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

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.

 
     
— CHAPTER TEN —
     
Hallowe’en
    Malfoy couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw that Harry and Ron were still at Hogwarts next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful. Indeed, by next morning Harry and Ron thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure and they were quite keen to have another one. In the meantime, Harry filled Ron in about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection.
    ‘It’s either really valuable or really dangerous,’ said Ron.
    ‘Or both,’ said Harry.
    But as all they knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, they didn’t have much chance of guessing what it was without further clues.
    Neither Neville or Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going near the dog again.
    Hermione was now refusing to speak to Harry and Ron, but she was such a bossy know-it-all that they saw this as an added bonus. All they really wanted now was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived with the post about a week later.
    As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone’s attention was caught at once by a long thin package carried by six large screech owls. Harry was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of him, knocking his bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.
    Harry ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:
     
    DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.
    It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don’t want everybody knowing you’ve got a broomstick or they’ll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch pitch at seven o’clock for your first training session.
    Professor M. McGonagall
     
    Harry had difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron to read.
    ‘A Nimbus Two Thousand!’ Ron moaned enviously. ‘I’ve never even touched one.’
    They left the Hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first lesson, but halfway across the Entrance Hall they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Harry and felt it.
    ‘That’s a broomstick,’ he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. ‘You’ll be for it this time, Potter, first-years aren’t allowed them.’
    Ron couldn’t resist it.
    ‘It’s not any old broomstick,’ he said, ‘it’s a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you’ve got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?’ Ron grinned at Harry. ‘Comets look flashy, but they’re not in the same league as the Nimbus.’
    ‘What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn’t afford half the handle,’ Malfoy snapped back. ‘I suppose you and your brothers have to save up, twig by twig.’
    Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy’s elbow.
    ‘Not arguing, I hope, boys?’ he squeaked.
    ‘Potter’s been sent a broomstick, Professor,’ said Malfoy quickly.
    ‘Yes, yes, that’s right,’ said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. ‘Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And