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Harry's
aunt and uncle met at work.  Petunia Evans, forever embittered by the
fact that her parents seemed to value her witch sister more than they
valued her, left Cokeworth forever to pursue a typing course in London.
This led to an office job, where she met the extremely unmagical,
opinionated and materialistic Vernon Dursley.  Large and neckless, this
junior executive seemed a model of manliness to young Petunia.  He not
only returned her romantic interest, but was deliciously normal.  He had
a perfectly correct car, and wanted to do completely ordinary things,
and by the time he had taken her on a series of dull dates, during which
he talked mainly about himself and his predictable ideas on the world,
Petunia was dreaming of the moment when he would place a ring on her
finger.
When, in due course, Vernon Dursley proposed marriage, very
correctly, on one knee in his mother's sitting room, Petunia accepted at
once.  The one fly in her delicious ointment was the fear of what her
new fiancé would make of her sister, who was now in her final year at
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Vernon was apt to despise
even people who wore brown shoes with black suits; what he would make of
a young woman who spent most of her time wearing long robes and casting
spells, Petunia could hardly bear to think.

She confessed the truth during a tear-stained date, in Vernon's dark
car as they sat overlooking the chip shop where Vernon had just bought
them a post-cinema snack.  Vernon, as Petunia had expected, was deeply
shocked; however, he told Petunia solemnly that he would never hold it
against her that she had a freak for a sister, and Petunia threw herself
upon him in such violent gratitude that he dropped his battered
sausage.

The first meeting between Lily, her boyfriend James Potter, and the
engaged couple, went badly, and the relationship nose-dived from there.
James was amused by Vernon, and made the mistake of showing it.  Vernon
tried to patronise James, asking what car he drove.  James described
his racing broom.  Vernon supposed out loud that wizards had to live on
unemployment benefit.  James explained about Gringotts, and the fortune
his parents had saved there, in solid gold.  Vernon could not tell
whether he was being made fun of or not, and grew angry.  The evening
ended with Vernon and Petunia storming out of the restaurant, while Lily
burst into tears and James (a little ashamed of himself) promised to
make things up with Vernon at the earliest opportunity.

This never happened.  Petunia did not want Lily as a bridesmaid,
because she was tired of being overshadowed; Lily was hurt.  Vernon
refused to speak to James at the reception, but described him, within
James' earshot, as 'some kind of amateur magician'.  Once married,
Petunia grew ever more like Vernon.  She loved their neat square house
at number four, Privet Drive.  She was secure, now, from objects that
behaved strangely, from teapots that suddenly piped tunes as she passed,
or long conversations about things she did not understand, with names
like 'Quidditch' and 'Transfiguration'.  She and Vernon chose not to
attend Lily and James' wedding.  The very last piece of correspondence
she received from Lily and James was the announcement of Harry's birth,
and after one contemptuous look, Petunia threw it in the bin.

Even though Petunia was raised alongside a witch, she is remarkably
ignorant about magic.  She and Vernon share a confused idea that they
will somehow be able to squash the magic out of Harry, and in an attempt
to throw off the letters that arrive from Hogwarts on Harry's eleventh
birthday, she and Vernon fall back on the old superstition that witches
cannot cross water.  As she had frequently seen Lily jump streams and
run across stepping stones in their childhood, she ought not to have
been surprised when Hagrid had no difficulty making his way over the
stormy sea to the hut on the rock.

Two of my most prized possessions are a pair of small notebooks, which
contain my very first scribblings about Harry Potter. Much of what is
written in them was never used in the series, although it is startling
to come across the odd line of dialogue that subsequently made it,
verbatim, to publication.
In one of the books is a list of forty names of students in Harry's
year (including Harry, Ron and Hermione), all allocated houses, with
small symbols beside each name depicting each boy or girl's parentage.

While I imagined that there would be considerably more than forty
students in each year at Hogwarts, I thought that it would be useful to
know a proportion of Harry's classmates, and to have names at my
fingertips when action was taking place around the school.

As the stories evolved, I changed the parentage of some of the
original forty. While some never appeared in the books at all, I always
knew that they were there; some had surgery to their names after their
first creation; a few emerged from the background to have their own
secondary stories (Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, Justin
Finch-Fletchley), and one, Neville Longbottom, developed into a very
important character. It is very strange to look at the list in this tiny
notebook now, slightly water-stained by some forgotten mishap, and
covered in light pencil scribblings (undoubtedly the work of my then
infant daughter, Jessica), and to think that while I was writing these
names, and refining them, and sorting them into houses, I had no clue
where they were going to go (or where they were going to take me).



Here, then, are the original forty:

Abbott, Hannah
Bones, Susan
Boot, Trevor
Brocklehurst, Mandy
Brown, Lavender
Bulstrode, Millicent
Corner, Michael
Cornfoot, Stephen
Crabbe, Vincent
Davis, Tracey
Entwhistle, Kevin
Finch-Fletchley, Justin
Finnigan, Seamus
Goldstein, Anthony
Goyle, Gregory
Granger, Hermione - inserted in pencil, see crossed-out entry, below
Greengrass, Queenie
Hopkins, Wayne
Jones, Megan
Li, Sue
Longbottom, Neville - inserted in ink, see crossed out entry, below
MacDougal, Isobel [original name Katrina crossed out]
Macmillan, Ernest
Malfoy, Draco - inserted in ink, see crossed-out entry, below
Malone, Roger
Moon,
Lily [first intimation of Luna Lovegood, this name was never used, but
gave me an idea for a fey, dreamy girl. She was named before I decided
on Harry's mother's name.]
Nott, Theodore
Parkinson, Pansy
Patel, Madhari
Patel, Mati
Perks, Sally-Anne
Potter, Harry
[Puckle, Hermione - crossed out, name changed and reinserted, above]
[Puff, Neville - crossed out, name changed and reinserted, above]
[Quirrel, crossed out, subsequently used for teacher]
Rivers, Oliver
Roper, Sophie
[Sidebottom, Neville crossed out]
Smith, Sally [Georgina crossed out]
[Spungen, changed to Spinks, Draco, all crossed out, re-inserted above]
Thomas, Gary
Turpin, Lisa
Weasley, Ronald
Zabini, Blaise

The name of the street where the Dursleys live is a reference
to that most suburban plant, the privet bush, which makes neat hedges
around many English gardens. I liked the associations with both suburbia
and enclosure, the Dursleys being so smugly middle class, and so
determinedly separate from the wizarding world. The name of their area
is 'Little Whinging', which again sounds appropriately parochial and
sniffy, 'whinging' being a colloquial term for 'complaining or whining'
in British English.

Although I describe the Dursleys' house as big and square, as
befitted Uncle Vernon's status as a company director, whenever I wrote
about it I was unconsciously visualising the second house I lived in as a
child, which on the contrary was a rather small three-bedroomed house
in the suburb of Winterbourne, near Bristol. I first became conscious of
this when I entered the number four Privet Drive that had been built at
Leavesden Studios, and found myself in an exact replica of my old
house, down to the position of the cupboard under the stairs and the
precise location of each room. As I had never described my old home to
the set designer, director or producer, this was yet another of the
unsettling experiences that filming the Potter books has brought me.

For no very good reason, I have never been fond of the number four,
which has always struck me as a rather hard and unforgiving number,
which is why I slapped it on the Dursleys' front door.

In choosing the number of the concealed platform that would
take young witches and wizards to boarding school, I decided that it
would have to be a number between those of the Muggle platforms -
therefore, it was clearly a fraction. This raised the interesting
question of how many other fractional platforms lay between the
whole-numbered platforms at King's Cross, and I concluded that were
probably quite a few. Although these are never mentioned in the book, I
like to think that it is possible to take a version of the Orient
Express off to wizard-only villages in continental Europe (try platform
seven and a half), and that other platforms may be opened on an
as-required-basis, for instance for large, one-off events such as
Celestina Warbeck concerts (see your ticket for details).

The number nine and three-quarters presented itself without much
conscious thought, and I liked it so much that I took it at once. It is
the 'three-quarters' that makes it, of course.

As we know from early historical accounts, and from the evidence
of early woodcuts and engravings, Hogwarts students used to arrive at
school in any manner that caught their fancy.  Some rode broomsticks (a
difficult feat when carrying trunks and pets); others commandeered
enchanted carts and, later, carriages; some attempted to Apparate (often
with disastrous effects, as the castle and grounds have always been
protected with Anti-Apparition Charms), others rode a variety of magical
creatures.


In spite of the accidents attendant on these various modes of
magical transport, not to mention the annual Muggle sightings of vast
numbers of airborne wizards travelling northwards, it remained the
responsibility of parents to convey their children to school, right up
until the imposition of the International Statute of Secrecy in 1692.  
At this point, it became a matter of urgency to find some more discreet
method of transporting hundreds of wizarding children from all over
Britain to their secret school in the Highlands of Scotland.

       
Portkeys were therefore arranged at collecting points all
over Britain.  The logistics caused problems from the start.  Up to a
third of students would fail to arrive every year, having missed their
time slot, or been unable to find the unobtrusive enchanted object that
would transport them to their school.  There was also the unfortunate
fact that many children were (and are) 'Portkey-sick', and the hospital
wing was frequently full to bursting for the first few days of every
year, while susceptible students overcame their hysterics and nausea.


While admitting that Portkeys were not an ideal solution to the
problem of school transportation, the Ministry of Magic failed to find
an acceptable alternative.  A return to the unregulated travel of the
past was impossible, and yet a more secure route into the school (for
instance, permitting a fireplace that might be officially entered by
Floo powder) was strongly resisted by successive Headmasters, who did
not wish the security of the castle to be breached.

       
A daring and controversial solution to the thorny problem
was finally suggested by Minister for Magic Ottaline Gambol, who was
much intrigued by Muggle inventions and saw the potential in trains.  
Where exactly the Hogwarts Express came from has never been conclusively
proven, although it is a fact that there are secret records at the
Ministry of Magic detailing a mass operation involving one hundred and
sixty-seven Memory Charms and the largest ever mass Concealment Charm
performed in Britain.  The morning after these alleged crimes, a
gleaming scarlet steam engine and carriages astounded the villagers of
Hogsmeade (who had also not realised they had a railway station), while
several bemused Muggle railway workers down in Crewe spent the rest of
the year grappling with the uncomfortable feeling that they had mislaid
something important.

       The Hogwarts Express underwent several magical modifications
before the Ministry approved it for school use.  Many pure-blood
families were outraged at the idea of their children using Muggle
transport, which they claimed was unsafe, insanitary and demeaning;
however, as the Ministry decreed that students either rode the train or
did not attend school, the objections were swiftly silenced.

Birthday:25th SeptemberWand:Hornbeam and dragon heartstring, twelve and three-quarter inches, slightly bendyHogwarts house:RavenclawSpecial abilities:An incomparable understanding of wandcraftParentage:Wizard father, Muggle-born motherFamily:Married, one son, one daughter (deceased)Hobbies:None; his profession is his obsession



The family of Ollivander has long been associated with the
mysterious profession of wandcraft. It is said that the name means 'he
who owns the olive wand', which suggests that the original Ollivander
arrived in Britain from a Mediterranean country (olive trees not being
native to the UK). Mr Ollivander himself believes that his earliest
forebears in this country arrived with the Romans, and set up stall
(subsequently shop) to sell to ancient British wizards whose wands were
crude of construction and unreliable in performance.

Mr Ollivander is arguably the finest maker of wands in the world, and
many foreigners travel to London to purchase one of his wands in
preference to those on offer in their native lands. Mr Ollivander grew
up in the family business, in which he showed precocious talent. He had
the ambition of improving upon the cores and wand woods hitherto used
and from his earliest days conceived a single-minded, even fanatical,
determination in his pursuit of the ideal wand.

Prior to Mr Ollivander's proprietorship of the family business,
wizards used a wide variety of wand cores. A customer would often
present the wandmaker with a magical substance to which they were
attached, or had inherited, or by which their family swore (hinted at by
the core of Fleur Delacour's wand). Mr Ollivander, however, was a
purist who insisted that the best wands would never be produced merely
by encasing the whiskers of a favourite Kneazle (or the stalk of a
Dittany plant that once saved a wizard's father from poisoning, or the
mane of a kelpie a witch had once met on holiday in Scotland) in the
customer's favourite wood. The best wands, he believed, had cores of
immensely powerful magical substances, which were expertly enclosed in
specially selected and complementary wandwoods, the result to be matched
to an owner with whom the wand itself felt the most affinity. While
there was initially substantial resistance to this revolutionary way of
crafting wands, it swiftly became clear that Ollivander wands were
infinitely superior to anything that had come before. His methods of
locating wand woods and core substances marrying them together and
matching them to ideal owners are all jealously guarded secrets that
were coveted by rival wandmakers.

Congratulations! I’m Prefect Gemma Farley, and I’m delighted
to welcome you to SLYTHERIN HOUSE. Our emblem is the serpent, the wisest
of creatures; our house colours are emerald green and silver, and our
common room lies behind a concealed entrance down in the dungeons. As
you’ll see, its windows look out into the depths of the Hogwarts lake.
We often see the giant squid swooshing by – and sometimes more
interesting creatures. We like to feel that our hangout has the aura of a
mysterious, underwater shipwreck.

Now, there are a few things you should know about Slytherin – and a few you should forget.

Firstly, let’s dispel a few myths. You might have heard rumours about
Slytherin house – that we’re all into the Dark Arts, and will only talk
to you if your great-grandfather was a famous wizard, and rubbish like
that. Well, you don’t want to believe everything you hear from competing
houses. I’m not denying that we’ve produced our share of Dark wizards,
but so have the other three houses – they just don’t like admitting it.
And yes, we have traditionally tended to take students who come from
long lines of witches and wizards, but nowadays you’ll find plenty of
people in Slytherin house who have at least one Muggle parent.

Here’s a little-known fact that the other three houses don’t bring up
much: Merlin was a Slytherin. Yes, Merlin himself, the most famous
wizard in history! He learned all he knew in this very house! Do you
want to follow in the footsteps of Merlin? Or would you rather sit at
the old desk of that illustrious ex-Hufflepuff, Eglantine Puffett,
inventor of the Self-Soaping Dishcloth?

I didn’t think so.

But that’s enough about what we’re not. Let’s talk about what we are,
which is the coolest and edgiest house in this school. We play to win,
because we care about the honour and traditions of Slytherin.

We also get respect from our fellow students. Yes, some of that
respect might be tinged with fear, because of our Dark reputation, but
you know what? It can be fun, having a reputation for walking on the
wild side. Chuck out a few hints that you’ve got access to a whole
library of curses, and see whether anyone feels like nicking your pencil
case.

But we’re not bad people. We’re like our emblem, the snake: sleek, powerful, and frequently misunderstood.

For instance, we Slytherins look after our own – which is more than
you can say for Ravenclaw. Apart from being the biggest bunch of swots
you ever met, Ravenclaws are famous for clambering over each other to
get good marks, whereas we Slytherins are brothers. The corridors of
Hogwarts can throw up surprises for the unwary, and you’ll be glad
you’ve got the Serpents on your side as you move around the school. As
far as we’re concerned, once you’ve become a snake, you’re one of ours –
one of the elite.

Because you know what Salazar Slytherin looked for in his chosen students?  The seeds of greatness.  You’ve
been chosen by this house because you’ve got the potential to be great,
in the true sense of the word. All right, you might see a couple of
people hanging around the common room whom you might not think are
destined for anything special. Well, keep that to yourself. If the
Sorting Hat put them in here, there’s something great about them, and
don’t you forget it.

And talking of people who aren’t destined for greatness, I haven’t
mentioned the Gryffindors. Now, a lot of people say that Slytherins and
Gryffindors represent two sides of the same coin. Personally, I think
Gryffindors are nothing more than wannabe Slytherins. Mind you, some
people say that Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor prized the same
kinds of students, so perhaps we are more similar than we like to think.
But that doesn’t mean that we cosy up with Gryffindors. They like
beating us only slightly less than we like beating them.

A few more things you might need to know: our house ghost is the
Bloody Baron. If you get on the right side of him he’ll sometimes agree
to frighten people for you. Just don’t ask him how he got bloodstained;
he doesn’t like it.

The password to the common room changes every fortnight. Keep an eye
on the noticeboard. Never bring anyone from another house into our
common room or tell them our password. No outsider has entered it for
more than seven centuries.

Well, I think that’s all for now. I’m sure you’ll like our
dormitories. We sleep in ancient four-posters with green silk hangings,
and bedspreads embroidered with silver thread. Medieval tapestries
depicting the adventures of famous Slytherins cover the walls, and
silver lanterns hang from the ceilings. You’ll sleep well; it’s very
soothing, listening to the lake water lapping against the windows at
night.

Félicitations et bienvenue ! Je suis le préfet Gabriel Truman et je suis très heureux de t'accueillir à POUFSOUFFLE. Le blaireau est l’emblème des Poufsouffle. C’est un animal que les gens ont souvent tendance à sous-estimer, car il mène une vie paisible tant qu'on ne l'attaque pas. Mais à la moindre provocation, il devient un adversaire redoutable qui peut faire peur à des animaux beaucoup plus gros que lui, y compris aux loups. Nos couleurs sont le jaune et le noir. Notre salle commune se trouve au premier sous-sol. On y accède par le couloir qui mène aux cuisines de Poudlard.

Il y a quelques petites choses qu’il est important que tu saches à propos de Poufsouffle. Tout d’abord, je tiens à chasser un mythe qui nous poursuit depuis belle lurette : on dit de nous que nous sommes les élèves les moins intelligents de Poudlard. Ceci est entièrement FAUX. Les Poufsouffle sont juste les moins vantards ! Nous avons formé tout autant de très grands sorciers et sorcières que les autres maisons. Tu veux que je te le prouve ? Eh bien, prends le cas de Grogan Stump, l'un des ministres de la Magie les plus populaires de tous les temps. C’était un Poufsouffle, tout comme l’étaient les ministres Artemisia Lufkin et Dugald McPhail, tous deux très doués et respectés. Sans oublier, bien sûr, Norbert Dragonneau, l’expert de renommée mondiale sur les animaux fantastiques, Bridget Wenlock, la célèbre arithmancienne du XIIIe siècle, qui fut la première à découvrir les propriétés magiques du chiffre sept, et Hengist de Woodcroft, qui fonda Pré-au-Lard, le village de sorciers situé à proximité de Poudlard. Tous étaient des Poufsouffle.

Donc, comme tu le vois, nous avons, nous aussi, formé de brillants sorciers et sorcières, qui ont fait preuve de puissance et d'audace. La seule différence avec les autres maisons, c’est que nous ne nous en vantons pas, ce qui fait qu’elles ne reconnaissent pas notre mérite. Les Serdaigle, en particulier, s’imaginent que tous les plus grands sorciers sortent forcément de chez eux. Je me suis d’ailleurs attiré de gros ennuis durant ma troisième année après avoir participé à un duel contre le préfet des Serdaigle qui soutenait que Bridget Wenlock venait de sa maison plutôt que de la mienne. Alors que je craignais de recevoir une semaine de retenue, le professeur Chourave m'a tout simplement donné un avertissement et une boîte de glace à la noix de coco.

Les Poufsouffle sont fidèles et dignes de confiance. Si nous n’aimons pas nous vanter, nous n’aimons pas non plus qu’on s’en prenne à nous. Gare à ceux qui nous cherchent des noises ! À l’image de notre emblème, le blaireau, nous nous défendrons et défendrons vaillamment nos amis et nos proches contre tout ennemi. Personne ne nous fait peur.

Ceci dit, il est vrai que nous avons une lacune particulière. De toute l’école, c’est nous qui avons formé le moins de sorciers qui ont mal tournés. Bien sûr, nous savons tous que Serpentard produit de sinistres personnages, ce qui n’est pas étonnant, vu qu’ils ne comprennent pas la notion de fair play et préfèrent tricher plutôt que travailler. Mais même les Gryffondor (qui, soit dit en passant, sont ceux avec lesquels nous nous entendons le mieux) ont formé quelques sorciers à la réputation fort douteuse.

Que puis-je te dire d’autre ? Ah, oui : l’entrée de notre salle commune est dissimulée parmi un tas de gros tonneaux empilés dans un recoin, sur le côté droit du couloir de la cuisine. Pour entrer, il suffit de trouver le tonneau situé au centre de la deuxième rangée, en partant du sol, et de tapoter sur celle-ci en comptant les syllabes de « Helga Poufsouffle ». Le couvercle de la barrique s’ouvrira automatiquement. Nous sommes les seuls à Poudlard à disposer d’un système de défense contre les intrus potentiels. Quiconque tapote le mauvais tonneau ou ne fait pas le bon nombre de tapotements se retrouvera immédiatement aspergé de vinaigre. Les autres maisons font grand cas de leurs dispositifs de sécurité, mais, en réalité, c’est nous qui possédons le meilleur : aucun étranger n’a vu la salle commune ou les dortoirs des Poufsouffle depuis plus de mille ans. Comme le blaireau, nous savons faire profil bas et nous défendre comme il le faut, quand il le faut.

Une fois que tu auras ouvert le couvercle de la barrique, glisse-toi à l’intérieur et rampe le long du passage étroit qui mène à notre salle commune. Celle-ci a une forme ronde et naturelle et un plafond bas. C’est la plus douillette et la plus accueillante de Poudlard. Elle est constamment baignée de soleil et ses grandes fenêtres arrondies donnent sur de hautes herbes sauvages et une foison de pissenlits.

C’est un endroit rempli d’objets en cuivre poli et de plantes, posées sur le rebord des fenêtres ou pendues au plafond. Notre directrice, Pomona Chourave, est professeur de botanique. De temps en temps, elle nous apporte de fascinantes espèces pour décorer notre salle (comme des plantes qui dansent ou qui parlent). C’est d’ailleurs l’une des raisons pour lesquelles les Poufsouffle sont souvent très forts en botanique. Nos canapés et fauteuils sont recouverts de tissu jaune et noir et on accède à nos dortoirs par des portes rondes percées dans les murs. Nous dormons dans des lits à baldaquin recouverts de grosses couettes en patchwork. D’anciennes bouillottes en cuivre sont accrochées aux murs, au cas où tu aurais froid aux pieds. Des lampes en cuivre diffusent une lumière douce et chaleureuse.

Nous possédons aussi le fantôme le plus gai et le plus sympathique de Poudlard : le Moine Gras. Tu n’auras aucun mal à le reconnaître : il est rondelet et porte un habit de moine. Il est toujours très serviable et t’aidera si tu perds ton chemin ou si tu rencontres des problèmes.

Voilà, je pense t'avoir tout dit. Au fait, j’espère que certains d’entre vous sont de bons joueurs de Quidditch. Récemment, l’équipe de Poufsouffle n’a pas beaucoup brillé lors des tournois de Quidditch.

Tu devrais bien dormir ici. Nos dortoirs sont parfaitement abrités des orages et du vent. Et contrairement à ceux qui dorment en haut des tours, notre sommeil n’est jamais perturbé.

Encore une fois, permets-moi de te féliciter chaleureusement : tu fais désormais partie de la maison la plus sympathique, la plus honnête et la plus persévérante de Poudlard !

Félicitations et bienvenue ! Je suis le préfet Robert Hilliard et je
suis très heureux de t'accueillir à SERDAIGLE. L’emblème des Serdaigle
est l’aigle. De tous les oiseaux, c’est celui qui vole le plus haut. Nos
couleurs sont le bleu et le bronze. Notre salle commune se trouve au
sommet de la tour de Serdaigle. Sa porte est dotée d’un heurtoir
enchanté. C’est une pièce ronde dont les fenêtres gothiques donnent sur
le parc de Poudlard. De là-haut, on peut voir le lac, la Forêt
interdite, le terrain de Quidditch et le jardin botanique. Aucune autre
maison ne dispose d’une vue aussi exceptionnelle.

Sans vouloir me
vanter, je dois bien avouer que Serdaigle réunit les sorciers et les
sorcières les plus intelligents de l’école. Notre fondatrice, Rowena
Serdaigle, privilégiait les études par-dessus tout. Nous sommes fiers de
suivre son bel exemple. Contrairement aux autres maisons qui possèdent
toutes des entrées secrètes, l’accès à notre salle commune se fait par
une porte parfaitement visible au sommet d’un long escalier en zigzag.
Tu ne trouveras pas de poignée sur cette porte, mais un heurtoir de
bronze, en forme d'aigle. C’est un objet enchanté : chaque fois que tu
le cogneras, le heurtoir te posera une question. Pour pouvoir entrer, il
faudra lui donner la bonne réponse. C’est une protection toute simple
et pourtant très efficace: aucun étranger n’a mis le pied dans notre
salle commune depuis presque mille ans.

Certains élèves de
première année redoutent de répondre aux questions de l’aigle, mais ne
t'inquiète pas : les Serdaigle apprennent vite et bien et, avec le
temps, tu prendras plaisir à résoudre les énigmes que te pose la porte.
Certaines d’entre elles, d’ailleurs, sont particulièrement ardues et il
n’est pas rare de trouver une vingtaine d’élèves regroupés devant la
porte, tentant de trouver ensemble la solution. C’est une très bonne
occasion de rencontrer des Serdaigle des autres années et de bénéficier
de leur savoir. En revanche, c'est plus embêtant quand tu dois aller
récupérer ta robe de Quidditch juste avant un match. Je te conseille
donc de vérifier trois fois ton sac chaque fois que tu quittes la tour
de Serdaigle.

L’autre atout des Serdaigle, c’est que nous sommes
des gens très originaux, voire excentriques, aux dires de certains. Mais
il est vrai que les personnes ordinaires ont du mal à suivre les génies
! Contrairement aux élèves de certaines maisons dont je tairai le nom,
ici, nous estimons avoir le droit de porter ce qui nous plaît, de penser
comme bon nous semble et de dire ce que nous pensons. Les gens
différents ne nous impressionnent pas. Au contraire, nous savons les
apprécier à leur juste valeur.

À propos d’excentricité, je suis
sûr que notre directeur, le professeur Filius Flitwick, va te plaire.
Les gens ont souvent tendance à le sous-estimer à cause de sa taille
minuscule (on le soupçonne d’avoir des gènes d’elfe, mais il serait
indélicat de lui poser la question) et de sa petite voix aiguë. Mais
c’est le meilleur professeur d’enchantements du monde et aussi le plus
érudit. Si un problème te tracasse, tu trouveras toujours la porte de
son bureau grande ouverte. Et si tu es vraiment dans tous tes états, il
te remontera le moral en faisant danser les délicieux petits gâteaux
qu'il garde dans une boîte en fer, dans son bureau. D’ailleurs, je te
conseillerais presque de faire semblant d’avoir des problèmes rien que
pour voir ça !

Serdaigle a aussi un illustre passé. La grande
majorité des plus grands inventeurs et pionniers du monde magique ont
étudié ici. Perpetua Fancourt, la sorcière qui a inventé le Lunascope
était une Serdaigle, tout comme l'étaient Laverne de Montmorency,
l’inventeur de nombreux philtres d'amour, et Ignatia Wildsmith,
l’inventrice de la Poudre de Cheminette. Parmi les ministres de la Magie
les plus célèbres issus de Serdaigle, on citera plus particulièrement
Millicent Bagnold. C’est elle qui dirigeait le ministère la nuit où
Harry Potter survécut à l'attaque du Seigneur des Ténèbres. Elle a aussi
vivement défendu les sorciers qui ont célébré ouvertement l’événement
en proclamant : « Je revendique notre droit inaliénable de faire la fête
». Sans oublier, bien sûr, le ministre Lorcan McLaird, un brillant
sorcier qui préférait communiquer au moyen de signaux de fumée qu’il
envoyait depuis le bout de sa baguette magique. Je t'avais prévenu(e) :
ici, nous formons des excentriques ! C’est d’ailleurs à Serdaigle qu’a
étudié Ulric le Follingue, rendu célèbre par la méduse qu’il portait sur
la tête en guise de chapeau. Comme tu peux t’en douter, c’est quelqu’un
qui fait l'objet de nombreuses blagues de sorciers.

En ce qui
concerne nos relations avec les trois autres maisons, hé bien, j’imagine
que tu as sans doute déjà entendu parler des Serpentard ? Ils ne sont
pas si mauvais qu'on le dit, mais je te conseille quand même de rester
sur tes gardes tant que tu n’as pas appris à bien les connaître. Les
Serpentard feront tout et n’importe quoi pour gagner. Ce sont leurs
traditions qui l’exigent. Alors ouvre bien l’œil en leur compagnie,
surtout pendant les matches de Quidditch et les examens.

Les
Gryffondor sont plutôt sympas dans l’ensemble. Mais si j’avais une
critique à leur faire, je dirais qu’ils ont tendance à se vanter. Ils
font aussi preuve de beaucoup moins de tolérance que nous envers ceux
qui sont différents. Certains Gryffondor, par exemple, n’hésitent pas à
se moquer des Serdaigle qui s’intéressent de près à la lévitation, à
l’utilisation magique des crottes de nez de trolls ou à l’ovomancie, qui
est (comme tu le sais sans doute) l’art de la divination à partir d’un
œuf. Les Gryffondor ne possèdent pas notre curiosité intellectuelle. Un
Serdaigle, par exemple, trouvera tout naturel de passer des journées et
des nuits entières à casser des œufs sur un coin de table de la salle
commune en observant le côté sur lequel tombe le jaune pour en tirer des
prédictions. D’ailleurs, à Serdaigle, tu trouveras probablement
plusieurs volontaires pour t'aider dans ce type de recherches.

Quant
aux Poufsouffle, personne ne peut leur reprocher de ne pas être
aimables. À vrai dire, ce sont sans doute les élèves les plus aimables
et agréables de Poudlard. Tout ce que je dirais à leur sujet c’est
qu’ils ne nous font jamais aucune ombre au moment des examens.

Voilà,
je crois t’avoir tout dit. Ah, j’allais oublier : la Dame Grise est le
fantôme des Serdaigle. Les élèves des autres maisons pensent qu’elle ne
parle jamais, mais la vérité est qu’elle ne parle qu’aux Serdaigle. Tu
la trouveras très serviable si tu perds ton chemin dans l’école ou si tu
as égaré quelque chose.

Nos dortoirs sont situés dans des
tourelles, autour de la tour principale. Je suis sûr que tu y dormiras
très bien : nous dormons dans des lits à baldaquins recouverts
d'édredons de soie bleu azur. Le bruit du vent sifflant autour des
fenêtres est très relaxant.

Encore une fois, permets-moi de te
féliciter : tu fais désormais partie de la maison la plus intelligente,
la plus farfelue et la plus intéressante de Poudlard !

Félicitations et bienvenue ! Je suis le préfet Percy Weasley et je suis très heureux de t'accueillir à GRYFFONDOR. L'emblème des Gryffondor est le lion. C'est la plus courageuse de toutes les créatures. Nos couleurs sont le rouge et l'or. Et notre salle commune se trouve au sommet de la tour de Gryffondor. Gryffondor est tout simplement la meilleure maison de Poudlard ! Seuls les plus hardis et les plus forts sont envoyés ici, comme notamment Albus Dumbledore ! Hé oui, le plus grand sorcier de notre époque, Dumbledore, était, lui aussi, un Gryffondor ! Et si cela ne te suffit pas, je ne sais vraiment pas ce qu'il te faut ! Bien, je ne vais pas te retarder plus longtemps : pour en savoir plus sur ta maison, suis simplement Harry Potter et ses amis pendant que je les conduis à leurs dortoirs. J'espère que tu te plairas beaucoup à Poudlard, mais le contraire serait fort étonnant. Tu fais désormais partie de la meilleure maison de l'école !