chapter9.txt

Harry
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
anything
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."
+
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
broomstick.
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
already
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
extraordinary
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
Quidditch
Through
the
Ages.
Neville
was
hanging
on
to
her
every
word,
desperate
for
anything
that
might
help
him
hang
on
to
his
broomstick
later,
but
everybody
else
was
very
pleased
when
Hermione's
lecture
was
interrupted
by
the
arrival
of
the
mail.
+
Harry
hadn't
had
a
single
letter
since
Hagrid's
note,
something
that
Malfoy
had
been
quick
to
notice,
of
course.
Malfoy's
eagle
owl
was
always
bringing
him
packages
of
sweets
from
home,
which
he
opened
gloatingly
at
the
Slytherin
table.
+
A
barn
owl
brought
Neville
a
small
package
from
his
grandmother.
He
opened
it
excitedly
and
showed
them
a
glass
ball
the
size
of
a
large
marble,
which
seemed
to
be
full
of
white
smoke.
+
"It's
a
Remembrall!"
he
explained.
"Gran
knows
I
forget
things
--
this
tells
you
if
there's
something
you've
forgotten
to
do.
Look,
you
hold
it
tight
like
this
and
if
it
turns
red
--
oh
..."
His
face
fell,
because
the
Remembrall
had
suddenly
glowed
scarlet,
"...
you've
forgotten
something
..."
+
Neville
was
trying
to
remember
what
he'd
forgotten
when
Draco
Malfoy,
who
was
passing
the
Gryffindor
table,
snatched
the
Remembrall
out
of
his
hand.
+
Harry
and
Ron
jumped
to
their
feet.
They
were
half
hoping
for
a
reason
to
fight
Malfoy,
but
Professor
McGonagall,
who
could
spot
trouble
quicker
than
any
teacher
in
the
school,
was
there
in
a
flash.
+
"What's
going
on?"
+
"Malfoy's
got
my
Remembrall,
Professor."
+
Scowling,
Malfoy
quickly
dropped
the
Remembrall
back
on
the
table.
+
"Just
looking,"
he
said,
and
he
sloped
away
with
Crabbe
and
Goyle
behind
him.
+
+
At
three-thirty
that
afternoon,
Harry,
Ron,
and
the
other
Gryffindors
hurried
down
the
front
steps
onto
the
grounds
for
their
first
flying
lesson.
It
was
a
clear,
breezy
day,
and
the
grass
rippled
under
their
feet
as
they
marched
down
the
sloping
lawns
toward
a
smooth,
flat
lawn
on
the
opposite
side
of
the
grounds
to
the
forbidden
forest,
whose
trees
were
swaying
darkly
in
the
distance.
+
The
Slytherins
were
already
there,
and
so
were
twenty
broomsticks
lying
in
neat
lines
on
the
ground.
Harry
had
heard
Fred
and
George
Weasley
complain
about
the
school
brooms,
saying
that
some
of
them
started
to
vibrate
if
you
flew
too
high,
or
always
flew
slightly
to
the
left.
+
Their
teacher,
Madam
Hooch,
arrived.
She
had
short,
gray
hair,
and
yellow
eyes
like
a
hawk.
+
"Well,
what
are
you
all
waiting
for?"
she
barked.
"Everyone
stand
by
a
broomstick.
Come
on,
hurry
up."
+
Harry
glanced
down
at
his
broom.
It
was
old
and
some
of
the
twigs
stuck
out
at
odd
angles.
+
"Stick
out
your
right
hand
over
your
broom,"
called
Madam
Hooch
at
the
front,
"and
say
'Up!'"
+
"UP!"
everyone
shouted.
+
Harry's
broom
jumped
into
his
hand
at
once,
but
it
was
one
of
the
few
that
did.
Hermione
Granger's
had
simply
rolled
over
on
the
ground,
and
Neville's
hadn't
moved
at
all.
Perhaps
brooms,
like
horses,
could
tell
when
you
were
afraid,
thought
Harry;
there
was
a
quaver
in
Neville's
voice
that
said
only
too
clearly
that
he
wanted
to
keep
his
feet
on
the
ground.
+
Madam
Hooch
then
showed
them
how
to
mount
their
brooms
without
sliding
off
the
end,
and
walked
up
and
down
the
rows
correcting
their
grips.
Harry
and
Ron
were
delighted
when
she
told
Malfoy
he'd
been
doing
it
wrong
for
years.
+
"Now,
when
I
blow
my
whistle,
you
kick
off
from
the
ground,
hard,"
said
Madam
Hooch.
"Keep
your
brooms
steady,
rise
a
few
feet,
and
then
come
straight
back
down
by
leaning
forward
slightly.
On
my
whistle
--
three
--
two
--"
+
But
Neville,
nervous
and
jumpy
and
frightened
of
being
left
on
the
ground,
pushed
off
hard
before
the
whistle
had
touched
Madam
Hooch's
lips.
+
"Come
back,
boy!"
she
shouted,
but
Neville
was
rising
straight
up
like
a
cork
shot
out
of
a
bottle
--
twelve
feet
--
twenty
feet.
Harry
saw
his
scared
white
face
look
down
at
the
ground
falling
away,
saw
him
gasp,
slip
sideways
off
the
broom
and
--
+
WHAM
--
a
thud
and
a
nasty
crack
and
Neville
lay
facedown
on
the
grass
in
a
heap.
His
broomstick
was
still
rising
higher
and
higher,
and
started
to
drift
lazily
toward
the
forbidden
forest
and
out
of
sight.
+
Madam
Hooch
was
bending
over
Neville,
her
face
as
white
as
his.
"Broken
wrist,"
Harry
heard
her
mutter.
"Come
on,
boy
--
it's
all
right,
up
you
get."
+
She
turned
to
the
rest
of
the
class.
"None
of
you
is
to
move
while
I
take
this
boy
to
the
hospital
wing!
You
leave
those
brooms
where
they
are
or
you'll
be
out
of
Hogwarts
before
you
can
say
'Quidditch.'
Come
on,
dear."
+
Neville,
his
face
tear-streaked,
clutching
his
wrist,
hobbled
off
with
Madam
Hooch,
who
had
her
arm
around
him.
+
No
sooner
were
they
out
of
earshot
than
Malfoy
burst
into
laughter.
+
"Did
you
see
his
face,
the
great
lump?"
+
The
other
Slytherins
joined
in.
+
"Shut
up,
Malfoy,"
snapped
Parvati
Patil.
+
"Ooh,
sticking
up
for
Longbottom?"
said
Pansy
Parkinson,
a
hard-faced
Slytherin
girl.
"Never
thought
you'd
like
fat
little
crybabies,
Parvati."
+
"Look!"
said
Malfoy,
darting
forward
and
snatching
something
out
of
the
grass.
"It's
that
stupid
thing
Longbottom's
gran
sent
him."
+
The
Remembrall
glittered
in
the
sun
as
he
held
it
up.
+
"Give
that
here,
Malfoy,"
said
Harry
quietly.
Everyone
stopped
talking
to
watch.
+
Malfoy
smiled
nastily.
"I
think
I'll
leave
it
somewhere
for
Longbottom
to
find
--
how
about
--
up
a
tree?"
+
"Give
it
here!"
Harry
yelled,
but
Malfoy
had
leapt
onto
his
broomstick
and
taken
off.
He
hadn't
been
lying,
he
could
fly
well.
Hovering
level
with
the
topmost
branches
of
an
oak
he
called,
"Come
and
get
it,
Potter!"
+
Harry
grabbed
his
broom.
+
"No!"
shouted
Hermione
Granger.
"Madam
Hooch
told
us
not
to
move
--
you'll
get
us
all
into
trouble."
+
Harry
ignored
her.
Blood
was
pounding
in
his
ears.
He
mounted
the
broom
and
kicked
hard
against
the
ground
and
up,
up
he
soared;
air
rushed
through
his
hair,
and
his
robes
whipped
out
behind
him
--
and
in
a
rush
of
fierce
joy
he
realized
he'd
found
something
he
could
do
without
being
taught
--
this
was
easy,
this
was
wonderful.
He
pulled
his
broomstick
up
a
little
to
take
it
even
higher,
and
heard
screams
and
gasps
of
girls
back
on
the
ground
and
an
admiring
whoop
from
Ron.
+
He
turned
his
broomstick
sharply
to
face
Malfoy
in
midair.
+
Malfoy
looked
stunned.
"Give
it
here,"
Harry
called,
"or
I'll
knock
you
off
that
broom!"
+
"Oh,
yeah?"
said
Malfoy,
trying
to
sneer,
but
looking
worried.
+
Harry
knew,
somehow,
what
to
do.
He
leaned
forward
and
grasped
the
broom
tightly
in
both
hands,
and
it
shot
toward
Malfoy
like
a
javelin.
Malfoy
only
just
got
out
of
the
way
in
time;
Harry
made
a
sharp
about-face
and
held
the
broom
steady.
A
few
people
below
were
clapping.
+
"No
Crabbe
and
Goyle
up
here
to
save
your
neck,
Malfoy,"
Harry
called.
+
The
same
thought
seemed
to
have
struck
Malfoy.
+
"Catch
it
if
you
can,
then!"
he
shouted,
and
he
threw
the
glass
ball
high
into
the
air
and
streaked
back
toward
the
ground.
+
Harry
saw,
as
though
in
slow
motion,
the
ball
rise
up
in
the
air
and
then
start
to
fall.
He
leaned
forward
and
pointed
his
broom
handle
down
--
next
second
he
was
gathering
speed
in
a
steep
dive,
racing
the
ball
--
wind
whistled
in
his
ears,
mingled
with
the
screams
of
people
watching
--
he
stretched
out
his
hand
--
a
foot
from
the
ground
he
caught
it,
just
in
time
to
pull
his
broom
straight,
and
he
toppled
gently
onto
the
grass
with
the
Remembrall
clutched
safely
in
his
fist.
+
"HARRY
POTTER!"
+
His
heart
sank
faster
than
he'd
just
dived.
Professor
McGonagall
was
running
toward
them.
He
got
to
his
feet,
trembling.
+
"Never
--
in
all
my
time
at
Hogwarts
--"
Professor
McGonagall
was
almost
speechless
with
shock,
and
her
glasses
flashed
furiously,
"--
how
dare
you
--
might
have
broken
your
neck
--"
+
"It
wasn't
his
fault,
Professor
--"
+
"Be
quiet,
Miss
Patil
--"
+
"But
Malfoy
--"
"That's
enough,
Mr.
Weasley.
Potter,
follow
me,
now."
+
Harry
caught
sight
of
Malfoy,
Crabbe,
and
Goyle's
triumphant
faces
as
he
left,
walking
numbly
in
Professor
McGonagall's
wake
as
she
strode
toward
the
castle.
He
was
going
to
be
expelled,
he
just
knew
it.
He
wanted
to
say
something
to
defend
himself,
but
there
seemed
to
be
something
wrong
with
his
voice.
Professor
McGonagall
was
sweeping
along
without
even
looking
at
him;
he
had
to
jog
to
keep
up.
Now
he'd
done
it.
He
hadn't
even
lasted
two
weeks.
He'd
be
packing
his
bags
in
ten
minutes.
What
would
the
Dursleys
say
when
he
turned
up
on
the
doorstep?
+
Up
the
front
steps,
up
the
marble
staircase
inside,
and
still
Professor
McGonagall
didn't
say
a
word
to
him.
She
wrenched
open
doors
and
marched
along
corridors
with
Harry
trotting
miserably
behind
her.
Maybe
she
was
taking
him
to
Dumbledore.
He
thought
of
Hagrid,
expelled
but
allowed
to
stay
on
as
gamekeeper.
Perhaps
he
could
be
Hagrid's
assistant.
His
stomach
twisted
as
he
imagined
it,
watching
Ron
and
the
others
becoming
wizards
while
he
stumped
around
the
grounds
carrying
Hagrid's
bag.
+
Professor
McGonagall
stopped
outside
a
classroom.
She
opened
the
door
and
poked
her
head
inside.
+
"Excuse
me,
Professor
Flitwick,
could
I
borrow
Wood
for
a
moment?"
+
Wood?
thought
Harry,
bewildered;
was
Wood
a
cane
she
was
going
to
use
on
him?
But
Wood
turned
out
to
be
a
person,
a
burly
fifth-year
boy
who
came
out
of
Flitwick's
class
looking
confused.
+
"Follow
me,
you
two,"
said
Professor
McGonagall,
and
they
marched
on
up
the
corridor,
Wood
looking
curiously
at
Harry.
+
"In
here."
+
Professor
McGonagall
pointed
them
into
a
classroom
that
was
empty
except
for
Peeves,
who
was
busy
writing
rude
words
on
the
blackboard.
+
"Out,
Peeves!"
she
barked.
Peeves
threw
the
chalk
into
a
bin,
which
clanged
loudly,
and
he
swooped
out
cursing.
Professor
McGonagall
slammed
the
door
behind
him
and
turned
to
face
the
two
boys.
+
"Potter,
this
is
Oliver
Wood.
Wood
--
I've
found
you
a
Seeker."
+
Wood's
expression
changed
from
puzzlement
to
delight.
+
"Are
you
serious,
Professor?"
+
"Absolutely,"
said
Professor
McGonagall
crisply.
"The
boy's
a
natural.
I've
never
seen
anything
like
it.
Was
that
your
first
time
on
a
broomstick,
Potter?"
+
Harry
nodded
silently.
He
didn't
have
a
clue
what
was
going
on,
but
he
didn't
seem
to
be
being
expelled,
and
some
of
the
feeling
started
coming
back
to
his
legs.
+
"He
caught
that
thing
in
his
hand
after
a
fifty-foot
dive,"
Professor
McGonagall
told
Wood.
"Didn't
even
scratch
himself.
Charlie
Weasley
couldn't
have
done
it."
+
Wood
was
now
looking
as
though
all
his
dreams
had
come
true
at
once.
+
"Ever
seen
a
game
of
Quidditch,
Potter?"
he
asked
excitedly.
+
"Wood's
captain
of
the
Gryffindor
team,"
Professor
McGonagall
explained.
+
"He's
just
the
build
for
a
Seeker,
too,"
said
Wood,
now
walking
around
Harry
and
staring
at
him.
"Light
--
speedy
--
we'll
have
to
get
him
a
decent
broom,
Professor
--
a
Nimbus
Two
Thousand
or
a
Cleansweep
Seven,
I'd
say."
+
"I
shall
speak
to
Professor
Dumbledore
and
see
if
we
can't
bend
the
first-year
rule.
Heaven
knows,
we
need
a
better
team
than
last
year.
Flattened
in
that
last
match
by
Slytherin,
I
couldn't
look
Severus
Snape
in
the
face
for
weeks.
..."
+
Professor
McGonagall
peered
sternly
over
her
glasses
at
Harry.
+
"I
want
to
hear
you're
training
hard,
Potter,
or
I
may
change
my
mind
about
punishing
you."
+
Then
she
suddenly
smiled.
+
"Your
father
would
have
been
proud,"
she
said.
"He
was
an
excellent
Quidditch
player
himself."
+
+
"You're
joking."
+
It
was
dinnertime.
Harry
had
just
finished
telling
Ron
what
had
happened
when
he'd
left
the
grounds
with
Professor
McGonagall.
Ron
had
a
piece
of
steak
and
kidney
pie
halfway
to
his
mouth,
but
he'd
forgotten
all
about
it.
+
"Seeker?"
he
said.
"But
first
years
never
--
you
must
be
the
youngest
House
player
in
about
--"
+
"--
a
century,"
said
Harry,
shoveling
pie
into
his
mouth.
He
felt
particularly
hungry
after
the
excitement
of
the
afternoon.
"Wood
told
me."
+
Ron
was
so
amazed,
so
impressed,
he
just
sat
and
gaped
at
Harry.
+
"I
start
training
next
week,"
said
Harry.
"Only
don't
tell
anyone,
Wood
wants
to
keep
it
a
secret."
+
Fred
and
George
Weasley
now
came
into
the
hall,
spotted
Harry,
and
hurried
over.
+
"Well
done,"
said
George
in
a
low
voice.
"Wood
told
us.
We're
on
the
team
too
--
Beaters."
+
"I
tell
you,
we're
going
to
win
that
Quidditch
Cup
for
sure
this
year,"
said
Fred.
"We
haven't
won
since
Charlie
left,
but
this
year's
team
is
going
to
be
brilliant.
You
must
be
good,
Harry,
Wood
was
almost
skipping
when
he
told
us."
+
"Anyway,
we've
got
to
go,
Lee
Jordan
reckons
he's
found
a
new
secret
passageway
out
of
the
school."
+
"Bet
it's
that
one
behind
the
statue
of
Gregory
the
Smarmy
that
we
found
in
our
first
week.
See
you."
+
Fred
and
George
had
hardly
disappeared
when
someone
far
less
welcome
turned
up:
Malfoy,
flanked
by
Crabbe
and
Goyle.
+
"Having
a
last
meal,
Potter?
When
are
you
getting
the
train
back
to
the
Muggles?"
+
"You're
a
lot
braver
now
that
you're
back
on
the
ground
and
you've
got
your
little
friends
with
you,"
said
Harry
coolly.
There
was
of
course
nothing
at
all
little
about
Crabbe
and
Goyle,
but
as
the
High
Table
was
full
of
teachers,
neither
of
them
could
do
more
than
crack
their
knuckles
and
scowl.
+
"I'd
take
you
on
anytime
on
my
own,"
said
Malfoy.
"Tonight,
if
you
want.
Wizard's
duel.
Wands
only
--
no
contact.
What's
the
matter?
Never
heard
of
a
wizard's
duel
before,
I
suppose?"
+
"Of
course
he
has,"
said
Ron,
wheeling
around.
"I'm
his
second,
who's
yours?"
+
Malfoy
looked
at
Crabbe
and
Goyle,
sizing
them
up.
+
"Crabbe,"
he
said.
"Midnight
all
right?
We'll
meet
you
in
the
trophy
room;
that's
always
unlocked."
+
When
Malfoy
had
gone,
Ron
and
Harry
looked
at
each
other.
+
"What
is
a
wizard's
duel?"
said
Harry.
"And
what
do
you
mean,
you're
my
second?"
+
"Well,
a
second's
there
to
take
over
if
you
die,"
said
Ron
casually,
getting
started
at
last
on
his
cold
pie.
Catching
the
look
on
Harry's
face,
he
added
quickly,
"But
people
only
die
in
proper
duels,
you
know,
with
real
wizards.
The
most
you
and
Malfoy'll
be
able
to
do
is
send
sparks
at
each
other.
Neither
of
you
knows
enough
magic
to
do
any
real
damage.
I
bet
he
expected
you
to
refuse,
anyway."
+
"And
what
if
I
wave
my
wand
and
nothing
happens?"
+
"Throw
it
away
and
punch
him
on
the
nose,"
Ron
suggested.
+
"Excuse
me."
+
They
both
looked
up.
It
was
Hermione
Granger.
+
"Can't
a
person
eat
in
peace
in
this
place?"
said
Ron.
+
Hermione
ignored
him
and
spoke
to
Harry.
"I
couldn't
help
overhearing
what
you
and
Malfoy
were
saying
--"
+
"Bet
you
could,"
Ron
muttered.
+
"--
and
you
mustn't
go
wandering
around
the
school
at
night,
think
of
the
points
you'll
lose
Gryffindor
if
you're
caught,
and
you're
bound
to
be.
It's
really
very
selfish
of
you."
+
"And
it's
really
none
of
your
business,"
said
Harry.
+
"Good-bye,"
said
Ron.
+
+
All
the
same,
it
wasn't
what
you'd
call
the
perfect
end
to
the
day,
Harry
thought,
as
he
lay
awake
much
later
listening
to
Dean
and
Seamus
falling
asleep
(Neville
wasn't
back
from
the
hospital
wing).
Ron
had
spent
all
evening
giving
him
advice
such
as
"If
he
tries
to
curse
you,
you'd
better
dodge
it,
because
I
can't
remember
how
to
block
them."
There
was
a
very
good
chance
they
were
going
to
get
caught
by
Filch
or
Mrs.
Norris,
and
Harry
felt
he
was
pushing
his
luck,
breaking
another
school
rule
today.
On
the
other
hand,
Malfoy's
sneering
face
kept
looming
up
out
of
the
darkness
--
this
was
his
big
chance
to
beat
Malfoy
face-to-face.
He
couldn't
miss
it.
+
"Half-past
eleven,"
Ron
muttered
at
last,
"we'd
better
go."
+
They
pulled
on
their
bathrobes,
picked
up
their
wands,
and
crept
across
the
tower
room,
down
the
spiral
staircase,
and
into
the
Gryffindor
common
room.
A
few
embers
were
still
glowing
in
the
fireplace,
turning
all
the
armchairs
into
hunched
black
shadows.
They
had
almost
reached
the
portrait
hole
when
a
voice
spoke
from
the
chair
nearest
them,
"I
can't
believe
you're
going
to
do
this,
Harry."
+
A
lamp
flickered
on.
It
was
Hermione
Granger,
wearing
a
pink
bathrobe
and
a
frown.
+
"You!"
said
Ron
furiously.
"Go
back
to
bed!"
+
"I
almost
told
your
brother,"
Hermione
snapped,
"Percy
--
he's
a
prefect,
he'd
put
a
stop
to
this."
+
Harry
couldn't
believe
anyone
could
be
so
interfering.
+
"Come
on,"
he
said
to
Ron.
He
pushed
open
the
portrait
of
the
Fat
Lady
and
climbed
through
the
hole.
+
Hermione
wasn't
going
to
give
up
that
easily.
She
followed
Ron
through
the
portrait
hole,
hissing
at
them
like
an
angry
goose.
"Don't
you
care
about
Gryffindor,
do
you
only
care
about
yourselves,
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."
+
"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."
+
"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
already."
+
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
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
frightened
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."
+
"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
shooting
out
of
a
classroom
in
front
of
them.
+
It
was
Peeves.
He
caught
sight
of
them
and
gave
a
squeal
of
delight.
+
"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
saintly
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,
"STUDENTS
OUT
OF
BED
DOWN
THE
CHARMS
CORRIDOR!"
+
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!"
+
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,
"Alohomora!"
+
The
lock
clicked
and
the
door
swung
open
--
they
piled
through
it,
shut
it
quickly,
and
pressed
their
ears
against
it,
listening.
+
"Which
way
did
they
go,
Peeves?"
Filch
was
saying.
"Quick,
tell
me."
"Say
'please.'"
+
"Don't
mess
with
me,
Peeves,
now
where
did
they
go?"
"Shan't
say
nothing
if
you
don't
say
please,"
said
Peeves
in
his
annoying
singsong
voice.
"All
right
--
please."
+
"NOTHING!
Ha
haaa!
Told
you
I
wouldn't
say
nothing
if
you
didn't
say
please!
Ha
ha!
Haaaaaa!"
And
they
heard
the
sound
of
Peeves
whooshing
away
and
Filch
cursing
in
rage.
+
"He
thinks
this
door
is
locked,"
Harry
whispered.
"I
think
we'll
be
okay
--
get
off,
Neville!"
For
Neville
had
been
tugging
on
the
sleeve
of
Harry's
bathrobe
for
the
last
minute.
"What?"
+
Harry
turned
around
--
and
saw,
quite
clearly,
what.
For
a
moment,
he
was
sure
he'd
walked
into
a
nightmare
--
this
was
too
much,
on
top
of
everything
that
had
happened
so
far.
+
They
weren't
in
a
room,
as
he
had
supposed.
They
were
in
a
corridor.
The
forbidden
corridor
on
the
third
floor.
And
now
they
knew
why
it
was
forbidden.
+
They
were
looking
straight
into
the
eyes
of
a
monstrous
dog,
a
dog
that
filled
the
whole
space
between
ceiling
and
floor.
It
had
three
heads.
Three
pairs
of
rolling,
mad
eyes;
three
noses,
twitching
and
quivering
in
their
direction;
three
drooling
mouths,
saliva
hanging
in
slippery
ropes
from
yellowish
fangs.
+
It
was
standing
quite
still,
all
six
eyes
staring
at
them,
and
Harry
knew
that
the
only
reason
they
weren't
already
dead
was
that
their
sudden
appearance
had
taken
it
by
surprise,
but
it
was
quickly
getting
over
that,
there
was
no
mistaking
what
those
thunderous
growls
meant.
+
Harry
groped
for
the
doorknob
--
between
Filch
and
death,
he'd
take
Filch.
+
They
fell
backward
--
Harry
slammed
the
door
shut,
and
they
ran,
they
almost
flew,
back
down
the
corridor.
Filch
must
have
hurried
off
to
look
for
them
somewhere
else,
because
they
didn't
see
him
anywhere,
but
they
hardly
cared
--
all
they
wanted
to
do
was
put
as
much
space
as
possible
between
them
and
that
monster.
They
didn't
stop
running
until
they
reached
the
portrait
of
the
Fat
Lady
on
the
seventh
floor.
+
"Where
on
earth
have
you
all
been?"
she
asked,
looking
at
their
bathrobes
hanging
off
their
shoulders
and
their
flushed,
sweaty
faces.
+
"Never
mind
that
--
pig
snout,
pig
snout,"
panted
Harry,
and
the
portrait
swung
forward.
They
scrambled
into
the
common
room
and
collapsed,
trembling,
into
armchairs.
+
It
was
a
while
before
any
of
them
said
anything.
Neville,
indeed,
looked
as
if
he'd
never
speak
again.
+
"What
do
they
think
they're
doing,
keeping
a
thing
like
that
locked
up
in
a
school?"
said
Ron
finally.
"If
any
dog
needs
exercise,
that
one
does."
+
Hermione
had
got
both
her
breath
and
her
bad
temper
back
again.
+
"You
don't
use
your
eyes,
any
of
you,
do
you?"
she
snapped.
"Didn't
you
see
what
it
was
standing
on?"
+
"The
floor?"
Harry
suggested.
"I
wasn't
looking
at
its
feet,
I
was
too
busy
with
its
heads."
+
"No,
not
the
floor.
It
was
standing
on
a
trapdoor.
It's
obviously
guarding
something."
+
She
stood
up,
glaring
at
them.
+
"I
hope
you're
pleased
with
yourselves.
We
could
all
have
been
killed
--
or
worse,
expelled.
Now,
if
you
don't
mind,
I'm
going
to
bed."
+
Ron
stared
after
her,
his
mouth
open.
"No,
we
don't
mind,"
he
said.
"You'd
think
we
dragged
her
along,
wouldn't
you?"
+
But
Hermione
had
given
Harry
something
else
to
think
about
as
he
climbed
back
into
bed.
The
dog
was
guarding
something.
.
.
.
What
had
Hagrid
said?
Gringotts
was
the
safest
place
in
the
world
for
something
you
wanted
to
hide
--
except
perhaps
Hogwarts.
+
It
looked
as
though
Harry
had
found
out
where
the
grubby
little
package
from
vault
seven
hundred
and
thirteen
was.
+