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Erich Hallhuber. Die Autorin gab an, beim Schreiben der Buchfassung dieser Szene selbst Schwierigkeiten gehabt zu haben, Whiplash Movie diese Änderung für sie am leichtesten zu akzeptieren war. Amazon Payment Products. Auch die Rettungsaktion für den Drachen Norbert, die im Buch ein ganzes Kapitel einnimmt, zeigt, dass die Freunde bereit sind, aus Solidarität zu Hagrid Regelbruch und Gefahren hinzunehmen. Oktober bei RTL erstmals zu sehen. In beiden Serien English Stream waren die Reaktionen ausnehmend positiv. OktoberS.

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Chris Columbus. He went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.

Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question. Harry looked in the bowl again. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished.

He sat down at the table and tried not to think about how he was going to look on his first day at Stonewall High -- like he was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry's new uniform. They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and -- a letter for Harry.

Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him.

Who would? He had no friends, no other relatives -- he didn't belong to the library, so he'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake: Mr.

Potter The Cupboard under the Stairs 4 Privet Drive Little Whinging Surrey The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink.

There was no stamp. Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter. He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope.

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights.

And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge. Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach.

Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

Oh my goodness -- Vernon! Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry, his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor.

You don't think they're watching the house? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want --" Harry could see Uncle Vernon's shiny black shoes pacing up and down the kitchen.

If they don't get an answer Yes, that's best Didn't we swear when we took him in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?

He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful. Your aunt and I have been thinking It only took Harry one trip upstairs to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room.

He sat down on the bed and stared around him. Nearly everything in here was broken. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbor's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he'd put his foot through when his favorite program had been canceled; there was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it.

Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched.

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, I don't want him in there I need that room Yesterday he'd have given anything to be up here.

Today he'd rather be back in his cupboard with that letter than up here without it. Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet.

Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly. When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry, made Dudley go and get it.

They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's another one!

Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind.

After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry's letter clutched in his hand.

Someone knew he had moved out of his cupboard and they seemed to know he hadn't received his first letter. Surely that meant they'd try again?

And this time he'd make sure they didn't fail. He had a plan. The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning.

Harry turned it off quickly and dressed silently. He mustn't wake the Dursleys. He stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights. He was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first.

His heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall toward the front door -- Harry leapt into the air; he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat -- something alive!

Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Harry realized that the big, squashy something had been his uncle's face.

Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Harry didn't do exactly what he'd been trying to do.

He shouted at Harry for about half an hour and then told him to go and make a cup of tea. Harry shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the time he got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap.

I want --" he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before his eyes. Uncle Vernon didnt go to work that day.

He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot. On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Harry. As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.

Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out.

He hummed "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" as he worked, and jumped at small noises. On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to Harry found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window.

While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry leapt into the air trying to catch one.

When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.

I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments! Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway.

Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag.

They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while.

They didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling. He'd never had such a bad day in his life.

He was hungry, he'd missed five television programs he'd wanted to see, and he'd never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer. Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city.

Dudley and Harry shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored but Harry stayed awake, sitting on the windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars and wondering They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day.

They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table. The woman stared. Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?

Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again.

The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.

Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared. It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car.

Dud ley sniveled. I want to stay somewhere with a television. This reminded Harry of something. If it was Monday -- and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days the week, because of television -- then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Harry's eleventh birthday.

Of course, his birthdays were never exactly fun -- last year, the Dursleys had given him a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks.

Still, you weren't eleven every day. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd bought. Everyone out!

Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine.

One thing was certain, there was no television in there. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces.

After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.

The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty.

There were only two rooms. Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up.

He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Harry privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer him up at all.

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows.

She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry was left to find the softest bit of floor he could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket.

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry couldn't sleep. He shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, his stomach rumbling with hunger.

Dudley's snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Harry he'd be eleven in ten minutes' time.

He lay and watched his birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now. Five minutes to go.

Harry heard something creak outside. He hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in, although he might be warmer if it did.

Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that he'd be able to steal one somehow. Three minutes to go.

Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And two minutes to go what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea?

One minute to go and he'd be eleven. Thirty seconds The whole shack shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.

They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake. There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room.

He was holding a rifle in his hands -- now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them. The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.

A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame.

The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all. It's not been an easy journey Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

I demand that you leave at once, sit! Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

Got summat fer yeh here -- I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right. Harry opened it with trembling fingers.

Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Harry written on it in green icing. Harry looked up at the giant.

He meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth, and what he said instead was, "Who are you?

He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there.

It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Harry felt the warmth wash over him as though he'd sunk into a hot bath.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea.

Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley.

Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, he said, "I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are. Hagrid looked shocked. I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud!

Did yeh never wonder where yet parents learned it all? In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

He had been to school, after all, and his marks weren't bad. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world. Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble.

You're famous. My -- my mom and dad weren't famous, were they? Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice. I forbid you to tell the boy anything!

Never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer him? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from him all these years?

Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be?

An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh read yer letter. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Potter, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress Questions exploded inside Harry's head like fireworks and he couldn't decide which to ask first.

After a few minutes he stammered, "What does it mean, they await my owl? With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harry could read upside down: Dear Professor Dumbledore, Given Harry his letter.

Taking him to buy his things tomorrow. Weather's horrible. Hope you're Well. Hagrid Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm.

Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone. Harry realized his mouth was open and closed it quickly.

Hagrid grunted. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on. Wizard indeed!

Of course we knew! Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school-and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats.

I was the only one who saw her for what she was -- a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!

It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years. As soon as he found his voice he said, "Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!

It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter not knowin' his own story when every kid in our world knows his name! What happened? The anger faded from Hagrid's face.

He looked suddenly anxious. Ah, Harry, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh -- but someone 3 s gotta -- yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'.

No one does. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went As bad as you could go.

Worse than worse. His name was All right -- Voldemort. Anyway, this -- this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers.

Got 'em, too -- some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry.

Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches He was takin' over. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts.

Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day!

Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago.

You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an' -- an' --" Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

An' then -- an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing -- he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then.

Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a Powerful, evil curse touches yeh -- took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even -- but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous, Harry.

No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age -- the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts -- an' you was only a baby, an' you lived.

As Hagrid's story came to a close, he saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than he had ever remembered it before -- and he remembered something else, for the first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

Hagrid was watching him sadly. Brought yeh ter this lot Harry jumped; he had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there.

Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley -I'm warning you -- one more word Same night he tried ter kill you.

Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die.

Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours.

Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Too weak to carry on. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on -- I dunno what it was, no one does -- but somethin' about you stumped him, all right.

A wizard? How could he possibly be? He'd spent his life being clouted by Dudley, and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if he was really a wizard, why hadn't they been turned into warty toads every time they'd tried to lock him in his cupboard?

If he'd once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to kick him around like a football?

I don't think I can be a wizard. Never made things happen when you was scared or angry? Now he came to think about it Hadn't he set a boa constrictor on him?

Harry looked back at Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at him. I've read those letters and he needs all sorts of rubbish -- spell books and wands and --" "If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop him," growled Hagrid.

Yer mad. His name's been down ever since he was born. He's off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and he won't know himself.

But he had finally gone too far. When he turned his back on them, Harry saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do.

I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff -- one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job "Why aren't you supposed to do magic?

In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore.

Although he could tell it was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight. When I open my eyes I'll be at home in my cupboard. And there's Aunt Petunia knocking on the door, Harry thought, his heart sinking.

But he still didn't open his eyes. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

Harry scrambled to his feet, so happy he felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside him. He went straight to the window and jerked it open.

The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat.

Look in the pockets. Then he flew off through the open window. He had just thought of something that made him feel as though the happy balloon inside him had got a puncture.

Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold -- an' I wouldn' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither.

Run by goblins. Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe -- 'cept maybe Hogwarts.

As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business. Fetchin' you gettin' things from Gringotts -- knows he can trust me, see.

Come on, then. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.

Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.

And then yeh gotta find yer way -- Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground.

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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.

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.

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.

The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere. A Ruthless Proposition.

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There was no stamp. That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. We've listed a number of streaming and Highness services - including rental, purchase, and subscription alternatives - along with the availability of 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone' on each platform. He looked even smaller and skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of Dudley's, and Dudley was about four times bigger than he was. It wasn't bad, either, Harry thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley, except Trick Or Treat Film it wasn't blond. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim? Harry hated Wm Planer 2019 there.

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