Your request :Book :
Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. There are
some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and
knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.
Rating : 3,08/5 (561 votes) - Comments
"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough.
Rating : 3,08/5 (601 votes) - Comments
They slipped back down the spiral staircase, their hearts as light as
their hands, now that Norbert was off them. No more dragon -- Malfoy in
detention -- what could spoil their happiness?
The answer to that was waiting at the foot of the stairs. As they
stepped into the corridor, Filch's face loomed suddenly out of the
darkness.
"Well, well, well," he whispered, "we are in trouble."
They'd left the invisibility cloak on top of the tower.
Rating : 3,08/5 (607 votes) - Comments
Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors.
Rating : 3,08/5 (868 votes) - Comments
"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"
Wood? thought Harry, bewildered; was Wood a cane she was going to use on
him?
Rating : 3,08/5 (636 votes) - Comments
"Well -- in that case..." said Professor McGonagall, staring at the
three of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of
tackling a mountain troll on your own?"
Hermione hung her head. Harry was speechless. Hermione was the last
person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending
she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started
handing out sweets.
Rating : 3,07/5 (708 votes) - Comments
"Imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"
Rating : 3,07/5 (639 votes) - Comments
"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.
"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly.
Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.
"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."
Rating : 3,07/5 (793 votes) - Comments
"Sir -- Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"
"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however."
"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"
"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."
Harry stared.
"One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."
It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. But then, he thought, as he shoved Scabbers off his pillow, it had been quite a personal question.
Rating : 3,07/5 (543 votes) - Comments
"Shooting stars down in Kent -- I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."
Rating : 3,07/5 (917 votes) - Comments
English