Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone 12 страница. teacher? "If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now
teacher? "If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand
up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have
time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they
Harry and Ron tried to look as though this story wasn't new to them.
"Well -- in that case..." said Professor McGonagall, staring at the
three of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of
tackling a mountain troll on your own?"
Hermione hung her head. Harry was speechless. Hermione was the last
person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending
she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started
handing out sweets.
"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said
Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt
at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing
the feast in their houses."
Professor McGonagall turned to Harry and Ron.
"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have
taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five
points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."
They hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until they had
climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the
troll, quite apart from anything else.
"We should have gotten more than ten points," Ron grumbled.
"Five, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's."
"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind
you, we did save her."
"She might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked the thing in with
her," Harry reminded him.
They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"Pig snout," they said and entered.
The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that
had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting
for them. There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of them looking
at each other, they all said "Thanks," and hurried off to get plates.
But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. There are
some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and
knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.
As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains
around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every
morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the
upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled
up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous
The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in
his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If
Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house
Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Wood had decided that, as
their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news
that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Harry didn't know
which was worse -- people telling him he'd be brilliant or people
telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress.
It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermlone as a friend. He didn't
know how he'd have gotten through all his homework without her, what
with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. She
had also tent him Quidditch Through the Ages, which turned out to be a
very interesting read.
Harry learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a
Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup
match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest
players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to
them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had
been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.
Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry
and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer
for it. The day before Harry's first Quidditch match the three of them
were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured
them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar.
They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape
crossed the yard. Harry noticed at once that Snape was limping. Harry,
Ron, and Hermione moved closer together to block the fire from view;
they were sure it wouldn't be allowed. Unfortunately, something about
their guilty faces caught Snape's eye. He limped over. He hadn't seen
the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off
"What's that you've got there, Potter?"
It was Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry showed him.
"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape.
"Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."
"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped
away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"
"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly.
The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harry, Ron, and
Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking Harry and
Ron's Charms homework for them. She would never let them copy ("How will
you learn?"), but by asking her to read it through, they got the right
Harry felt restless. He wanted Quidditch Through the Ages back, to take
his mind off his nerves about tomorrow. Why should he be afraid of
Snape? Getting up, he told Ron and Hermione he was going to ask Snape if
he could have it.
"Better you than me," they said together, but Harry had an idea that
Snape wouldn't refuse if there were other teachers listening.
He made his way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no answer.
He knocked again. Nothing.
Perhaps Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try. He pushed
the door ajar and peered inside -- and a horrible scene met his eyes.
Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above
his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing
"Blasted thing*," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your
eyes on all three heads at once?"
Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but --
Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to
hide his leg. Harry gulped.
"I just wondered if I could have my book back."
"GET OUT! OUT!"
Harry left, before Snape could take any more points from Gryffindor. He
sprinted back upstairs.
"Did you get it?" Ron asked as Harry joined them. "What's the matter?"
In a low whisper, Harry told them what he'd seen.
"You know what this means?" he finished breathlessly. "He tried to get
past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when
we saw him -- he's after whatever it's guarding! And Id bet my
broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"
Hermione's eyes were wide.
"No -- he wouldn't, she said. "I know he's not very nice, but he
wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."
"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something,"
snapped Ron. "I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But
what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"
Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with the same question. Neville
was snoring loudly, but Harry couldn't sleep. He tried to empty his mind
-- he needed to sleep, he had to, he had his first Quidditch match in a
few hours -- but the expression on Snape's face when Harry had seen his
leg wasn't easy to forget.
The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of
the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheer ful chatter of
everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.
"You've got to eat some breakfast."
"I don't want anything."
"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.
"I'm not hungry."
Harry felt terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking onto the field.
"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are
always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."
"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his
By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around
the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be
raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going
Ron and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean the West Ham fan up in
the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on
one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said Potter for President, and
Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion
underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that
the paint flashed different colors.
Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were
changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing
Wood cleared his throat for silence.
"Okay, men," he said.
"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson.
"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."
"The big one," said Fred Weasley.
"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.
"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Harry, "we were on the
team last year."
"Shut up, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had
in years. We're going to win. I know it."
He glared at them all as if to say, "Or else."
"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."
Harry followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping his
knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers.
Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting
for the two teams, her broom in her hand.
"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all
gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking
particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a sixth year. Harry
thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him. Out of the
corner of his eye he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing
Potter for President over the crowd. His heart skipped. He felt braver.
"Mount your brooms, please."
Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand.
Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.
Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off. "And the
Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor -- what
an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too --"
The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the
match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.
"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet,
a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve -- back to
Johnson and -- no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin
Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes -- Flint flying
like an eagle up there -- he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent
move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle --
that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint,
off up the field and -- OUCH -- that must have hurt, hit in the back of
the head by a Bludger -- Quaffle taken by the Slytherins -- that's
Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a
second Bludger -- sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell
which -- nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in
possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes -- she's
really flying -- dodges a speeding Bludger -- the goal posts are ahead
-- come on, now, Angelina -- Keeper Bletchley dives -- misses --
Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the
"Budge up there, move along."
Ron and Hermione squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join
"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of
binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the
crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"
"Nope," said Ron. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."
"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his
binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.
Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for
some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Wood's game plan.
"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood had
said. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be."
When Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops to
let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch.
Once he caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection
from one of the Weasleys' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to
come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry
dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.
"All right there, Harry?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger
furiously toward Marcus Flint.
"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks
two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the --
wait a moment -- was that the Snitch?"
A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too
busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his
Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downward after the
streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck
and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch -all the Chasers seemed to have
forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to
Harry was faster than Higgs -- he could see the little round ball, wings
fluttering, darting up ahead - - he put on an extra spurt of speed --
WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below -- Marcus Flint
had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course, Harry
holding on for dear life.
"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.
Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the
goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the
Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.
Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red
"What are you talking about, Dean?" said Ron.
"Red card!" said Dean furiously. "In soccer you get shown the red card
and you're out of the game!"
"But this isn't soccer, Dean," Ron reminded him.
Hagrid, however, was on Dean's side.
"They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the
Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.
"So -- after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating
"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.
"I mean, after that open and revolting foul
'Jordan, I'm warning you --"
"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which
could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by
Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor
still in possession."
It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously
past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening
lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped
the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt
anything like that.
It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him
off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their
riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal- posts
-- he had half a mind to ask Wood to call time-out -- and then he
realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't
turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the
air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that
almost unseated him.
Lee was still commentating.
"Slytherin in possession -- Flint with the Quaffle -- passes Spinnet --
passes Bell -- hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose
-- only joking, Professor -- Slytherins score -- A no...
The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's
broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying- him slowly higher, away
from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.
"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through
his binoculars. "If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of
his broom... but he can't have...."
Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His
broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to
hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild
jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on
with only one hand.
"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.
"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere
with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic -- no kid could do that to
a Nimbus Two Thousand."
At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of
looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.
"What are you doing?" moaned Ron, gray-faced.
"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape -- look."
Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands
opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop
under his breath.
"He's doing something -- jinxing the broom," said Hermione.
"What should we do?"
"Leave it to me."
Before Ron could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. Ron turned
the binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was
almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on
its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull
Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good -- every time
they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower
and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell.
Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.
"Come on, Hermione," Ron muttered desperately.
Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood, and
was now racing along the row behind him; she didn't even stop to say
sorry as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front.
Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and whispered a
few, well- chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from her wand onto the
hem of Snape's robes.
It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire.
A sudden yelp told her she had done her job. Scooping the fire off him
into a little jar in her pocket, she scrambled back along the row --
Snape would never know what had happened.
It was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on
to his broom.
"Neville, you can look!" Ron said. Neville had been sobbing into
Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes.
Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his
hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick -- he hit the field
on all fours -- coughed -- and something gold fell into his hand.
"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the
game ended in complete confusion.
"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling
twenty minutes later, but it made no difference -- Harry hadn't broken
any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results --
Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harry
heard none of this, though. He was being made a cup of strong tea back
in Hagrid's hut, with Ron and Hermione.
"It was Snape," Ron was explaining, "Hermione and I saw him. He was
cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."
"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next
to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another, wondering what to tell
him. Harry decided on the truth.
"I found out something about him," he told Hagrid. "He tried to get past
that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying
to steal whatever it's guarding."
Hagrid dropped the teapot.
"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.
"Yeah -- he's mine -- bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub
las' year -- I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the
"Yes?" said Harry eagerly.
"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret,
"But Snape's trying to steal it."
"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do
nothin' of the sort."
"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione.
The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about
I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them!
You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw
"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why
Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student!
Now, listen to me, all three of yeh -- yer meddlin' in things that don'
concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what
it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel
"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved,
Hagrid looked furious with himself.
THE MIRROR OF ERISED
Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find
itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the
Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that
they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The
few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to
deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could
fly off again.
No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common
room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had
become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms.
Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where
their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as
possible to their hot cauldrons.
"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, "for all
those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're
not wanted at home."
He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled.
Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them.
Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch
match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get