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Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets -- but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house, too.
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"You think it -- wise -- to trust Hagrid with something as important as
this?" [McGonagall]
"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.
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Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll -- in the dungeons -- thought you ought to know."
He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.
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"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.
"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy." [Petunia]
The Dursleys often spoke about Harry like this, as though he wasn't
there -- or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn't
understand them, like a slug.
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It was Hermione who spoke first.
"Is it -- dead?"
I don't think so," said Harry, I think it's just been knocked out."
He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered
in what looked like lumpy gray glue.
"Urgh -- troll boogers."
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"You're only holding the Quidditch cup, what's interesting about that? I
want to see my parents."
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Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. He couldn't stop stammering his thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell.
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"I've decided to call him Norbert," said Hagrid, looking at the dragon
with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert!
Where's Mommy?"
"He's lost his marbles," Ron muttered in Harry's ear.
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"You're too nosy to live, Potter."
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"I never thought to look in here!" she whispered excitedly. "I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."
"Light?" said Ron, but Hermione told him to be quiet until she'd looked something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to herself.
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