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Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone "Brilliant," said Hermione. "This isn't magic -- it's logic -- a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here forever."
"But so will we, won't we?" "Of course not," said Hermione. "Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple."
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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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"Now, you listen here, boy," he snarled [Vernon Dursley], "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured -- and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no
denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion -- asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types -- just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end --"
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"I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered.
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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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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 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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"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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"Neville," she said, "I'm really, really sorry about this."
She raised her wand.
"Petrificus Totalus!" she cried, pointing it at Neville.
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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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