HARRY POTTER
AND THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS
by
J. K. Rowling
(this is BOOK 2 in the Harry Potter series)
Original Scanned/OCR: Friday, April 07, 2000
v1.0
(edit where needed, change version number by 0.1)
C H A P T E O N E
THE WORST BIRTHDAY
Not for the first time, an argument had broken out over breakfast at
number four, Privet Drive. Mr. Vernon Dursley had been woken in
the early hours of the morning by a loud, hooting noise from his
nephew Harry's room.
"Third time this week!" he roared across the table. "If you can't
control that owl, it'll have to go!"
Harry tried, yet again, to explain.
"She's bored," he said. "She's used to flying around outside. If I could
just let her out at night -"
"Do I look stupid?" snarled Uncle Vernon, a bit of fried egg dangling
from his bushy mustache. "I know what'll happen if that owl's let
out."
He exchanged dark looks with his wife, Petunia.
Harry tried to argue back but his words were drowned by a long,
loud belch from the Dursleys' son, Dudley.
2
"I want more bacon."
"There's more in the frying pan, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia,
turning misty eyes on her massive son. "We must build you up while
we've got the chance .... I don't like the sound of that school food
......
"Nonsense, Petunia, I never went hungry when I was at Smeltings,"
said Uncle Vernon heartily. "Dudley gets enough, don't you, son?"
Dudley, who was so large his bottom drooped over either side of the
kitchen chair, grinned and turned to Harry.
"Pass the frying pan."
"You've forgotten the magic word," said Harry irritably.
The effect of this simple sentence on the rest of the family was
incredible: Dudley gasped and fell off his chair with a crash that
shook the whole kitchen; Mrs. Dursley gave a small scream and
clapped her hands to her mouth; Mr. Dursley jumped to his feet,
veins throbbing in his temples.
"I meant 'please'!" said Harry quickly. "I didn't mean -"
"WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU," thundered his uncle, spraying spit
over the table, "ABOUT SAYING THE 'M' WORD IN OUR
HOUSE?"
"But I -"
"HOW DARE YOU THREATEN DUDLEY!" roared Uncle
Vernon, pounding the table with his fist.
"I just -"
"I WARNED YOU! I WILL NOT TOLERATE MENTION OF
YOUR ABNORMALITY UNDER THIS ROOF!"
Harry stared from his purple-faced uncle to his pale aunt, who was
trying to heave Dudley to his feet.
3
"All right," said Harry, "all right. . . "
Uncle Vernon sat back down, breathing like a winded rhinoceros and
watching Harry closely out of the corners of his small, sharp eyes.
Ever since Harry had come home for the summer holidays, Uncle
Vernon had been treating him like a bomb that might go off at any
moment, because Harry Potter wasn't a normal boy. As a matter of
fact, he was as not normal as it is possible to be.
Harry Potter was a wizard - a wizard fresh from his first year at
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And if the Dursleys
were unhappy to have him back for the holidays, it was nothing to how
Harry felt.
He missed Hogwarts so much it was like having a constant
stomachache. He missed the castle, with its secret passageways and
ghosts, his classes (though perhaps not Snape, the Potions master), the
mail arriving by owl, eating banquets in the Great Hall, sleeping in his
four-poster bed in the tower dormitory, visiting the gamekeeper,
Hagrid, in his cabin next to the Forbidden Forest in the grounds, and,
especially, Quidditch, the most popular sport in the wizarding world
(six tall goal posts, four flying b____, and fourteen players on
broomsticks).
All Harry's spellbooks, his wand, robes, cauldron, and top-of-the-line
Nimbus Two Thousand broomstick had been locked in a cupboard
under the stairs by Uncle Vernon the instant Harry had come home.
What did the Dursleys care if Harry lost his place on the House
Quidditch team because he hadn't practiced all summer? What was it
to the Dursleys if Harry went back to school without any of his
homework done? The Dursleys were what wizards called Muggles
(not a drop of magical blood in their veins),
and as far as they were concerned, having a wizard in the family was
a matter of deepest shame. Uncle Vernon had even padlocked
Harry's owl, Hedwig, inside her cage, to stop her from carrying
messages to anyone in the wizarding world.
Harry looked nothing like the rest of the family. Uncle Vernon was
large and neckless, with an enormous black mustache; Aunt Petunia
4
was horse-faced and bony; Dudley was blond, pink, and porky. Harry,
on the other hand, was small and skinny, with brilliant green eyes and
jet-black hair that was always untidy. He wore round glasses, and on
his forehead was a thin, lightning-shaped scar.
It was this scar that made Harry so particularly unusual, even for a
wizard. This scar was the only hint of Harry's very mysterious past, of
the reason he had been left on the Dursleys' doorstep eleven years
before.
At the age of one year old, Harry had somehow survived a curse from
the greatest Dark sorcerer of all time, Lord Voldemort, whose name
most witches and wizards still feared to speak. Harry's parents had
died in Voldemort's attack, but Harry had escaped with his lightning
scar, and somehow - nobody understood why Voldemort's powers had
been destroyed the instant he had failed to kill Harry.
So Harry had been brought up by his dead mother's sister and her
husband. He had spent ten years with the Dursleys, never
understanding why he kept making odd things happen without meaning
to, believing the Dursleys' story that he had got his scar in the car
crash that had killed his parents.
And then, exactly a year ago, Hogwarts had written to Harry,
and the whole story had come out. Harry had taken up his place at
wizard school, where he and his scar were famous ... but now the
school year was over, and he was back with the Dursleys for the
summer, back to being treated like a dog that had rolled in something
smelly.
The Dursleys hadn't even remembered that today happened to be
Harry's twelfth birthday. Of course, his hopes hadn't been high; they'd
never given him a real present, let alone a cake - but to ignore it
completely ...
At that moment, Uncle Vernon cleared his throat importantly and said,
"Now, as we all know, today is a very important day."
Harry looked up, hardly daring to believe it.
"This could well be the day I make the biggest deal of my career, "
5
said Uncle Vernon.
Harry went back to his toast. Of course, he thought bitterly, Un
cle Vernon was talking about the stupid dinner party. He'd been talk
ing of nothing else for two weeks. Some rich builder and his wife
were coming to dinner and Uncle Vernon was hoping to get a huge
order from him (Uncle Vernon's company made drills).
"I think we should run through the schedule one more time," said
Uncle Vernon. "We should all be in position at eight o'clock. Petunia,
you will be -?"
"In the lounge," said Aunt Petunia promptly, "waiting to welcome them
graciously to our home."
"Good, good. And Dudley?"
"I'll be waiting to open the door." Dudley put on a foul, simpering
smile. "May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?"
"They'll love him!" cried Aunt Petunia rapturously.
"Excellent, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon. Then he rounded on Harry.
"And you?"
"I'll be in my bedroom, making no noise and pretending I'm not
there," said Harry tonelessly.
"Exactly," said Uncle Vernon nastily. "I will lead them into the
lounge, introduce you, Petunia, and pour them -drinks. At eightfifteen
-"
"I'll announce dinner," said Aunt Petunia.
"And, Dudley, you'll say -"
"May I take you through to the dining room, Mrs. Mason?" said
Dudley, offering his fat arm to an invisible woman.
"My perfect little gentleman!" sniffed Aunt Petunia.
"And you?" said Uncle Vernon viciously to Harry.
6
"I'll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I'm not there,"
said Harry dully.
"Precisely. Now, we should aim to get in a few good compliments at
dinner. Petunia, any ideas?"
"Vernon tells me you're a wonderful golfer, Mr. Mason.... Do tell me
where you bought your dress, Mrs. Mason ......
"Perfect. . . Dudley?"
"How about -'We had to write an essay about our hero at school,
Mr. Mason, and I wrote about you."'
This was too much for both Aunt Petunia and Harry. Aunt Petunia
burst into tears and hugged her son, while Harry ducked under the
table so they wouldn't see him laughing.
"And you, boy?"
Harry fought to keep his face straight as he emerged.
"I'll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I'm not there,"
he said.
"Too right, you will," said Uncle Vernon forcefully. "The Ma
sons don't know anything about you and it's going to stay that way.
When dinner's over, you take Mrs. Mason back to the lounge for
coffee, Petunia, and I'll bring the subject around to drills. With any
luck, I'll have the deal signed and sealed before the news at ten.
be shopping for a vacation home in Majorca this time to
morrow.
Harry couldn't feel too excited about this. He didn't think the
Dursleys would like him any better in Majorca than they did on
Privet Drive.
"Right - I'm off into town to pick up the dinner jackets for
Dudley and me. And you," he snarled at Harry. "You stay out of
your aunt's way while she's cleaning."
Harry left through the back door. It was a brilliant, sunny day.
He crossed the lawn, slumped down on the garden bench, and sang
under his breath:
7
"Happy birthday to me ... happy birthday to me. . .
No cards, no presents, and he would be spending the evening
pretending not to exist. He gazed miserably into the hedge. He had
never felt so lonely. More than anything else at Hogwarts, more
even than playing Quidditch, Harry missed his best friends, Ron
Weasley and Hermione Granger. They, however, didn't seem to be
missing him at all. Neither of them had written to him all summer,
even though Ron had said he was going to ask Harry to come and
stay.
Countless times, Harry had been on the point of unlocking
Hedwig's cage by magic and sending her to Ron and Hermione
with a letter, but it wasn't worth the risk. Underage wizards weren't
allowed to use magic outside of school. Harry hadn't told the
Dursleys this; he knew it was only their terror that he might turn them
all into dung beetles that stopped them from locking him in the
cupboard under the stairs with his wand and broomstick. For the first
couple of weeks back, Harry had enjoyed muttering nonsense words
under his breath and watching Dudley tearing out of the room as fast
as his fat legs would carry him. But the long silence from Ron and
Hermione had made Harry feel so cut off from the magical world that
even taunting Dudley had lost its appeal - and now Ron and Hermione
had forgotten his birthday.
What wouldn't he give now for a message from Hogwarts? From any
witch or wizard? He'd almost be glad of a sight of his archenemy,
Draco Malfoy, just to be sure it hadn't all been a dream ....
Not that his whole year at Hogwarts had been fun. At the very end of
last term, Harry had come face-to-face with none other than Lord
Voldemort himself. Voldemort might be a ruin of his former self, but
he was still terrifying, still cunning, still determined to regain power.
Harry had slipped through Voldemort's clutches for a second time, but
it had been a narrow escape, and even now, weeks later, Harry kept
waking in the night, drenched in cold sweat, wondering where
Voldemort was now, remembering his livid face, his wide, mad eyes
Harry suddenly sat bolt upright on the garden bench. He had been
staring absent-mindedly into the hedge - and the hedge was staring back.
Two enormous green eyes had appeared among the leaves.
Harry jumped to his feet just as a jeering voice floated across the
8
lawn.
"I know what day it is," sang Dudley, waddling toward him.
The huge eyes blinked and vanished.
"What?" said Harry, not taking his eyes off the spot where they had
been.
"I know what day it is," Dudley repeated, coming right up to him.
"Well done," said Harry. "So you've finally learned the days of the
week."
"Today's your birthday," sneered Dudley. "How come you haven't got
any cards? Haven't you even got friends at that freak place?"
"Better not let your mum hear you talking about my school," said
Harry coolly.
Dudley hitched up his trousers, which were slipping down his fat
bottom.
"Why're you staring at the hedge?" he said suspiciously.
" I , m trying to decide what would be the best spell to set it on
fire," said Harry.
Dudley stumbled backward at once, a look of panic on his fat face.
"You c-can't - Dad told you you're not to do m-magic - he said he'll
chuck you out of the house - and you haven't got anywhere else to go -
you haven't got any friends to take you -"
"Jiggery pokery!" said Harry in a fierce voice. "Hocus pocus squiggly
wiggly -"
"MUUUUUUM!" howled Dudley, tripping over his feet as he dashed
back toward the house. "MUUUUM! He's doing you know what!"
Harry paid dearly for his moment of fun. As neither Dudley nor
the hedge was in any way hurt, Aunt Petunia knew he hadn't really
9
done magic, but he still had to duck as she aimed a heavy blow at his
head with the soapy frying pan. Then she gave him work to do, with
the promise he wouldn't eat again until he'd finished.
While Dudley lolled around watching and eating ice cream, Harry
cleaned the windows, washed the car, mowed the lawn, trimmed the
flowerbeds, pruned and watered the roses, and repainted the garden
bench. The sun blazed overhead, burning the back of his neck. Harry
knew he shouldn't have risen to Dudley's bait, but Dudley had said
the very thing Harry had been thinking himself... maybe he didn't have
any friends at Hogwarts ....
Wish they could see famous Harry Potter now, he thought savagely as he
spread manure on the flower beds, his back aching, sweat running
down his face.
It was half past seven ,in the evening when at last, exhausted, he
heard Aunt Petunia calling him.
"Get in here! And walk on the newspaper!"
Harry moved gladly into the shade of the gleaming kitchen. On top of
the fridge stood tonight's pudding: a huge mound of whipped cream
and sugared violets. A loin of roast pork was sizzling in the oven.
"Eat quickly! The Masons will be here soon!" snapped Aunt Petunia,
pointing to two slices of bread and a lump of cheese on the kitchen
table. She was already wearing a salmon-pink c___tail dress.
Harry washed his hands and bolted down his pitiful supper. The
moment he had finished, Aunt Petunia whisked away his plate.
"Upstairs! Hurry!"
As he passed the door to the living room, Harry caught a
glimpse of Uncle Vernon and Dudley in bow ties and dinner jack
ets. He had only just reached the upstairs landing when the door
bell rang and Uncle Vernon's furious face appeared at the foot of
the stairs.
"Remember, boy - one sound -"
Harry crossed to his bedroom on tiptoe slipped inside, closed
the door, and turned to collapse on his bed.
The trouble was, there was already someone sitting on it.
10
CHAPTER TWO
I
DOBBY'S WARNING
arry managed not to shout out, but it was a close thing. The little
creature on the bed had large, bat-like ears and bulging green eyes the
size of tennis b____. Harry knew instantly that this was what had been
watching him out of the garden hedge that morning.
As they stared at each other, Harry heard Dudley's voice from the hall.
"May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?"
The creature slipped off the bed and bowed so low that the end of its
long, thin nose touched the carpet. Harry noticed that it was wearing
what looked like an old pillowcase, with rips for arm- and leg-holes.
"Er - hello," said Harry nervously.
"Harry Potter!" said the creature in a high-pitched voice Harry was
sure would carry down the stairs. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet
you, sir ... Such an honor it is . . . ."
"Th-thank you," said Harry, edging along the wall and sinking into his
desk chair, next to Hedwig, who was asleep in her large cage. He
wanted to ask, "What are you?" but thought it would sound too rude,
so instead he said, "Who are you?"
"Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf," said the creature.
"Oh - really?" said Harry. "Er - I don't want to be rude or anything,
but - this isn't a great time for me to have a house-elf in my
bedroom."
Aunt Petunias high, false laugh sounded from the living room. The elf
hung his head.
"Not that I'm not pleased to meet you," said Harry quickly, "but, er,
is there any particular reason you're here?"
11
"Oh, yes, sir," said Dobby earnestly. "Dobby has come to tell you,
sir ... it is difficult, sir ... Dobby wonders where to begin . . . ."
"Sit down," said Harry politely, pointing at the bed.
To his horror, the elf burst into tears - very noisy tears.
"S-sit down!" he wailed. "Never ... never ever. . . "
Harry thought he heard the voices downstairs falter.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to offend you or anything -"
"Offend Dobby!" choked the elf. "Dobby has never been asked to sit
down by a wizard - like an equal-"
Harry, trying to say "Shh!" and look comforting at the same time,
ushered Dobby back onto the bed where he sat hiccoughing, looking
like a large and very ugly doll. At last he managed to control himself,
and sat with his great eyes fixed on Harry in an expression of watery
adoration.
"You can't have met many decent wizards," said Harry, trying to
cheer him up.
Dobby shook his head. Then, without warning, he leapt up and
started banging his head furiously on the window, shouting, "Bad
Dobby! Bad Dobby!"
"Don't - what are you doing?" Harry hissed, springing up and pulling
Dobby back onto the bed - Hedwig had woken up with a
particularly loud screech and was beating her wings wildly against the
bars of her cage.
"Dobby had to punish himself, sir," said the elf, who had gone slightly
cross-eyed. "Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir . . . ."
"Your family?"
"The wizard family Dobby serves, sir... DOBBY'S is a houseelf -
bound to serve one house and one family forever . .....
12
"Do they know you're here?" asked Harry curiously.
Dobby shuddered.
"Oh, no, sir, no ... Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously
for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the
oven door for this. If they ever knew, sir _"
"But won't they notice if you shut your ears in the oven door?"
"Dobby doubts it, sir. Dobby is always having to punish himself for
something, sir. They lets Dobby get on with it, sir. Sometimes they
reminds me to do extra punishments ......
"But why don't you leave? Escape?"
"A house-elf must be set free, sir. And the family will never set
Dobby free ... Dobby will serve the family until he dies, sir . . . ."
Harry stared.
"And I thought I had it bad staying here for another four weeks,"
he said. "This makes the Dursleys sound almost human. Can't anyone
help you? Can't I?"
Almost at once, Harry wished he hadn't spoken. Dobby dissolved again
into wails of gratitude.
"Please," Harry whispered frantically, "please be quiet. If the Dursleys
hear anything, if they know you're here -"
"Harry Potter asks if he can help Dobby ... Dobby has heard of your
greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew . .....
Harry, who was feeling distinctly hot in the face, said, "Whatever
you've heard about my greatness is a load of rubbish. I'm not even top
of my year at Hogwarts; that's Hermione, she -"
But he stopped quickly, because thinking about Hermione was painful.
13
"I-Tarry Potter is humble and modest," said Dobby reverently, his orblike
eyes aglow. "Harry Potter speaks not of his triumph over He-Who-
Must-Not-Be-Named -"
"Voldemort?" said Harry.
Dobby clapped his hands over his bat ears and moaned, "Ah, speak not
the name, sir! Speak not the name!"
"Sorry" said Harry quickly. "I know lots of people don't like it. My
friend Ron -"
He stopped again. Thinking about Ron was painful, too.
Dobby leaned toward Harry, his eyes wide as headlights.
'Dobby heard tell," he said h___sely, "that Harry Potter met the Dark
Lord for a second time just weeks ago ... that Harry Potter escaped
Yet again. "
Harry nodded and Dobby's eyes suddenly shone with tears.
,Ah, sir," he gasped, dabbing his face with a corner of the grubby
pillowcase he was wearing. "Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He has
braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect
Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he does have to shut his ears in
the oven door later... Harry Potter must notgo back to Hogwarts."
There was a silence broken only by the c____ of knives and forks
from downstairs and the distant rumble of Uncle Vernon's voice.
"W-what?" Harry stammered. "But I've got to go back - term starts
on September first. It's all that's keeping me going. You don't know
what it's like here. I don't belong here. I belong in your world - at
Hogwarts."
"No, no, no," squeaked Dobby, shaking his head so hard his ears
flapped. "Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great,
too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be
in mortal danger."
14
"Why?" said Harry in surprise.
"There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things
happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year,"
whispered Dobby, suddenly trembling all over. "Dobby has known it
for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too
important, sir!"
"What terrible things?" said Harry at once. "Who's plotting them?"
Dobby made a funny choking noise and then banged his head
frantically against the wall.
"All right!" cried Harry, grabbing the elf's arm to stop him. "You can't
tell me. I understand. But why are you warning me?" A sudden,
unpleasant thought struck him. "Hang on - this hasn't got anything to
do with Vol- - sorry - with You-Know-Who, has it?
You could just shake or nod," he added hastily as Dobby's head
tilted worryingly close to the wall again.
Slowly, Dobby shook his head.
"Not -not He- Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, sir ='
But Dobby's eyes were wide and he seemed to be trying to give
Harry a hint. Harry, however, was completely lost.
"He hasn't got a brother, has he?"
Dobby shook his head, his eyes wider than ever.
"Well then, I can't think who else would have a chance of making
horrible things happen at Hogwarts," said Harry. "I mean, there's
Dumbledore, for one thing - you know who Dumbledore is, don't
you?"
Dobby bowed his head.
"Albus Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever
had. Dobby knows it, sir. Dobby has heard Dumbledore's powers
rival those of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the height of his
15
strength. But, sir" - Dobby's voice dropped to an urgent whisper -
"there are powers Dumbledore doesn't ... powers no decent wizard.
. ."
And before Harry could stop him, Dobby bounded off the bed,
seized Harry's desk lamp, and started beating himself around the
head with earsplitting yelps.
A sudden silence fell downstairs. Two seconds later Harry, heart
thudding madly, heard Uncle Vernon coming into the hall, calling,
"Dudley must have left his television on again, the little tyke!"
"Quick! In the closet!" hissed Harry, stuffing Dobby in, shutting the
door, and flinging himself onto the bed just as the door handle turned.
"What - the - devil - are - you - doing?" said Uncle Vernon through
gritted teeth, his face horribly close to Harry's. "You've just ruined the
punch line of my j__anese golfer joke .... One more sound and you'll
wish you'd never been born, boy!"
He stomped flat-footed from the room.
Shaking, Harry let Dobby out of the closet.
"See what it's like here?" he said. "See why I've got to go back to
Hogwarts? It's the only place I've got -well, I think I've got friends. "
"Friends who don't even write to Harry Potter?" said Dobby slyly.
"I expect they've just been - wait a minute," said Harry, frowning.
"How do you know my friends haven't been writing to me?"
Dobby shuffled his feet.
"Harry Potter mustn't be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best -
"
"Have you been stopping my letters?"
"Dobby has them here, sir," said the elf. Stepping nimbly out of Harry's
reach, he pulled a thick wad of envelopes from the inside of the
pillowcase he was wearing. Harry could make out Hermione's neat
16
writing, Ron's untidy scrawl, and even a scribble that looked as though
it was from the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Hagrid.
Dobby blinked anxiously up at Harry.
"Harry Potter mustn't be angry... Dobby hoped ... if Harry Potter
thought his friends had forgotten him ... Harry Potter might not want to
go back to school, sir . .....
Harry wasn't listening. He made a grab for the letters, but Dobby
jumped out of reach.
"Harry Potter will have them, sir, if he gives Dobby his word
that he will not return to Hogwarts. Ah, sir, this is a danger you must
not face! Say you won't go back, sir!"
"No," said Harry angrily. "Give me my friends' letters!"
"Then Harry Potter leaves Dobby no choice," said the elf sadly.
Before Harry could move, Dobby had darted to the bedroom door,
pulled it open, and sprinted down the stairs.
Mouth dry, stomach lurching, Harry sprang after him, trying not to
make a sound. He jumped the last six steps, landing catlike on the
hall carpet, looking around for Dobby. From the dining room he
heard Uncle Vernon saying, ". . . tell Petunia that very funny story
about those American plumbers, Mr. Mason. She's been dying to
hear. . . "
Harry ran up the hall into the kitchen and felt his stomach disappear.
Aunt Petunia's masterpiece of a pudding, the mountain of cream and
sugared violets, was floating up near the ceiling. On top of a
cupboard in the corner crouched Dobby.
"No," croaked Harry. "Please ... they'll kill me ......
"Harry Potter must say he's not going back to school -"
"Dobby ... please ...
17
"Say it, sir -"
"I can't -"
Dobby gave him a tragic look.
"Then Dobby must do it, sir, for Harry Potter's own good."
The pudding fell to the floor with a heart-stopping crash. Cream
splattered the windows and walls as the dish shattered. With a crack
like a whip, Dobby vanished.
There were screams from the dining room and Uncle Vernon
burst into the kitchen to find Harry, rigid with shock, covered from head
to foot in Aunt Petunias pudding.
At first, it looked as though Uncle Vernon would manage to gloss the
whole thing over. ("Just our nephew - very disturbed meeting strangers
upsets him, so we kept him upstairs) He shooed the shocked Masons
back into the dining room, promised Harry he would flay him to within
an inch of his life when the Masons had left, and handed him a mop.
Aunt Petunia dug some ice cream out of the freezer and Harry, still
shaking, started scrubbing the kitchen clean.
Uncle Vernon might still have been able to make his deal - if it hadn't
been for the owl.
Aunt Petunia was just passing around a box of after-dinner mints when
a huge barn owl swooped through the dining room window, dropped a
letter on Mrs. Mason's head, and swooped out again. Mrs. Mason
screamed like a banshee and ran from the house shouting about
lunatics. Mr. Mason stayed just long enough to tell the Dursleys that his
wife was mortally afraid of birds of all shapes and sizes, and to ask
whether this was their idea of a joke.
Harry stood in the kitchen, clutching the mop for support, as Uncle
Vernon advanced on him, a demonic glint in his tiny eyes.
"Read it!" he hissed evilly, brandishing the letter the owl had delivered.
"Go on - read it!"
18
Harry took it. It did not contain birthday greetings.
Dear Mr. Potter,
We have received intelligence that a Hover Charm was used at your
place of residence this evening at twelve minutes past nine.
As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells
outside school, and further spellwork on your part may lead to
expulsion from said school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of
Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C).
We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity that
risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is
a serious offense under section 13 of the International Confederation
of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy.
Enjoy your holidays! Yours sincerely,
Mafalda Hopkirk
IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE
Ministry of Magic
Harry looked up from the letter and gulped.
"You didn't tell us you weren't allowed to use magic outside school,"
said Uncle Vernon, a mad gleam dancing in his eyes. "For got to
mention it .... Slipped your mind, I daresay .....
He was bearing down on Harry like a great bulldog, all his teeth
bared. "Well, I've got news for you, boy . ... I'm locking you up ....
You're never going back to that school ... never ... and if you try and
magic yourself out - they'll expel you!"
And laughing like a maniac, he dragged Harry back upstairs.
Uncle Vernon was as bad as his word. The following morning,
19
he paid a man to fit bars on Harry's window. He himself fitted a catflap
in the bedroom door, so that small amounts of food could be
pushed inside three times a day. They let Harry out to use the
bathroom morning and evening. Otherwise, he was locked in his room
around the clock.
Three days later, the Dursleys were showing no sign of relenting, and
Harry couldn't see any way out of his situation. He lay on his bed
watching the sun sinking behind the bars on the window and wondered
miserably what was going to happen to him.
What was the good of magicking himself out of his room if Hogwarts
would expel him for doing it? Yet life at Privet Drive had reached an
all-time low. Now that the Dursleys knew they weren't going to wake
up as fruit bats, he had lost his only weapon. Dobby might have saved
Harry from horrible happenings at Hogwarts, but the way things were
going, he'd probably starve to death anyway.
The cat-flap rattled and Aunt Petunias hand appeared, pushing a bowl
of canned soup into the room. Harry, whose insides were aching with
hunger, jumped off his bed and seized it. The soup was stone-cold, but
he drank half of it in one gulp. Then he crossed the room to Hedwig's
cage and tipped the soggy vegetables at the bottom of the bowl into
her empty food tray. She ruffled her feathers and gave him a look of
deep disgust.
"It's no good turning your beak up at it - that's all we've got," said
Harry grimly.
He put the empty bowl back on the floor next to the cat-flap and lay
back down on the bed, somehow even hungrier than he had been
before the soup.
Supposing he was still alive in another four weeks, what would happen
if he didn't turn up at Hogwarts? Would someone be sent to see why
he hadn't come back? Would they be able to make the Dursleys let
him go?
The room was growing dark. Exhausted, stomach rumbling, mind
spinning over the same unanswerable questions, Harry fell into an
uneasy sleep.
20
He dreamed that he was on show in a zoo, with a card reading
UNDERAGE WIZARD attached to his cage. People goggled through the bars
at him as he lay, starving and weak, on a bed of straw. He saw
Dobby's face in the crowd and shouted out, asking for help, but Dobby
called, "Harry Potter is safe there, sir!" and vanished. Then the
Dursleys appeared and Dudley rattled the bars of the cage, laughing at
him.
"Stop it," Harry muttered as the rattling pounded in his sore head.
"Leave me alone ... cut it out ... I'm trying to sleep . . . ."
He opened his eyes. Moonlight was shining through the bars on the
window. And someone was goggling through the bars at him: a frecklefaced,
red-haired, long-nosed someone.
Ron Weasley was outside Harry's window.
21
CHAPTER THREE
THE BURROW
Ron.l" breathed Harry, creeping to the window and pushing it up so
they could talk through the bars. "Ron, how did you - What the -?"
Harry's mouth fell open as the full impact of what he was seeing hit
him. Ron was leaning out of the back window of an old turquoise car,
which was parked in midair Grinning at Harry from the front seats
were Fred and George, Ron's elder twin brothers.
"All right, Harry?" asked George.
"What's been going on?" said Ron. "Why haven't you been answering
my letters? I've asked you to stay about twelve times, and then Dad
came home and said you'd got an official warning for using magic in
front of Muggles -"
"It wasn't me - and how did he know?"
"He works for the Ministry," said Ron. "You know we're not supposed
to do spells outside school -"
"You should talk," said Harry, staring at the floating car.
"Oh, this doesn't count," said Ron. "We're only borrowing this. It's
Dad's, we didn't enchant it. But doing magic in front of those Muggles
you live with -"
"I told you, I didn't - but it'll take too long to explain now look, can you
tell them at Hogwarts that the Dursleys have locked me up and won't
let me come back, and obviously I can't magic myself out, because the
Ministry'Il think that's the second spell I've done in three days, so -"
"Stop gibbering," said Ron. "We've come to take you home with us."
"But you can't magic me out either -"
22
"We don't need to," said Ron, jerking his head toward the front seat
and grinning. "You forget who I've got with me."
"Tie that around the bars," said Fred, throwing the end of a rope to
Harry.
"If the Dursleys wake up, I'm dead," said Harry as he tied the rope
tightly around a bar and Fred revved up the car.
"Don't worry," said Fred, "and stand back."
Harry moved back into the shadows next to Hedwig, who seemed to
have realized how important this was and kept still and silent. The car
revved louder and louder and suddenly, with a crunching noise, the
bars were pulled clean out of the window as Fred drove straight up in
the air. Harry ran back to the window to see the bars dangling a few
feet above the ground. Panting, Ron hoisted them up into the car.
Harry listened anxiously, but there was no sound from the Dursleys'
bedroom.
When the bars were safely in the back seat with Ron, Fred reversed
as close as possible to Harry's window.
"Get in," Ron said.
"But all my Hogwarts stuff - my wand - my broomstick -"
"Where is it?"
"Locked in the cupboard under the stairs, and I can't get out of this
room -"
"No problem," said George from the front passenger seat. "Out of
the way, Harry."
Fred and George climbed catlike through the window into Harry's
room. You had to hand it to them, thought Harry, as George took an
ordinary hairpin from his pocket and started to pick the lock.
"A lot of wizards think it's a waste of time, knowing this sort of
Muggle trick," said Fred, "but we feel they're skills worth learning,
even if they are a bit slow."
23
There was a small click and the door swung open.
"So - we'll get your trunk - you grab anything you need from your
room and hand it out to Ron," whispered George.
"Watch out for the bottom stair - it creaks," Harry whispered back
as the twins disappeared onto the dark landing.
Harry dashed around his room, collecting his things and passing them
out of the window to Ron. Then he went to help Fred and George
heave his trunk up the stairs. Harry heard Uncle Vernon cough.
At last, panting, they reached the landing, then carried the trunk
through Harry's room to the open window. Fred climbed back into
the car to pull with Ron, and Harry and George pushed from the
bedroom side. Inch by inch, the trunk slid through the window.
Uncle Vernon coughed again.
"A bit more," panted Fred, who was pulling from inside the car.
"One good push -"
Harry and George threw their shoulders against the trunk and it slid
out of the window into the back seat of the car.
"Okay, let's go," George whispered.
But as Harry climbed onto the windowsill there came a sudden loud
screech from behind him, followed immediately by the thunder of
Uncle Vernon's voice.
"THAT RUDDY OWL!"
"I've forgotten Hedwig!"
Harry tore back across the room as the landing light clicked on - he
s_____ed up Hedwig's cage, dashed to the window, and passed it
out to Ron. He was scrambling back onto the chest of drawers when
Uncle Vernon hammered on the unlocked door and it crashed open.
For a split second, Uncle Vernon stood framed in the doorway; then
24
he let out a bellow like an angry bull and dived at Harry, grabbing
him by the ankle.
Ron, Fred, and George seized Harry's arms and pulled as hard as
they could.
"Petunia!" roared Uncle Vernon. "He's getting away! HE'S
GETTING AWAY!"
But the Weasleys gave a gigantic tug and Harry's leg slid out of
Uncle Vernon's grasp - Harry was in the car - he'd slammed the
door shut
"Put your foot down, Fred!" yelled Ron, and the car shot suddenly
toward the moon.
Harry couldn't believe it - he was free. He rolled down the
window, the night air whipping his hair, and looked back at the
shrinking rooftops of Privet Drive. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and
Dudley were all hanging, dumbstruck, out of Harry's window.
"See you next summer!" Harry yelled.
The Weasleys roared with laughter and Harry settled back in his seat,
grinning from ear to ear.
"Let Hedwig out," he told Ron. "She can fly behind us. She hasn't had
a chance to stretch her wings for ages."
George handed the hairpin to Ron and, a moment later, Hedwig soared
joyfully out of the window to glide alongside them like a ghost.
"So - what's the story, Harry?" said Ron impatiently. "What's been
happening?"
Harry told them all about Dobby, the warning he'd given Harry and
the fiasco of the violet pudding. There was a long, shocked silence
when he had finished.
"Very fishy," said Fred finally.
25
"Definitely dodgy" agreed George. "So he wouldn't even tell you who's
supposed to be plotting all this stuff?"
"I don't think he could," said Harry. "I told you, every time he got close
to letting something slip, he started banging his head against the wall."
He saw Fred and George look at each other.
"What, you think he was lying to me?" said Harry.
"Well," said Fred, "put it this way - house-elves have got powerful
magic of their own, but they can't usually use it without their master's
permission. I reckon old Dobby was sent to stop you com
ing back to Hogwarts. Someone's idea of a joke. Can you think of
anyone at school with a grudge against you?"
"Yes," said Harry and Ron together, instantly.
"Draco Malfoy," Harry explained. "He hates me."
"Draco Malfoy?" said George, turning around. "Not Lucius Malfoy's
son?"
"Must be, it's not a very common name, is it?" said Harry.
Y.
"I've heard Dad talking about him," said George. "He was a big
supporter of You-Know-Who."
"And when You-Know-Who disappeared," said Fred, craning
around to look at Harry, "Lucius Malfoy came back saying he'd never
meant any of it. Load of dung - Dad reckons he was right in You-
Know-Who's inner circle."
Harry had heard these rumors about Malfoy's family before, and they
didn't surprise him at all. Malfoy made Dudley Dursley look
like a kind, thoughtful, and sensitive boy.
"I don't know whether the Malfoys own a house-elf said
Harry.
26
"Well, whoever owns him will be an old wizarding family, and they'll
be rich," said Fred.
"Yeah, Mum's always wishing we had a house-elf to do the ironing,"
said George. "But all we've got is a lousy old ghoul in the attic and
gnomes all over the garden. House-elves come with big old manors
and castles and places like that; you wouldn't catch one in our house .
. . ."
Harry was silent. Judging by the fact that Draco Malfoy usually had
the best of everything, his family was rolling in wizard gold; he
could just see Malfoy strutting around a large manor house. Sending
the family servant to stop Harry from going back to Hogwarts also
sounded exactly like the sort of thing Malfoy would do. Had Harry
been stupid to take Dobby seriously?
"I'm glad we came to get you, anyway," said Ron. "I was getting
really worried when you didn't answer any of my letters. I thought it
was Errol's fault at first
-"
"Who's Errol?"
"Our owl. He's ancient. It wouldn't be the first time he'd collapsed
on a delivery. So then I tried to borrow Hermes -"
"Who?"
"The owl Mum and Dad bought Percy when he was made prefect,"
said Fred from the front.
"But Percy wouldn't lend him to me," said Ron. "Said he needed
him."
"Percy's been acting very oddly this summer," said George,
frowning. "And he has been sending a lot of letters and spending a
load of time shut up in his room .... I mean, there's only so many
times you can polish a prefect badge .... You're driving too far west,
Fred," he added, pointing at a compass on the dashboard. Fred
27
twiddled the steering wheel.
"So, does your dad know you've got the car?" said Harry, guessing
the answer.
"Er, no," said Ron, "he had to work tonight. Hopefully we'll be able
to get it back in the garage without Mum noticing we flew it."
"What does your dad do at the Ministry of Magic, anyway?"
"He works in the most boring department," said Ron. "The Misuse
of Muggle Artifacts Office."
"The what?"
"It's all to do with bewitching things that are Muggle-made, you
know, in case they end up back in a Muggle shop or house. Like,
last year, some old witch died and her tea set was sold to an antiques
shop. This Muggle woman bought it, took it home, and tried to serve
her friends tea in it. It was a nightmare - Dad was working overtime
for weeks."
"What happened?"
"The teapot went berserk and squirted boiling tea all over the place
and one man ended up in the hospital with the sugar tongs clamped
to his nose. Dad was going frantic - it's only him and an old warlock
called Perkins in the office -and they had to do Memory Charms and
all sorts of stuff to cover it up -"
"But your dad - this car -"
Fred laughed. "Yeah, Dad's crazy about everything to do with
Muggles; our shed's full of Muggle stuff. He takes it apart, puts spells
on it, and puts it back together again. If he raided our house he'd
have to put himself under arrest. It drives Mum mad."
"That's the main road," said George, peering down through the
windshield. "We'll be there in ten minutes .... Just as well, it's getting
light . . . ."
A faint pinkish glow was visible along the horizon to the east.
28
Fred brought the car lower, and Harry saw a dark patchwork of
fields and clumps of trees.
"We're a little way outside the village," said George. "Ottery St.
Catchpole."
Lower and lower went the flying car. The edge of a brilliant red sun
was now gleaming through the trees.
"Touchdown!" said Fred as, with a slight b__p, they hit the ground.
They had landed next to a tumbledown garage in a small yard, and
Harry looked out for the first time at Ron's house.
It looked as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra
rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high
and so crooked it looked as though it were held up by magic (which,
Harry reminded himself, it probably was). Four or five chimneys were
perched on top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground
near the entrance read, THE BuRRow. Around the front door lay a jumble
of rubber boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown chickens
were pecking their way around the yard.
"It's not much," said Ron.
"It's wonderful," said Harry happily, thinking of Privet Drive.
They got out of the car.
"Now, we'll go upstairs really quietly," said Fred, "and wait for Mum to
call us for breakfast Then, Ron, you come bounding downstairs going,
'Mum, look who turned up in the night!' and she'll be all pleased to see
Harry and no one need ever know we flew the car."
"Right," said Ron. "Come on, Harry, I sleep at the - at the top
Ron had gone a nasty greenish color, his eyes fixed on the house. The
other three wheeled around.
Mrs. Weasley was marching across the yard, scattering chickens, and
for a short, plump, kind-faced woman, it was remarkable how much
she looked like a saber-toothed tiger.
29
"Ah, "said Fred.
"Oh, dear," said George.
Mrs. Weasley came to a halt in front of them, her hands on her hips,
staring from one guilty face to the next. She was wearing a flowered
apron with a wand sticking out of the pocket.
"So, "she said.
"Morning, Mum," said George, in what he clearly thought was a jaunty,
winning voice.
"Have you any idea how worried I've been?" said Mrs. Weasley in a
deadly whisper.
"Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to -"
All three of Mrs. Weasley's sons were taller than she was, but they
cowered as her rage broke over them.
"Beds empty! No note! Cargone - could have crashed - out of my
mind with worry - did you care? - never, as long as I've lived -
you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this
from Bill or Charlie or Percy -"
"Perfect Percy," muttered Fred.
"YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY'S
BOOK!" yelled Mrs. Weasley, prodding a finger in Fred's chest. "You
could have died, you could have been seen, you could have lost your
father his job -"
It seemed to go on for hours. Mrs. Weasley had shouted herself
h___se before she turned on Harry, who backed away.
"I'm very pleased to see you, Harry, dear," she said. "Come in and
have some breakfast."
She turned and walked back into the house and Harry, after a nervous
30
glance at Ron, who nodded encouragingly, followed her.
The kitchen was small and rather cramped. There was a
scrubbed wooden table and chairs in the middle, and Harry sat down
on the edge of his seat, looking around. He had never been in a wizard
house before.
The clock on the wall opposite him had only one hand and no numbers
at all. Written around the edge were things like Time to make tea, Time
to feed the chickens, and You're late. Books were stacked three deep on
the mantelpiece, books with t__les like Charm Your Own Cheese,
Enchantment in Baking, and One Minute Feasts - It's Magic! And unless
Harry's ears were deceiving him, the old radio next to the sink had just
announced that coming up was "Witching Hour, with the popular
singing sorceress, Celestina Warbeck."
Mrs. Weasley was clattering around, cooking breakfast a little
haphazardly, throwing dirty looks at her sons as she threw sausages
into the frying pan. Every now and then she muttered things like "don't
know what you were thinking of," and "never would have believed it."
"I don't blame you, dear," she a__ured Harry, tipping eight or nine
sausages onto his plate. "Arthur and I have been worried about you,
too. Just last night we were saying we'd come and get you ourselves if
you hadn't written back to Ron by Friday. But really," (she was now
adding three fried eggs to his plate) "flying an illegal car halfway
across the country - anyone could have seen you -"
She flicked her wand casually at the dishes in the sink, which began to
clean themselves, clinking gently in the background.
"It was cloudy, Mum!" said Fred.
"You keep your mouth closed while you're eating!" Mrs. Weasley
snapped.
"They were starving him, Mum!" said George.
"And you!" said Mrs. Weasley, but it was with a slightly softened
expression that she started cutting Harry bread and b___ering it for
him.
31
At that moment there was a diversion in the form of a small,
redheaded figure in a long nightdress, who appeared in the kitchen,
gave a small squeal, and ran out again.
"Ginny," said Ron in an undertone to Harry. "My sister. She's been
talking about you all summer."
"Yeah, she'll be wanting your autograph, Harry," Fred said with a grin,
but he caught his mother's eye and bent his face over his plate without
another word. Nothing more was said until all four plates were clean,
which took a surprisingly short time.
"Blimey, I'm tired," yawned Fred, setting down his knife and fork at last.
"I think I'll go to bed and -"
"You will not," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "It's your own fault you've
been up all night. You're going to de-gnome the garden for me; they're
getting completely out of hand again -"
"Oh, Mum -"
"And you two," she said, glaring at Ron and Fred. "You can go up to
bed, dear," she added to Harry. "You didn't ask them to fly that
wretched car -"
But Harry, who felt wide awake, said quickly, "I'll help Ron. I've
never seen a de-gnoming -"
"That's very sweet of you, dear, but it's dull work," said Mrs. Weasley.
"Now, let's see what Lockhart's got to say on the subject -"
And she pulled a heavy book from the stack on the mantelpiece.
George groaned.
"Mum, we know how to de-gnome a garden -"
Harry looked at the cover of Mrs. Weasley's book. Written across it
in fancy gold letters were the words Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to
Household Pests. There was a big photograph on the front of a very good-
IOI)king wizard with wavy blond hair and bright blue eyes. As always
in the wizarding world, the photograph was moving; the wizard, who
32
Harry supposed was Gilderoy Lockhart, kept winking cheekily up at
them all. Mrs. Weasley beamed down at him.
"Oh, he is marvelous," she said. "He knows his household pests, all
right, it's a wonderful book . . . ."
"Mum fancies him," said Fred, in a very audible whisper.
"Don't be so ridiculous, Fred," said Mrs. Weasley, her cheeks rather
pink. "All right, if you think you know better than Lockhart, you can go
and get on with it, and woe betide you if there's a single gnome in that
garden when I come out to inspect it."
Yawning and grumbling, the Weasleys slouched outside with Harry
behind them. The garden was large, and in Harry's eyes, exactlY
what a garden should be. The Dursleys wouldn't have liked it - there
were plenty of weeds, and the grass needed cutting but there were
gnarled trees all around the walls, plants Harry had never seen spilling
from every flower bed, and a big green pond full of frogs.
"Muggles have garden gnomes, too, you know," Harry told Ron
they crossed the lawn.
"Yeah, I've seen those things they think are gnomes," said Ron, bent
double with his head in a peony bush, "like fat little Santa Clauses with
fishing rods . . . ."
There was a violent scuffling noise, the peony bush shuddered, and
Ron straightened up. "This is a gnome," he said grimly.
"Gerroff me! Gerroff me!" squealed the gnome.
It was certainly nothing like Santa Claus. It was small and leathery
looking, with a large, k___by, bald head exactly like a potato. Ron held
it at arm's length as it kicked out at him with its h____ little feet; he
grasped it around the ankles and turned it upside down.
"This is what you have to do," he said. He raised the gnome above his
head ("Gerroff me!") and started to swing it in great circles like a
lasso. Seeing the shocked look on Harry's face, Ron added, "It doesn't
hurt them - you've just got to make them really dizzy so they can't find
33
their way back to the gnomeholes."
He let go of the gnome's ankles: It flew twenty feet into the air and
landed with a thud in the field over the hedge.
"Pitiful," said Fred. "I bet I can get mine beyond that stump."
Harry learned quickly not to feel too sorry for the gnomes. He decided
just to drop the first one he caught over the hedge, but the gnome,
sensing weakness, sank its razor-sharp teeth into Harry's finger and he
had a hard job shaking it off - until
"Wow, Harry - that must've been fifty feet ......
The air was soon thick with flying gnomes.
"See, they're not too bright," said George, seizing five or six gnomes at
once. "The moment they know the de-gnoming's going on they storm
up to have a look. You'd think they'd have learned by now just to stay
put."
Soon, the crowd of gnomes in the field started walking away in a
straggling line, their little shoulders hunched.
"They'll be back," said Ron as they watched the gnomes disappear into
the hedge on the other side of the field. "They love it here .... Dad's
too soft with them; he thinks they're funny . . . ."
Just then, the front door slammed.
"He's back!" said George. "Dad's home!"
They hurried through the garden and back into the house.
Mr. Weasley was slumped in a kitchen chair with his glasses off and
his eyes closed. He was a thin man, going bald, but the little hair he
had was as red as any of his children's. He was wearing long green
robes, which were dusty and travel-worn.
"What a night," he mumbled, groping for the teapot as they all sat
down around him. "Nine raids. Nine! And old Mundungus Fletcher
tried to put a hex on me when I had my back turned ......
34
Mr. Weasley took a long gulp of tea and sighed.
"Find anything, Dad?" said Fred eagerly.
"All I got were a few shrinking door keys and a biting kettle," yawned
Mr. Weasley. "There was some pretty nasty stuff that wasn't my
department, though. Mortlake was taken away for questioning about
some extremely odd ferrets, but that's the Committee on Experimental
Charms, thank goodness ......
"Why would anyone bother making door keys shrink?" said George.
"Just Muggle-baiting," sighed Mr. Weasley. "Sell them a key that
keeps shrinking to nothing so they can never find it when they need it
.... Of course, it's very hard to convict anyone because no Muggle
would admit their key keeps shrinking - they'll insist they just keep
losing it. Bless them, they'll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if
it's staring them in the face .... But the things our lot have taken to
enchanting, you wouldn't believe -"
"LIKE CARS, FOR INSTANCE?"
Mrs. Weasley had appeared, holding a long poker like a sword. Mr.
Weasley's eyes jerked open. He stared guiltily at his wife.
"C-cars, Molly, dear?"
"Yes, Arthur, cars," said Mrs. Weasley, her eyes flashing. "Imagine a
wizard buying a rusty old car and telling his wife all he wanted to do
with it was take it apart to see how it worked, while really he was
enchanting it to make it fly."
Mr. Weasley blinked.
"Well, dear, I think you'll find that he would be quite within the law to
do that, even if - er - he maybe would have done better to, um, tell his
wife the truth .... There's a loophole in the law, you'll find .... As long
as he wasn't intending to fly the car, the fact that the car could fly
wouldn't -"
"Arthur Weasley, you made sure there was a loophole when you
35
wrote that law!" shouted Mrs. Weasley. "Just so you could carry on
tinkering with all that Muggle rubbish in your shed! And for your
information, Harry arrived this morning in the car you weren't
intending to fly!"
"Harry?" said Mr. Weasley blankly. "Harry who?"
He looked around, saw Harry, and jumped.
"Good lord, is it Harry Potter? Very pleased to meet you, Ron's told us
so much about -"
"Your sons flew that car to Harry's house and back last night."
shouted Mrs. Weasley. "What have you got to say about that, eh?"
"Did you really?" said Mr. Weasley eagerly. "Did it go all right? I - I
mean," he faltered as sparks flew from Mrs. Weasley's eyes, "that -
that was very wrong, boys - very wrong indeed ......
"Let's leave them to it," Ron muttered to Harry as Mrs. Weasley
swelled like a bullfrog. "Come on, I'll show you my bedroom."
They slipped out of the kitchen and down a narrow passageway to an
uneven staircase, which wound its way, zigzagging up
through the house. On the third landing, a door stood ajar. Harry just
caught sight of a pair of bright brown eyes staring at him before it
closed with a snap.
"Ginny," said Ron. "You don't know how weird it is for her to be this
shy. She never shuts up normally -"
They climbed two more flights until they reached a door with peeling
paint and a small plaque on it, saying RONALD'S ROOM.
Harry stepped in, his head almost touching the sloping ceiling, and
blinked. It was like walking into a furnace: Nearly everything in Ron's
room seemed to be a violent shade of orange: the bedspread, the
walls, even the ceiling. Then Harry realized that Ron had covered
nearly every inch of the shabby wallpaper with posters of the same
seven witches and wizards, all wearing bright orange robes, carrying
36
broomsticks, and waving energetically.
"Your Quidditch team?" said Harry.
"The Chudley Cannons," said Ron, pointing at the orange bedspread,
which was emblazoned with two giant black C's and a speeding
cannonball. "Ninth in the league."
Ron's school spellbooks were stacked untidily in a corner, next to a
pile of comics that all seemed to feature The Adventures of Martin
Miggs, the Mad Muggle. Ron's magic wand was lying on top of a fish
tank full of frog spawn on the windowsill, next to his fat gray rat,
Scabbers, who was snoozing in a patch of sun.
Harry stepped over a pack of Self-Shuffling playing cards on the floor
and looked out of the tiny window. In the field far below he could see
a gang of gnomes sneaking one by one back through the Weasleys'
hedge. Then he turned to look at Ron, who was watching him almost
nervously, as though waiting for his opinion.
"It's a bit small," said Ron quickly. "Not like that room you had
with the Muggles. And I'm right underneath the ghoul in the attic;
he's always banging on the pipes and groaning ......
But Harry, grinning widely, said, "This is the best house I've ever
been in."
Ron's ears went pink. .
CHAPTER FOUR
AT FLOURISH AND BLOTTS
ife at the Burrow was as different as possible from life on Privet
Drive. The Dursleys liked everything neat and ordered; the Weasleys'
house burst with the strange and unexpected. Harry got a shock the
first time he looked in the mirror over the kitchen mantelpiece and it
shouted, "Tuck your shirt in, scruffy!" The ghoul in the attic howled
and dropped pipes whenever he felt things were getting too quiet, and
small explosions from Fred and George's bedroom were considered
perfectly normal. What Harry found most unusual about life at Ron's,
however, wasn't the talking mirror or the clanking ghoul: It was the
fact that everybody there seemed to like him.
37
Mrs. Weasley fussed over the state of his socks and tried to force him
to eat fourth helpings at every meal. Mr. Weasley liked Harry to sit
next to him at the dinner table so that he could bombard him with
questions about life with Muggles, asking him to explain how things
like plugs and the postal service worked.
42
"Fascinating." he would say as Harry talked him through using a
telephone. "Ingenious, really, how many ways Muggles have found of
getting along without magic."
Harry heard from Hogwarts one sunny morning about a week after he
had arrived at the Burrow. He and Ron went down to breakfast to find
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny already sitting at the kitchen table.
The moment she saw Harry, Ginny accidentally knocked her porridge
bowl to the floor with a loud clatter. Ginny seemed very p___e to
knocking things over whenever Harry entered a room. She dived under
the table to retrieve the bowl and emerged with her face glowing like
the setting sun. Pretending he hadn't noticed this, Harry sat down and
took the toast Mrs. Weasley offered him.
"Letters from school," said Mr. Weasley, passing Harry and Ron
identical envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink.
"Dumbledore already knows you're here, Harry - doesn't miss a trick,
that man. You two've got them, too," he added, as Fred and George
ambled in, still in their pajamas.
For a few minutes there was silence as they all read their letters.
Harry's told him to catch the Hogwarts Express as usual from King's
Cross station on September first. There was also a list of the new
books he'd need for the coming year.
SECOND-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2
by Miranda Goshawk
38
Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart
Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart
4 ",3
Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart
Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart
Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart
Fred, who had finished his own list, peered over at Harry's.
"You've been told to get all Lockhart's books, too!" he said. "The new
Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan - bet it's a
witch."
At this point, Fred caught his mother's eye and quickly busied himself
with the marmalade.
"That lot won't come cheap," said George, with a quick look at his
parents. "Lockhart's books are really expensive ......
"Well, we'll manage," said Mrs. Weasley, but she looked worried. "I
expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny's things secondhand."
"Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year?" Harry asked Ginny.
She nodded, blushing to the roots of her flaming hair, and put her
elbow in the b___er dish. Fortunately no one saw this except Harry,
because just then Ron's elder brother Percy walked in. He was
already dressed, his Hogwarts prefect badge pinned to his sweater
vest.
"Morning, all," said Percy briskly. "Lovely day."
He sat down in the only remaining chair but leapt up again almost
immediately, pulling from underneath him a moulting, gray feather
duster - at least, that was what Harry thought it was, until he saw that
it was breathing.
39
"Errol!" said Ron, taking the limp owl from Percy and extracting a
letter from under its wing. "Finally - he's got Hermione's answer. I
wrote to her saying we were going to try and rescue you from the
Dursleys."
He carried Errol to a perch just inside the back door and tried to
stand him on it, but Errol flopped straight off again so Ron lay him on
the draining board instead, muttering, "Pathetic." Then he ripped
open Hermione's letter and read it out loud:
"'Dear Ron, and Harry if you're there,
"'I hope everything went all right and that Harry is okay and that
you didn't do anything illegal to get him out, Ron, because that would
get Harry into trouble, too. I've been really worried and if Harry is all
right, will you please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be bet
ter if you used a different owl because I think another delivery might
finish your one off.
"'I'm very busy with schoolwork, of course'- How can she be?" said Ron
in horror. "We're on vacation! - 'and we're going to London next
Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don't we meet in Diago n Alley?
"'Let me know what's happening as soon as you can. Love from Hermione.
"'
"Well, that fits in nicely, we can go and get all your things then, too,"
said Mrs. Weasley, starting to clear the table. "What're you all up to
today?"
Harry, Ron, Fred, and George were planning to go up the hill to a
small paddock the Weasleys owned. It was surrounded by trees that
blocked it from view of the village below, meaning that they could
practice Quidditch there, as long as they didn't fly too high.
They couldn't use real Quidditch b____, which would have been hard to
explain if they had escaped and flown away over the village; instead
they threw apples for one another to catch. They took turns riding
Harry's Nimbus Two Thousand, which was easily the best broom;
40
Ron's old Shooting Star was often outstripped by passing b___erflies.
Five minutes later they were marching up the hill, broomsticks over
their shoulders. They had asked Percy if he wanted to join them, but
he had said he was busy. Harry had only seen Percy at mealtimes so
far; he stayed shut in his room the rest of the time.
"Wish I knew what he was up to," said Fred, frowning. "He's not
himself. His exam results came the day before you did; twelve
O.WL.s and he hardly gloated at all."
"Ordinary Wizarding Levels," George explained, seeing Harry's
puzzled look. "Bill got twelve, too. If we're not careful, we'll have
another Head Boy in the family. I don't think I could stand the shame."
Bill was the oldest Weasley brother. He and the next brother, Charlie,
had already left Hogwarts. Harry had never met either of them, but
knew that Charlie was in Romania studying dragons and Bill in Egypt
working for the wizard's bank, Gringotts.
"Dunno how Mum and Dad are going to afford all our school stuff this
year," said George after a while. "Five sets of Lockhart books! And
Ginny needs robes and a wand and everything ......
Harry said nothing. He felt a bit awkward. Stored in an underground
vault at Gringotts in London was a small fortune that his parents had
left him. Of course, it was only in the wizarding world that he had
money; you couldn't use Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts
46
in Muggle shops. He had never mentioned his Gringotts bank account
to the Dursleys; he didn't think their horror of anything connected with
magic would stretch to a large pile of gold.
Mrs. Weasley woke them all early the following Wednesday. After a
quick half a dozen bacon sandwiches each, they pulled on their coats
and Mrs. Weasley took a flowerpot off the kitchen mantelpiece and
peered inside.
"We're running low, Arthur," she sighed. "We'll have to buy some
more today... Ah well, guests first! After you, Harry dear!"
41
And she offered him the flowerpot.
Harry stared at them all watching him.
"W-what am I supposed to do?" he stammered.
"He's never traveled by Floo powder," said Ron suddenly. "Sorry,
Harry, I forgot."
"Never?" said Mr. Weasley. "But how did you get to Diagon Alley to
buy your school things last year?"
"I went on t

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