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

care
about Gryffindor, do you 
only
care about yourselves, 
I
don’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, 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 
nighttime visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor tower. 
“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. 
“You are 
not
.” 
“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.” 

---

“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, 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.” 
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.” 
Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, 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. They sped up a staircase to 
the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room. 
Malfoy and Crabbe weren’t there yet. 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. 
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.” 
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. 
“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 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. 
“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.” 
“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. 
“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. 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. 
“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. 
“This is it!” Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, “We’re done for! This is the 
end!” 
They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves’s shouts. 
“Oh, move over,” Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry’s wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, 
“