Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

care 
about Gryffindor, do you 
only 
care about your-
selves, 
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.” 

---

CHAPTER NINE 
‘
156 
‘
“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.” 

---

THE MIDNIGHT DUEL 
‘
157 
‘
“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 al-
ready.” 
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 

---

CHAPTER NINE 
‘
158 
‘
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 fright-
ened 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.” 

---

THE MIDNIGHT DUEL 
‘
159 
‘
“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 shoot-
ing out of a classroom in front of them. 
It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of de-
light. 
“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 sanity 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, “STU-
DENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRI-
DOR!” 
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!” 

---

CHAPTER NINE 
‘
160 
‘
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, “