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

Hagrid gruffly. ‘That’s top secret, that is.’
    ‘But Snape’s trying to steal it.’
    ‘Rubbish,’ said Hagrid again. ‘Snape’s a Hogwarts teacher, he’d do nothin’ of the sort.’
    ‘So why did he just try and kill Harry?’ cried Hermione.
    The afternoon’s events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about Snape.
    ‘I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I’ve read all about them! You’ve got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn’t blinking at all, I saw him!’
    ‘I’m tellin’ yeh, yer wrong!’ said Hagrid hotly. ‘I don’ know why Harry’s broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn’ try an’ kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh – yer meddlin’ in things that don’ concern yeh. It’s dangerous. You forget that dog, an’ you forget what it’s guardin’, that’s between Professor Dumbledore an’ Nicolas Flamel –’
    ‘Aha!’ said Harry. ‘So there’s someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?’
    Hagrid looked furious with himself.

 
     
— CHAPTER TWELVE —
     
The Mirror of Erised
    Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver post had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.
    No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the draughty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape’s classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.
    ‘I do feel so sorry,’ said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, ‘for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they’re not wanted at home.’
    He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them. Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that Slytherin had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he’d realised that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family.
    It was true that Harry wasn’t going back to Privet Drive for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come round the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harry had signed up at once. He didn’t feel sorry for himself at all; this would probably be the best Christmas he’d ever had. Ron and his brothers were staying too, because Mr and Mrs Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie.
    When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.
    ‘Hi, Hagrid, want any help?’ Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.
    ‘Nah, I’m all right, thanks, Ron.’
    ‘Would you mind moving out of the way?’ came Malfoy’s cold drawl from behind them. ‘Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose – that hut of Hagrid’s must seem like a palace compared to what your family’s used to.’
    Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.
    ‘WEASLEY!’
    Ron let go of the front of Malfoy’s robes.
    ‘He was provoked, Professor Snape,’ said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. ‘Malfoy was insultin’ his family.’
    ‘Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid,’ said Snape silkily. ‘Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn’t more. Move along, all of you.’
    Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking.
    ‘I’ll get him,’ said Ron, grinding his teeth at Malfoy’s back, ‘one of these days, I’ll get him –’
    ‘I hate them both,’ said Harry, ‘Malfoy and