harry potter e a pedra filosofal

CHAPTER ONE
THE BOY  WHO LIVED

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as un Dursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.

None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.

At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.

It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar -- a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen -- then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley  blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back.

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

J. K. Rowling

Bloomsbury, 1997; con ilustracións de  Thomas Taylor

traducida ao galego por Marilar Aleixandre e publicado como

Harry Potter e a pedra filosofal

Vigo, Editorial Galaxia, 2002

CAPÍTULO 1:
O NENO QUE VIVIU

O señor e a señora Dursley, do número catro de Privet Drive, gabábanse de ser normais de todo, moitas gracias. Eran as últimas persoas que un esperaría ver mergulladas en algo estrano ou misterioso porque non tiñan relación ninguna con esas andrómenas.

O señor Durley era director dunha empresa de trades chamada Fungadoiros. Era un home grandón, rexo, que case non tiña pescozo aínda que, e cambio, posuía un enorme bigote. A señora Dursley era fraca e loira e tiña case o dobre da cantidade normal de pescozo, o que lle resultaba moi útil porque pasaba bastante tempo axexando por riba das sebes dos xardíns, fisgado ós vecinos. Os Dursley tiñan un fillo pequeno chamado Dudley, e na súa opinión non había mellor rapaz no mundo.

Os Dursley tiñan todo canto podían desexar, pero tamén tiñan un segredo, e o que lles puña máis medo era que alguén chegase a descubrilo. Non poderían soportar que alguna persoa chegase a sabes dos Potter. A señora Potter era a irmá da señora Dursley, pero había anos que non se vían; en realidade, a señora Durley facía como que non tiña irmá ningunha porque a súa irmá e o lacazán do seu home eran o máis antidursley que se podía ser. Os Dursley tiñan calagríos pensando no que dirían os veciños se un día aparecesen os Potter pola súa rúa. Os Dursley sabían que os Potter tiñan tamén un fillo pequeño, pero nunca o viran diante. O neno era outra boa razón para manter os Potter a distancia; non querían de ningún modo que Dudley tratase cun neno coma ese.

Cando o señor e a señora Durley acordaron no martes gris e desapracible no que comezara a nosa historia, nada había no neboento ceo que indicase que pronto ían comezar a ocorrer cousas estrañas e misteriosas por todo o país. O señor Dursley cantaruxou mentres escollía a máis eslamiada das súas gravatas para ir  traballar e a señora Dursley latricou alegremente Mestres pelexaba cun berrón Dudley ata sentala na súa cadeiriña alta.

Ningún deles se decatou dunha grande avelaiona batendo as ás por fóra da fiestra.

Ás oito e media, o señor Durley colleu o seu maletín bicou a señora Dursley na meixela e intentou, sen logralo, despedirse de Dudley con bico, pois Dudley estaba encabuxado e dedicábase a arrebolar as súas papas á parede. “Pequeño xurafás”, riu o señor Dursley entre dentes saíndo da casa. Meteuse no coche e saíu marcha atrás do xardín do número catro.

Foi na esquina da rúa onde viu o primeiro sinal que indicaba algo raro: un gato estudiando un plano. Por un segundo, o señor Dursley non se decatou do que acababa de ver; entón torceu a cabeza para míralo de novo. Había un gato riscado na esquina de Privet Drive, pero non se vían planos por ningún lado. ¿En que estaría pensando? Debeu ser un engano da luz. O señor Dursley pestanexou e fitou o gato.