CHAPTER FOUR
“Hagrid,” he said quietly, “I think you must have made a mis-
take. I don’t think I can be a wizard.”
To his surprise, Hagrid chuckled.
“Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was
scared or angry?”
Harry looked into the fire. Now he came to think about it . . .
every odd thing that had ever made his aunt and uncle furious with
him had happened when he, Harry, had been upset or angry . . .
chased by Dudley’s gang, he had somehow found himself out of
their reach . . . dreading going to school with that ridiculous hair-
cut, he’d managed to make it grow back . . . and the very last time
Dudley had hit him, hadn’t he got his revenge, without even realiz-
ing he was doing it? Hadn’t he set a boa constrictor on him?
Harry looked back at Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was
positively beaming at him.
“See?” said Hagrid. “Harry Potter, not a wizard — you wait,
you’ll be right famous at Hogwarts.”
But Uncle Vernon wasn’t going to give in without a fight.
“Haven’t I told you he’s not going?” he hissed. “He’s going
to Stonewall High and he’ll be grateful for it. I’ve read those let-
ters and he needs all sorts of rubbish — spell books and wands
and —”
“If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won’t stop him,”
growled Hagrid. “Stop Lily an’ James Potter’s son goin’ ter Hog-
warts! Yer mad. His name’s been down ever since he was born. He’s
off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world.
Seven years there and he won’t know himself. He’ll be with young-
sters of his own sort, fer a change, an’ he’ll be under the greatest
headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumbled—”
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