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J. K. Rowling «Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone» / Chapter IX. The Midnight Duel
J. K. Rowling «Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone»
Chapter IX. The Midnight Duel
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.
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."
Malfay 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.
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
Malfay, 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.
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
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called
Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"'
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.
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 --
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."
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
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson,
a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies,
"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching
something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent
The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.
"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking
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 Malfay 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.
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 --"
quiet, Miss Patil
"But Malfoy --"
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.
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 Flitwicles
class looking confused.
"Follow me, you two," said Professor
McGonagall, and they marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Harry.
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
"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."
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.
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.
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
"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?"
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,
"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."
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?"
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?"
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
"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying
"Bet you could," Ron muttered.
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
"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, Malfoys 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.
eleven," Ron muttered at last, "we'd better go."
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."
flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown.
"You!" said Ron furiously. "Go back to bed!"
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
"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
"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
"Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.
"That's your problem," said Ron. "We've got to go, we 3 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."
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.
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
"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout'
but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."
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.
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.
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
"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."
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.
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
"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.
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."
at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."
"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."
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
"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.
over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wand, tapped the lock, and whispered,
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
"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.
"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.
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,
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
Harry groped for the doorknob -- between Filch and death, he'd take
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,
"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.
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."
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.
we don't mind," he said. "You'd think we dragged her along, wouldn't
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
It looked as though Harry had found out where the grubby littie
package from vault seven hundred and thirteen was.
Chapter I. The Boy Who Lived
Chapter II. The Vanishing Glass
Chapter III. The Letters From No One
Chapter IV. The Keeper Of The Keys
Chapter V. Diagon Alley
Chapter VI. The Journey From Platform Nine And Three-Quarters
Chapter VII. The Sorting Hat
Chapter VIII. The Potions Master
Chapter IX. The Midnight Duel
Chapter X. Halloween
Chapter XI. Quidditch
Chapter XII. The Mirror Of Erised
Chapter XIII. Nicolas Flamel
Chapter XIV. Norbert The Norwegian Ridgeback
Chapter XV. The Forbidden Forest
Chapter XVI. Through The Trapdoor
Chapter XVII. The Man With Two Faces
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