Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
Book 1
CHAPTER ONE
THE BOY WHO LIVED
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to saythat they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the lastpeople you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious,because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.
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HARRY POTTER AND THE CHAMBER OF SECRETSby J. K. Rowling
(this is BOOK 2 in the Harry Potter series)
(this is BOOK 2 in the Harry Potter series)
C H A P T E R O N E
THE WORST BIRTHDAY
Not for the first time, an argument had broken out over breakfast atnumber four, Privet Drive. Mr. Vernon Dursley had been woken inthe early hours of the morning by a loud, hooting noise from hisnephew Harry's room.
"Third time this week!" he roared across the table. "If you can'tcontrol that owl, it'll have to go!"
Harry tried, yet again, to explain.
"She's bored," he said. "She's used to flying around outside. If I couldjust let her out at night -"
"Do I look stupid?" snarled Uncle Vernon, a bit of fried egg danglingfrom his bushy mustache. "I know what'll happen if that owl's letout."
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Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
by J.K. Rowling
by J.K. Rowling
CHAPTER ONE
OWL POST
Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways. For one thing, hehated the summer holidays more than any other time of year. For another,he really wanted to do his homework but was forced to do it in secret,in the dead of night. And he also happened to be a wizard.
It was nearly midnight, and he was lying on his stomach in bed, theblankets drawn right over his head like a tent, a flashlight in one handand a large leather-bound book (A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot)propped open against the pillow. Harry moved the tip of hiseagle-feather quill down the page, frowning as he looked for somethingthat would help him write his essay, "Witch Burning in the FourteenthCentury Was Completely Pointless discuss."
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Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
by
J.K. Rowling
To Peter Rowling.In Memory of Mr. Ridley.
And to Susan Sladden.
Who Helped Harry
Out of His Cupboard.
HARRY POTTER AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE
CHAPTER ONE - THE RIDDLE HOUSE
The villagers of Little Hangleron still called it "the Riddle House," even though it had been many years since the Riddle family had lived there. It stood on a hill overlooking the village, some of its windows boarded, tiles missing from its roof, and ivy spreading unchecked over its face. Once a fine-looking manor, and easily the largest and grandest building for miles around, the Riddle House was now damp, derelict, and .............
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Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
J K Rowling
Titles available in the Harry Potter series
(in reading order):
Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
also available in Latin and Welsh:
Harrius Potter et Philosophi Lapis (Latin)
Harri Potter a Maen yr Athronydd (Welsh)
— CHAPTER ONE —
Dudley Demented
The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close and a drowsy silence lay over the large, square houses of Privet Drive. Cars that were usually gleaming stood dusty in their drives and lawns that were once emerald green lay parched and yellowing — 'for the use of hosepipes had been banned due to drought. Deprived of their usual car-washing and lawn-mowing pursuits, the inhabitants of Privet Drive had retreated into the shade of their cool houses, windows thrown wide in the hope of tempting in a nonexistent breeze. The only person left outdoors was a teenage boy who was lying flat on his back in a flowerbed outside number four.
He was a skinny, black-haired, bespectacled boy who had the pinched, slightly unhealthy look of someone who has grown a lot in a short space of time. His jeans were torn and dirty, his T-shirt baggy and faded, and the soles of his trainers were peeling away from the uppers. Harry Potters appearance did not endear him to the neighbours, who were the sort of people who thought scruffiness ought to be punishable by law, but as he had hidden himself behind a large hydrangea bush this evening he was quite invisible to passers-by. In fact, the only way he would be spotted was if his Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia stuck their heads out of the living-room window and looked straight down into the flowerbed below.
Dudley Demented
The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close and a drowsy silence lay over the large, square houses of Privet Drive. Cars that were usually gleaming stood dusty in their drives and lawns that were once emerald green lay parched and yellowing — 'for the use of hosepipes had been banned due to drought. Deprived of their usual car-washing and lawn-mowing pursuits, the inhabitants of Privet Drive had retreated into the shade of their cool houses, windows thrown wide in the hope of tempting in a nonexistent breeze. The only person left outdoors was a teenage boy who was lying flat on his back in a flowerbed outside number four.
He was a skinny, black-haired, bespectacled boy who had the pinched, slightly unhealthy look of someone who has grown a lot in a short space of time. His jeans were torn and dirty, his T-shirt baggy and faded, and the soles of his trainers were peeling away from the uppers. Harry Potters appearance did not endear him to the neighbours, who were the sort of people who thought scruffiness ought to be punishable by law, but as he had hidden himself behind a large hydrangea bush this evening he was quite invisible to passers-by. In fact, the only way he would be spotted was if his Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia stuck their heads out of the living-room window and looked straight down into the flowerbed below.
On the whole, Harry thought he was to be congratulated on his idea of hiding here. He was not, perhaps, very comfortable lying on the hot, hard earth but, on the other hand, nobody was glaring at him, grinding their teeth so loudly that he could not hear the news, or shooting nasty questions at him, as had happened every time he had tried sitting down in the living room to watch television with his aunt and uncle.............
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Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince By J K Rowling
Chapter 1: The Other Minister
It was nearing midnight and the Prime Minister was sitting alone in his
office, reading a long memo that was slipping through his brain without
leaving the slightest trace of meaning behind. He was waiting for a call
from the President of a far distant country, and between wondering when
the wretched man would telephone, and trying to suppress unpleasant
memories of what had been a very long, tiring, and difficult week, there
was not much space in his head for anything else. The more he
It was nearing midnight and the Prime Minister was sitting alone in his
office, reading a long memo that was slipping through his brain without
leaving the slightest trace of meaning behind. He was waiting for a call
from the President of a far distant country, and between wondering when
the wretched man would telephone, and trying to suppress unpleasant
memories of what had been a very long, tiring, and difficult week, there
was not much space in his head for anything else. The more he
attempted to focus on the print on the page before him, the more clearly the
Prime Minister could see the gloating face of one of his political opponents.
This particular opponent had appeared on the news that very day, not only
to enumerate all the terrible things that had happened in the last week
(as though anyone needed reminding) but also to explain why each and every
one of them was the government's fault.
The Prime Minister's pulse quickened at the very thought of these
accusations, for they were neither fair nor true. How on earth was his
government supposed to have stopped that bridge collapsing? It was
outrageous for anybody to suggest that they were not spending enough on
bridges. The bridge was fewer than ten years old, and the best experts
were at a loss to explain why it had snapped cleanly in two, sending a
dozen cars into the watery depths of the river below. And how dare anyone
suggest that it was lack of policemen that had resulted in those two very
nasty and well-publicized murders? Or that the government should have
somehow foreseen the freak hurricane in the West Country that had caused
so much damage to both people and property? And was it his fault that one
of his Junior Ministers, Herbert Chorley, had chosen this week to act so
peculiarly that he was now going to be spending a lot more time with his
family?
"A grim mood has gripped the country," the opponent had concluded, barely
concealing his own broad grin.
And unfortunately, this was perfectly true. The Prime Minister felt it
himself; people really did seem more miserable than usual. Even the
weather was dismal; all this chilly mist in the middle of July... It
wasn't right, it wasn't normal...
He turned over the second page of the memo, saw how much longer it went
on, and gave it up as a bad job. Stretching his arms above his head he
looked around his office mournfully. It was a handsome room, with a fine
marble fireplace facing the long sash windows, firmly closed against the
unseasonable chill. With a slight shiver, the Prime Minister got up and
moved over to the window, looking out at the thin mist that was pressing
itself against the glass. It was then, as he stood with his back to the
room, that he heard a soft cough behind him.
He froze, nose to nose with his own scared-looking reflection in the dark
glass. He knew that cough. He had heard it before. He turned very slowly ..............
This particular opponent had appeared on the news that very day, not only
to enumerate all the terrible things that had happened in the last week
(as though anyone needed reminding) but also to explain why each and every
one of them was the government's fault.
The Prime Minister's pulse quickened at the very thought of these
accusations, for they were neither fair nor true. How on earth was his
government supposed to have stopped that bridge collapsing? It was
outrageous for anybody to suggest that they were not spending enough on
bridges. The bridge was fewer than ten years old, and the best experts
were at a loss to explain why it had snapped cleanly in two, sending a
dozen cars into the watery depths of the river below. And how dare anyone
suggest that it was lack of policemen that had resulted in those two very
nasty and well-publicized murders? Or that the government should have
somehow foreseen the freak hurricane in the West Country that had caused
so much damage to both people and property? And was it his fault that one
of his Junior Ministers, Herbert Chorley, had chosen this week to act so
peculiarly that he was now going to be spending a lot more time with his
family?
"A grim mood has gripped the country," the opponent had concluded, barely
concealing his own broad grin.
And unfortunately, this was perfectly true. The Prime Minister felt it
himself; people really did seem more miserable than usual. Even the
weather was dismal; all this chilly mist in the middle of July... It
wasn't right, it wasn't normal...
He turned over the second page of the memo, saw how much longer it went
on, and gave it up as a bad job. Stretching his arms above his head he
looked around his office mournfully. It was a handsome room, with a fine
marble fireplace facing the long sash windows, firmly closed against the
unseasonable chill. With a slight shiver, the Prime Minister got up and
moved over to the window, looking out at the thin mist that was pressing
itself against the glass. It was then, as he stood with his back to the
room, that he heard a soft cough behind him.
He froze, nose to nose with his own scared-looking reflection in the dark
glass. He knew that cough. He had heard it before. He turned very slowly ..............
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Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows J K Rowling
Chapter One
Secrets Unraveled
Secrets Unraveled
Harry slowly raised his head and stared morosely at the familiar visage of number four, Privet Drive. What had already been a horrible day was rapidly getting worse. Not only did he have to appear unannounced on the Dursleys’ doorstep (something he knew they’d have no problem expressing their displeasure over), but he’d also have to tell them that two other freaks would be joining him this afternoon. The corner of Harry’s mouth twitched humorlessly as he envisioned how they’d take the news.
He’d left Ron and Hermione at King’s Cross station a little over an hour ago. They were each going to make quick stops at their respective homes before Apparating to Privet Drive. Harry smiled fondly, remembering their show of solidarity. He hadn’t been expecting it; he’d thought he’d be going on alone. Although he was desperately worried about them and the remainder of their quest, he had to admit that the thought of some support while facing his relatives was quite nice indeed.
Harry had thought it would be better – or at least less embarrassing – if he arrived at Privet Drive first and prepared his relatives for their arrival. He’d wanted to get away from the Hogwarts Express and the other students as quickly as possible…before he ran into Ginny.
Ginny.
Harry quickly shook his head – he couldn’t afford to think about Ginny. He still didn’t think his resolve was strong enough to hold.
Since he wasn’t yet of age, he’d quickly slipped away without speaking to any of the crowd at King’s Cross and taken the train to Privet Drive. The long, hot journey had left him irritable. It didn’t bode well for the coming reunion. He’d considered just Apparating back from Hogsmeade to avoid the Hogwarts Express altogether. So what if the Ministry chucked him out of Hogwarts now? He wasn’t going back, anyway. ..........
He’d left Ron and Hermione at King’s Cross station a little over an hour ago. They were each going to make quick stops at their respective homes before Apparating to Privet Drive. Harry smiled fondly, remembering their show of solidarity. He hadn’t been expecting it; he’d thought he’d be going on alone. Although he was desperately worried about them and the remainder of their quest, he had to admit that the thought of some support while facing his relatives was quite nice indeed.
Harry had thought it would be better – or at least less embarrassing – if he arrived at Privet Drive first and prepared his relatives for their arrival. He’d wanted to get away from the Hogwarts Express and the other students as quickly as possible…before he ran into Ginny.
Ginny.
Harry quickly shook his head – he couldn’t afford to think about Ginny. He still didn’t think his resolve was strong enough to hold.
Since he wasn’t yet of age, he’d quickly slipped away without speaking to any of the crowd at King’s Cross and taken the train to Privet Drive. The long, hot journey had left him irritable. It didn’t bode well for the coming reunion. He’d considered just Apparating back from Hogsmeade to avoid the Hogwarts Express altogether. So what if the Ministry chucked him out of Hogwarts now? He wasn’t going back, anyway. ..........
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2 comments:
Thanks for All Seven Books wonderfull Books ...
Thanks
Nagesh
Thanks for the books. Order of phoenix link is broken and I get a file not found error.
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