Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
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” Hermione muttered as Ron slipped his wand up his sleeve. “I know, ” Ron snapped. “Don’t nag.” Back in the locker room, Wood had taken Harry aside. “Don’t want to pressure you, Potter, but if we ever need an early capture of the Snitch it’s now. Finish the game before Snape can fa- vor Hufflepuff too much.” “The whole school’s out there!” said Fred Weasley, peering out of the door. “Even — blimey — Dumbledore’s come to watch!” Harry’s heart did a somersault. “ Dumbledore ?” he said, dashing to the door to make sure. Fred was right. There was no mistaking that silver beard. Harry could have laughed out loud with relief. He was safe. There was simply no way that Snape would dare to try to hurt him if Dumbledore was watching. Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams marched onto the field, something that Ron noticed, too. “I’ve never seen Snape look so mean,” he told Hermione. “Look — they’re off. Ouch!” Someone had poked Ron in the back of the head. It was Malfoy. “Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn’t see you there.” Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle. “Wonder how long Potter’s going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?” NICHOLAS FLAMEL 223 Ron didn’t answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Hermione, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly at Harry, who was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch. “You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?” said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all. “It’s people they feel sorry for. See, there’s Potter, who’s got no parents, then there’s the Weasleys, who’ve got no money — you should be on the team, Longbottom, you’ve got no brains.” Neville went bright red but turned in his seat to face Malfoy. “I’m worth twelve of you, Malfoy,” he stammered. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle howled with laughter, but Ron, still not daring to take his eyes from the game, said, “You tell him, Neville.” “Longbottom, if brains were gold you’d be poorer than Weasley, and that’s saying something.” Ron’s nerves were already stretched to the breaking point with anxiety about Harry. “I’m warning you, Malfoy — one more word —” “Ron!” said Hermione suddenly, “Harry — !” “What? Where?” Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Hermione stood up, her crossed fingers in her mouth, as Harry streaked toward the ground like a bullet. “You’re in luck, Weasley, Potter’s obviously spotted some money on the ground!” said Malfoy. CHAPTER THIRTEEN 224 Ron snapped. Before Malfoy knew what was happening, Ron was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground. Neville hesitated, then clambered over the back of his seat to help. “Come on, Harry!” Hermione screamed, leaping onto her seat to watch as Harry sped straight at Snape — she didn’t even notice Malfoy and Ron rolling around under her seat, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Neville, Crabbe, and Goyle. Up in the air, Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches — the next second, Harry had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in tri- umph, the Snitch clasped in his hand. The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever re- member the Snitch being caught so quickly. “Ron! Ron! Where are you? The game’s over! Harry’s won! We’ve won! Gryffindor is in the lead!” shrieked Hermione, dancing up and down on her seat and hugging Parvati Patil in the row in front. Harry jumped off his broom, a foot from the ground. He couldn’t believe it. He’d done it — the game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. As Gryffindors came spilling onto the field, he saw Snape land nearby, white-faced and tight-lipped — then Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into Dumble- dore’s smiling face. “Well done,” said Dumbledore quietly, so that only Harry could hear. “Nice to see you haven’t been brooding about that mirror . . . been keeping busy . . . excellent . . .” Snape spat bitterly on the ground. NICHOLAS FLAMEL 225 Harry left the locker room alone some time later, to take his Nim- bus Two Thousand back to the broomshed. He couldn’t ever re- member feeling happier. He’d really done something to be proud of now — no one could say he was just a famous name any more. The evening air had never smelled so sweet. He walked over the damp grass, reliving the last hour in his head, which was a happy blur: Gryffindors running to lift him onto their shoulders; Ron and Hermione in the distance, jumping up and down, Ron cheering through a heavy nosebleed. Harry had reached the shed. He leaned against the wooden door and looked up at Hogwarts, with its windows glowing red in the setting sun. Gryffindor in the lead. He’d done it, he’d shown Snape. . . . And speaking of Snape . . . A hooded figure came swiftly down the front steps of the castle. Clearly not wanting to be seen, it walked as fast as possible toward the forbidden forest. Harry’s victory faded from his mind as he watched. He recognized the figure’s prowling walk. Snape, sneak- ing into the forest while everyone else was at dinner — what was going on? Harry jumped back on his Nimbus Two Thousand and took off. Gliding silently over the castle he saw Snape enter the forest at a run. He followed. The trees were so thick he couldn’t see where Snape had gone. He flew in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees until he heard voices. He glided toward them and landed noiselessly in a towering beech tree. He climbed carefully along one of the branches, holding tight to his broomstick, trying to see through the leaves. CHAPTER THIRTEEN 226 Below, in a shadowy clearing, stood Snape, but he wasn’t alone. Quirrell was there, too. Harry couldn’t make out the look on his face, but he was stuttering worse than ever. Harry strained to catch what they were saying. “. . . d-don’t know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus . . .” “Oh, I thought we’d keep this private,” said Snape, his voice icy. “Students aren’t supposed to know about the Sorcerer’s Stone, after all.” Harry leaned forward. Quirrell was mumbling something. Snape interrupted him. “Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid’s yet?” “B-b-but Severus, I —” “You don’t want me as your enemy, Quirrell,” said Snape, taking a step toward him. “I-I don’t know what you —” “You know perfectly well what I mean.” An owl hooted loudly, and Harry nearly fell out of the tree. He steadied himself in time to hear Snape say, “— your little bit of hocus-pocus. I’m waiting.” “B-but I d-d-don’t —” “Very well,” Snape cut in. “We’ll have another little chat soon, when you’ve had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie.” He threw his cloak over his head and strode out of the clearing. It was almost dark now, but Harry could see Quirrell, standing quite still as though he was petrified. NICHOLAS FLAMEL 227 “Harry, where have you been ?” Hermione squeaked. “We won! You won! We won!” shouted Ron, thumping Harry on the back. “And I gave Malfoy a black eye, and Neville tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle single-handed! He’s still out cold but Madam Pomfrey says he’ll be all right — talk about showing Slytherin! Everyone’s waiting for you in the common room, we’re having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from the kitchens.” “Never mind that now,” said Harry breathlessly. “Let’s find an empty room, you wait ’til you hear this. . . .” He made sure Peeves wasn’t inside before shutting the door be- hind them, then he told them what he’d seen and heard. “So we were right, it is the Sorcerer’s Stone, and Snape’s trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy — and he said something about Quirrell’s ‘hocus- pocus’ — I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break through —” “So you mean the Stone’s only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?” said Hermione in alarm. “It’ll be gone by next Tuesday,” said Ron. C H A P T E R F O U R T E E N 228 NORBERT THE NORWEGIAN RIDGEBACK uirrell, however, must have been braver than they’d thought. In the weeks that followed he did seem to be get- ting 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 en- couraging 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.” Q NORBERT THE NORWEGIAN RIDGEBACK 229 “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. “Any- way, what are you studying for, you already know it all.” “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 impor- tant, 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 Christ- mas ones. It was hard to relax with Hermione next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon’s blood or practicing wand movements. Moan- ing 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, throw- ing down his quill and looking longingly out of the library win- dow. 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 Yüklə 3,2 Mb. Dostları ilə paylaş:
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