“What's that?" he snarled, staring at the envelope Harry was still clutching in his hand. "If it's another form for me to sign, you've got another -""It's not," said Harry cheerfully. "It's a letter from my godfather.""Godfather?" sputtered Uncle Vernon. "You haven't got a godfather!""Yes, I have," said Harry brightly. "He was my mum and dad's best friend. He's a convicted murderer, but he's broken out of wizard prison and he's on the run. He likes to keep in touch with me, though...keep up with my news...check if I'm happy....”

“He was my mum and dad's best friend. He's a convicted murderer, but he's broken out of wizard prison and he's on the run. He likes to keep in touch with me, though...keep up with my news...check if I'm happy...”

“Well, here goes," said Harry, and he raised the little bottle and took a carefully measured gulp."What does it feel like?" whispered Hermione.Harry did not answer for a moment. Then, slowly but surely, an exhilarating sense of infinite opportunity stole through him; he felt as though he could have done anything, anything at all...and getting the memory from Slughorn seemed suddenly not only possible, but positively easy....He got to his feet, smiling, brimming with confidence."Excellent," he said. "Really excellent. Right...I'm going down to Hagrid's.""What?" said Ron and Hermione together, looking aghast. "No, Harry - you've got to go and see Slughorn, remember?" said Hermione."No," said Harry confidently. "I'm going to Hagrid's, I've got a good feeling about going to Hagrid's.""You've got a good feeling about burying a giant spider?" asked Ron, looking stunned."Yeah," said Harry, pulling his Invisibility Cloak out of his bag. "I feel like it's the place to be tonight, you know what I mean?" "No," said Ron and Hermione together, both looking positively alarmed now."This is Felix Felicis, I suppose?" said Hermione anxiously, holding up the bottle to the light. "You haven't got another little bottle full - I don't know -""Essence of Insanity?" suggested Ron, as Harry swung his cloak over his shoulders.”

“Uncle Vernon rounded on Harry. “And you?”“I’ll be in my bedroom, making no noise and pretending I’m not there,” said Harry tonelessly.“Exactly,” said Uncle Vernon nastily. At eight-fifteen—”“I’ll announce dinner,” said Aunt Petunia.“And, Dudley, you’ll say —”“May I take you through to the dining room, Mrs. Mason?” said Dudley.“And you?” said Uncle Vernon viciously to Harry.“I’ll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I’m not there,” said Harry dully.“Precisely. Now, we should aim to get in a few good compliments at dinner.“How about — ‘We had to write an essay about our hero at school, Mr. Mason, and I wrote about you.’”This was too much for both Aunt Petunia and Harry. Aunt Petunia burst into tears while Harry ducked under the table so they wouldn’t see him laughing.“And you, boy?”Harry fought to keep his face straight as he emerged. “I’ll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I’m not there,” he said.”

“Malfoy glanced around. Harry knew he was checking for signs of teachers. Then he looked back at Harry and said in a low voice, "You're dead, Potter."Harry raised his eyebrows. "Funny," he said, "you'd think I'd have stopped walking around...”

“Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?""Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of were thickset and looked like bodyguards."Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelssly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.”

“I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Harry, remembering suddenly. "It was flying."Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"Dudley and Piers sniggered."I know they don't," said Harry. "It was only a dream.”