Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

Back
, Fang — 
back.
” 
Hagrid’s big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the 
door open. 
“Hang on,” he said. “
Back,
Fang.” 
He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an 
enormous black boarhound. 
There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were 
hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open 
fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt 
over it. 
“Make yerselves at home,” said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who 
bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, 
Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked. 
“This is Ron,” Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling wa-
ter into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate. 
“Another Weasley, eh?” said Hagrid, glancing at Ron’s freckles. 
“I spent half me life chasin’ yer twin brothers away from the forest.” 
The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost 
broke their teeth, but Harry and Ron pretended to be enjoying 
them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested 
his head on Harry’s knee and drooled all over his robes. 

---

THE POTIONS MASTER 
‘
141 
‘
Harry and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch “that old 
git’’ 
“An’ as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I’d like ter introduce her to 
Fang sometime. D’yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she 
follows me everywhere? Can’t get rid of her — Filch puts her up 
to it.” 
Harry told Hagrid about Snape’s lesson. Hagrid, like Ron, told 
Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the stu-
dents. 
“But he seemed to really 
hate
me.” 
“Rubbish!” said Hagrid. “Why should he?” 
Yet Harry couldn’t help thinking that Hagrid didn’t quite meet 
his eyes when he said that. 
“How’s yer brother Charlie?” Hagrid asked Ron. “I liked him a 
lot — great with animals.” 
Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. 
While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie’s work with dragons, 
Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under 
the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the 
Daily Prophet
: 
GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST 
Investigations continue into the break-in at 
Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the 
work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. 
Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing 
had been taken. The vault that was searched had in 
fact been emptied the same day. 
“But we’re not telling you what was in there, so 
keep your noses out if you know what’s good 

---

CHAPTER EIGHT 
‘
142 
‘
for you,” said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this after-
noon. 
Harry remembered Ron telling him on the train that someone had 
tried to rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn’t mentioned the date. 
“Hagrid!” said Harry, “that Gringotts break-in happened on my 
birthday! It might’ve been happening while we were there!” 
There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn’t meet 
Harry’s eyes this time. He grunted and offered him another rock 
cake. Harry read the story again. 
The vault that was searched had in 
fact been emptied earlier that same day.
Hagrid had emptied vault 
seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out 
that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were 
looking for? 
As Harry and Ron walked back to the castle for dinner, their 
pockets weighed down with rock cakes they’d been too polite to 
refuse, Harry thought that none of the lessons he’d had so far had 
given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid 
collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did 
Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn’t want to tell 
Harry? 

---

C H A P T E R N I N E 
‘
143 
‘
THE MIDNIGHT DUEL 
arry had never believed he would meet a boy he hated 
more than Dudley, but that was before he met Draco 
Malfoy. Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the 
Slytherins, so they didn’t have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at 
least, they didn’t until they spotted a notice pinned up in the 
Gryffindor common room that made them all groan. Flying 
lessons would be starting on Thursday — and Gryffindor and 
Slytherin would be learning together. 
“Typical,” said Harry darkly. “Just what I always wanted. To 
make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy.” 
He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than any-
thing else. 
“You don’t know that you’ll make a fool of yourself,” said Ron 
reasonably. “Anyway, I know Malfoy’s always going on about how 
good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that’s all talk.” 
H 

---

CHAPTER NINE 
‘
144 
‘
Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained 
loudly about first years never getting on the House Quidditch 
teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end 
with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn’t the 
only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he’d spent most 
of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broom-
stick. Even Ron would tell anyone who’d listen about the time he’d 
almost hit a hang glider on Charlie’s old broom. Everyone from 
wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had al-
ready had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their 
dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn’t see what was exciting about 
a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Harry 
had caught Ron prodding Dean’s poster of West Ham soccer team, 
trying to make the players move. 
Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his 
grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harry felt she’d 
had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordi-
nary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground. 
Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville 
was. This was something you couldn’t learn by heart out of a 
book — not that she hadn’t tried. At breakfast on Thursday she 
bored them all stupid with flying tips she’d gotten out of a library 
book called