Гарри Поттер и философский камень

           Harryshivered. Hewasn’tsurehelikedMr.Ollivandertoomuch. HepaidsevengoldGalleonsforhiswand,andMr.Ollivanderbowedthemfromhisshop. 

           ThelateafternoonsunhunglowintheskyasHarryandHagridmadetheirwaybackdownDiagonAlley, backthroughthewall,backthroughtheLeakyCauldron,nowempty. Harrydidn’tspeakatallastheywalkeddowntheroad; hedidn’tevennoticehowmuchpeopleweregawkingatthemontheUnderground,ladenastheywerewithalltheirfunny-shapedpackages, withthesnowyowlasleepinitscageonHarry’slap. Upanotherescalator,outintoPaddingtonstation; HarryonlyrealizedwheretheywerewhenHagridtappedhimontheshoulder. 

           "Gottimeferabitetoeatbeforeyertrainleaves,"hesaid. 

           HeboughtHarryahamburgerandtheysatdownonplasticseatstoeatthem. Harrykeptlookingaround. Everythinglookedsostrange,somehow. 

           "Youallright,Harry? Yerveryquiet,"saidHagrid. 

           Harrywasn’tsurehecouldexplain. He’djusthadthebestbirthdayofhislife—andyet—hechewedhishamburger,tryingtofindthewords. 

           "EveryonethinksI’mspecial,"hesaidatlast. "AllthosepeopleintheLeakyCauldron,ProfessorQuirrell,Mr.Ollivander...butIdon’tknowanythingaboutmagicatall. Howcantheyexpectgreatthings? I’mfamousandIcan’tevenrememberwhatI’mfamousfor. Idon’tknowwhathappenedwhenVol-,sorry—Imean,thenightmyparentsdied."