I do not own anyone.
'The Midnight Duel,' Harry read, 'what's a duel?'
'Two or more people duel with their wands and there is a second to take over if one dies which is only when in a witch or wizard that's out of school,' Nicolas said, 'but you won't be able to duel when you've only been at school for a while.'
'And it sounds like a trap so that you would be caught' Perenelle said, 'so don't even go.'
'Yes Perenelle,' Harry said and wrote don't accept a duel in my first year.
Harry had never believed he would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley, but that was before he met Draco Malfoy.
'That is hard to believe,' Harry said.
Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn't have to put up with Malfoy much.
Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday — and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.
'I get to learn how to fly,' Harry said.
"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."
He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.
"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Ron reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."
Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters.
'That doesn't sound right,' Harry said.
He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly.
Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly.
Harry had caught Ron prodding Dean's poster of West Ham soccer team, trying to make the players move.
'That won't work,' Harry said.
Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harry felt she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.
'That's not a nice thing to think,' Perenelle said.
'Yes Perenelle,' Harry said.
Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was.
This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book — not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book calledQuidditch Through the Ages.
Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.
Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table.
'We'll write to you,' Perenelle said, 'and you can write to us as well.'
'Thank you,' Harry said.
A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.
"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things — this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red — oh…" His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "… you've forgotten something…"
'Doesn't it tell you what you forgot,' Harry asked.
'No it doesn't,' Nicolas said.
Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.
Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy,
'I don't want you fighting,' Perenelle said.
'Yes Perenelle,' Harry said.
but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.
"What's going on?"
"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."
Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.
"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.
'Looking doesn't mean taking,' Harry said.
At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Ron, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.
The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.
Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."
Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"
"UP" everyone shouted.
Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did.
Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Harry; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.
Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle — three — two —"
But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.
"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle — twelve feet — twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and —
WHAM — a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap.
'Ouch,' all three said.
His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.
Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.
"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter.
'That's not good,' Harry said.
'Madam Pomfrey will heal him,' Nicolas said.
'She is a healer which is similar to a Muggle doctor,' Perenelle said.
"Come on, boy — it's all right, up you get."
She turned to the rest of the class.
"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."
Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.
No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.
"Did you see his face, the great lump?"
The other Slytherins joined in.
'That's not nice,' all three said.
"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thoughtyou'd like fat little cry babies, Parvati."
"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's Gran sent him."
The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.
'The Remembrall is not stupid,' Perenelle said.
"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly.
Everyone stopped talking to watch.
Malfoy smiled nastily.
"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find — how about — up a tree?"
'That's not nice,' Harry said.
"Give ithere!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he couldfly well.
Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"
Harry grabbed his broom.
"No!"shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move — you'll get us all into trouble."
'You should listen to her,' Perenelle said.
'I won't though,' Harry said.
Harry ignored her. Blood was pounding in his ears. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him — and in a rush of fierce joy he realized he'd found something he could do without being taught — this was easy, this waswonderful.
'I'm flying,' Harry said.
'Your father was a good flier,' Nicolas said.
'Oh,' Harry said and smiled.
He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher.
'That's too high,' Perenelle said, 'you could break your neck.'
'I didn't do it yet,' Harry said.
And heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron.
He turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned.
'He didn't think you could fly,' Nicolas said.
'Well I am Muggle raised,' Harry said.
"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"
'That's not a nice thing to say,' Perenelle said.
'I know but he needs to understand that you can't bully others just because they are different,' Harry said.
"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.
Harry knew, somehow, what to do. He leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.
"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.
The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.
"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.
Harry saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down — next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball — wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching — he stretched out his hand — a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.
'Wow I got them Remembrall for Neville,' Harry said.
Nicolas and Perenelle exchanged looks knowing that Harry would be a brilliant seeker.
"HARRY POTTER!"
His heart sank faster than he'd just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward them.
He got to his feet, trembling.
"Never— in all my time at Hogwarts —"
Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "— howdare you — might have broken your neck —"
"It wasn't his fault, Professor —"
"Be quiet, Miss Patil —"
'I take it that girl is Pavarti,' Harry said.
'It must be otherwise Minerva would have said Miss Pavarti Patil,' Perenelle said.
'Oh,' Harry said.
"But Malfoy —"
"That'senough, Mr. Weasley.
'Ron is standing up for me,' Harry said happily.
Potter, follow me, now."
'I'm in trouble,' Harry said as Perenelle and Nicolas exchanged looks that maybe he would be a seeker in his first year.
Harry caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces as he left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode toward the castle. He was going to be expelled, he just knew it.
He wanted to say something to defend himself, but there seemed to be something wrong with his voice. Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at him; he had to jog to keep up. Now he'd done it. He hadn't even lasted two weeks. He'd be packing his bags in ten minutes. What would the Dursleys say when he turned up on the doorstep?
'I don't want to think about it,' Harry said shuttering.
Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside and still Professor McGonagall didn't say a word to him.
She wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Harry trotting miserably behind her. Maybe she was taking him to Dumbledore. He thought of Hagrid, expelled but allowed to stay on as gamekeeper. Perhaps he could be Hagrid's assistant. His stomach twisted as he imagined it, watching Ron and the others becoming wizards, while he stumped around the grounds carrying Hagrid's bag.
'That's an awful image,' Harry said.
Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.
"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"
Harry's eyes widened.
Wood? Thought Harry, bewildered; was Wood a cane she was going to use on him?
'Teachers aren't allowed to abuse children,' Perenelle said.
'That's good to know,' Harry said letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
But Wood turned out to be a person, a burly fifth-year boy who came out of Flitwick's class looking confused.
"Follow me, you two," said Professor McGonagall, and they marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Harry.
"In here."
Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard.
"Out, Peeves!" she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swooped out cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two boys.
"Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood — I've found you a Seeker."
'A seeker,' Harry said in relief that his book self wouldn't be expelled.
Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight.
"Are you serious, Professor?"
"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "The boy's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"
Harry nodded silently. He didn't have a clue what was going on, but he didn't seem to be being expelled, and some of the feeling started coming back to his legs.
"He caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive," Professor McGonagall told Wood.
'That's too high,' Perenelle said.
"Didn't even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."
Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once.
'He's must be the Quidditch captain,' Nicolas said.
"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" he asked excitedly.
"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.
"He's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, now walking around Harry and staring at him. "Light —speedy — we'll have to get him a decent broom, Professor — a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."
"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule.
'Then everyone will think that I got on the team just because of my fame,' Harry said.
Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year.Flattenedin that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks…"
Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Harry.
"I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you."
'My book self better,' Harry said.
Then she suddenly smiled.
"Your father would have been proud," she said. "He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."
'What was he,' Harry asked.
'I don't know,' Perenelle and Nicolas said.
Which position in Quidditch did my dad play Harry wrote.
"You'rejoking."
It was dinnertime. Harry had just finished telling Ron what had happened when he'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ron had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it.
'He must be impressed,' Harry said.
"Seeker?" he said. "But first yearsnever— you must be the youngest house player in about —"
"— a century," said Harry, shovelling pie into his mouth.
'That's a long time,' Harry said.
He felt particularly hungry after the excitement of the afternoon. "Wood told me."
Ron was so amazed, so impressed he just sat and gaped at Harry.
"I start training next week," said Harry. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."
Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Harry, and hurried over.
"Well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too — Beaters."
"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," said Fred. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harry, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."
"Anyway, we've got to go Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."
"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you."
Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.
"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"
'At the end of the year,' Harry said.
"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly.
'They are not little,' Harry said.
There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.
"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only — no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"
"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"
Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.
"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."
'He'll probably tip Mr Filch off to get you in trouble,' Nicolas said.
When Malfoy had gone, Ron and Harry looked at each other.
"What is a wizard's duel?" said Harry. "And what do you mean, you're my second?"
"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually, getting started at last on his cold pie. Catching the look on Harry's face, he added quickly, "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards.
'What are we fake wizards,' Harry asked.
'No Perenelle said, 'he just means properly trained wizards that have graduated.'
The most you and Malfoy will be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."
'Or accept and get me in trouble,' Harry said.
"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"
"Throw it away and punch him on the nose," Ron suggested.
'Malfoy said not contact,' Harry said, 'and punching him in the nose which I will never do is contact.'
"Excuse me."
They both looked up. It was Hermione Granger.
"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron.
Hermione ignored him and spoke to Harry.
"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying —"
"Bet you could," Ron muttered.
"— and youmustn'tgo wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."
'She has a point,' Perenelle said.
'I know,' Harry said, 'but it seems that Ron doesn't want her around and I don't want to lose my first friend.'
'The thing is Harry,' Nicolas said, 'if Ron doesn't stay your friend if you have another friend then he isn't really your friend.'
'I understand what you mean,' Harry said and wrote I can have more than one friend and if one of my friends doesn't like it then he or she isn't my friend at all.
"And it's really none of your business," said Harry.
"Good-bye," said Ron.
All the same, it wasn't what you'd call the perfect end to the day, Harry thought, as he lay awake much later listening to Dean and Seamus falling asleep (Neville wasn't back from the hospital wing). Ron had spent all evening giving him advice such as "If he tries to curse you, you'd better dodge it, because I can't remember how to block them."
'Nice advice,' Harry said.
There was a very good chance they were going to get caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris, and Harry felt he was pushing his luck, breaking another school rule today. On the other hand, Malfoy's sneering face kept looming up out of the darkness — this was his big chance to beat Malfoy face-to-face. He couldn't miss it.
"Half-past eleven," Ron muttered at last, "we'd better go."
They pulled on their bathrobes, picked up their wands, and crept across the tower room, down the spiral staircase, and into the Gryffindor common room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. They had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them, "I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry."
'Hermione,' Harry said.
A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown.
"You!" said Ron furiously. "Go back to bed!"
"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped, "Percy — he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this."
Harry couldn't believe anyone could be so interfering.
'She has a point though,' Perenelle said.
"Come on," he said to Ron. He pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole.
Hermione wasn't going to give up that easily. She followed Ron through the portrait hole, hissing at them like an angry goose.
"Don't youcareabout Gryffindor, do youonlycare about yourselves,Idon't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."
"Go away."
"All right,
'She's going,' Harry wondered.
but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so —"
But what they were, they didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a night time visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor tower.
'She'll have to come with us,' Harry said.
"Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.
"That's your problem," said Ron. "We've got to go we're going to be late."
They hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them.
"I'm coming with you," she said.
'That's what I thought,' Harry said.
"You arenot."
"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all three of us I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up."
'I wouldn't back her up and I don't think Ron would either,' Harry said.
"You've got some nerve —" said Ron loudly.
"Shut up, both of you!" said Harry sharply. "I heard something."
It was a sort of snuffling.
"Mrs. Norris?" breathed Ron, squinting through the dark.
It wasn't Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep,
'Wonder why he's out there,' Harry asked.
'Maybe he didn't remember the password,' Perenelle said.
but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer.
"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours, I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed."
"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."
"How's your arm?" said Harry.
"Fine," said Neville, showing them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."
"Good — well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later —"
"Don't leave me!" said Neville, scrambling to his feet, "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."
'He sounds like trouble,' Harry said and was about to continue reading when a flash of blue light appeared making the three shut their eyes.
When they opened them they saw five figures.
'Hi, I'm Perenelle Flamel and this is my husband Nicolas and this young man is Harry Potter,' Perenelle said.
'Hi,' Nicolas and Harry said while one woman widened her eyes before speaking.
'Hi, I'm Augusta Longbottom and this is my grandson Neville,' she said.
'Hi,' Neville said.
'Hi I'm David Granger and this is my wife Jean and our daughter Hermione,' a man said.
'Hi,' Jean and Hermione said.
'How did we get here, why are, we here and what's going on,' Hermione asked before spotting the book, 'what book is that?'
'You got here by magic,' Augusta said, 'which is real by the way.'
'What,' David, Jean and Hermione asked.
'I'll show you,' Perenelle said, 'Accio five quills,' and five quills came barrelling in her hand.
'That's cool,' Hermione said, 'again.'
'Please Mione,' David said.
'Yes Dad,' Hermione said, 'can you please do it again Mrs Flamel?'
'Sure,' Perenelle said, 'Accio five sheets of blank paper,' and five sheets of blank paper flew to her hand.
'Hermione,' Harry said, 'you are magical which means that you are a witch.'
'That explains why so many strange things happen,' Hermione said.
'You are all here to read this book called Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone,' Nicolas said.
'That's you,' Hermione said looking at Harry.
'Yes it is,' Harry said.
Harry, Nicolas and Perenelle explained what happened in the book so far.
'NEVILLE I AM VERY DISAPPOINTED IN YOU' Augusta shouted, 'I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU, NOT KNOWING A SIMPLE PASSWORD LIKE PIG SNOUT.'
'Sorry Gran,' Neville said.
Hermione walked up to Neville and took him to the table to where Harry.
'You two don't apologise for something you didn't do yet,' Harry whispered.
Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and Neville.
"If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you."
'What is the Curse of the Bogies,' Hermione asked.
'It gives an enemy a nasty cold,' Augusta said, 'that makes them collapse if not treated by a healer.'
'That's not nice,' David and Jean said.
Hermione opened her mouth,
'Don't you dare is probably what I would say,' Hermione said.
perhaps to tell Ron exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies,
'That wouldn't be nice,' Neville said.
but Harry hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned them all forward.
They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn Harry expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky.
'It sounds like Malfoy set you up,' Hermione said bossily.
'I think so too,' Neville said.
They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.
Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet.
'And they won't ever be,' Harry said.
The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harry took out his wand in case Malfoy leapt in and started at once.
The minutes crept by.
"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.
'He was never planning on to come,' Jean and David said.
'He would be there already,' Augusta said.
Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Harry had only just raised his wand when they heard someone speak — and it wasn't Malfoy.
"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."
'Who's that,' Hermione asked.
It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Harry waved madly at the other three to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.
'That's lucky,' Hermione said.
"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."
"This way!" Harry mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak
'He must a, been close,' Neville said.
and broke into a run he tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armor. The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.
'Neville,' Augusta sighed.
'Sor..,' Neville started putting his head down and then he straightened and said, 'I didn't do it yet.'
Augusta widened her eyes a bit.
"RUN!" Harry yelled, and the four of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following — they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harry in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going — they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.
"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.
"I —told— you," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, "I — told — you."
'Hermione,' Jean said, 'that's not the time to tell them that yet.'
'Yes Mom,' Hermione said.
"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," said Ron, "quickly as possible."
"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Harry. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you — Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."
Harry thought she was probably right, but he wasn't going to tell her that.
Hermione looked down.
'Hermione you are probably right,' Harry said.
'Thank you,' Hermione said looking up at Harry.
'You're welcome,' Harry said.
"Let's go."
It wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.
It was Peeves.
'That's not good,' Harry said, 'he'll tell on us.'
He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.
"Shut up, Peeves — please — you'll get us thrown out."
Peeves cackled.
"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."
"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."
"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."
"Get out of the way," snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves this was a big mistake.
'May I please have a piece of paper and a...' Hermione asked trailing off.
'A quill,' Neville said.
'All right,' Perenelle said passing the quills and pieces of paper around.
Never take a swipe at Peeves Hermione, Harry and Neville wrote.
"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"
Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door — and it was locked.
'Is that the forbidden corridor on the third floor,' Harry asked.
'I think so,' Perenelle and Nicolas said wondering what would be guarding their stone.
"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!"
'Did he forget that he's a male witch,' Jean and David asked.
'The correct term is wizard,' Nicolas said.
'And I don't think he knows the unlocking spell,' Perenelle said.
They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves' shouts.
"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled.
She grabbed Harry's wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, "Alohomora!"
The lock clicked and the door swung open —
'The wand must have known that you two were allies,' Perenelle said, 'otherwise the wand wouldn't have worked.'
they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.
"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."
"Say 'please.'"
"Don't mess with me, Peeves, nowwhere did they go?"
"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.
"All right —please."
"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha-ha! Haaaaaa!"
Harry, Hermione and Neville laughed.
And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.
'Don't curse in front of my daughter,' David and Jean said.
"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay — getoff, Neville!"
'Neville,' Augusta sighed.
For Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of Harry's bathrobe for the last minute. "What?"
Harry turned around — and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, he was sure he'd walked into a nightmare — this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.
They weren't in a room, as he had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.
They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads.
Hermione, Harry and Neville gulped.
Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.
It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.
Harry groped for the doorknob — between Filch and death, he'd take Filch.
They fell backward — Harry slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn't see him anywhere, but they hardly cared — all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster. They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.
"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at their bathrobes hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces.
'Like we'd tell her,' Harry said.
"Never mind that — pig snout, pig snout," panted Harry, and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.
It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville, indeed, looked as if he'd never speak again.
"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Ron finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."
Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again. "You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"
"The floor?" Harry suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet I was too busy with its heads."
"No,notthe floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something."
'The Philosopher's Stone,' Harry said.
She stood up, glaring at them.
"I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed — or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."
Ron stared after her, his mouth open.
"No, we don't mind," he said. "You'd think we dragged her along, wouldn't you."
'That was quite rude,' Hermione said.
But Hermione had given Harry something else to think about as he climbed back into bed. The dog was guarding something… What had Hagrid said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide — except perhaps Hogwarts.
It looked as though Harry had found out where the grubby little package from vault seven hundred and thirteen was.
'Finally I realize what the stone is,' Harry said, 'and that was the end of the chapter,' and then held it out for Perenelle to take it.
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