Early the next morning, Jack walked into the classroom with heavy dark circles under both eyes.
His hair was messier than usual, and he had even fastened one of his uniform buttons wrong.
His schoolbag strap hung crookedly over his shoulder, and he looked as though he had just crawled back from a battlefield.
Tom, who shared his desk, froze at the sight of him. "Jack, what were you doing last night? Did someone beat you up?"
"No." Jack tossed his bag onto the desk. "I stayed up reading until four in the morning."
"What were you reading?" Tom leaned closer, his face full of curiosity. "Homework? No, wait, homework couldn't possibly be that interesting."
Jack pulled his copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Part One, straight out of his bag and slapped it onto the desk.
Tom looked down and read out the title. "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone? What's this?"
"An absolutely incredible book." Jack's eyes lit up at once. "Tom, I'm telling you, this book is just-I don't know how to describe it."
"It's just... so cool!"
Skeptical, Tom picked up the book, examined the cover, then read the blurb. "An orphan goes to a magic school? Sounds pretty clichéd."
"I thought it would be clichéd at first too," Jack said earnestly, with a rare seriousness in his voice.
"But it's definitely not that traditional sort of... every detail in it feels real."
"Diagon Alley, the wand shop, Platform Nine and Three-Quarters... when you read it, you feel like all those things really exist, and you just don't know about them."
Tom raised his eyebrows. "Is it really that amazing?"
"Read it yourself." Jack pushed the book toward Tom. "Just read the first chapter, 'The Boy Who Lived.' One chapter."
"If you finish it and don't like it, I'll eat this book."
Amused by his tone, Tom took the book and opened it to the first page.
"All right. I hope it's really as good as you say."
A little later, the bell rang, and the teacher entered the classroom and began the lesson.
Tom tucked the book beneath his textbook and lowered his head to read it in secret.
He turned the pages more and more slowly, his breathing growing quieter, as though he were afraid of disturbing something inside the book.
A girl named Emily, sitting in the row behind him, noticed his unusual behavior and quietly poked him in the back. "What are you reading?"
Without turning around, Tom whispered, "Don't bother me. I'm reading a really good book."
"What book?"
Tom did not answer. He simply held up the book to give her a glimpse of the cover.
Emily remembered the title: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.
When the first lesson ended, Tom abruptly shut the book and drew a deep breath. "Jack, you were right. This book is incredible."
"Right?" Jack grinned. "How far did you get?"
"To the part where Harry finally gets his letter," Tom said. "I nearly laughed out loud at the bit where the Dursley family does everything they can to stop him from reading it."
"It gets even better," Jack said. "Keep reading. When you get to the part where he goes to Diagon Alley to buy a wand, you'll go crazy."
Tom nodded and carefully put the book into his bag. "Lend it to me for a little longer at lunchtime."
"No problem. I've finished it anyway."
Just then, Emily came over. "Can I borrow that book you were talking about?"
Jack and Tom exchanged a look.
"Get in line," Jack said. "You can have it after Tom finishes."
Emily pursed her lips but said nothing.
She silently committed the title to memory, planning to go to a bookshop after school and buy a copy herself.
Meanwhile, Margaret walked into her classroom.
She was the fifth-grade homeroom teacher and taught English and literature.
That morning, there was something extra in her bag-a copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Part One.
After getting home the night before, she had read the rest in one sitting, then lain awake for two whole hours.
Not because the book was bad, but because it was so good that her head was filled with images of Hogwarts, leaving her tossing and turning, unable to sleep.
The students were already seated when she entered the classroom.
Several sharp-eyed children noticed the unfamiliar book in her hand. The little boy on its cover wore round glasses and had a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
"Miss, what book are you holding?" a little boy in the front row asked, raising his hand.
Margaret smiled and held up the book so everyone could see it clearly. "This is a new book called Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone."
"I only bought it yesterday. After reading it, I thought it was so good that I wanted to share it with you."
A murmur of whispers rose in the classroom.
"The Philosopher's Stone? Is it about magic?"
"Harry Potter? What a strange name."
"Miss, can we read it?"
Margaret nodded and opened the book to the first page. "We won't have a lesson this period. I'll read this book to you instead."
The students gave little cries of delighted surprise.
Margaret cleared her throat and began to read:
"The Dursleys, who lived at 4 Privet Drive, were always proud to say that they were a perfectly respectable family, thank you very much..."
The classroom fell quiet.
Every student's gaze was fixed on Margaret-or rather, on the book in her hands.
She read about the Dursley family seeing people in cloaks celebrating in the streets, about their discovery of a little baby wrapped in a blanket on their doorstep, and about the lightning-shaped scar on that baby's forehead-
The children's eyes grew wider and wider.
"Miss, is that baby Harry?"
"How did he get that scar?"
"What happened to him after that?"
Margaret smiled and made a calming gesture. "Don't rush. We'll read it bit by bit."
She turned the pages one by one, her voice steady and gentle.
The children listened, spellbound. No one whispered to anyone else, no one looked around, and even the boys who usually caused the most trouble sat obediently without moving.
When the bell rang, the whole class protested in unison.
"Miss, read a little longer!"
"Just five minutes!"
"Please!"
Margaret checked her watch, then looked at all those expectant faces, and finally gave in. "All right. Five more minutes."
She read for another five minutes.
Five minutes later, unable to resist their pleas, she read for five minutes more.
Only when the teacher for the next lesson stood in the doorway and coughed twice did she reluctantly close the book.
"All right, that's all for today," she said. "If you're interested, you can buy a copy at a bookshop and read it yourselves."
The moment she finished speaking, several students raised their hands to ask for the title and the publisher's name.
Margaret wrote the title on the blackboard, then added, "Only the first half of this book is available right now. Apparently, the second half hasn't been published yet, so you can read this one first."
The children took out their notebooks and carefully copied down the title.
A few days later.
Bookshops throughout London were experiencing an unprecedented storm.