Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From 
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.
Taped to the note was a fifty-pence 
piece. 
“That’s friendly,” said Harry. 
Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence. 
“
Weird
!” he said, “What a shape! This is 
money
?” 
“You can keep it,” said Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron was. 
“Hagrid and my aunt and uncle — so who sent these?” 
“I think I know who that one’s from,” said Ron, turning a bit 
pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. “My mom. I told her 
you didn’t expect any presents and — oh, no,” he groaned, “she’s 
made you a Weasley sweater.” 
Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted 
sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge. 

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THE MIRROR OF ERISED 
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201 
‘
“Every year she makes us a sweater,” said Ron, unwrapping his 
own, “and mine’s 
always
maroon.” 
“That’s really nice of her,” said Harry, trying the fudge, which 
was very tasty. 
His next present also contained candy — a large box of Choco-
late Frogs from Hermione. 
This only left one parcel. Harry picked it up and felt it. It was 
very light. He unwrapped it. 
Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor 
where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped. 
“I’ve heard of those,” he said in a hushed voice, dropping the 
box of Every Flavor Beans he’d gotten from Hermione. “If that’s 
what I think it is — they’re really rare, and 
really
valuable.” 
“What is it?” 
Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was 
strange to the touch, like water woven into material. 
“It’s an Invisibility Cloak,” said Ron, a look of awe on his face. 
“I’m sure it is — try it on.” 
Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell. 
“It 
is
! Look down!” 
Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed 
to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just 
his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He 
pulled the cloak over his head and his reflection vanished com-
pletely. 
“There’s a note!” said Ron suddenly. “A note fell out of it!” 
Harry pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in nar-
row, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following 
words: 

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CHAPTER TWELVE 
‘
202 
‘
Your father left this in my possession before 
he died. It is time it was returned to you. 
Use it well. 
A Very Merry Christmas to you. 
There was no signature. Harry stared at the note. Ron was admir-
ing the cloak. 
“I’d give 
anything
for one of these,” he said. “
Anything.
What’s 
the matter?” 
“Nothing,” said Harry. He felt very strange. Who had sent the 
cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father? 
Before he could say or think anything else, the dormitory door 
was flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in. Harry 
stuffed the cloak quickly out of sight. He didn’t feel like sharing it 
with anyone else yet. 
“Merry Christmas!” 
“Hey, look — Harry’s got a Weasley sweater, too!” 
Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large 
yellow F on it, the other a G. 
“Harry’s is better than ours, though,” said Fred, holding up 
Harry’s sweater. “She obviously makes more of an effort if you’re 
not family.” 
“Why aren’t you wearing yours, Ron?” George demanded. 
“Come on, get it on, they’re lovely and warm.” 
“I hate maroon,” Ron moaned halfheartedly as he pulled it over 
his head. 
“You haven’t got a letter on yours,” George observed. “I suppose 
she thinks you don’t forget your name. But we’re not stupid — we 
know we’re called Gred and Forge.” 

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THE MIRROR OF ERISED 
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203 
‘
“What’s all this noise?” 
Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disap-
proving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his 
presents as he, too, carried a lumpy sweater over his arm, which 
Fred seized. 
“P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we’re all wearing ours, 
even Harry got one.” 
“I — don’t — want —” said Percy thickly, as the twins forced 
the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew. 
“And you’re not sitting with the prefects today, either,” said 
George. “Christmas is a time for family.” 
They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his 
side by his sweater. 
Harry had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner. A hun-
dred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; 
platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, 
rich gravy and cranberry sauce — and stacks of wizard crackers 
every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favors were 
nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, 
with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. 
Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn’t just bang, it 
went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud 
of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral’s hat 
and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore 
had swapped his pointed wizard’s hat for a flowered bonnet, and 
was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him. 
Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly 
broke his teeth on a silver Sickle embedded in his slice. Harry 

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CHAPTER TWELVE 
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204 
‘
watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called 
for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, 
who, to Harry’s amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lop-
sided. 
When Harry finally left the table, he was laden down with a 
stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of non-
explodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and 
his own new wizard chess set. The white mice had disappeared and 
Harry had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs. Nor-
ris’s Christmas dinner. 
Harry and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furi-
ous snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping 
for breath, they returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common 
room, where Harry broke in his new chess set by losing spectacu-
larly to Ron. He suspected he wouldn’t have lost so badly if Percy 
hadn’t tried to help him so much. 
After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christ-
mas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed 
except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over 
Gryffindor Tower because they’d stolen his prefect badge. 
It had been Harry’s best Christmas day ever. Yet something had 
been nagging at the back of his mind all day. Not until he climbed 
into bed was he free to think about it: the Invisibility Cloak and 
whoever had sent it. 
Ron, full of turkey and cake and with nothing mysterious to 
bother him, fell asleep almost as soon as he’d drawn the curtains of 
his four-poster. Harry leaned over the side of his own bed and 
pulled the cloak out from under it. 

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THE MIRROR OF ERISED 
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205 
‘
His father’s . . . this had been his father’s. He let the material 
flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air.