Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone By J. K. Rowling chapter one the Boy Who Lived

Flattened
in 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.” 
Then she suddenly smiled. 
“Your father would have been proud,” she said. “He was an excellent Quidditch player himself.” 
“You’re 
joking
.” 

---

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. 
“
Seeker
?” he said. “But first years 
never
— you must be the youngest house player in about —” 
“ — a century,” said Harry, shoveling pie into his mouth. 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?” 
“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. 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.”
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. The most you and Malfoy’ll 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.” 
“And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?” 
“Throw it away and punch him on the nose,” Ron suggested. 
“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 you 
mustn’t
go 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.” 
“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.” 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.” 
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. 
“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 you