tight, he tripped and fell. Quirrell ignored him. He’s still talking to himself.
“What is the use of this mirror? How does it work? Help me, Sir!”
And to Harry’s horror, a voice answered, and it sounded like it came from Quirrell himself.
”Use the kid… Use the kid.…” Quirrell turned to Harry.
“Yes—Potter—here.”
He clapped his hands once and the rope binding Harry untied itself. Harry slowly got up.
“Here,” Quirrell repeated. “Look in the mirror and tell me what you see.”
Harry walked towards him.
“I must lie,” he thought desperately. “I had to look and lie about what I saw, just like that.”
Quirrell moved behind him. Harry smelled a strange smell which seemed to come from Quirrell’s turban. He closed his eyes, stepped in front of the mirror and opened his eyes again.
Harry saw his reflection, at first pale and frightened. But a moment later, the shadow smiled at him. He reached into his pocket and took out a blood red stone. He blinked and put the stone back into his pocket – and as he did so, Harry felt something heavy dig into his actual pocket. In a very miraculous way, he got the stone.
“Now?” said Quirrell impatiently. “What do you see?” Harry gathered his courage.
“I saw I shook hands with Dumbledore,” he made up. “I—I won the House Cup for Gryffindor.”
Quirrell cursed again.
“Move,” he said. As he moved, Harry felt the Philosopher’s Stone rub against his leg. Dare he run away?
But before he had taken five steps, a shrill voice said, although Quirrell did not move his lips.
”He’s lying… He’s lying…”
“Potter, come back here!” Quirrell shouted. “Tell the truth!
What did you see?”
The shrill voice spoke again.
“Let me talk to him…face to face…” “Sir, you are not strong enough!”
“I have enough strength… for this…”
Harry felt as if the Devil’s Snare was pinning him to the spot. He couldn’t move a single muscle. Terrified, he saw Quirrell raise his hand and begin to undo his turban. What happened? The turban falls. Quirrell’s head looked strange and small without the turban. Then slowly he turned around.
Harry wanted to scream, but the sound wouldn’t come out. What should have been the back of Quirrell’s head, was instead a face, the most terrifying face Harry had ever seen. The face was as pale as a wall with glaring red eyes, and nostrils that were just slits, like a snake.
“Harry Potter…” whispered the face.
Harry tried to take a step back, but his legs wouldn’t move.
“You see, what have I become?” said the face. “Just shadows and smoke… I have a form only if I can share it with someone else’s body… but there are always those who let me enter their hearts and minds… Unicorn blood has made me stronger, these last few weeks… you saw the faithful Quirrell drink it for me in the Forest… and once I drink the Liquid of Life, I will be able to create my own body…. Now… give me that rock in your pocket!”
So, he knows. Suddenly Harry’s legs were no longer numb. He staggered back.
“Don’t be stupid,” snarled the face. ”It’s better to save your life and join me… otherwise you will end up the same as
your parents… They begged for mercy from me before they died…”
“LIE!” suddenly Harry shouted.
Quirrell walked back towards him, so that Voldemort could still look at him. That terrible face was now smiling.
“It’s really touching…” he hissed. “I always appreciate courage… Yes, son, your parents were brave… I killed your father first and he fought bravely… but your mother didn’t need to die… she was trying to protect you… Now give me that stone, otherwise you will have died in vain .”
“NO!”
Harry leapt towards the flame door, but Voldemort screamed, “GET HIM!” and the next second Harry felt Quirrell’s hand grip his wrist. Immediately a sharp pain stung Harry’s scar, his head felt like it was going to split in two. Harry screamed, struggled as hard as he could, and was surprised when Quirrell freed him. The pain in his forehead lessened—he looked around, looking for Quirrell, and saw him curled up in pain, looking at his fingers—they were blistered.
“Catch him! CATCH HIM!” Voldemort shouted again and Quirrell lunged at Harry until he fell and landed on top of him, his hands around Harry’s neck – Harry’s scar hurt so much he felt almost blind, but he could still see Quirrell howling in pain.
“Sir, I can’t hold it—my hand—my hand!”
And Quirrell, even though he was still pinning Harry to the ground with his knees, released his grip and stared wide-eyed at his own palm – Harry could see it, it was burnt, it looked red and shiny.
“Then kill him, you idiot. Just deal with the kid!” shouted Voldemort.
Quirrell raised his hand to perform the killing curse but, without thinking, Harry grabbed Quirrell’s face….
”AAAARGH!”
Quirrell rolled off of Harry, his face also blistered, and Harry knew: Quirrell couldn’t bear to touch his skin. If touched, he suffers great pain. Harry’s only chance
was holding Quirrell, causing him enough pain to be unable to perform the curse.
Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell’s arm and gripped it as hard as he could. Quirrell screamed and tried to shake Harry off—the pain in Harry’s head was getting worse—he couldn’t see—he only heard Quirrell’s terrible screams and Voldemort’s screams, “KILL HIM! KILL HIM!” and other voices, perhaps in his own head, cried: “Harry! Harry!”
He felt Quirrell’s arm being pulled out of his grip, he knew he had lost, and fell into darkness, falling… deeper and deeper…
Something golden sparkled on it. Snitch! Harry tried to catch him, but his arms were too heavy.
He blinked. Not Snitch. It turned out to be glasses. Very weird.
He blinked again. Albus Dumbledore’s smiling face drifted into his view.
“Good afternoon, Harry,” said Dumbledore.
Harry looked at him confusedly. Then he remembered. ”Sir! The rock! Quirrell!
He took the stone! Sir, hurry…”
“Pull yourself together, boy, you’re a bit behind,” said Dumbledore. “Quirrell doesn’t have the stone.”
“Then who? Sir, I…”
“Harry, relax. Otherwise, Madam Pomfrey will throw me out.”
Harry swallowed hard and looked around. He realized he was in the hospital. He was lying on a bed covered in white linen, on the table next to him was a tall stack of what looked like half the contents of a candy store.
“Sends from your friends and admirers,” said Dumbledore beaming. “What happened in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is top secret, so of course the whole school knows. I think your friends, Mr Fred and George Weasley, were responsible for sending you the toilet lid. Surely they thought you would be amused and happy to receive it. But Madam Pomfrey felt the gift wasn’t very hygienic, and confiscated it.”
“How long have I been here?”
“Three days. Mr Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be very relieved to know you are awake, they were very worried.”
“But, Sir, the stone…”
“Apparently you can’t be distracted. In that case, okay. Professor Quirrell was unsuccessful in taking the stone from you. I arrived just in time to prevent it although, I must admit, you yourself have defended yourself very well.”
”You came? You accept Hermione’s owl?”
“We must have passed each other in the air. As soon as I arrived in London, it was clear to me that I had to be where I had just left. I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you…”
”So that was… you .”
“I’m already afraid I’m late.”
”Almost, I could barely hold on to that stone any longer…”
“Not the stone, but you, Son—the effort to defend the Lucky Stone nearly killed you. For a moment I was horrified, thinking you were gone. As for the stone, it has been destroyed.”
“Annihilated?” asked Harry not understanding. “But your friend—Nicolas Flamel…”
“Oh, you know about Nicolas?” said Dumbledore, sounding pleased. “You’ve looked into everything, haven’t you? Well, Nicolas and I have discussed it and we agree that is best.”
“But that means he and his wife will die, right?”
“They have enough Life Fluid stored up to get their affairs in order, and then yes, they will die.”
Dumbledore smiled at the astonishment on Harry’s face.
“To someone as young as you, it must sound strange, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, dying is really just like going to bed after a very, very long day . After all, to a well-organized mind, death is just the next great adventure. You know, the stone is actually not a very extraordinary thing, even though it can give you as much money and life as you want. Those are the two things that most people will choose, above all else—the trouble is, people usually choose the things that are worst for them.”
Harry lay still, at a loss for words. Dumbledore gave a small hum and smiled up at the ceiling.
“Sir?” said Harry. “I’ve been thinking… Sir—even if the rock’s gone, Vol… I mean, You-Know-Who…”
“Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the correct name for anything. Fear of names magnifies fear of the thing itself.”
“Yes, sir. Wouldn’t Voldemort try other ways to come back? I mean, he’s not gone forever, right?”
“No, Harry, he hasn’t disappeared. He was still out there somewhere, probably looking for another body to host. Because he is not fully alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die just like that, he had no mercy, neither towards his followers nor his enemies. Harry, right now you haven’t managed to win the battle, you’ve only delayed Voldemort’s return to power. In the next battle, which seemed to be even more difficult to win, someone who was ready was needed. And if Voldemort is restrained again, and again, who knows, he may never return to power.”
Harry nodded, but stopped immediately, because it made his head hurt. Then he said, “Sir, there are some other things I would like to know, if you could tell me… things I would like to know the truth of…”
“The truth,” sighed Dumbledore. “The truth is both beautiful and terrible, and therefore must be treated with great care. Nevertheless, I will answer your question, unless there is a compelling reason not to. If that happens, I ask you to forgive me. I won’t lie, of course.”
“Voldemort said he was forced to kill my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. But why does he want to kill me?”
Dumbledore took a deep breath.
“Too bad, the first thing you asked, I couldn’t answer. Not today. Not now. You’ll find out, one day… put it out of your mind for a while, Harry. When you’re older… I know you won’t like hearing that… when you’re ready, you’ll know.”
And Harry knew there was no point in arguing.
“But why can’t Quirrell touch me?”
“Your mother died trying to save you. If there was one thing Voldemort couldn’t understand, it was love. He doesn’t realize that a love as strong as your mother’s love for you, leaves scars. Not like a scar, not a visible mark… being loved deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us protection forever. That protection is in your skin. Quirrell, who is full of hatred, greed, ambition, and shares his soul with Voldemort, cannot touch you for this reason. It is a pain to touch one who is protected by something so good.”
Now Dumbledore became very interested in a bird that had perched on the windowsill. This gave Harry a chance to dry his eyes with the sheets. When he could speak again, Harry said: “And the Invisibility Cloak – do you know who sent it to me?”
“Ah, your father left it to me and I thought you would like it.” Dumbledore’s eyes shone. “Very useful… your father especially used it to sneak into the kitchen to steal food when he was here.”
“And there’s one more thing…” “Tell me.”
”Quirrell berkata, Snape…” ”Profesor Snape, Harry.”
“Yes, he—Quirrell said Professor Snape hated me because he hated my father. Is it true?”
“Well, they do hate each other. No different from yourself and Mr Malfoy. Then your father did something Snape couldn’t forgive.”
“What?”
“Your father saved his life.”
“What?”
“Yes…” said Dumbledore dreamily. “Strange, isn’t it, how people’s minds work? Professor Snape couldn’t stand being indebted to your father… I’m sure he tried hard to protect you as a favor to your father. That way, their score became a draw. Then he can go back to hating your late father in peace.”
Harry tried to understand, but his head was throbbing, so he stopped.
“And, sir, there is one more thing…” “What is it?”
“How do I get the stone out of the mirror?”
“Ah, I’m glad you asked. That’s one of my brilliant ideas, and between just the two of us, it’s a great idea. I made it so that only people who wanted to find the stone—found it but didn’t use it—could get it. Not those who want to see themselves owning gold or drinking the Liquid of Life. My brain surprises itself sometimes… Well, enough of your questions. I suggest you start eating your candy. Ah! Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans! I was lucky enough to get the puke flavored one when I was younger, and since then I’ve lost my taste for it—but I think it’s safe to get the caramel flavored one, huh?”
Dumbledore smiled and popped the golden brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and said, “My goodness! Feel the earwax!”
Madam Pomfrey, matron of the hospital, a pleasant woman, but very strict.
“Just five minutes,” Harry pleaded. “Obviously you can’t.”
“You let Professor Dumbledore in…”
“Yes, of course, he’s the principal, that’s different. You need rest.”
”I rest, look, I lie down all the time. Oh, come on, Madam Pomfrey…”
“Oh, all right,” he said. “But only five minutes.”
And Madam Pomfrey let Ron and Hermione in. “Harry!”
Hermione looked ready to hug him again, but Harry was glad she held back, because his head still hurt like hell.
“Oh, Harry, we were sure you would… Dumbledore is very worried…” “The whole school is talking about it,” said Ron. “What exactly?
happen?”
It’s one of those rare occasions when the real truth is even stranger and scarier than the wild rumors. Harry told them everything: about Quirrell, the Mirror of Erised, the Philosopher’s Stone, and Voldemort. Ron and Hermione were excellent listeners; they were shocked at just the right moment and when Harry told them what was under Quirrell’s turban, Hermione let out a loud scream.
“So the stone is no longer there?” said Ron finally. ”Flamel will die ?”
“That’s what I say, but according to Dumbledore—what, huh?—to a well-organized mind, death is just the next great adventure.”
“I always said Dumbledore was crazy,” said Ron, apparently deeply impressed by how crazy the man he admired was.
“So, what happened to you two?” Harry asked.
“Well, I’m back safely,” said Hermione. “I woke up to Ron—it took a little while—and we were running to the owlhouse to contact Dumbledore, when we met him in the Entrance Hall. He already knew – he just said, ‘Harry’s after him, isn’t he?’ then rush to the third floor.”
“Do you think Dumbledore deliberately set it up for you to act that way?” Ron said. “Sending your father’s robes and all that?”
“Why,” Hermione exploded, “if that’s the case—I mean—it’s terrible—you could be killed.”
“No, no,” said Harry thoughtfully. “Dumbledore is a funny guy. In my opinion, he seemed to want to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less about everything that happens here. Apparently he had expected us to try, and instead of preventing, he taught us just enough to help. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that he let me know how the Mirror of Erised works. As if he thought I had the right to face Voldemort, if I could…”
“Yeah, Dumbledore did spread the word,” said Ron proudly. “Listen, you have to be well enough to go to the end of school year party tomorrow. The sum of all the numbers is in and Slytherin wins, of course. You couldn’t make it to the last Quidditch match and without you, we would have been crushed by Ravenclaw. But the food tomorrow will be delicious.”
Just then Madam Pomfrey entered.
“You’ve been chatting for almost fifteen minutes, now GET OUT,” he said firmly.
After a good night’s sleep, Harry felt almost healthy again.
“I want to join the party,” she told Madam Pomfrey as the matron tidied up her many boxes of sweets. “You can, right?”
“Professor Dumbledore said you should be allowed to go,” he said disapprovingly, as if he didn’t think Professor Dumbledore realized how dangerous the party was. “And you have another guest.”
“Oh, great,” said Harry. “Who?”
Hagrid slipped in when Harry asked. As usual, when he was in the house, Hagrid looked too big. He sat down next to Harry, looked at him, then burst into tears.
“This is all my fault!” she sobbed, with her face in her hands. ”I’ll tell the bad guy how to get past Fluffy! I told him! Even though that was the only thing he didn’t know, I told him! You could die! Just because of a dragon egg! I won’t drink anymore! I should be banished and made to live as a Muggle!”
“Hagrid!” said Harry, surprised to see Hagrid shaking with such sadness and regret, big tears rolling down his beard. “Hagrid, he’ll know anyway. It’s Voldemort we’re talking about, he’ll know even if you don’t tell him.”
“You could die!” sobbed Hagrid. “And don’t mention that name!”
”VOLDEMORT!” Harry shouted, and Hagrid was so shocked he stopped crying. “I have met him and I will mention his name. Rejoice, Hagrid, we have saved the stone. The stone was gone, he couldn’t use it. Come on, eat Chocolate Frog. I have a lot….”
Hagrid rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and said: “That reminds me. I brought a gift for you.”
“Not a badger sandwich , right?” said Harry worriedly, and finally Hagrid smiled weakly.
“No. Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday to put this together. Of course he should fire me—but in short, this is for you.”
It looks like a beautiful book with a leather cover. Harry opened it curiously. The book is full of magic photos. His father and mother smiled and waved at him from all over the yard.
“Send owls to all your parents’ school friends, asking for photos… I know you don’t have any photos… Do you like them?”
Harry was speechless, but Hagrid understood.
Harry went to the end of school year party alone that night. He was a little late because Madam Pomfrey was busy worrying about him—insisting on checking on him one last time—so when he arrived, the Great Hall was full. The hall was decorated in Slytherin colors, green and silver, to celebrate Slytherin’s success in winning the House Cup for the seventh time for seven years in a row. A giant banner depicting a snake, Slytherin’s symbol, stretched across the wall behind the High Table.
When Harry stepped in, the room suddenly became silent and then all the children started talking at once. Harry sat in a chair, between Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table, and tried to ignore the fact that the children were standing to look at him.
Luckily Dumbledore arrived not long after. The children’s chatter immediately subsided.
“Another year has passed!” said Dumbledore cheerfully. “And I’m going to have to pester you with the old man’s ramblings before we start raiding this delicious food. This year has been amazing! Hopefully your heads are a little fuller than they were a year ago… you still have all summer to empty your heads before the new school year starts.…
“Well, as I understand it, the House Cup needs to be awarded and the scores are as follows: fourth place Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; third place Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw gathered four hundred and twenty-six, and Slytherin four hundred and seventy-two.”
A roar of cheers and stomping of feet could be heard from the Slytherin table. Harry could see Draco Malfoy tapping his goblet above him
table. A sickening sight.
“Yes, yes, very good, Slytherin,” praised Dumbledore. “However, recent events must be taken into account.”
The room immediately fell silent. The Slytherins’ smiles faded slightly.
“Ahem,” said Dumbledore. “There are final numbers I must share. Let me see. Yes…
“First of all—to Mr Ronald Weasley…”
Ron’s face turned purple; he looked like a sunburned radish.
”…for the most beautiful game of chess Hogwarts had seen in years. I award Gryffindor fifty points.”
Gryffindor’s cheers nearly lifted the roof off the Wizarding Hall; the stars above trembled. Percy was heard telling the other prefects: “You know, he’s my little brother! My littlest brother! Managed to solve McGonnagall’s giant chess set.”
Finally quiet again.
”Second—to Miss Hermione Granger… for using cold logic in the face of fire. I present Gryffindor with fifty figures.”
Hermione buried her face in her arms. Harry seriously suspected he was crying. The Gryffindors around the table were beyond excited. Their numbers rose by a hundred points.
“Third—to Mr. Harry Potter…,” said Dumbledore. The room was really quiet. “… for extraordinary perseverance and courage. I present to Gryffindor sixty figures.”
The screams and din that were heard were truly deafening. Those who could count, while screaming themselves hoarse, knew that Gryffindor’s number was now four hundred and seventy-two, exactly the same as Slytherin. Their scores were tied for the House Cup…if only Dumbledore had given Harry one more point.
Dumbledore raised his hand.
The room gradually returned to silence.
“There are different kinds of bravery,” Dumbledore said smiling. “It takes a lot of courage to face an opponent, but it is necessary
equal courage to face our friends. Therefore I present ten figures to Mr. Neville Longbottom.”
People standing outside the Great Hall might have thought there had been some kind of explosion inside, because of the loudness of the sound that went off at the Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood up to scream as Neville, pale with shock, disappeared beneath the pile of children holding him. He had never won even a point for Gryffindor before. Harry, still cheering, poked Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who even if he had the Perfect Body Binding Curse couldn’t have looked more shocked and horrified than he did now.
“That means,” shouted Dumbledore over the roar of cheers, as both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff joined in celebrating Slytherin’s downfall, “we need a slight change in decoration.”
Dumbledore clapped his hands. In an instant the green hanging decorations turned red and the silver became gold. Slytherin’s giant snake was gone, replaced by the majestic Gryffindor lion. Snape shook Professor McGonagall’s hand with a forced, bitter smile. His eyes met Harry’s, and Harry knew instantly that Snape’s feelings for him had not changed one bit. This didn’t worry Harry. Apparently, life for him would return to normal in the coming school year, or as normal as it could be at Hogwarts.
It was the most wonderful night of Harry’s life, more enjoyable than winning Quidditch or celebrating Christmas or knocking out a mountain troll… he would never forget this night.
Harry almost forgot that the exam results had not been announced, but finally they came out. How surprised he and Ron were, because they both graduated with good grades. Hermione, of course, became the school champion for first grade. Neville even passed, his high Herbology score making up for his low Potions score. They hoped that Goyle, whose stupidity was almost as great as his cruelty, would be expelled, but Goyle passed anyway. It’s a shame, but as Ron said, in this life we can’t have everything.
And suddenly their wardrobe was empty, their suitcases were packed, Neville’s frog was found hiding in the corner of the toilet. A message was distributed to all students, warning them not to use magic during the holidays (“I always hope they forget to give us this warning,” said Fred Weasley sadly.). Hagrid was ready to take them down to the fleet of boats that would sail across the lake. They boarded the Hogwarts Express, chatting and laughing as the countryside they passed became greener and neater; eating Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans as the train rolls through Muggle towns; took off their wizard robes and changed into ordinary jackets; until finally the train stopped at platform nine and three quarters at King’s Cross Station.
It took some time for all of them to get down on the platform. A wizened old guard, manning the ticket box barrier, directed them out in twos and threes, so as not to attract attention. Because if they all emerged from the solid walls at once, of course the Muggles would be shocked and frightened.
“You should come stay this summer,” said Ron, “you two—I’ll send an owl.”
“Thank you,” said Harry. “I need something fun to look forward to.”
People nudged them as they moved forward, towards the gate that took them back to the Muggle world. Some of them exclaimed,
“There, Harry!”
“See you, Potter!”
“Still popular, huh,” said Ron, smiling.
“Not if it’s where I’m going. Trust me,” said Harry. Harry, Ron, and Hermione went through the gate together. “There he is, Mum, there he is, look!”
Yang shouted Ginny Weasley, Ron’s little sister, but she didn’t point at Ron.
“Harry Potter!” he shrieked. “Look, Mum, I can see…” “Be quiet, Ginny, and it’s not polite to point.”
Mrs. Weasley smiled at them. “A busy year?” who is he
“Very,” said Harry. “Thanks for the bonbons and waistcoat, Mrs Weasley.”
“Oh, you’re welcome, kid.” “Ready?”
It was Uncle Vernon, his face still purple, still sporting a moustache, still looking angry at Harry for daring to carry a caged owl to a station full of ordinary people. Behind him stood Aunt Petunia and Dudley, who looked horrified to see Harry.
“You must be Harry’s family!” said Mrs Weasley.
“You could say that,” said Uncle Vernon. “Come on, hurry up, we can’t stay here all day.” Uncle Vernon immediately wandered off.
Harry stayed behind to say goodbye to Ron and Hermione.
“See you after summer, okay?”
“Hope you have a—er—pleasant holiday,” said Hermione, turning her head to look uncertainly at Uncle Vernon. He was amazed that someone could be so unpleasant.
“Oh, that would be fun,” said Harry, and they were surprised to see the wide smile that spread across his face. ” They don’t know that we are forbidden from using magic at home. I’m going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer…”
