Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone - Chapter 8 - the Potions Master

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Description

In this voice demo, I read part of the eight chapter of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. In this chapter, Harry and his friend have their first potions class and meet professor Snape...

Vocal Characteristics

Language

English

Voice Age

Young Adult (18-35)

Accents

British (General) North American (General)

Transcript

Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
dare look where next you talk it with red hair. Brandy glasses. Did you see his face? Did you see his car? Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory. The next day, people lining up outside classrooms student tiptoe to get a look at him or double back to pass him in the corridors again staring. Harry wished their wooden's because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes. There were there were 100 and 42 staircases at hog words white sweeping ones, narrow, rickety ones, some that leads somewhere different on a Friday, some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you ask politely or tickle them in exactly the right place and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls, just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk. The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly headless, Nick was always happy to point new Griffin doors in the right direction, but peeves the poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase. If you met him when you were late for Klaus, he would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, belt you with bits of chalk or sneak up behind you invisible. Grab your nose and screech. Got your tongue even worse than peeves. If that was possible, was the caretaker Argus filch? Harry and Rome managed to get on the wrong side of him. On their very first morning, Filch found him trying to force their way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out of bound corridor on the third floor. He wouldn't believe they were lost, and I was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose and was threatening to look them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing filch owned a get called Mrs Norris, a scrawny, dust colored creature with bulging lamp like ice just like filch is she patrolled the corridors alone, break rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd risk off her filch, who would appear wheezing two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone, except perhaps the reason the twins and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs Norris a good kick. And then, once you have managed to find them, their verdict classes themselves. There was a lot of magic, as Harry quickly find out, then waving your land and saying a few funny words. They had to study the night, skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week. They went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study herbology with a dumpy little witch called professor sprouts, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi and found out what they were used for Easily. The most boring class was history of magic, which was the only one told by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed, when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Bins droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates and got Emmerich, the evil and Eric, the old ball mixed up Professor fled Wake, the Charms teacher was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class, he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name, he gave an excited, quick and toppled out of sight. Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever. She gave them talking to the moment they sat down in her first class. Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic. You will learn to talk words, she said. Anyone messing around in my clothes will leave and not come back. You have been warned. Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermine Granger had made any difference to her match. Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave her my knee a rare smile. The class everyone had really been looking forward to was defense against the dark arts. But girls lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom spelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was toward of vampire. He'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie. But they weren't sure they believed his story. For one thing, when Shamus Finnegan asked eagerly to hear how Curl had fought off, the zombie girl went pink and started talking about the weather for another they had noticed that a funny smell hang around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that coral was protected or wherever he went. Harry was very relieved to find out that he wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Mago families and, like him, hadn't had any idea that there were richest and results. There was so much to learn that even people like Rome didn't have much of a head start. Friday was an important day for Harry and Rome. They finally managed to find their way down to the create hall for breakfast without getting lost once. Yeah, what have we got today? Harry asked Rome as he poured sugar on his porridge. Double posters with the slip rings set. Rome snaps. Head of slithering house, they say, always favors them. We'll be able to see if it's true. Mhm Richmond conical favorite does, said Harry. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindors House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before. Just then, the mail arrived. Had he had Harry had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about 100 owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast. Sir King the tables until they saw their owners and dropping letters and packages into their laps. Hedwig hadn't brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew into into naval his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the ovary with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the Sugar Bowl and dropped a note under Harry's plate. Harry tore it open at once, it said in a very untidy scroll. Dear Harry, I know you get Friday afternoons of So Would you like to come and have a cup of tea? Me with me around tree. I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedrick. Hagrid, Harry borrowed Rome. Scwill scribbled. Yes, please. See you later on the back of the note and sent head wake up off again. It was lucky that Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to him so far. At the end of start of term bank at the start of term bank, it's Harry had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. By the end of the first potions lesson, he knew he'd be wrong. Snap didn't dislike Harry. He hated him. Potions lesson took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls. Snap like flip quick started the clause by taking the role car and, like flat wig, he paused at Harry's name. Ah, yes, he said softly. Harry Butter, our new celebrity, Draco Malfoy and his friends crap and girl snigger behind your hands. Snap finished calling the names and looked up at the clause. His eyes were black like **** grids, but they had none of Hagrid's warms. They were cold and empty. A major Think of dark tunnels. You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making, he began. He spoken barely more than a whisper, but they got every words like Professor McGonagall Snap had the gift of keeping a close silent without efforts as there is little foolish went waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cold and with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the minds and snaring the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew, glory, even stopper death. If you aren't as big a bunch of thunderheads as I usually have to teach. More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchange looks with raised eyebrows Hermine Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't dunderhead. Butter said Snap. Suddenly, what would I get if I entered at a powder route the roots of as although to an infusion of wormwood powdered roots of what do an infusion of what Harry glanced at Rum, who looked as stunned as he was her mind his hands had shot into the air. Uh, I don't know, sir, said Harry, snaps, lips curled into a sneer that that's fame clearly isn't everything he ignored to remain in his hands. Let's try again. But, sir, where would you look if I told you to find me a best war? Her mind? She stretched her hand as as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat. But Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a better war was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe and Doyle who were shaking with laughter. Uh, I don't know, sir.