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

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 
Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback 
Quirrell, however, must have been braver than they’d thought. In the weeks that followed he did 
seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it didn’t look as though he’d cracked yet. 
Every time they passed the third-floor corridor, Harry, Ron, and Hermione would press their ears 
to the door to check that Fluffy was still growling inside. Snape was sweeping about in his usual 
bad temper, which surely meant that the Stone was still safe. Whenever Harry passed Quirrell 
these days he gave him an encouraging sort of smile, and Ron had started telling people off for 
laughing at Quirrell’s stutter. 
Hermione, however, had more on her mind than the Sorcerer’s Stone. She had started drawing up 
study schedules and color coding all her notes. Harry and Ron wouldn’t have minded, but she 
kept nagging them to do the same. 
“Hermione, the exams are ages away.” 
“Ten weeks,” Hermione snapped. “That’s not ages, that’s like a second to Nicolas Flamel.” 
“But we’re not six hundred years old,” Ron reminded her. “Anyway, what are you studying for, 
you already know it’s an A.” 
“What am I studying for? Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into the 
second year? They’re very important, I should have started studying a month ago, I don’t know 
what’s gotten into me…” 
Unfortunately, the teachers seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione. They piled 
so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren’t nearly as much fun as the 
Christmas ones. It was hard to relax with Hermione next to you reciting the twelve uses of 
dragon’s blood or practicing wand movements. Moaning and yawning, Harry and Ron spent 
most of their free time in the library with her, trying to get through all their extra work. 
“I’ll never remember this,” Ron burst out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking 
longingly out of the library window. It was the first really fine day they’d had in months. The sky 
was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming. 
Harry, who was looking up “Dittany” in 
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi
, didn’t look 
up until he heard Ron say, “Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?” 
Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his 
moleskin overcoat. 
“Jus’ lookin’,” he said, in a shifty voice that got their interest at once. “An’ what’re you lot up 

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ter?” He looked suddenly suspicious. “Yer not still lookin’ fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?” 
“Oh, we found out who he is ages ago,” said Ron impressively. “And we know what that dog’s 
guarding, it’s a Sorcerer’s St—” 
“Shhhh!” Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. “Don’ go shoutin’ about 
it, what’s the matter with yeh?” 
“There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact,” said Harry, “about what’s 
guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy —” 
“SHHHH!” said Hagrid again. “Listen — come an’ see me later, I’m not promisin’ I’ll tell yeh 
anythin’, mind, but don’ go rabbitin’ about it in here, students aren’ s’pposed ter know. They’ll 
think I’ve told yeh —” 
“See you later, then,” said Harry. 
Hagrid shuffled off. 
“What was he hiding behind his back?” said Hermione thoughtfully. 
“Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?” 
“I’m going to see what section he was in,” said Ron, who’d had enough of working. He came 
back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slammed them down on the table. 
“Dragons!” he whispered. “Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: