the potions master
there, look.”
”where?”
”he tall kid with the red hair.”
”wearing the glasses?”
”did you see his face?”
”did you see his scar?”
whispers followed harry from the mome his dormitory
the day. people lining up outside s stood on tiptoe
to get a look at him, or doubled ba in the corridors
again, staring. harry wished they wouldnt, because he was trying
to trate on finding his way to classes.
there were a hundred and forty-two staircases at hogwarts:
wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rie that led somewhere
different on a friday; some with a vanishing step half that
you had to remember to jump. then there were doors that wouldnt
open unless you asked politely, or tickled them ihe right
plad doors that werent really doors at all, but solid walls
just pretending. it was also very hard to remember where anything
was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. the people in the
portraits kept going to visit each other, and harry was sure the
or could walk.
the ghosts didher. it was always a nasty shock
whehem glided suddenly through a do to
open. nearly headless nick y to point new gryffindors
i dire, but peeves the peist o
locked doors and a trick stair when you were
late for class. he would drop er baskets on your head, pull
rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up
behind you, invisible, grab your nose, a your k!”
evehahat ossible, was the caretaker,
argus filch. harry and ro side of him on
their very first m. fil trying to force their way
through a door that unlued out to be the ehe
out-of-bounds corridor ohird floor. he wouldhey
were lost, was sure they were tryio it on purpose,
and was threatening to lo the duhey were