Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, condensed

(or PHILOSOPHER'S STONE if you want to get technical)

NOTE AS OF 2020: I strongly disagree with J. K. Rowling’s statements on trans people and was tempted to take down these parodies, as I don’t wish for anyone to misinterpret my HP writings as a tacit endorsement of JKR herself. I wrote the parodies before I became aware of her statements, however, and in the interests of appreciating—and/or making fun of—works even if you cannot entirely approve of their author, I will leave them up for now. Trans and enby folk, I am with you! - Molly

(Also on AO3 now.)

by Molly Ringle

October 26, 2008






MR. DURSLEY: (grumbling to self) Dratted weirdos in pointy hats and cloaks everywhere today...invading my personal space, calling me a Mugger... And cats! Cats staring at me!

MR. DURSLEY hurries into his house.

EVENING NEWS ANCHOR 1: Sure are loads of owls, shooting stars, and plagues of locusts soaring through the skies tonight, eh Jim?

EVENING NEWS ANCHOR 2: That's right, Ted. Quite the amusing day. Expect tomorrow we'll have the Thames running with blood. (congenial laughter) Right then, the weather report.

DUMBLEDORE pops out of thin air, and uses some device thingy to put out all the streetlights.

PEOPLE WHO HAVE READ ALL THE BOOKS: Now that I think about it, it's weird they don't have a spell for that.

DUMBLEDORE sits down next to the CAT, who turns into MCGONAGALL.

DUMBLEDORE: So, Voldemort seems finally to be gone.

MCGONAGALL: Which is good.

DUMBLEDORE: But James and Lily Potter are dead.

MCGONAGALL: Which is bad.

DUMBLEDORE: But their baby son Harry defeated Voldemort just by existing.

MCGONAGALL: Which is good.

DUMBLEDORE: And I'm having Hagrid bring him here so these Muggles can raise him for ten years.

MCGONAGALL: *These* Muggles?? Agh! I nearly spat up a hairball listening to them all day. (And I quote...) He'll be famous--a legend...there will be books written about Harry--every child in our world will know his name!

MODERN READERS: As it happens, I can tell you what it's like to live in a world like that.

DUMBLEDORE: He needs a humble upbringing. If he's a child celebrity, he'll be bulimic, drug-addicted, and divorced by the time he's twelve.

HAGRID drops out of the sky on a giant motorcycle, holding BABY HARRY in a blanket.

HAGRID: I'll miss 'im so! (*sob*) Can't I raise 'im, Professor? I'll keep 'im right near my Blast-Ended Skrewts so's as he'll stay warm.

DUMBLEDORE: Er, no, I think we'd best take our chances with the Dursleys.

They dump HARRY on the doorstep and leave, not even hanging around to see if anyone finds him before the frost settles in or what.







AUNT PETUNIA: Harry! Pick the spiders out of your hair and get out of bed! Cook Dudley's bacon! Drat, there's nobody we can foist you onto for the day while we sit about and worship Dudley.

DUDLEY: Waaah! I hate him!

HARRY: Leave me at home. I'd rather clean the floors with my tongue than come with you.

UNCLE VERNON: Shut up and get in the back seat.

At the zoo, HARRY stares at a SNAKE until it starts to notice.

HARRY: Must suck to be you. Bad enough for me that I sleep in a cupboard, but at least loads of strangers aren't staring at me all day to see what I'll do next.

SNAKE: Just you wait till you get to Hogwarts.


SNAKE slithers past through no-longer-existent glass in the window.

ZOO PATRONS: (*total freakout*)

UNCLE VERNON: (to HARRY) Home! Cupboard! Now!

HARRY: (musing to self, back home in his cupboard) And that was the best day I've had in years.







DUDLEY: I'm sure I don't look the least bit like a prat in my new orange and maroon school uniform.

HARRY: Hah, loser. Imagine having to go to a school with silly colorful uniforms.

The mail arrives. HARRY gets a letter.

HARRY: "To Harry Potter, cupboard under the stairs"? Neat. I have a stalker.

VERNON: Give it here! Egads. Er, right, that's for me. I signed up as you, on this pen-pal site, and--never mind. Harry, dear lad, why don't you move into Dudley's other room?

HARRY: (next day) Hey, another one. "To Harry Potter, smallest bedroom, wearing the big faded striped shirt..."

VERNON: Nope. Can't let you have that one either.

Within four days, letters are pouring in through cracks in the walls, coming down the chimney, and appearing inside eggs, which explode and fry themselves on the counter.

REFRIGERATOR: (in creepy growl) Zuuuuul.

DUDLEY: Shouldn't we call the Ghostbusters? Or at least the police?

VERNON and PETUNIA: No! Definitely not!

HARRY: The fact that I'm intrigued by these letters, and not completely freaked out, just shows how much I hate living here.

VERNON: We're driving. Aimlessly. Let's go.

HOTEL PORTER IN MIDDLE OF NOWHERE: Scuse me, H. Potter? Got a few hundred letters for you.

HARRY: Cool. Still not terrified.

VERNON: Everyone into a boat! Never mind the rainstorm. We're rowing off to that small shack on a rock in the ocean. Because that's exactly the sort of place you want to be when supernatural forces are chasing you.

HARRY: (trying to sleep in said shack on rock in ocean) Oh well, at least I'll remember my eleventh birthday. "Ah, yes," I'll say. "That was the year I found out I was channeling a poltergeist, and Uncle Vernon got himself and Aunt Petunia and Dudley killed by paper cuts from a thousand flying envelopes." Hey, I can dream.

But lo! BOOM! Someone's pounding on the door!







HAGRID busts into the shack.

HAGRID: Evenin'. Got summat to eat?

DURSLEYS: (wibble)

HARRY: Hi, I don't know you, but can you get me out of here?

HAGRID: Absolutely. Time you went off to Hogwarts and got your wizard training like yer mum and dad.

HARRY: Hog where? Wizawhat who now?

HAGRID: (roars at DURSLEYS) You didn't tell him??

HARRY: Hey, um, yell at the Dursleys all you want, seriously. But if you magic people had something to tell me, it wouldn't have hurt you to visit me, oh I don't know, ONCE in the last ten years.

HAGRID: All right. Here's the scoop. Wizards are real. You are one. Don't tell any Muggles.

HARRY: Gotcha.


HAGRID: Ey! Just for that, Dudley gets a pig's tail on his bum. Har. I shouldn't have used magic, really, not after I got expelled, but...

HARRY: Why'd you get expelled?

HAGRID: Strike my last remark from the record! Jury shall disregard!







HAGRID: Here's your list of course books and stuff.

HARRY unrolls a list of authors with very twee names, and the texts they wrote, all of which will eventually be written by ROWLING even if they're fatally boring, because the PUBLISHERS know the FANS will shell out megacash for them.

HARRY: How do I pay for all this?

HAGRID: With yer handy dandy pile o' gold in Gringotts bank, o' course. By the way, don't ever try to rob it, ye hear? They've got dragons, apparently. Dragons would *definitely* keep you from bein' able to rob it.


HAGRID: So, since we're in the bank, I'll get a little super-secret errand done, one where it's really inappropriate to bring a student along, but what the hey...

HAGRID fetches a small package from a vault.

HARRY: What's that?

HAGRID: Nothing! Nothing at all.

HARRY steps into the robe shop. A SNOOTY STUDENT WHO WE ALL KNOW IS DRACO MALFOY is getting his robes fitted.

DRACO: Oh, hello. Posh day out, what what? Even if the air does stink of Muggles in this sodding town.

HARRY: Er, sure.

HARRY/DRACO SHIPPERS RE-READING THE BOOK: See? SEE? Draco's the very first student he meets! Their love is so meant to be!!!!!1!!

HARRY tries swishing around various wands to see which one enhances his wizardliness the best.

OLLIVANDER: That one there. Perfect. My my, how curious. It's a mate to You-Know-Who's wand. 

PEOPLE WHO HAVE READ ALL THE BOOKS: Fine; Rowling did at least plan out some of it from the beginning.







HARRY finds his way to the big red magic train on the magic platform, and meets the WEASLEYS.

MOLLY: I'm a sweet if overbearing mum.

GINNY: I'm teensy and adorable!

PERCY: I'm a snooty prefect.

FRED: We're cheeky--

GEORGE: And goofy--

FRED: And troublesome--

GEORGE: But oh so lovable.

RON: All my stuff is rubbish.

HARRY: I'll be your friend. Have some earwax-flavored candy.

READERS gag and wonder who in the world would actually eat Any Flavored Beans, and why there isn't a spell for making them all taste, you know, GOOD.

DRACO: Say, you're Potter, are you? Want to join my fabulous and exclusive clique? I sent you a Facebook invitation.

HARRY: I'm clicking “deny."

DRACO: Fine. Hate you forever, then. (flounces away)

HERMIONE: Hi there, welcome to the train. On your way to Hogwarts? Well of course you are. Read all your books yet? I have, of course, ten times. Goodness, you're Harry Potter, hello, I'm Hermione Granger, well, must go, a boy named Neville's lost his stupid toad again. Cheerio.

ROWLING: Note to self: Hermione must lose babbling habit or readers will mutiny.







SORTING HAT: Oh, Gryffindors are awesome, rock stars every one / And Hufflepuffs are doofuses, sweet but rather dumb / Ravenclaws are nerdly, studying all day / And Slytherins are evil but we house them anyway!

STUDENTS take turns trying on SORTING HAT. TEACHERS stand by with spell against lice.

HERMIONE: Oh, lovely! I'm a Gryffindor!

NEVILLE: Me too!

HARRY: Me too!

RON: Me too!

CHARACTERS WHO DON'T MATTER: I'm a Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff.

DRACO and other EVIL PEOPLE: I'm a Slytherin. Shocking development, what?

DUMBLEDORE: Welcome, everyone. Quick memo this year: don't go into the third-floor corridor; you'll probably die.

STUDENTS: ...Haha?...

DUMBLEDORE: Now let us sing the school anthem. "Hoggy Warty Hoggywarts, teach us neato stuff / Our heads are empty buckets, lined with pointless fluff ..."

HARRY: Oy. You know, Britain actually has some pretty cool music, but you would never know it from this school.







SNAPE: How foul, I have Harry Potter in my class. I suppose you think you're brilliant and wonderful, don't you?


HERMIONE: I do! Me! I'm brilliant!

SNAPE: You both nauseate me. Ten points from Gryffindor.




HARRY: Look at the newspaper! Someone tried to rob an empty vault in Gringotts, on the same day we were there and you took something from a vault.

HAGRID: Hm, funny, can't imagine what that's about. Here, stuff yer face with rock cakes, that's a good lad.

HARRY: It's not very reassuring that Dumbledore places so much responsibility with Hogwarts' worst liar.







NEVILLE: Gran sent me a Remembrall, which wouldn't matter one bit if it didn't happen to be a ball the size of a Snitch.




MADAM HOOCH: Everyone on a broom. Rise upward, gently.

NEVILLE shoots up like a rocket, falls off, and smacks into the ground with his face.

MADAM HOOCH: Every freaking year, I swear. You all, behave while I take him to the hospital wing. Don't touch those extremely tempting flying toys or anything.

DRACO: (milliseconds after she leaves) Up in the aaaair with Neville's Remembrall / up in the air, up so high! God, I'm awesome.

HARRY yanks up his broomstick. GIRLS gasp. Really, it says that.

DRACO: Okay, you can fly slightly awesome yourself. Still, uh, you must suck somehow...I'm just going to throw the Remembrall as a diversion here.

HARRY: (*swoop*) (*catch*)

MCGONAGALL: You! Punk! Office! Now!

MCGONAGALL drags HARRY into her office with WOOD. The connotations continue. Oh wait, WOOD is a student. OLIVER Wood.

MCGONAGALL: Potter, that was wicked cool. Wood, here's your new Seeker.

HARRY: Oh. Is this some kinky underclassman/upperclassman thing?

OLIVER: It's actually about sport. Though, if you want...

HARRY: We'll just start with sport.




RON: OMFG Harry, you rock.

DRACO: Still say suck.

HARRY: Wands at midnight, Blondie Bear?

DRACO: Fine by me.

HERMIONE: Um, exCUSE me, if you lose any more points from Gryffindor by wandering about all night, I'm SO going to lecture endlessly in your ear for ...wait! Where are you going?




HERMIONE: Well, if you're going to sneak out, I'll at least follow, so I can start my endless lecturing now.

RON and HARRY: Joy.

NEVILLE: I'm coming too, mostly out of incompetence.

HARRY and RON: Whatever.

PEEVES: Students out of bed, Filch! Whee!

OUR BRAVE GRYFFINDORS run away, get to a locked door, which HERMIONE opens with a simple spell, and dart in.

NEVILLE: Oh. Look. It's a gigantic three-headed dog.

HARRY: Huh. You'd think they'd guard that door better, so a student couldn't open it with a simple spell.

RON: How about we run?

THEY do.

HERMIONE: That dog was standing on a trap door! How very curious and amazing!

HARRY: In a school full of secret passageways and moving staircases, not really. But it was convenient of you to notice.







HARRY: Oooh. My big, long, enhanced broomstick arrived.

RON: (And I quote) (*moans*) I've never even touched one.

HARRY: Let's head up to the tower, then.

DRACO: Stop! I get to touch it first!

HARRY: Fine, but just a quick feel.

FLITWICK: Glorious stick, young man, glorious!

HERMIONE: Ugh! I suppose you all think broomstick lengths are everything! Well, let me unload a different perspective upon you.

HARRY: No thanks. 




OLIVER: Okay, Harry, here's how Quidditch works. We fly around hundreds of feet in the air, smacking cannonballs at each other, with no helmets or anything. It's basically one of those sports so violent that only the Brits could have invented it. Got it?





FLITWICK: (And I quote) Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!


HERMIONE: Ron, your wrist movements are positively detestable.

RON: God almighty, pity the bloke who marries her. What a dog-faced spaz.

HERMIONE: (*sob*) (*run*)

RON: Oops, did I say that out loud?



QUIRRELL: Troll loose! Everyone panic!

RON: I suppose we ought to go rescue Hermione from the girls' room, where she's still crying over me.

HARRY: Get off it; you just want to see if any seventh-years have left their bras hanging in there to dry.

RON: Well, yeah.

HARRY and RON, in their noble attempt to help HERMIONE, accidentally lock the TROLL into the girls' room with her. They dash in, interrupting the TROLL in a bit of bathroom redecoration. A few Three Stooges moves later, OUR FAIR GRYFFINDORS have knocked the thing out, and TEACHERS are standing there looking disgusted with them.

MCGONAGALL: Oh, hell. Five points to Gryffindor for your not getting killed. And--Ronald Weasley! Take that brassiere off your head!







HARRY peeks inside, and catches SNAPE lifting his robes for FILCH. Kinky, yes, but the thrill is dampened by the massive bite wounds on SNAPE's leg.

SNAPE: Blasted dog tore my nylons. Filch, could you—agh! Potter! Out! Ten points from Gryffindor for voyeurism!




HARRY: ...And his stockings were jade green, really bad color for his complexion.

RON: Snape must be after the mysterious whats-it under the trapdoor.

HERMIONE: Hmm, you know what we should totally not do? Get involved.

HARRY: So, we're going to?




HARRY: I have the most curious feeling I'm going to die.

Sure enough, HARRY's broomstick freaks out way up in midair.

HAGRID: Huh, that's interesting. Only really dark magic can do that.

HERMIONE: Dude! Snape's muttering at Harry!

HERMIONE books across the stands, stepping on heads and knocking people over, notably including PROFESSOR QUIRRELL, before firebombing SNAPE. HARRY's broomstick recovers, he daintily plucks the Snitch from the air with his teeth, and the game's over.




HARRY: Why would Snape want to kill me? Is it just to get the thing being guarded by the three-headed dog?

HAGRID: You know about Fluffy?

HARRY: Uh-huh.

HAGRID: Well, forget that dog, forget the thing from the vault, forget Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel--

HARRY: Who's Nicolas Flamel?

HAGRID: Nobody! Nothing! Jury shall disregard!







STUDENTS and STAFF: See? We celebrate Christmas. We're not complete heathens. On second thought, burning Rowling's books is great publicity, so carry on.

RON: Let's play chess to pass the time, Harry. Chess, chess, chess. Sure is handy that I know chess.

HARRY: Time to open my presents! An ugly sweater, gross sweets, fifty pence, and, from Anonymous...something my dad owned, which is incredibly difficult to see. But pleasantly silky.

RON: That's an Invisibility Cloak! They're really rare.

HARRY: I have the oddest feeling it will come in indispensably handy approximately 729 times over the course of my schooling.

HARRY takes the cloak on its maiden voyage that night by--get ready for the nerdiness--going to THE LIBRARY to look up Nicolas Flamel. He flubs it up instantaneously, causing a ruckus that sends FILCH after him. HARRY hides in a classroom. There's a nifty mirror there with "Erised" etc. etc. written on it.

READERS: Oh! Oh! Read it backward! Dude! I figured it out! I'm so smart!

HARRY: Yikes. It shows my entire dead family behind me. I'm creeped out, but also strangely addicted. I think I'll come back tomorrow.

He does, bringing RON.

HARRY: See? Isn't my family the sweetest?

RON: Oooh! I don't see your family, but get this, there's this hot girl beside me, right? And remember that bra I swiped? She's wearing it, only, oh! She's taking it off, and--

HARRY: Enough. Thank you.

On the third night when HARRY sneaks out to his Erised rendezvous, DUMBLEDORE is hanging out on a desk.

HARRY: Oh. Hi, Professor. So how come Ron sees sexy glory and I see poignant orphan imagery?

DUMBLEDORE: As everyone figured out who read the text backward, it shows you your heart's desire. But we're moving it tomorrow, so find something healthier to do with your evenings.

HARRY: Okay. Hey, what do you see when you look in the mirror?

ROWLING: "That delicious Slytherin boy I once kissed, and never had the nerve to ask out again...hm, no, I better not actually put that stuff in the texts. Let's see, something more mundane..."








By total chance, HARRY flips over a Chocolate Frog card with DUMBLEDORE on it, and discovers NICOLAS FLAMEL's name.

HARRY: Would you look at that.

HERMIONE: Oh! That jogs my memory as well. (hauling out huge book) There, see? Says he's the owner of the only known Sorcerer's Stone, which turns metal to gold and confers immortality. No wonder Snape wants it. Worth guarding with a three-headed dog, I'd say.

HARRY: Speaking of Snape, I've got the most awful news. He's refereeing the next Quidditch game.

RON and HERMIONE and READERS: Oh no! That's going to spell near-death for Harry!




It doesn't. Game's over in two pages. Gryffindor wins. HARRY's fine. SNAPE's mad and stalks off into the Forbidden Forest afterward. HARRY swoops after him on his broomstick and eavesdrops.




QUIRRELL: Oh S-S-S-Severus, I'm s-s-s-sure I don't know why you're p-p-p-picking on me.

SNAPE: I've warned you, scum. Watch your arse. Or else.

QUIRRELL: Oh no! S-S-S-Snape is going to c-c-c-come and k-k-k-kill me!




HARRY: ...So evidently Snape's using Quirrell's Dark Arts skills to get past Fluffy and get the stone.

HERMIONE: I admit, that sounds disastrous.

PEOPLE WHO HAVE READ ALL THE BOOKS: My head hurts from trying to decide if Snape's actions still make sense in light of his entire character arc.







HARRY: Hi, Hagrid. Tell us what's guarding the Sorcerer's Stone, aside from Fluffy.

HAGRID: I can't. But since you already know that much, I s'pose I will. Lessee, there's spells from, like, all the teachers. But other than Dumbledore, I'm the only one who can get past Fluffy.

HERMIONE: Say, Hagrid, can't help noticing this dragon's egg in your fireplace. How, um, illegal of you.

HAGRID: Yep! Bought it off some nice stranger in a pub. Let's get that sweet little thing up here and watch it hatch.

RON: Aaaagh! It's got my finger!

HAGRID: Ain't it cute?

RON: No. We're sending it to my brother Charlie.

HAGRID: (*sob*) If you must.

HARRY: Once again, I'm so relieved to know that the wizarding world's most important tasks are entrusted to this nutjob.




While HARRY and HERMIONE sneak out under the Invisibility Cloak with NORBERT THE MAN-EATING BABY DRAGON in a box, to send him via Overnight Broomstick to Charlie, DRACO sneaks out too.

MCGONAGALL: Malfoy, you punk. Back to bed, detention with me and my ingenious Scottish tortures, and twenty points from Slytherin.

DRACO: But Harry Potter's got a dragon!

MCGONAGALL: Oh, stow it.

She drags him back to his room.

HERMIONE: That was the best moment ever. We so rule.

HERMIONE and HARRY send off NORBERT from the Astronomy Tower and skip back down to the hallway. Without the cloak. Oops.

FILCH: Caught.

HARRY: We so don't rule.







MCGONAGALL drags HARRY, HERMIONE, and NEVILLE into her office.

HARRY: Neville? What are you doing here?

NEVILLE: I came to save you, Harry! Draco knew all about the drag--

HARRY: (*loud cough of discouragement*)

NEVILLE: Drag...racing. That you were going to go do. With your little toy cars. And stuff.

MCGONAGALL: I'm utterly repelled by the lot of you. Detention at eleven o'clock P.M. in the Forbidden Forest tomorrow, plus a full one hundred and fifty points from Gryffindor. And toilet paper emerging from your robes, stuck there magically so you can't remove it.

HARRY: But...

MCGONAGALL: Nope. One more complaint and I'll add Permanent Boogers Sticking Out of Your Nose.




HAGRID: All right, Harry, Hermione, Neville, Draco. Welcome to detention!

ROWLING says HARRY's heart rises at the notion of detention with HAGRID, which shows some serious lack of mental faculties on HARRY's part, since HAGRID has already done stuff like harbor dragons and tell dangerous secrets haphazardly.

HAGRID: Right, come on into the forest. As per usual at Hogwarts, we've got a task that might kill ya. Something unknown and evil is eatin' unicorns, and we're splittin' up into two groups to look for it.

HAGRID takes HARRY and HERMIONE one direction, while DRACO, FANG, and NEVILLE go the other. Something rustles in a tree.

HAGRID: Show yerself!


HAGRID: Ah good, just you. Listen, seen anything evil in 'ere lately?

RONAN: Mars is bright tonight. Very bright.


RONAN: The Milky Way is sparkly. Jupiter wears a silky frock.

HARRY: Great. The centaurs are borrowing talking points from Legolas.

When DRACO gives NEVILLE a wedgie and sends him into an utter panic, HAGRID switches the groups around, sending HARRY off with DRACO and FANG instead.

HARRY: Oh. Look at that. Dead unicorn.

DRACO: And--eeeeek! Evil cloaked slimy thing!

DRACO takes FANG and runs off. Meanwhile, EVIL HOODED THING zooms at HARRY, who is saved at the last second by FIRENZE THE CENTAUR.

HARRY: Crikey. Who was that in the Scream costume?

FIRENZE: That'd be the guy who's after the Sorcerer's Stone.

HARRY: Snape?

FIRENZE: Voldemort. Duh.

HARRY: Crap. That's bad for me.

FIRENZE: Don't worry. Just because the planets say you'll die doesn't guarantee anything. I'd say you've got a five, maybe even ten percent chance of not getting killed.







HARRY: So, Hagrid, not that I don't trust you or anything, but that stranger who sold you the dragon egg, you didn't talk to him about, like, how to get past Fluffy, did you?

HAGRID: Oh, sure, we chatted about that. Play 'im a bit of music, I said, and the stranger was all, "Light jazz or what?", and I was like, "Anythin'll do..." Oops. Jus' forget I told ye that, all right?

HARRY: God, Hagrid. Are you *trying* to get us killed?




HARRY: Professor McGonagall, we need Dumbledore! Someone's going to steal the Sorcerer's Stone!

MCGONAGALL: He's off to London, and you're high. Don't pester me. (walks off)

HARRY: Okay. Guess we're going in ourselves.

HERMIONE: But we'll be expelled!

HARRY: Which is worse than "dead," how?




HARRY: Music, huh? Okay. Ahem. (sings) "I'm gonna buy me a dog / 'Cause I need a friend now..."

While GIGANTIC DOG sleeps, RON, HARRY, and HERMIONE creep through the trapdoor. And the fun enchantments begin!




HERMIONE: Oooh, breaking a spell from each of our teachers! This'll be just like taking our final exams over again. Cool!

RON: You're so twisted. I'm starting to like it a little.

They defeat CRAZY KUDZU PLANT THING, use HARRY's Snitch-snatching skills to catch a FLYING KEY, employ RON's chess expertise to cross a big deathly checkerboard, get lucky in not having to knock out another TROLL because someone already did it for them, and put HERMIONE's mad logic skillz to work in figuring out which nasty Potion HARRY has to drink to get through the last door.

HERMIONE: And if Voldemort's in there, what exactly are you going to do?

HARRY: Hope he just wants to have coffee and talk things over?

HERMIONE: Goodbye, Harry. It was a pleasure knowing you.







HARRY: (*gasp*) Professor Quirrell!

QUIRRELL: Yes, it is I! Haha! Had you fooled, didn't I? Let me tell you how I did it, and how you were wrong about Snape, who was actually trying to stop me and was a big meanie about it!

HE does. HARRY listens politely, noticing that QUIRRELL is poking around with the Mirror of Erised.

BACK OF QUIRRELL'S HEAD: Oh, shut up, Quirrell. Put Potter in front of the damn mirror already.

QUIRRELL: Ah. Yes. There--Potter, what do you see?

HARRY: I'm a rock star with lots of groupies. And definitely no Sorcerer's Stone magically dropping into my pocket. By the way, why is the back of your head talking?

QUIRRELL unwraps his tacky head dressings and turns to reveal VOLDEMORT'S NASTY FACE stuck on his skull.

HARRY: Wow. And I thought the turban was ugly.

VOLDEMORT: Seize him! Kill him!

HARRY: Ack! Fight, fight! (*blacks out*)



DUMBLEDORE: Hi, Harry. Welcome back to the living.

HARRY: Gah! ProfessorQuirrell--gottheStone--itwasVoldemort--ohmyGod--

DUMBLEDORE: Yes, we know. Relax. We fixed everything, destroyed the Stone, et cetera.

HARRY: Whew. So did I actually help at all?

DUMBLEDORE: Not really. You delayed him a minute maybe. But cheer up, it's the thought that counts.

HARRY: Oh. Then can you at least tell me why Voldemort wants to kill me so much?

DUMBLEDORE: No. That's a big secret for now.

EVEN THE FIRST-TIME READERS: I bet there was some prophecy or something about Harry killing Voldemort someday.

HARRY: You left me the invisibility cloak, right?


HARRY: Was that a subtle message that you wanted me to go down there and nearly get killed trying to do something I couldn't possibly understand?

DUMBLEDORE: (*wink*) Maybe.

HARRY: Nice. You ever going to let me in on the plan?

DUMBLEDORE: Over my dead body. But that's actually a "yes" of sorts, so chin up.







© Molly Ringle 2020