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

Flamel. They had the dormitory to themselves and the common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork – bread, crumpets, marshmallows – and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldn’t work.
    Ron also started teaching Harry wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron’s set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family – in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren’t a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted.
    Harry played with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had lent him and they didn’t trust him at all. He wasn’t a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at him, which was confusing: ‘Don’t send me there, can’t you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him. ’
    On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When he woke early next morning, however, the first thing he saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed.
    ‘Happy Christmas,’ said Ron sleepily as Harry scrambled out of bed and pulled on his dressing-gown.
    ‘You too,’ said Harry. ‘Will you look at this? I’ve got some presents!’
    ‘What did you expect, turnips?’ said Ron, turning to his own pile, which was a lot bigger than Harry’s.
    Harry picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Harry, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it – it sounded a bit like an owl.
    A second, very small parcel contained a note.
    We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Sellotaped to the note was a fifty-pence piece.
    ‘That’s friendly,’ said Harry.
    Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence.
    ‘Weird!’ he said. ‘What a shape! This is money? ’
    ‘You can keep it,’ said Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron was. ‘Hagrid and my aunt and uncle – so who sent these?’
    ‘I think I know who that one’s from,’ said Ron, going a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. ‘My mum. I told her you didn’t expect any presents and – oh, no,’ he groaned, ‘she’s made you a Weasley jumper.’
    Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of home-made fudge.
    ‘Every year she makes us a jumper,’ said Ron, unwrapping his own, ‘and mine’s always maroon.’
    ‘That’s really nice of her,’ said Harry, trying the fudge, which was very tasty.
    His next present also contained sweets – a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione.
    This left only one parcel. Harry picked it up and felt it. It was very light. He unwrapped it.
    Something fluid and silvery grey went slithering to the floor, where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.
    ‘I’ve heard of those,’ he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every-Flavour Beans he’d got from Hermione. ‘If that’s what I think it is – they’re really rare, and really valuable.’
    ‘What is it?’
    Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.
    ‘It’s an Invisibility Cloak,’ said Ron, a look of awe on his face. ‘I’m sure it is – try it on.’
    Harry threw the Cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell.
    ‘It is! Look down!’
    Harry looked down at his feet, but they had gone. He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in mid-air, his body completely invisible. He pulled the Cloak over his head and his reflection vanished completely.
    ‘There’s a note!’ said Ron suddenly. ‘A note fell out of it!’
    Harry pulled off the Cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words:
     
    Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you.
    Use it well.
    A Very Merry Christmas to you.
     
    There was no signature. Harry stared at the note. Ron was admiring the Cloak.
    ‘I’d give anything for one