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Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone 5 страница. called it, gave the bills to Harry so he could buy their tickets

called it, gave the bills 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:






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




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 Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic 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 Scamander


The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble




wand cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) set


glass or crystal phials


telescope set


brass scales


Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad





"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 Underground, 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 escalator that 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 restaurants 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

humor, 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

bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The

low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know

Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender 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 bartender, peering at Harry, "is this -- can this

be --?"



The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.


"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter... what an



He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward 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 puffing on it without realizing it had gone out.

Hagrid was beaming.


Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the 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



"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 remembers 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-Defense 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 trash can 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 firsthand

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



Vampires? Hags? Harry's head was swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was

counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.


"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 onto a

cobbled street that 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 - Copper, 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



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 was shaking her head as

they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're



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 that 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 toward 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 in 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 onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy 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 YouKnow-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 pockets, he and Harry followed Griphook toward

one of the doors leading off the hall.


"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry



"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



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 downward and there were little

railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came

hurtling up the tracks toward 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, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the

wall to stop his knees from 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 the rest 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 leaned over the side to

try to 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 leaned 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 toward Madam

Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "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, clear?" 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.


"Hello," 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 took 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 toward the

front window. Hagrid was standing 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'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 on 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 color 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 pate

boy in Madam Malkin's.


"--and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed



"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 what

everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. 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 0' 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 soccer 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?"


"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o'

duffers, but --"


"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff" said Harry gloomily.


"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a

single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin.

You-Know-Who was one."


"Vol-, sorry - You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"


"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid.


They bought Harry's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts

where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as

paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in

covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with

nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have

been wild to get his hands on some of these. Hagrid almost had to drag

Harry away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and

Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs,

Tongue- Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.


"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley."


"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the

Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said Hagrid. "An'

anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more

study before yeh get ter that level."


Hagrid wouldn't let Harry buy a solid gold cauldron, either ("It says

pewter on yer list"), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing

potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited

the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible

smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff

stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined

the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung

from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a

supply of some basic potion ingredients for Harry, Harry himself

examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule,

glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).


Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry's list again.


"Just yer wand left - A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday



Harry felt himself go red.


"You don't have to --"


"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad,

toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at - an' I don'

like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want

owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."


Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been

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