Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

Quidditch Through the 
Ages,
which turned out to be a very interesting read. 
Harry learned that there were seven hundred ways of commit-
ting 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 play-
ing 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 anyway. 
“What’s that you’ve got there, Potter?” 
It was 
Quidditch Through the Ages.
Harry showed him. 

---

CHAPTER ELEVEN 
‘
182 
‘
“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 answers anyway. 
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 go-
ing 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 Snape bandages. 
“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 — 

---

QUIDDITCH 
‘
183 
‘
“POTTER!” 
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 I’d 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 some-
thing,” 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 ques-
tion. 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- 

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CHAPTER ELEVEN 
‘
184 
‘
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. “Seek-
ers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team.” 
“Thanks, Seamus,” said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup 
on his sausages. 
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 on sometimes. 
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