Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, 
Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.
” 
He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed 
gray and fast asleep. 
“Are you sure that’s a real spell?” said the girl. “Well, it’s not very 
good, is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all 
worked for me. Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such 
a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, 
I mean, it’s the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard — 
I’ve learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it

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CHAPTER SIX 
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106 
‘
will be enough — I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are 
you?” 
She said all this very fast. 
Harry looked at Ron, and was relieved to see by his stunned face 
that he hadn’t learned all the course books by heart either. 
“I’m Ron Weasley,” Ron muttered. 
“Harry Potter,” said Harry. 
“Are you really?” said Hermione. “I know all about you, of 
course — I got a few extra books for background reading, and 
you’re in 
Modern Magical History
and 
The Rise and Fall of the Dark 
Arts
and 
Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.
” 
“Am I?” said Harry, feeling dazed. 
“Goodness, didn’t you know, I’d have found out everything I 
could if it was me,” said Hermione. “Do either of you know what 
House you’ll be in? I’ve been asking around, and I hope I’m in 
Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself 
was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad. . . . Any-
way, we’d better go and look for Neville’s toad. You two had better 
change, you know, I expect we’ll be there soon.” 
And she left, taking the toadless boy with her. 
“Whatever House I’m in, I hope she’s not in it,” said Ron. He 
threw his wand back into his trunk. “Stupid spell — George gave 
it to me, bet he knew it was a dud.” 
“What House are your brothers in?” asked Harry. 
“Gryffindor,” said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him 
again. “Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don’t know what they’ll say 
if I’m not. I don’t suppose Ravenclaw 
would
be too bad, but imag-
ine if they put me in Slytherin.” 

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THE JOURNEY FROM PLATFORM 
NINE AND THREE-QUARTERS 
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107 
‘
“That’s the House Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who was in?” 
“Yeah,” said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking de-
pressed. 
“You know, I think the ends of Scabbers’ whiskers are a bit 
lighter,” said Harry, trying to take Ron’s mind off Houses. “So 
what do your oldest brothers do now that they’ve left, anyway?” 
Harry was wondering what a wizard did once he’d finished 
school. 
“Charlie’s in Romania studying dragons, and Bill’s in Africa do-
ing something for Gringotts,” said Ron. “Did you hear about 
Gringotts? It’s been all over the 
Daily Prophet,
but I don’t suppose 
you get that with the Muggles — someone tried to rob a high se-
curity vault.” 
Harry stared. 
“Really? What happened to them?” 
“Nothing, that’s why it’s such big news. They haven’t been 
caught. My dad says it must’ve been a powerful Dark wizard to get 
round Gringotts, but they don’t think they took anything, that’s 
what’s odd. ’Course, everyone gets scared when something like this 
happens in case You-Know-Who’s behind it.” 
Harry turned this news over in his mind. He was starting to 
get a prickle of fear every time You-Know-Who was mentioned. 
He supposed this was all part of entering the magical world, but 
it had been a lot more comfortable saying “Voldemort” without 
worrying. 
“What’s your Quidditch team?” Ron asked. 
“Er — I don’t know any,” Harry confessed. 
“What!” Ron looked dumbfounded. “Oh, you wait, it’s the best

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CHAPTER SIX 
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108 
‘
game in the world —” And he was off, explaining all about the 
four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous 
games he’d been to with his brothers and the broomstick he’d like 
to get if he had the money. He was just taking Harry through the 
finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet 
again, but it wasn’t Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger 
this time. 
Three boys entered, and Harry recognized the middle one at 
once: It was the pale boy from Madam Malkin’s robe shop. He was 
looking at Harry with a lot more interest than he’d shown back in 
Diagon Alley. 
“Is it true?” he said. “They’re saying all down the train that 
Harry Potter’s in this compartment. So it’s you, is it?” 
“Yes,” said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of 
them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either 
side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards. 
“Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle,” said the pale boy care-
lessly, noticing where Harry was looking. “And my names Malfoy, 
Draco Malfoy.” 
Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snig-
ger. Draco Malfoy looked at him. 
“Think my name’s funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. 
My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more 
children than they can afford.” 
He turned back to Harry. “You’ll soon find out some wizarding 
families are much better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go 
making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.” 
He held out his hand to shake Harry’s, but Harry didn’t take it. 

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THE JOURNEY FROM PLATFORM 
NINE AND THREE-QUARTERS 
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109 
‘
“I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks,” he 
said coolly. 
Draco Malfoy didn’t go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale 
cheeks. 
“I’d be careful if I were you, Potter,” he said slowly. “Unless 
you’re a bit politer you’ll go the same way as your parents. They 
didn’t know what was good for them, either. You hang around with 
riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it’ll rub off on you.” 
Both Harry and Ron stood up. 
“Say that again,” Ron said, his face as red as his hair. 
“Oh, you’re going to fight us, are you?” Malfoy sneered. 
“Unless you get out now,” said Harry, more bravely than he felt, 
because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than him or Ron. 
“But we don’t feel like leaving, do we, boys? We’ve eaten all our 
food and you still seem to have some.” 
Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron — Ron 
leapt forward, but before he’d so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let 
out a horrible yell. 
Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk 
deep into Goyle’s knuckle — Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as 
Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scab-
bers finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disap-
peared at once. Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking 
among the sweets, or perhaps they’d heard footsteps, because a sec-
ond later, Hermione Granger had come in. 
“What 
has
been going on?” she said, looking at the sweets all 
over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail. 
“I think he’s been knocked out,” Ron said to Harry. He looked

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CHAPTER SIX 
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110 
‘
closer at Scabbers. “No — I don’t believe it — he’s gone back to 
sleep.” 
And so he had. 
“You’ve met Malfoy before?” 
Harry explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley. 
“I’ve heard of his family,” said Ron darkly. “They were some of 
the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disap-
peared. Said they’d been bewitched. My dad doesn’t believe it. He 
says Malfoy’s father didn’t need an excuse to go over to the Dark 
Side.” He turned to Hermione. “Can we help you with some-
thing?” 
“You’d better hurry up and put your robes on, I’ve just been up 
to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we’re nearly there. 
You haven’t been fighting, have you? You’ll be in trouble before we 
even get there!” 
“Scabbers has been fighting, not us,” said Ron, scowling at her. 
“Would you mind leaving while we change?” 
“All right — I only came in here because people outside are be-
having very childishly, racing up and down the corridors,” said 
Hermione in a sniffy voice. “And you’ve got dirt on your nose, by 
the way, did you know?” 
Ron glared at her as she left. Harry peered out of the window. It 
was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep 
purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down. 
He and Ron took off their jackets and pulled on their long black 
robes. Ron’s were a bit short for him, you could see his sneakers un-
derneath them. 
A voice echoed through the train: “We will be reaching Hog- 

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THE JOURNEY FROM PLATFORM 
NINE AND THREE-QUARTERS 
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111 
‘
warts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train, 
it will be taken to the school separately.” 
Harry’s stomach lurched with nerves and Ron, he saw, looked 
pale under his freckles. They crammed their pockets with the last 
of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor. 
The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed 
their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. 
Harry shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing 
over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice: 
“Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here! All right there, Harry?” 
Hagrid’s big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads. 
“C’mon, follow me — any more firs’ years? Mind yer step, now! 
Firs’ years follow me!” 
Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what 
seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of 
them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody 
spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed 
once or twice. 
“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” Hagrid called over 
his shoulder, “jus’ round this bend here.” 
There was a loud “Oooooh!” 
The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great 
black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its 
windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many 
turrets and towers. 
“No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of 
little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and Ron were 
followed into their boat by Neville and Hermione. 

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CHAPTER SIX 
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112 
‘
“Everyone in?” shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. 
“Right then — FORWARD!” 
And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across 
the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring 
up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed 
nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood. 
“Heads down!” yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; 
they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a 
curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were 
carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right 
underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground 
harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles. 
“Oy, you there! Is this your toad?” said Hagrid, who was check-
ing the boats as people climbed out of them. 
“Trevor!” cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then 
they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid’s lamp, 
coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of 
the castle. 
They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the 
huge, oak front door. 
“Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?” 
Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the cas-
tle door. 

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C H A P T E R S E V E N 
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THE SORTING HAT 
he door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in 
emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face 
and Harry’s first thought was that this was not someone to cross. 
“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” said Hagrid. 
“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.” 
She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you 
could have fit the whole of the Dursleys’ house in it. The stone 
walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the 
ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble stair-
case facing them led to the upper floors. 
They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone 
floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a 
doorway to the right — the rest of the school must already be 
here — but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a 
small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing
T 

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CHAPTER SEVEN 
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‘
rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering 
about nervously. 
“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “The 
start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your 
seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The 
Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, 
your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. 
You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your 
House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common 
room. 
“The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, 
and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has 
produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hog-
warts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-
breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House 
with the most points is awarded the House cup, a great honor. I 
hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes 
yours. 
“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front 
of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as 
much as you can while you are waiting.” 
Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville’s cloak, which was 
fastened under his left ear, and on Ron’s smudged nose. Harry ner-
vously tried to flatten his hair. 
“I shall return when we are ready for you,” said Professor Mc-
Gonagall. “Please wait quietly.” 
She left the chamber. Harry swallowed. 
“How exactly do they sort us into Houses?” he asked Ron. 

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THE SORTING HAT 
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115 
‘
“Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he 
was joking.” 
Harry’s heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole 
school? But he didn’t know any magic yet — what on earth would 
he have to do? He hadn’t expected something like this the moment 
they arrived. He looked around anxiously and saw that everyone 
else looked terrified, too. No one was talking much except 
Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the 
spells she’d learned and wondering which one she’d need. Harry 
tried hard not to listen to her. He’d never been more nervous, 
never, not even when he’d had to take a school report home to the 
Dursleys saying that he’d somehow turned his teachers wig blue. 
He kept his eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor 
McGonagall would come back and lead him to his doom. 
Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in 
the air — several people behind him screamed. 
“What the — ?” 
He gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts 
had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly 
transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and 
hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What 
looked like a fat little monk was saying: “Forgive and forget, I say, 
we ought to give him a second chance —” 
“My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he de-
serves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really 
even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?” 
A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first 
years. 

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CHAPTER SEVEN 
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Nobody answered. 
“New students!” said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. 
“About to be Sorted, I suppose?” 
A few people nodded mutely. 
“Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!” said the Friar. “My old House, 
you know.” 
“Move along now,” said a sharp voice. “The Sorting Ceremony’s 
about to start.” 
Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts 
floated away through the opposite wall. 
“Now, form a line,” Professor McGonagall told the first years, 
“and follow me.” 
Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Harry got 
into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron behind him, and 
they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through 
a pair of double doors into the Great Hall. 
Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid 
place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were 
floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the stu-
dents were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden 
plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table 
where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first 
years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other 
students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces 
staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candle-
light. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone 
misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked up-
ward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard

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THE SORTING HAT 
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‘
Hermione whisper, “It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside. I 
read about it in