Harry Potter 01 - Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

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 night-time 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 learnt 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 towards 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 towards 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 armour. 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 armour.
    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,’