J.K. Rowling – Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows is the seventh and final of the Harry Potter novels written by British author J. K. Rowling. The book was released on 21 July 2007, ending the series that began in 1997 with the publication of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. This book chronicles the events directly following Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (2005), and leads to the long-awaited final confrontation between Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows was published in the United Kingdom by Bloomsbury Publishing, in the United States by Scholastic, in Canada by Raincoast Books, and in Australia and New Zealand by Allen & Unwin. Released globally in ninety-three countries, Deathly Hallows broke sales records as the fastest-selling book ever. It sold 15 million copies in the first twenty-four hours following its release, including more than 11 million in the U.S. and U.K. alone. The previous record, nine million in its first day, had been held by Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. The novel has also been translated into numerous languages, including Ukrainian, Swedish, Polish and Hindi.

Several awards were given to the novel, including the 2008 Colorado Blue Spruce Book Award, and it was listed as a “Best Book for Young Adults” by the American Library Association.[7] Reception to the book was generally positive, although some reviewers found the characters to be repetitive or unchanging. A two-part film based on the novel is in the works, with part one’s release date in November 2010.

Some lines from chapter one:
The Dark Lord Ascending
The two men appeared out of nowhere, a few yards apart in the narrow, moonlit lane. For a second they stood quite still, wands directed at each other’s chests; then, recognizing each other, they stowed their wands beneath their cloaks and started walking briskly in the same direction.

“News?” asked the taller of the two.

“The best,” replied Severus Snape.

The lane was bordered on the left by wild, low-growing brambles, on the right by a high, neatly manicured hedge. The men’s long cloaks flapped around their ankles as they marched.

“Thought I might be late,” said Yaxley, his blunt features sliding in and out of sight as the branches of overhanging trees broke the moonlight. “It was a little trickier than I expected. But I hope he will be satisfied. You sound confident that your reception will be good?”

Snape nodded, but did not elaborate. They turned right, into a wide driveway that led off the lane. The high hedge curved into them, running off into the distance beyond the pair of imposing wrought-iron gates barring the men’s way. Neither of them broke step: In silence both raised their left arms in a kind of salute and passed straight through, as though the dark metal was smoke.

The yew hedges muffled the sound of the men’s footsteps. There was a rustle somewhere to their right: Yaxley drew his wand again pointing it over his companion’s head, but the source of the noise proved to be nothing more than a pure-white peacock, strutting majestically along the top of the hedge.

“He always did himself well, Lucius. Peacocks …” Yaxley thrust his wand back under his cloak with a snort.

A handsome manor house grew out of the darkness at the end of the straight drive, lights glinting in the diamond paned downstairs windows. Somewhere in the dark garden beyond the hedge a fountain was playing. Gravel crackled beneath their feet as Snape and Yaxley sped toward the front door, which swung inward at their approach, though nobody had visibly opened it.

The hallway was large, dimly lit, and sumptuously decorated, with a magnificent carpet covering most of the stone floor. The eyes of the pale-faced portraits on the wall followed Snape and Yaxley as they strode past. The two men halted at a heavy wooden door leading into the next room, hesitated for the space of a heartbeat, then Snape turned the bronze handle.

The drawing room was full of silent people, sitting at a long and ornate table. The room’s usual furniture had been pushed carelessly up against the walls. Illumination came from a roaring fire beneath a handsome marble mantelpiece surmounted by a gilded mirror. Snape and Yaxley lingered for a moment on the threshold. As their eyes grew accustomed to the lack of light, they were drawn upward to the strangest feature of the scene: an apparently unconscious human figure hanging upside down over the table, revolving slowly as if suspended by an invisible rope, and reflected in the mirror and in the bare, polished surface of the table below. None of the people seated underneath this singular sight were looking at it except for a pale young man sitting almost directly below it. He seemed unable to prevent himself from glancing upward every minute or so.

“Yaxley. Snape,” said a high, clear voice from the head of the table. “You are very nearly late.”

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J.K. Rowling – Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is the fifth novel in the Harry Potter series written by J. K. Rowling. The novel features Harry Potter’s struggles through his fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, including the surreptitious return of Harry’s nemesis Lord Voldemort, O.W.L. exams, and an obstructive Ministry of Magic.

It is the longest book in the series, and was published on 21 June 2003 by Bloomsbury in the United Kingdom, Scholastic in the United States, and Raincoast in Canada. The book has been made into a film, which was released in 2007, and has also been made into several video games by Electronic Arts. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix has won several awards, including being named an American Library Association Best Book for Young Adults in 2003.

Throughout the four previous novels in the Harry Potter series, the main character, Harry Potter, has struggled with the difficulties that come with growing up and the added challenge of being a famous wizard. When Harry was a baby, Voldemort, the most powerful Dark wizard in history, killed Harry’s parents but mysteriously vanished after unsuccessfully trying to kill Harry. This results in Harry’s immediate fame and his being placed in the care of his muggle, or non-magical, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, who have a son named Dudley Dursley.

Some lines from Chapter One:
Dudley Demented
The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close and a drowsy silence lay over the large, square houses of Privet Drive. Cars that were usually gleaming stood dusty in their drives
and lawns that were once emerald green lay parched and yellowing; the use of hosepipes had
been banned due to drought. Deprived of their usual car-washing and lawn-mowing pursuits, the
inhabitants of Privet Drive had retreated into the shade of their cool houses, windows thrown
wide in the hope of tempting in a nonexistent breeze. The only person left outdoors was a
teenage boy who was lying flat on his back in a flowerbed outside number four.

He was a skinny, black-haired, bespectacled boy who had the pinched, slightly unhealthy look of
someone who has grown a lot in a short space of time. His jeans were torn and dirty, his T-shirt
baggy and faded, and the soles of his trainers were peeling away from the uppers. Harry Potter’s
appearance did not endear him to the neighbors, who were the sort of people who thought
scruffiness ought to be punishable by law, but as he had hidden himself behind a large hydrangea
bush this evening he was quite invisible to passers-by. In fact, the only way he would be spotted
was if his Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia stuck their heads out of the living-room window and
looked straight down into the flowerbed below.

On the whole, Harry thought he was to be congratulated on his idea of hiding here. He was not,
perhaps, very comfortable lying on the hot, hard earth but, on the other hand, nobody was glaring
at him, grinding their teeth so loudly that he could not hear the news, or shooting nasty questions
at him, as had happened every time he had tried sitting down in the living room to watch
television with his aunt and uncle.

Almost as though this thought had fluttered through the open window, Vernon Dursley, Harry’s
uncle, suddenly spoke.

“Glad to see the boy’s stopped trying to butt in. Where is he, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” said Aunt Petunia, unconcerned. “Not in the house.”

Uncle Vernon grunted.

“Watching the news…” he said scathingly. “I’d like to know what he’s really up to. As if a
normal boy cares what’s on the news – Dudley hasn’t got a clue what’s going on; doubt he knows
who the Prime Minister is! Anyway, it’s not as if there’d be anything about his lot on our news–”

“Vernon, shh!” said Aunt Petunia. “The window’s open!”

“Oh – yes – sorry, dear.”

The Dursleys fell silent. Harry listened to a jingle about Fruit ‘n’ Bran breakfast cereal while he
watched Mrs. Figg, a batty cat-loving old lady from nearby Wisteria Walk, amble slowly past.
She was frowning and muttering to herself. Harry was very pleased he was concealed behind the
bush, as Mrs. Figg had recently taken to asking him around for tea whenever she met him in the
street. She had rounded the corner and vanished from view before Uncle Vernon’s voice floated
out of the window again.

“Dudders out for tea?”

“At the Polkisses’,” said Aunt Petunia fondly. “He’s got so many little friends, he’s so popular.”

Harry suppressed a snort with difficulty. The Dursleys really were astonishingly stupid about
their son, Dudley. They had swallowed all his dim-witted lies about having tea with a different
member of his gang every night of the summer holidays. Harry knew perfectly well that Dudley
had not been to tea anywhere; he and his gang spent every evening vandalizing the play park,
smoking on street corners and throwing stones at passing cars and children. Harry had seen them
at it during his evening walks around Little Whinging; he had spent most of the holidays
wandering the streets, scavenging newspapers from bins along the way.

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J.K. Rowling – Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire is the fourth novel in the Harry Potter series written by J. K. Rowling, published on 8 July 2000. The book attracted additional attention because of a pre-publication warning from J. K. Rowling that one of the characters would be murdered in the book.

The novel won a Hugo Award in 2001; it was the only Harry Potter novel to do so. The book was made into a film, which was released worldwide on 18 November 2005.

Throughout the three previous novels in the Harry Potter series, the main character, Harry Potter, has struggled with the difficulties that come with growing up and the added challenge of being a famous wizard. When Harry was a baby, Voldemort, the most powerful Dark wizard in history, killed Harry’s parents but mysteriously vanished after unsuccessfully trying to kill Harry. This results in Harry’s immediate fame and his being placed in the care of his muggle, or non-magical, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, who have a son named Dudley Dursley.

Some lines from Chapter One:
The Riddle House
The villagers of Little Hangleton still called it “the Riddle House,” even though it had been many years since the Riddle family had lived there. It stood on a hill overlooking the village, some of its windows boarded, tiles missing from its roof, and ivy spreading unchecked over its face. Once a fine-looking manor, and easily the largest and grandest building for miles around, the Riddle House was now damp, derelict, and unoccupied.

The Little Hagletons all agreed that the old house was “creepy.” Half a century ago, something strange and horrible had happened there, something that the older inhabitants of the village still liked to discuss when topics for gossip were scarce. The story had been picked over so many times, and had been embroidered in so many places, that nobody was quite sure what the truth was anymore. Every version of the tale, however, started in the same place: Fifty years before, at daybreak on a fine summer’s morning when the Riddle House had still been well kept and impressive, a maid had entered the drawing room to find all three Riddles dead.

The maid had run screaming down the hill into the village and roused as many people as she could.

“Lying there with their eyes wide open! Cold as ice! Still in their dinner things!”

The police were summoned, and the whole of Little Hangleton had seethed with shocked curiosity and ill-disguised excitement. Nobody wasted their breath pretending to feel very sad about the Riddles, for they had been most unpopular. Elderly Mr. and Mrs. Riddle had been rich, snobbish, and rude, and their grown-up son, Tom, had been, if anything, worse. All the villagers cared about was the identity of their murderer — for plainly, three apparently healthy people did not all drop dead of natural causes on the same night.

The Hanged Man, the village pub, did a roaring trade that night; the whole village seemed to have turned out to discuss the murders. They were rewarded for leaving their firesides when the Riddles’ cook arrived dramatically in their midst and announced to the suddenly silent pub that a man called Frank Bryce had just been arrested.

“Frank!” cried several people. “Never!”

Frank Bryce was the Riddles’ gardener. He lived alone in a run-down cottage on the grounds of the Riddle House. Frank had come back from the war with a very stiff leg and a great dislike of crowds and loud noises, and had been working for the Riddles ever since.

There was a rush to buy the cook drinks and hear more details.

“Always thought he was odd,” she told the eagerly listening villagers, after her fourth sherry. “Unfriendly, like. I’m sure if I’ve offered him a cuppa once, I’ve offered it a hundred times. Never wanted to mix, he didn’t.”

“Ah, now,” said a woman at the bar, “he had a hard war, Frank. He likes the quiet life. That’s no reason to —”

“Who else had a key to the back door, then?” barked the cook. “There’s been a spare key hanging in the gardener’s cottage far back as I can remember! Nobody forced the door last night! No broken windows! All Frank had to do was creep up to the big house while we was all sleeping…”

The villagers exchanged dark looks.

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J.K. Rowling – Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is the third novel in the Harry Potter series written by J. K. Rowling. The book was published on 8 July 1999. The novel won the 1999 Whitbread Book Award, the Bram Stoker Award, the 2000 Locus Award, and was short-listed for other awards, including the Hugo. This placed the novel among the most-honoured works of fantasy in recent history. A film based on the novel was released on 31 May 2004, in the United Kingdom and 4 June 2004 in the U.S. and many other countries. This is the only novel in the series that does not feature Lord Voldemort in some form.

Of the first three books in the series, Prisoner of Azkaban took the shortest amount of time to write – Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone took five years to complete and Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets needed two years, while Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban was written in one year. Rowling’s favorite aspect of this book was introducing the character Remus Lupin.

Some lines from Chapter One:

Owl Post

Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways. For one thing, he hated the summer holidays more than any other time of year. For another, he really wanted to do his homework but was forced to do it in secret, in the dead of night. And he also happened to be a wizard.

It was nearly midnight, and he was lying on his stomach in bed, the blankets drawn right over his head like a tent, a flashlight in one hand and a large leather-bound book (A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot) propped open against the pillow. Harry moved the tip of his eagle-feather quill down the page, frowning as he looked for something that would help him write his essay, ‘Witch Burning in the Fourteenth Century Was Completely Pointless — discuss.’

The quill paused at the top of a likely looking paragraph. Harry pushed his round glasses up the bridge of his nose, moved his flashlight closer to the book, and read:

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J.K. Rowling – Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets is the second instalment in the Harry Potter series written by J. K. Rowling. The plot follows Harry’s second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, during which a series of messages on the walls on the school’s corridors warn that the “Chamber of Secrets” has been opened and that the “heir of Slytherin” will kill all pupils who do not come from all-magical families. These threats are followed by attacks which leave residents of the school “petrified” (that is, frozen). Throughout the year, Harry and his friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger investigate the attacks, and Harry is confronted by Lord Voldemort, who is attempting to regain full power.

The book was published in the United Kingdom on 2 July 1998 by Bloomsbury and in the United States on 2 June 1999 by Scholastic Inc. Although Rowling found it difficult to finish the book, it won high praise and awards from critics, young readers and the book industry, although some critics thought the story was perhaps too frightening for younger children. Some religious authorities have condemned its use of magical themes, while others have praised its emphasis on self-sacrifice and on the way in which a person’s character is the result of the person’s choices.

Some lines from Chapter One:
The Worst Birthday
Not for the first time, an argument had broken out over breakfast at number four, Privet Drive. Mr. Vernon Dursley had been woken in the early hours of the morning by a loud, hooting noise from his nephew Harry’s room.

“Third time this week!” he roared across the table. “If you can’t control that owl, it’ll have to go!”

Harry tried, yet again, to explain.

“She’s bored,” he said. “She’s used to flying around outside. If I could just let her out at night -”

“Do I look stupid?” snarled Uncle Vernon, a bit of fried egg dangling from his bushy mustache. “I know what’ll happen if that owl’s let out.”

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