— CHAPTER ONE —

The Boy who Lived

Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to
say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They
were the last people you’d expect to be involved in anything
strange or mysterious, because they just didn’t hold with such
nonsense.
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 moustache. 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 cran-
ing over garden fences, spying on the neighbours. The Dursleys
had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no
finer boy anywhere.
The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a
secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover
it. They didn’t think they could bear it if anyone found out about
the Potters. Mrs Potter was Mrs Dursley’s sister, but they hadn’t
met for several years; in fact, Mrs Dursley pretended she didn’t
have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband
were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shud-
dered to think what the neighbours would say if the Potters
arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a
small son too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was
another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn’t
want Dudley mixing with a child like that.
When Mr and Mrs Dursley woke up on the dull, grey Tuesday
our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to
suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be hap-
pening all over the countr y. Mr Dursley hummed as he picked out
his most boring tie for work and Mrs Dursley gossiped away
8 H ARRY P O T T E R T H E BO Y WHO L I VE D 9

happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his highchair. swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the
None of them noticed a large tawny owl flutter past the window. street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl
At half-past eight, Mr Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at night-
Mrs Dursley on the cheek and tried to kiss Dudley goodbye but time. Mr Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morn-
missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing ing. He yelled at five different people. He made several important
his cereal at the walls. ‘Little tyke,’ chortled Mr Dursley as he left telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good
the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four’s mood until lunch-time, when he thought he’d stretch his legs
drive. and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the baker’s
It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign opposite.
of something peculiar – a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr He’d forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a
Dursley didn’t realise what he had seen – then he jerked his head group of them next to the baker’s. He eyed them angrily as he
around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the cor- passed. He didn’t know why, but they made him uneasy. This lot
ner of Privet Drive, but there wasn’t a map in sight. What could were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn’t see a single col-
he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. lecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large
Mr Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were
Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the saying.
cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive ‘The Potters, that’s right, that’s what I heard –’
– no, looking at the sign; cats couldn’t read maps or signs. Mr ‘ – yes, their son, Harry –’
Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his Mr Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at
mind. As he drove towards town he thought of nothing except a the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but
large order of drills he was hoping to get that day. thought better of it.
But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office,
something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone
couldn’t help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely and had almost finished dialling his home number when he
dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr Dursley couldn’t bear changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his
people who dressed in funny clothes – the get-ups you saw on moustache, thinking ... no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn’t
young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people
drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he
huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whis- wasn’t even sure his nephew was called Harry. He’d never even
pering excitedly together. Mr Dursley was enraged to see that a seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold. There was no
couple of them weren’t young at all; why, that man had to be older point in worrying Mrs Dursley, she always got so upset at any
than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of mention of her sister. He didn’t blame her – if he’d had a sister like
him! But then it struck Mr Dursley that this was probably some that ... but all the same, those people in cloaks ...
silly stunt – these people were obviously collecting for something He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon
... yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes and when he left the building at five o’clock, he was still so wor-
later, Mr Dursley arrived in the Grunnings car park, his mind ried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.
back on drills. ‘Sorry,’ he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost
Mr Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office fell. It was a few seconds before Mr Dursley realised that the man
on the ninth floor. If he hadn’t, he might have found it harder to was wearing a violet cloak. He didn’t seem at all upset at being
concentrate on drills that morning. He didn’t see the owls almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into
10 H ARRY P O T T E R T H E BO Y WHO LI VE D 11

a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passers-by celebrating Bonfire Night early – it’s not until next week, folks!
stare: ‘Don’t be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me But I can promise a wet night tonight.’
today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Mr Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over
Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all
day!’ over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters ...
And the old man hugged Mr Dursley around the middle and Mrs Dursley came into the living-room carrying two cups of
walked off. tea. It was no good. He’d have to say something to her. He cleared
Mr Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a his throat nervously. ‘Er – Petunia, dear – you haven’t heard from
complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, your sister lately, have you?’
whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set As he had expected, Mrs Dursley looked shocked and angry.
off home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never After all, they normally pretended she didn’t have a sister.
hoped before, because he didn’t approve of imagination. ‘No,’ she said sharply. ‘Why?’
As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he ‘Funny stuff on the news,’ Mr Dursley mumbled. ‘Owls ...
saw – and it didn’t improve his mood – was the tabby cat he’d spot- shooting stars ... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in
ted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was town today ...’
su re it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes. ‘So?’ snapped Mrs Dursley.
‘Shoo!’ said Mr Dursley loudly. ‘Well, I just thought ... maybe ... it was something to do with ...
The cat didn’t move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this nor- you know ... her lot.’
mal cat behaviour, Mr Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself Mrs Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr Dursley
together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined wondered whether he dared tell her he’d heard the name ‘Potter’.
not to mention anything to his wife. He decided he didn’t dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could,
Mrs Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over din- ‘Their son – he’d be about Dudley’s age now, wouldn’t he?’
ner all about Mrs Next Door’s problems with her daughter and ‘I suppose so,’ said Mrs Dursley stiffly.
how Dudley had learnt a new word (‘Shan’t!’). Mr Dursley tried to ‘What’s his name again? Howard, isn’t it?’
act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the ‘Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me.’
living-room in time to catch the last report on the evening news: ‘Oh, yes,’ said Mr Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. ‘Yes, I
‘And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the quite agree.’
nation’s owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although He didn’t say another word on the subject as they went upstairs
owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, to bed. While Mrs Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr Dursley crept
there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden.
every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though
the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern.’ The news it was waiting for something.
reader allowed himself a grin. ‘Most mysterious. And now, over to Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do
Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of with the Potters? If it did ... if it got out that they were related to a
owls tonight, Jim?’ pair of – well, he didn’t think he could bear it.
‘Well, Ted,’ said the weatherman, ‘I don’t know about that, but The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs Dursley fell asleep quickly but
it’s not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as Mr Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last,
far apart as Kent, Yorkshire and Dundee have been phoning in comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the
to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they’ve Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near
had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been him and Mrs Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and
12 H ARRY P O T T E R T H E BO Y W H O L I V E D 13

Petunia thought about them and their kind ... He couldn’t see how his cloak and set off down the street towards number four, where
he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn’t look at it, but
going on. He yawned and turned over. It couldn’t affect them ... after a moment he spoke to it.
How very wrong he was. ‘Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall.’
Mr Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was
the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square
was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around
far corner of Privet Drive. It didn’t so much as quiver when a car its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black
door slammed in the next street, nor when two owls swooped hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.
overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all. ‘How did you know it was me?’ she asked.
A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, ‘My dear Professor, I’ve never seen a cat sit so stiffly.’
appeared so suddenly and silently you’d have thought he’d just ‘You’d be stiff if you’d been sitting on a brick wall all day,’ said
popped out of the ground. The cat’s tail twitched and its eyes nar- Professor McGonagall.
rowed. ‘All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have
Nothing like this man had ever been seen in Privet Drive. He passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here.’
was tall, thin and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.
beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was ‘Oh yes, everyone’s celebrating, all right,’ she said impatiently.
wearing long robes, a purple cloak which swept the ground and ‘You’d think they’d be a bit more careful, but no – even the
high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright and Muggles have noticed something’s going on. It was on their news.’
sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long She jerked her head back at the Dursleys’ dark living-room
and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This window. ‘I heard it. Flocks of owls ... shooting stars ... Well,
man’s name was Albus Dumbledore. they’re not completely stupid. They were bound to notice
Albus Dumbledore didn’t seem to realise that he had just something. Shooting stars down in Kent – I’ll bet that was Dedalus
arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots Diggle. He never had much sense.’
was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for ‘You can’t blame them,’ said Dumbledore gently. ‘We’ve had pre-
something. But he did seem to realise he was being watched, cious little to celebrate for eleven years.’
because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring ‘I know that,’ said Professor McGonagall irritably. ‘But that’s no
at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out
of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, ‘I on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle
should have known.’ clothes, swapping rumours.’
He had found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as
seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn’t,
up in the air and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with so she went on: ‘A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-
a little pop. He clicked it again – the next lamp flickered into Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found
darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?’
lights left in the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the dis- ‘It certainly seems so,’ said Dumbledore. ‘We have much to be
tance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone thankful for. Would you care for a sherbet lemon?’
looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs Dursley, ‘A what?’
they wouldn’t be able to see anything that was happening down ‘A sherbet lemon. They’re a kind of Muggle sweet I’m rather
on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside fond of.’
14 H ARRY P O T T E R T H E BO Y W H O L I V E D 15

‘No, thank you,’ said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though know ... I know ...’ he said heavily.
she didn’t think this was the moment for sherbet lemons. ‘As I say, Professor McGonagall’s voice trembled as she went on. ‘That’s
even if You-Know-Who has gone –’ not all. They’re saying he tried to kill the Potter’s son, Harr y. But –
‘My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can he couldn’t. He couldn’t kill that little boy. No one knows why, or
call him by his name? All this “You-Know-Who” nonsense – for how, but they’re saying that when he couldn’t kill Harry Potter,
eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by Voldemort’s power somehow broke – and that’s why he’s gone.’
his proper name: Voldemort.’ Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore nodded glumly.
Dumbledore, who was unsticking two sherbet lemons, seemed ‘It’s – it’s true?’ faltered Professor McGonagall. ‘After all he’s
not to notice. ‘It all gets so confusing if we keep saying “You- done ... all the people he’s killed ... he couldn’t kill a little boy? It’s
Know-Who”.’ I have never seen any reason to be frightened of just astounding ... of all the things to stop him ... but how in the
saying Voldemort’s name.’ name of heaven did Harry survive?’
‘I know you haven’t,’ said Professor McGonagall, sounding half ‘We can only guess,’ said Dumbledore. ‘We may never know.’
exasperated, half admiring. ‘But you’re different. Everyone knows Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and
you’re the only one You-Know – oh, all right, Voldemort – was dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a
frightened of.’ great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and exam-
‘You flatter me,’ said Dumbledore calmly. ‘Voldemort had pow- ined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no num-
ers I will never have.’ bers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must
‘Only because you’re too – well – noble to use them.’ have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back
‘It’s lucky it’s dark. I haven’t blushed so much since Madam in his pocket and said, ‘Hagrid’s late. I suppose it was he who told
Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs.’ you I’d be here, by the way?’
Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and ‘Yes,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘And I don’t suppose you’re
said, ‘The owls are nothing to the rumours that are flying around. going to tell me why you’re here, of all places?’
You know what everyone’s saying? About why he’s disappeared? ‘I’ve come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They’re the
About what finally stopped him?’ only family he has left now.’
It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she ‘You don’t mean – you can’t mean the people who live here?’
was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at
on a cold hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman number four. ‘Dumbledore – you can’t. I’ve been watching them
had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did all day. You couldn’t find two people who are less like us. And
now. It was plain that whatever ‘everyone’ was saying, she was not they’ve got this son – I saw him kicking his mother all the way up
going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!’
Dumbledore, however, was choosing another sherbet lemon and ‘It’s the best place for him,’ said Dumbledore firmly. ‘His aunt
did not answer. and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he’s
‘What they’re say in g,’ she pressed on, ‘is that last night Vold em ort older. I’ve written them a letter.’
turned up in Godric’s Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The ‘A letter?’ repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back
rumour is that Lily and James Potter are – are – that they’re – down on the wall. ‘Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain
dead.’ all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He’ll
Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped. be famous – a legend – I wouldn’t be surprised if today was
‘Lily and James ... I can’t believe it ... I didn’t want to believe it known as Harry Potter day in future – there will be books written
... Oh, Albus ...’ about Harry – every child in our world will know his name!’
Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. ‘I ‘Exactly,’ said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top
16 H ARRY P O T T E R T H E BO Y W H O L I V E D 17

of his half-moon glasses. ‘It would be enough to turn any boy’s curiously-shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.
head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something ‘Is that where –?’ whispered Professor McGonagall.
he won’t even remember! Can’t you see how much better off he’ll ‘Yes,’ said Dumbledore. ‘He’ll have that scar for ever.’
be, growing up away from all that until he’s ready to take it?’ ‘Couldn’t you do something about it, Dumbledore?’
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, ‘Even if I could, I wouldn’t. Scars can come in useful. I have
swallowed and then said, ‘Yes – yes, you’re right, of course. But one myself above my left knee which is a perfect map of the
how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?’ She eyed his cloak London Underground. Well – give him here, Hagrid – we’d better
suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry get this over with.’
underneath it. Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned towards the
‘Hagrid’s bringing him.’ Dursleys’ house.
‘You think it – wise – to trust Hagrid with something as impor- ‘Could I – could I say goodbye to him, sir?’ asked Hagrid.
tant as this?’ He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what
‘I would trust Hagrid with my life,’ said Dumbledore. must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly,
‘I’m not saying his heart isn’t in the right place,’ said Professor Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.
McGonagall grudgingly, ‘but you can’t pretend he’s not careless. ‘Shhh!’ hissed Professor McGonagall. ‘You’ll wake the Muggles!’
He does tend to – what was that?’ ‘S-s-sorry,’ sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large spotted handker-
A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It chief and burying his face in it. ‘But I c-c-can’t stand it – Lily an’
grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for James dead – an’ poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles –’
some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked ‘Yes, yes, it’s all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or
up at the sky – and a huge motorbike fell out of the air and landed we’ll be found,’ Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid
on the road in front of them. gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden
If the motorbike was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the
astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry’s
five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so blankets and then came back to the other two. For a full minute
wild – long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid’s
face, he had hands the size of dustbin lids and his feet in their shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously and the
leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore’s eyes seemed
he was holding a bundle of blankets. to have gone out.
‘Hagrid,’ said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. ‘At last. And ‘Well,’ said Dumbledore finally, ‘that’s that. We’ve no business
where did you get that motorbike?’ staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations.’
‘Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir,’ said the giant, climb- ‘Yeah,’ said Hagrid in a very muffled voice. ‘I’ll be takin’ Sirius
ing carefully off the motorbike as he spoke. ‘Young Sirius Black his bike back. G’night, Professor McGonagall – Professor
lent it me. I’ve got him, sir.’ Dumbledore, sir.’
‘No problems, were there?’ Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung
‘No, sir – house was almost destroyed but I got him out all himself on to the motorbike and kicked the engine into life; with
right before the Muggles started swarmin’ around. He fell asleep a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.
as we was flyin’ over Bristol.’ ‘I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall,’ said
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose
bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. in reply.
Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the
18 H ARRY P O T T E R

corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it

once and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so
that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out
a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the
street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of
number four.
‘Good luck, Harry,’ he murmured. He turned on his heel and
with a swish of his cloak he was gone.
A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay
silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would
expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over
inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on
the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special,
not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in
a few hours’ time by Mrs Dursley’s scream as she opened the front
door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next
few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley ... He
couldn’t know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret
all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in
hushed voices: ‘To Harry Potter – the boy who lived!’