All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
wand cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) set
glass or crystal phials
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS
"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry wondered aloud.
"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.
Harry had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he
was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got
stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats
were too small and the trains too slow.
"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed
a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.
Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry had to do was keep
close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants
and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This
was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles
of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell
books and broomsticks? Might this not all be some huge joke that the Dursleys had
cooked up? If Harry hadn't known that the Dursleys had no sense of humor, he might
have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told him so far
was unbelievable, Harry couldn't help trusting him.
"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous
It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry wouldn't
have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes
slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they
couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling
that only he and Hagrid could see it. Before he could mention this, Hagrid had steered
For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting
in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe.
A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and
looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked
in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender
reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"
"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand
on Harry's shoulder and making Harry's knees buckle.
"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry, "is this — can this be --?"
The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.
"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter... what an honor."
He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand,
tears in his eyes.
"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."
Harry didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with
the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.
Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself
shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.
"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."
"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."
"Always wanted to shake your hand — I'm all of a flutter."
"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."
"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his
excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."
"He remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear
that? He remembers me!" Harry shook hands again and again -- Doris Crockford kept
coming back for more.
A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.
"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of
your teachers at Hogwarts."
"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell
you how p- pleased I am to meet you."
"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"
"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though
he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed
nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick
up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.
But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. It took
almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself
heard over the babble.
"Must get on — lots ter buy. Come on, Harry."
Doris Crockford shook Harry's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through
the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash
can and a few weeds.
Hagrid grinned at Harry.
"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin'
ter meet yeh — mind you, he's usually tremblin'."
"Is he always that nervous?"
"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta
books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience.... They say
he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a
hag — never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject
now, where's me umbrella?"
Vampires? Hags? Harry's head was swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks
in the wall above the trash can.
"Three up... two across he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harry."
He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.
The brick he had touched quivered — it wriggled — in the middle, a small hole
appeared — it grew wider and wider — a second later they were facing an archway
large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and
turned out of sight.
"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."
He grinned at Harry's amazement. They stepped through the archway. Harry looked
quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall.
The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons
— All Sizes — Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver — Self-Stirring -- Collapsible, said
a sign hanging over them.
"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."
Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction
as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the
things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary
was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an
ounce, they're mad...."
A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium
— Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry's age had
their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry heard
one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand — fastest ever - — " There were shops
selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had
never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering
piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of
"Gringotts," said Hagrid.
They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops.
Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold,
"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone
steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy,
clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. He
bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver
this time, with words engraved upon them:
Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
"Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.
A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast
marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long
counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining
precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off
the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and
Harry made for the counter.
"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta
Mr. Harry Potter's safe."
"You have his key, Sir?"
"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto
the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of
numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry watched the goblin on their right weighing
a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.
"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.
The goblin looked at it closely.
"That seems to be in order."
"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly,
throwing out his chest. "It's about the YouKnow-What in vault seven hundred and
The goblin read the letter carefully.
"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have Someone take you
down to both vaults. Griphook!"
Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits
back inside his pockets, he and Harry followed Griphook toward one of the doors
leading off the hall.
"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asked.
"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business.
Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."
Griphook held the door open for them. Harry, who had expected more marble, was
surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped
steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled
and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in — Hagrid
with some difficulty — and were off.
At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to
remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible.
The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.
Harry's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open.
Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around
to see if it was a dragon, but too late — they plunged even deeper, passing an underground
lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.
I never know," Harry called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, "what's the
difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"
"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me questions just
now, I think I'm gonna be sick."
He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door
in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his
knees from trembling.
Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it
cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps
of little bronze Knuts.
"All yours," smiled Hagrid.
All Harry's — it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this
or they'd have had it from him faster than blinking. How often had they complained
how much Harry cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune
belonging to him, buried deep under London.
Hagrid helped Harry pile some of it into a bag.
"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon
and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough
fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh." He turned to Griphook.
"Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"
"One speed only," said Griphook.
They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and
colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground
ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom,
but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck.
Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.