Harry Potter Books Online Read. Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone. Author: J. K. Rowling. Published Year: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone is a fantasy novel written by British author J. K. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone Book tvnovellas.info . Ron and Hermione, while Draco is sorted into Slytherin like his whole family before him. TIME book critic Lev Grossman grabs an early copy of Deathly Hallows and finds it a sad (Published as "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone" in the U.K.).
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Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Chapter 1 of 18 .. he clicked the Put- Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the. Philosopher's Stone .. known as Harry Potter Day in future – there will be books written .. whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs Figg made him look at. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone CHAPTER ONE THE BOY WH).
Recommends it for: anyone who is still waiting to read it Recommended to Lora by: Tina, Morgan, my own curiosity Shelves: favorites , middle-grade-lit , book-to-movie , lib-read , surprised-me I'm going to keep this brief since there isn't much to say that hasn't already been said. I thought it would be too juvenile for my taste. I was wrong, of course. I can honestly say that I loved every minute of this. It's a spectacular little romp with funny, courageous, and endearing characters t I'm going to keep this brief since there isn't much to say that hasn't already been said. It's a spectacular little romp with funny, courageous, and endearing characters that you can't help but love. It has talking chess pieces, singing hats, a giant three-headed dog named Fluffy, a hilarious giant with a dragon fetish, a master wizard that's just a little bit crazy, mail carrier owls, goblins running a bank, unicorns, centaurs!
Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day! Dursley around the middle and walked off. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.
As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw -- and it didn't improve his mood -- was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning.
It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes. Dursley loudly. The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs.
Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word "Won't!
Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news: "And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern.
And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim? Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early -- it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair.
Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters.
Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. Dursley looked shocked and angry.
After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister. Dursley mumbled. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their son -- he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he? Dursley stiffly. Howard, isn't it? Nasty, common name, if you ask me.
Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something. Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did.
The Dursleys got into bed. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs.
The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind. He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on -- he yawned and turned over -- it couldn't affect them. How very wrong he was. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness.
It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.
A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground.
The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.
Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome.
He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop.
He clicked it again -- the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs.
Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat.
He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes.
She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled. When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here. It was on their news. Flocks of owls. Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something.
Shooting stars down in Kent -- I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore? Would you care for a lemon drop? They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of. All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense -- for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort.
Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs.
You know what they're saying? About why he's disappeared?
About what finally stopped him? It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer. He went to find the Potters.
The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are -- are -- that they're -- dead. Professor McGonagall gasped. I can't believe it. I didn't want to believe it. Oh, Albus. I know. Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry.
But he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke -- and that's why he's gone. It's just astounding. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it.
It was a very odd watch. Harry rolls over inside his bundle of blankets with his small hand closing on the letter as he sleeps on, not knowing he is special and famous, nor that he will be woken up the next morning by his Aunt Petunia's scream when she opens the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he will be spending the next few weeks being prodded and pinch by his cousin Dudley.
And he will never know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country are holding up glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter -- the boy who lived! The only difference is the vast number of pictures of Dudley Dursley throughout his life.
Harry is trying to think about the dream he had been having. It was about a flying motorbike , and he thinks he has had the same dream before.
Aunt Petunia tells him to make some bacon, as she wants everything perfect for Dudley's 11th birthday. Harry dresses into a pair of Dudley's old clothes, and goes into the kitchen, where the table is covered in Dudley's presents. Harry has jet-black hair and green eyes. His glasses are held together by tape because Dudley has smashed them so many times. He often wonders how he got it and the Dursleys have told him that he got it from the car crash that killed Harry's parents. Harry doesn't know much more about the accident though because the Dursleys' first rule is to not ask questions.
Dudley comes in to the kitchen and begins to count his presents, only to find 37, which he angrily recalls is one fewer than the year before. Aunt Petunia states that they are going to download him two new presents while they are out. Vernon tells Petunia that Arabella Figg , their next-door neighbour, has broken her leg and cannot take care of Harry while they are at the Zoo. They can't think of anyone else who can take care of him, so Harry has to go with them.
Dudley is allowed to take a friend to the Zoo and chooses his friend Piers Polkiss. Piers comes to the house with his mother. On the way, a motorbike overtakes them and Vernon complains about them. Harry explains that he had a dream about a flying motorbike once and Vernon snappily reminds him that motorbikes do not fly.
Harry thinks about all the strange things that have happened to him: He once turned his teacher's wig blue, jumped onto the school chimney, and grew all of his hair back the morning after a haircut. At the zoo, Dudley and Piers find the animals boring. Harry is left to watch a Boa constrictor as it sleeps and, when Dudley tries to make it move, it wakes up but still doesn't move.
The snake begins to move after Dudley and Piers slink away. Moments later, Harry speaks to the snake and finds that it miraculously understands him.
Piers calls Dudley and Vernon back to the snake's exhibit upon realising that it is now moving. Dudley pushes Harry out of the way and presses his face against the glass.
Harry becomes angry and somehow the glass vanishes and the snake gets out scaring Dudley and Piers. As the snake slithers away, Harry thinks that he hears it speak back to him. Uncle Vernon blames Harry for what happened and sends him to his cupboard —with no meals for a week as punishment. Look, Harry's got a letter! Who'd be writing to you?
When Harry is finally allowed out, it's the beginning of the summer holidays. Even though he is not at school, Harry still can't escape Dudley and his gang , who regularly visit the house. To keep out of their way, Harry usually wanders around Privet Drive.
One day during the summer, Harry is told to get the post for Uncle Vernon.