Notes

Harry woke early the next morning. Although he could tell it was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight.
‘It was a dream,’ he told himself firmly. ‘I dreamed a giant called Hagrid came to tell me I was going
to a school for wizards. When I open my eyes I’ll be at home in my cupboard.’
There was suddenly a loud tapping noise.
‘And there’s Aunt Petunia knocking on the door,’ Harry thought, his heart sinking. But he still didn’t
open his eyes. It had been such a good dream.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
‘All right,’ Harry mumbled, ‘I’m getting up.’
He sat up and Hagrid’s heavy coat fell off him. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid
himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspa-
per held in its beak.
Harry scrambled to his feet, so happy he felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside him. He
went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of
Hagrid, who didn’t wake up. The owl then fluttered on to the floor and began to attack Hagrid’s coat.
‘Don’t do that.’
Harry tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on
savaging the coat.
‘Hagrid!’ said Harry loudly. ‘There’s an owl –’
‘Pay him,’ Hagrid grunted into the sofa.
‘What?’
‘He wants payin’ fer deliverin’ the paper. Look in the pockets.’
Hagrid’s coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets – bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string,
mint humbugs, tea-bags … finally, Harry pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.
‘Give him five Knuts,’ said Hagrid sleepily.
‘Knuts?’
‘The little bronze ones.’
Harry counted out five little bronze coins and the owl held out its leg so he could put the money into a
small leather pouch tied to it. Then it flew off through the open window.
Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up and stretched.
‘Best be off, Harry, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an’ buy all yer stuff fer school.’
Harry was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them. He had just thought of something which
made him feel as though the happy balloon inside him had got a puncture.
‘Um – Hagrid?’
‘Mm?’ said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots.
‘I haven’t got any money – and you heard Uncle Vernon last night – he won’t pay for me to go and
learn magic. ‘
‘Don’t worry about that,’ said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. ‘D’yeh think yer parents
didn’t leave yeh anything?’
‘But if their house was destroyed –’
‘They didn’ keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards’ bank. Have
a sausage, they’re not bad cold – an’ I wouldn’ say no teh a bit o’ yer birthday cake, neither.’
‘Wizards have banks?’
‘Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins.’
Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding.
‘Goblins?’
‘Yeah – so yeh’d be mad ter try an’ rob it, I’ll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringotts
is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe – ’cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter
o’ fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business.’ Hagrid drew himself up
proudly. ‘He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin’ you – gettin’ things from Gringotts
– knows he can trust me, see.
‘Got everythin’? Come on, then.’
Harry followed Hagrid out on to the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the
sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the
storm.
‘How did you get here?’ Harry asked, looking around for another boat.
‘Flew,’ said Hagrid.
‘Flew?’
‘Yeah – but we’ll go back in this. Not s’pposed ter use magic now I’ve got yeh.’
They settled down in the boat, Harry still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying.
‘Seems a shame ter row, though,’ said Hagrid, giving Harry another of his sideways looks. ‘If I was
ter – er – speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin’ it at Hogwarts?’
‘Of course not,’ said Harry, eager to see more magic. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again,
tapped it twice on the side of the boat and they sped off towards land.
‘Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?’ Harry asked.
‘Spells – enchantments,’ said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. ‘They say there’s dragons
guardin’ the high-security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way – Gringotts is hundreds of miles under
London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh’d die of hunger tryin’ ter get out, even if yeh did man-
age ter get yer hands on summat.’
Harry sat and thought about this while Hagrid read his newspaper, the Daily Prophet. Harry had learnt
from Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left alone while they did this, but it was very difficult, he’d
never had so many questions in his life.
‘Ministry o’ Magic messin’ things up as usual,’ Hagrid muttered, turning the page.
‘There’s a Ministry of Magic?’ Harry asked, before he could stop himself.
‘’Course,’ said Hagrid. ‘They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o’ course, but he’d never leave Hog-
warts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with
owls every morning, askin’ fer advice.’
‘But what does a Ministry of Magic do?’
‘Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there’s still witches an’ wizards up an’ down
the country.’
‘Why?’
‘Why? Blimey, Harry, everyone’d be wantin’ magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we’re best left
alone.’
At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbour wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper and
they clambered up the stone steps on to the street.
Passers-by stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Harry couldn’t
blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary
things like parking meters and saying loudly, ‘See that, Harry? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?’
‘Hagrid,’ said Harry, panting a bit as he ran to keep up, ‘did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?’
‘Well, so they say,’ said Hagrid. ‘Crikey, I’d like a dragon.’
‘You’d like one?’
‘Wanted one ever since I was a kid – here we go.’
They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes’ time. Hagrid, who didn’t
understand ‘Muggle money’, as he called it, gave the notes to Harry so he could buy their tickets.
People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like
a canary-yellow circus tent.
‘Still got yer letter, Harry?’ he asked as he counted stitches.
Harry took the parchment envelope out of his pocket.
‘Good,’ said Hagrid. ‘There’s a list there of everything yeh need.’
Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn’t noticed the night before and read:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Uniform
First-year students will require:
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags
Set Books
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt ScamanderThe Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
Other Equipment

1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN
BROOMSTICKS
‘Can we buy all this in London?’ Harry wondered aloud.
‘If yeh know where to go,’ said Hagrid.
*
Harry had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was
obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Under-
ground and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.
‘I don’t know how the Muggles manage without magic,’ he said, as they climbed a broken-down es-
calator which led up to a bustling road lined with shops.
Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry had to do was keep close behind him.
They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger bars and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it
could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really
be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and
broomsticks? Might this not all be some huge joke that the Dursleys had cooked up? If Harry hadn’t
known that the Dursleys had no sense of humour, he might have thought so; yet somehow, even though
everything Hagrid had told him so far was unbelievable, Harry couldn’t help trusting him.
‘This is it,’ said Hagrid, coming to a halt, ‘the Leaky Cauldron. It’s a famous place.’
It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn’t pointed it out, Harry wouldn’t have noticed it was
there. The people hurrying by didn’t glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to
the record shop on the other as if they couldn’t see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harry had the most
peculiar feeling that only he and Hagrid could see it. Before he could mention this, Hagrid had steered
him inside.
For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking
tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to
the old barman, who was quite bald and looked like a gummy walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped
when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the barman
reached for a glass, saying, ‘The usual, Hagrid?’
‘Can’t, Tom, I’m on Hogwarts business,’ said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry’s shoulder and
making Harry’s knees buckle.
‘Good Lord,’ said the barman, peering at Harry, ‘is this – can this be –?’
The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.‘Bless my soul,’ whispered the old barman. ‘Harry Potter … what an honour.’
He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed towards Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.
‘Welcome back, Mr Potter, welcome back.’
Harry didn’t know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puff-
ing on it without realising it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.
Then there was a great scraping of chairs and, next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with
everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.
‘Doris Crockford, Mr Potter, can’t believe I’m meeting you at last.’
‘So proud, Mr Potter, I’m just so proud.’
‘Always wanted to shake your hand – I’m all of a flutter.’
‘Delighted, Mr Potter, just can’t tell you. Diggle’s the name, Dedalus Diggle.’
‘I’ve seen you before!’ said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle’s top hat fell off in his excitement. ‘You bowed
to me once in a shop.’
‘He remembers!’ cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. ‘Did you hear that? He remem-
bers me!’
Harry shook hands again and again – Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.
A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.
‘Professor Quirrell!’ said Hagrid. ‘Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts.’
‘P-P-Potter,’ stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry’s hand, ‘c-can’t t-tell you how p-pleased I
am to meet you.’
‘What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?’
‘D-Defence Against the D-D-Dark Arts,’ muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he’d rather not think
about it. ‘N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?’ He laughed nervously. ‘You’ll be g-getting all your
equipment, I suppose? I’ve g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself.’ He looked terrified
at the very thought.
But the others wouldn’t let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get
away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.
‘Must get on – lots ter buy. Come on, Harry.’
Doris Crockford shook Harry’s hand one last time and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a
small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a dustbin and a few weeds.
Hagrid grinned at Harry.
‘Told yeh, didn’t I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin’ ter meet yeh –
mind you, he’s usually tremblin’.’
‘Is he always that nervous?’
‘Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin’ outta books but then he took
a year off ter get some first-hand experience … They say he met vampires in the Black Forest and there
was a nasty bit o’ trouble with a hag – never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his
own subject – now, where’s me umbrella?’
Vampires? Hags? Harry’s head was swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall
above the dustbin.
‘Three up … two across …’ he muttered. ‘Right, stand back, Harry.’
He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.The brick he had touched quivered – it wriggled – in the middle, a small hole appeared – it grew wider
and wider – a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway on to
a cobbled street which twisted and turned out of sight.
‘Welcome,’ said Hagrid, ‘to Diagon Alley.’
He grinned at Harry’s amazement. They stepped through the archway. Harry looked quickly over his
shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall.
The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons – All Sizes – Cop-
per, Brass, Pewter, Silver – Self-Stirring – Collapsible said a sign hanging over them.
‘Yeah, you’ll be needin’ one,’ said Hagrid, ‘but we gotta get yer money first.’
Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction as they walked
up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing
their shopping. A plump woman outside an apothecary’s was shaking her head as they passed, saying,
‘Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce, they’re mad …’
A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium – Tawny,
Screech, Barn, Brown and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry’s age had their noses pressed against a
window with broomsticks in it. ‘Look,’ Harry heard one of them say, ‘the new Nimbus Two Thousand
– fastest ever –’ There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments
Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels’ eyes, tottering piles
of spell books, quills and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon …
‘Gringotts,’ said Hagrid.
They had reached a snowy-white building which towered over the other little shops. Standing beside
its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was –
‘Yeah, that’s a goblin,’ said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps towards him. The
goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry
noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair
of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:
Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn,
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
‘Like I said, yeh’d be mad ter try an’ rob it,’ said Hagrid.
A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About
a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers,
weighing coins on brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many
doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid
and Harry made for the counter.
‘Morning,’ said Hagrid to a free goblin. ‘We’ve come ter take some money outta Mr Harry Potter’s
safe.’
‘You have his key, sir?’
‘Got it here somewhere,’ said Hagrid and he started emptying his pockets on to the counter, scattering
a handful of mouldy dog-biscuits over the goblin’s book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose.
Harry watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.
‘Got it,’ said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.
The goblin looked at it closely.
‘That seems to be in order.’
‘An’ I’ve also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore,’ said Hagrid importantly, throwing out
his chest. ‘It’s about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen.’
The goblin read the letter carefully.
‘Very well,’ he said, handing it back to Hagrid, ‘I will have someone take you down to both vaults.
Griphook!’
Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog-biscuits back inside his pock-
ets, he and Harry followed Griphook towards one of the doors leading off the hall.
‘What’s the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?’ Harry asked.
‘Can’t tell yeh that,’ said Hagrid mysteriously. ‘Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore’s trusted
me. More’n my job’s worth ter tell yeh that.’
Griphook held the door open for them. Harry, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They
were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downwards and there were
little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks towards
them. They climbed in – Hagrid with some difficulty – and were off.
At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right,
right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way,
because Griphook wasn’t steering.
Harry’s eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open. Once, he thought he
saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late – they
plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the
ceiling and floor.
‘I never know,’ Harry called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, ‘what’s the difference between a
stalagmite and a stalactite?’
‘Stalagmite’s got an “m” in it,’ said Hagrid. ‘An’ don’ ask me questions just now, I think I’m gonna
be sick.’
He did look very green and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hag-
rid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees trembling.
Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped.
Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.
‘All yours,’ smiled Hagrid.
All Harry’s – it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn’t have known about this or they’d have had it
from him faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Harry cost them to keep? And
all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to him, buried deep under London.
Hagrid helped Harry pile some of it into a bag.
‘The gold ones are Galleons,’ he explained. ‘Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine
Knuts to a Sickle, it’s easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o’ terms, we’ll keep therest safe for yeh.’ He turned to Griphook. ‘Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go
more slowly?’
‘One speed only,’ said Griphook.
They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they
hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine and Harry leant over the side
to try and see what was down at the dark bottom but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff
of his neck.
Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.
‘Stand back,’ said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and
it simply melted away.
‘If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they’d be sucked through the door and trapped in there,’
said Griphook.
‘How often do you check to see if anyone’s inside?’ Harry asked.
‘About once every ten years,’ said Griphook, with a rather nasty grin.
Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top-security vault, Harry was sure, and he leant
forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least – but at first he thought it was empty.
Then he noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it
up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Harry longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.
‘Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don’t talk to me on the way back, it’s best if I keep me mouth
shut,’ said Hagrid.
*
One wild cart-ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry didn’t know where
to run first now that he had a bag full of money. He didn’t have to know how many Galleons there were
to a pound to know that he was holding more money than he’d had in his whole life – more money than
even Dudley had ever had.
‘Might as well get yer uniform,’ said Hagrid, nodding towards Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occa-
sions. ‘Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate
them Gringotts carts.’ He did still look a bit sick, so Harry entered Madam Malkin’s shop alone, feeling
nervous.
Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.
‘Hogwarts, dear?’ she said, when Harry started to speak. ‘Got the lot here – another young man being
fitted up just now, in fact.’
In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second
witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long
robe over his head and began to pin it to the right length.
‘Hullo,’ said the boy, ‘Hogwarts too?’
‘Yes,’ said Harry.
‘My father’s next door buying my books and mother’s up the street looking at wands,’ said the boy.
He had a bored, drawling voice. ‘Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see
why first-years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in
somehow.’
Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley.
‘Have you got your own broom?’ the boy went on.
‘No,’ said Harry.‘Play Quidditch at all?’
‘No,’ Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.
‘I do – Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know
what house you’ll be in yet?’
‘No,’ said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute.
‘Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family
have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?’
‘Mmm,’ said Harry, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting.
‘I say, look at that man!’ said the boy suddenly, nodding towards the front window. Hagrid was stand-
ing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice-creams to show he couldn’t come in.
‘That’s Hagrid,’ said Harry, pleased to know something the boy didn’t. ‘He works at Hogwarts.’
‘Oh,’ said the boy, ‘I’ve heard of him. He’s a sort of servant, isn’t he?’
‘He’s the gamekeeper,’ said Harry. He was liking the boy less and less every second.
‘Yes, exactly. I heard he’s a sort of savage – lives in a hut in the school grounds and every now and
then he gets drunk, tries to do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed.’
‘I think he’s brilliant,’ said Harry coldly.
‘Do you?’ said the boy, with a slight sneer. ‘Why is he with you? Where are your parents?’
‘They’re dead,’ said Harry shortly. He didn’t feel much like going into the matter with this boy.
‘Oh, sorry,’ said the other, not sounding sorry at all. ‘But they were our kind, weren’t they?’
‘They were a witch and wizard, if that’s what you mean.’
‘I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just not the same, they’ve never
been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the
letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What’s your surname, anyway?’
But before Harry could answer, Madam Malkin said, ‘That’s you done, my dear,’ and Harry, not sorry
for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool.
‘Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,’ said the drawling boy.
Harry was rather quiet as he ate the ice-cream Hagrid had bought him (chocolate and raspberry with
chopped nuts).
‘What’s up?’ said Hagrid.
‘Nothing,’ Harry lied. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harry cheered up a bit when he
found a bottle of ink that changed colour as you wrote. When they had left the shop, he said, ‘Hagrid,
what’s Quidditch?’
‘Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin’ how little yeh know – not knowin’ about Quidditch!’
‘Don’t make me feel worse,’ said Harry. He told Hagrid about the pale boy in Madam Malkin’s.
‘– and he said people from Muggle families shouldn’t even be allowed in –’
‘Yer not from a Muggle family. If he’d known who yeh were – he’s grown up knowin’ yer name if his
parents are wizardin’ folk – you saw ’em in the Leaky Cauldron. Anyway, what does he know about it,
some o’ the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in ’em in a long line o’ Muggles – look at yer
mum! Look what she had fer a sister!’
‘So what is Quidditch?’
‘It’s our sport. Wizard sport. It’s like – like football in the Muggle world – everyone follows Quidditch
– played up in the air on broomsticks and there’s four balls – sorta hard ter explain the rules.’
‘And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?’