Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

catch
it, he nearly 
swallowed
it,” Flint was still howl-
ing 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

---

CHAPTER ELEVEN 
‘
192 
‘
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 some-
thin’ 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. 
“
Fluffy
?” 
“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, that is.” 
“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 Snape. 
“I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I’ve read all about them!

---

QUIDDITCH 
‘
193 
‘
You’ve got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn’t blinking at all, I 
saw him!” 
“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 stu-
dent! 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 in-
volved, is there?” 
Hagrid looked furious with himself. 

---

C H A P T E R T W E L V E 
‘
194 
‘
THE MIRROR OF ERISED 
hristmas 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 be-
witching 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 Gryf-
findor 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 caul-
drons. 
“I do feel so sorry,” said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, “for all
C 

---

THE MIRROR OF ERISED 
‘
195 
‘
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 lion-
fish, 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 everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed 
tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he’d real-
ized that nobody found this funny, because they were all so im-
pressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking 
broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunt-
ing Harry about having no proper family. 
It was true that Harry wasn’t going back to Privet Drive for 
Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come around the week be-
fore, making a list of students who would be staying for the holi-
days, and Harry had signed up at once. He didn’t feel sorry for 
himself at all; this would probably be the best Christmas he’d ever 
had. Ron and his brothers were staying, too, because Mr. and Mrs. 
Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie. 
When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found 
a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet 
sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that 
Hagrid was behind it. 
“Hi, Hagrid, want any help?” Ron asked, sticking his head 
through the branches. 
“Nah, I’m all right, thanks, Ron.” 
“Would you mind moving out of the way?” came Malfoy’s cold 
drawl from behind them. “Are you trying to earn some extra

---

CHAPTER TWELVE 
‘
196 
‘
money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you 
leave Hogwarts, I suppose — that hut of Hagrid’s must seem like a 
palace compared to what your family’s used to.” 
Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs. 
“WEASLEY!” 
Ron let go of the front of Malfoy’s robes. 
“He was provoked, Professor Snape,” said Hagrid, sticking his 
huge hairy face out from behind the tree. “Malfoy was insultin’ his 
family.” 
“Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid,” 
said Snape silkily. “Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be 
grateful it isn’t more. Move along, all of you.” 
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scat-
tering needles everywhere and smirking. 
“I’ll get him,” said Ron, grinding his teeth at Malfoy’s back, “one 
of these days, I’ll get him —” 
“I hate them both,” said Harry, “Malfoy and Snape.” 
“Come on, cheer up, it’s nearly Christmas,” said Hagrid. “Tell 
yeh what, come with me an’ see the Great Hall, looks a treat.” 
So the three of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to the 
Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick 
were busy with the Christmas decorations. 
“Ah, Hagrid, the last tree — put it in the far corner, would you?” 
The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe 
hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christ-
mas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, 
some glittering with hundreds of candles. 
“How many days you got left until yer holidays?” Hagrid asked. 

---

THE MIRROR OF ERISED 
‘
197 
‘
“Just one,” said Hermione. “And that reminds me — Harry, 
Ron, we’ve got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the li-
brary.” 
“Oh yeah, you’re right,” said Ron, tearing his eyes away from 
Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his 
wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree. 
“The library?” said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. “Just 
before the holidays? Bit keen, aren’t yeh?” 
“Oh, we’re not working,” Harry told him brightly. “Ever since 
you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we’ve been trying to find out who 
he is.” 
“You 
what
?” Hagrid looked shocked. “Listen here — I’ve told 
yeh — drop it. It’s nothin’ to you what that dog’s guardin’.” 
“We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that’s all,” said 
Hermione. 
“Unless you’d like to tell us and save us the trouble?” Harry 
added. “We must’ve been through hundreds of books already and 
we can’t find him anywhere — just give us a hint — I know I’ve 
read his name somewhere.” 
“I’m sayin’ nothin’,” said Hagrid flatly. 
“Just have to find out for ourselves, then,” said Ron, and they 
left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library. 
They had indeed been searching books for Flamel’s name ever 
since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to 
find out what Snape was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very 
hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might 
have done to get himself into a book. He wasn’t in