Harry Potter 01 - Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.
    Harry was very relieved to find out that he wasn’t miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn’t had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Ron didn’t have much of a head start.
    Friday was an important day for Harry and Ron. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.
    ‘What have we got today?’ Harry asked Ron as he poured sugar on his porridge.
    ‘Double Potions with the Slytherins,’ said Ron. ‘Snape’s Head of Slytherin house. They say he always favours them – we’ll be able to see if it’s true.’
    ‘Wish McGonagall favoured us,’ said Harry. Professor McGonagall was Head of Gryffindor house, but it hadn’t stopped her giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.
    Just then, the post arrived. Harry had got used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners and dropping letters and packages on to their laps.
    Hedwig hadn’t brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note on to Harry’s plate. Harry tore it open at once.
     
    Dear Harry, (it said, in a very untidy scrawl)
    I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig.
    Hagrid
     
    Harry borrowed Ron’s quill, scribbled ‘Yes, please, see you later’ on the back of the note and sent Hedwig off again.
    It was lucky that Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to him so far.
    At the start-of-term banquet, Harry had got the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he’d been wrong. Snape didn’t dislike Harry – he hated him.
    Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.
    Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the register, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry’s name.
    ‘Ah, yes,’ he said softly, ‘Harry Potter. Our new – celebrity. ’
    Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid’s, but they had none of Hagrid’s warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.
    ‘You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,’ he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word – like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. ‘As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses … I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.’
    More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn’t a dunderhead.
    ‘Potter!’ said Snape suddenly. ‘What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?’
    Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione’s hand had shot into the air.
    ‘I don’t know, sir,’ said Harry.
    Snape’s lips curled into a sneer.
    ‘Tut, tut – fame clearly isn’t everything.’
    He ignored Hermione’s hand.
    ‘Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a