25. The Polyjuice Potion
The double attack on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick turned what had been nervousness into genuine panic. Curiously, it was Nearly Headless Nick's fate that seemed to worry people most. "What could possibly do that to a ghost?" they whispered to each other. "What terrible power could harm someone who's already dead?"
The fear was palpable, and there was almost a stampede to book seats on the Hogwarts Express, so students could leave for Christmas.
"At this rate, we'll be the only ones left," Ron muttered to Harry, Hope, and Hermione. "Us, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle."
"What a jolly holiday it's going to be," Hope muttered under her breath.
Crabbe and Goyle, who always did whatever Malfoy did, had signed up to stay over the holidays too. But Harry, for one, was relieved that most people were leaving. He was tired of people avoiding him in the corridors, as though he were about to sprout fangs or spit poison. Tired of the muttering, pointing, and hissing whenever he passed by.
Fred and George, however, found all of this incredibly amusing. They made a game of marching ahead of Harry down the corridors, shouting, "Make way for the heir of Slytherin! Seriously evil wizard coming through..."
Percy was deeply disapproving. "It's not a laughing matter," he said coldly.
"Oh, get out of the way, Percy," Fred said, rolling his eyes. "Harry's in a hurry."
"Yeah, he's nipping off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with his fanged servant," George added with a laugh.
Ginny didn't find it amusing either.
"Oh, don't," she wailed every time Fred loudly asked Harry who he was planning to attack next, or when George pretended to ward him off with a large clove of garlic.
Harry didn't mind. It actually made him feel better that Fred and George, at least, thought the idea of him being Slytherin's heir was utterly ridiculous. But their antics seemed to be getting under Draco Malfoy's skin. Every time he saw them, he looked more and more sour.
"It's because he's bursting to say it's really him," Ron said knowingly. "You know how he hates anyone beating him at anything."
"And it must be eating him alive that you, of all people, are getting all the credit for his dirty work," Hope added with a smirk.
"Not for long," Hermione said, a satisfied tone in her voice. "The Polyjuice Potion's nearly ready. We'll be getting the truth out of him any day now."
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At last, the term ended, and a silence as deep as the snow on the grounds settled over the castle. With most of the students gone, Hogwarts felt different—quieter, but not in a bad way. Just peaceful. With only Harry, Hope, Hermione, and the Weasleys left to roam Gryffindor Tower, they could play Exploding Snap as loudly as they wanted and practice dueling without curious onlookers.
Fred, George, and Ginny had chosen to stay rather than visit Bill in Egypt with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Percy, of course, stayed too—but not with them. He spent most of his time holed up in his dorm, only emerging to lecture them on their childish behavior before vanishing again. He'd informed them all, very pompously, that he was only staying at Hogwarts over Christmas because it was his duty as a Prefect to support the teachers during such troubling times.
No one was particularly upset about his absence.
Hope's thirteenth birthday landed right before christmas, and while it wasn't anything extravagant, it was one of the best she'd had.
Her father's owl arrived early, dropping a neatly wrapped package in her lap before fluttering off again. Inside was a box of chocolates and a letter written in his familiar, slightly messy scrawl. She read it twice, warmth curling in her chest, before carefully tucking it away in her trunk.
Mrs. Weasley sent her homemade mince pies, still smelling faintly of cinnamon. Hope had already eaten two before breakfast.
Hermione handed over a wrapped book, smiling as Hope tore off the paper. Snow White.
"I figured you'd like the original since you love the film so much," Hermione said, tucking her hair behind her ear.
Hope grinned, flipping through the pages. "Brilliant. Thanks, Hermione."
Harry plopped down beside her on the couch, nudging her shoulder with his own. "Happy birthday, Hope."
"Thanks, Harry," Hope smiled.
He smirked. "For your birthday, you get one free use of the Invisibility Cloak. Whenever you want. No questions asked."
Hope's head snapped up. "You're joking."
"Not joking," he said with a grin.
"Anytime I want? For anything I want?" She asked excitedly
"Well," he said, tilting his head, "maybe don't use it for anything that'll get you expelled."
Hope tucked Snow White beside her, already making plans. "Oh, I'm going to use this brilliantly."
George, who had just sat down, exchanged a glance with Fred. "We've created a monster."
"Agreed," Fred nodded.
The moment was interrupted by Ron clapping his hands together. "Right! Birthday or not, I'm still going to destroy you at Wizard's Chess."
And he did.
Hope's last piece barely lasted twenty minutes. When Ron's queen smashed through her bishop, he leaned back with a satisfied grin. "That'll be a chocolate, then."
Groaning, she tossed him one from her stash. "I'm gonna beat you eventually."
"Keep dreaming," Ron agreed, popping it into his mouth.
The best part of the day, though, was the snowball fight.
It started the second she stepped outside. A perfectly packed snowball hit her square in the chest, the cold seeping through her jumper instantly.
She gasped, whipping around just in time to see Fred and George grinning at her from behind a low wall.
"Oh, prats," she muttered, ducking just as another snowball whizzed past her head.
It quickly escalated into full-blown war. Harry, Ginny, and Ron took her side—though Ron immediately switched teams when it became clear the twins were winning. Hermione, wisely, stayed inside, watching from the common room window with a bemused expression.
Fred and George were ruthless. Hope managed to nail Fred in the ear at one point, but their team didn't stand a chance. By the time they finally called a truce, she was soaked, freezing, and covered in snow.
Laughing and breathless, they stumbled back inside. Ginny shoved a steaming mug of hot chocolate into Hope's hands the second they stepped through the portrait hole.
She accepted it gratefully, fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic. "That was brilliant."
Fred collapsed onto the couch beside her, shaking snow from his hair. "Not bad, birthday girl. You lasted longer than expected."
George flopped onto her other side, nudging her shoulder. "See? You do have things to thank us for. Nothing says 'Happy Birthday' like getting pelted with ice."
Hope elbowed him but couldn't stop smiling. "Yeah, yeah."
Harry, still brushing snow off his glasses, grinned as he dropped into an armchair across from them. "That was brilliant. I think Ron's still out there trying to dig himself out."
Ginny snorted. "Serves him right for switching sides."
They all laughed, the sound filling the warm common room as the fire crackled in the hearth. The evening stretched on, easy and comfortable, full of warmth and laughter.
It wasn't the biggest birthday.
Or the most exciting.
But it was enough.
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Christmas morning dawned, cold and white. Harry and Ron, the only ones left in their dormitory, were woken very early by Hope and Hermione, who burst in fully dressed. Hope was wearing a brand-new maroon Weasley sweater with a large yellow "H" in the middle. Both girls were carrying presents for them.
"Wake up!" Hermione called loudly, pulling back the curtains at the window.
"You're not supposed to be in here," Ron groaned, shielding his eyes from the sudden light.
"Merry Christmas to you too," Hermione said, tossing a present onto his bed. "I've been up for nearly an hour, adding more lacewings to the potion. It's ready."
Harry sat up, suddenly wide awake. "Are you sure?"
"Positive," Hermione confirmed, shifting Scabbers the rat so she could sit down on the end of Ron's four-poster. "If we're going to do it, I say it should be tonight."
"And might I add, it looks positively disgusting," Hope said with a grimace, thinking of the lumpy gray potion.
At that moment, Hedwig swooped into the room, carrying a very small package in her beak.
"Hello," Harry said happily as she landed on his bed. "Are you speaking to me again?"
She nibbled his ear in an affectionate sort of way.
"What's that?" Hope asked, peering curiously at the package in Harry's hand. She furrowed her brows when she saw it was just a single toothpick and a note.
"From my uncle," Harry informed them. "Wants to know if Hogwarts can keep me over the summer holiday as well."
Hope scowled. "Those Muggles you live with get more horrible by the day."
Harry shook his head, not minding as he smiled down at the other presents.
Later that evening came dinner, and no one—not even someone dreading taking Polyjuice Potion later—could fail to enjoy Christmas dinner at Hogwarts.
The Great Hall looked magnificent. A dozen frost-covered Christmas trees stood tall, thick streamers of holly and mistletoe crisscrossed the ceiling, and enchanted snow drifted down, warm and dry. Dumbledore led them in a few of his favorite carols, with Hagrid booming louder with every goblet of eggnog he consumed. Percy, oblivious to the fact that Fred had bewitched his prefect badge to read "Pinhead," kept asking why everyone was sniggering. Hope didn't even care that Draco Malfoy was making loud, snide remarks about her and Harry's new jumpers from the Slytherin table. With a bit of luck, Malfoy would be getting his comeuppance in a few hours.
Harry and Ron had barely finished their third helpings of Christmas pudding when Hermione ushered them out of the Hall to finalize their plans for the evening. Hope, however, was still working on her fourth serving.
"We still need a bit of the people you're changing into," Hermione said matter-of-factly, as though she were sending them to the supermarket for washing powder. "And we also need to make sure the real Crabbe and Goyle can't burst in on us while we're interrogating Malfoy."
"I've got that covered," Hope said, taking another bite of pudding. "I pulled a couple of strands of Pansy's hair at Duelling Club."
Harry and Ron turned to her, blinking in surprise.
"I've got it all worked out," Hermione continued, ignoring their stupefied expressions. She held up two plump chocolate cakes. "I've filled these with a simple Sleeping Draught. All you have to do is make sure Crabbe and Goyle find them. You know how greedy they are—they're bound to eat them. Once they're asleep, pull out a few of their hairs and hide them in a broom cupboard."
Harry and Ron exchanged incredulous looks.
"Hermione, I don't think—" Ron began.
"That could go seriously wrong—" Harry started.
But Hermione had a steely glint in her eye, not unlike Professor McGonagall's. "The potion will be useless without Crabbe and Goyle's hair," she said firmly. "You do want to investigate Malfoy, don't you?"
"Oh, all right, all right," Harry relented. "But what about you? How are you going to get Millicent Bulstrode's hair?"
"Already got mine!" Hermione said brightly, pulling a tiny bottle from her pocket and showing them a single hair inside. "Remember when she was wrestling with me at the Duelling Club? She left this on my robes when she was trying to strangle me! And since she's gone home for Christmas, I'll just have to tell the Slytherins I decided to come back."
Ron turned to Hope. "And how are you going to keep the real Pansy from bursting in? The enchanted cakes won't work on her."
"I haven't even seen her," Harry added, glancing over at the Slytherin table and noticing her absence.
"That's because I put her in a full Body-Bind earlier today," Hope said with a shrug.
Ron and Harry gaped at her.
"Don't worry, I did it from behind—she has no clue it was me. I put her in a cupboard and told Moaning Myrtle. Since Pansy's always picking on her, she actually seems in a rather cheery mood now... cheery for Myrtle at least. We'll be long gone with the information we need before Myrtle goes to tell a teacher."
She took the last bite of her pudding before bustling off with Hermione to check on the Polyjuice Potion again. Ron turned to Harry with a doom-laden expression.
"Those two scare me."
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Hope and Hermione sat in the small cubicle, the air thick with the acrid scent of potion fumes. Hermione, looking shiny-faced and anxious, stirred the cauldron, her hands trembling slightly as thick black smoke curled into the air.
A soft knock at the door made them both jump.
"Hermione?" Harry's voice came from the other side.
Hope stood up and unlocked the door. Harry and Ron squeezed in, grimacing as the gloop-gloop of the bubbling, treacle-thick potion filled the cramped space. Four glass tumblers stood ready on the toilet seat.
"Did you get them?" Hermione asked breathlessly.
Harry held up a small tuft of Goyle's hair.
"Good," Hermione said, reaching into a small sack. "And I sneaked these spare robes out of the laundry. You'll need bigger sizes once you're Crabbe and Goyle."
The four of them peered into the cauldron. Up close, the potion looked even worse—thick, dark mud bubbling sluggishly.
"You were right, Hope. It does look gross," Ron grumbled.
Hope nodded as Hermione nervously re-read the splotched page of Moste Potente Potions. "I'm sure I've done everything right. It looks like the book says it should... Once we drink it, we'll have exactly an hour before we change back into ourselves."
Ron swallowed hard. "Now what?"
Hermione exhaled. "We separate it into four glasses and add the hairs."
She ladled large dollops of the potion into each glass. Then, with a hand trembling slightly, she shook Millicent Bulstrode's hair out of its bottle into the first one.
The potion hissed loudly, frothing madly like a boiling kettle. A second later, it settled into a sickly yellow color.
"Urgh—essence of Millicent Bulstrode," Ron muttered, eyeing the glass with disgust. "Bet it tastes awful."
"Add yours, then," Hermione instructed.
Hope dropped Pansy's hair into the glass beside Hermione's, while Harry and Ron added Goyle's and Crabbe's hairs to their own. The glasses hissed and frothed again—Goyle's potion turned the khaki color of a bogey, Crabbe's a murky brown, and Pansy's a slimy, dark green.
Harry hesitated. "Hang on. We'd better not all drink them in here. Once we turn into Crabbe and Goyle, we won't fit. And Millicent Bulstrode's no pixie."
"Good thinking," Ron agreed, unlocking the door. "We'll take separate cubicles."
Hope walked into the stall next to the one they'd been using. Ron and Harry disappeared into their own.
"Ready?" Harry called.
"Ready," the other three echoed.
"One... two... three..."
Hope grimaced, pinching her nose before downing the potion in two large gulps. It tasted like overcooked cabbage.
Immediately, a sickening sensation curled in her stomach, as if she'd swallowed live snakes. She doubled over, barely registering the sound of shattering glass as she dropped her tumbler. A burning sensation spread rapidly from her stomach to her fingertips, her body convulsing as the transformation began.
Her skin bubbled like hot wax. She gasped, watching her hands pale as her fingers shortened, becoming stubby but thin. Her legs stretched slightly, a painful pulling sensation running through them. She felt her hair lift from her shoulders as a prickling sensation crawled across her forehead. A curtain of dark strands now hung just above her brows. Her robes fit awkwardly—loose in some places, tight in others.
And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the pain stopped.
Hope lay face down on the cold stone floor, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Myrtle gurgled morosely in the end toilet. With effort, Hope slowly pushed herself up, her body still trembling. She pulled off her old robes and slipped into the spares before finally rising to her feet.
"Are you three okay?" Goyle's low rasp came from a couple of stalls down.
"Yeah," Crabbe's deep grunt followed.
"Yeah, I'm alright," Hope replied, startled by the shrill voice of Pansy coming from her own mouth.
She unlocked the stall door and stepped in front of the cracked mirror. Staring back at her was Pansy Parkinson's squashed face.
Harry's door creaked open, and he stepped out, looking every bit like Goyle.
Then Ron emerged. They all stared at each other. Aside from looking a little pale and shocked, Ron was indistinguishable from Crabbe—from the pudding-basin haircut to the long, gorilla-like arms.
"This is unbelievable," Ron muttered, stepping up to the mirror and prodding Crabbe's flat nose. "Unbelievable."
"We'd better get going," Harry said, loosening the watch that was now cutting into Goyle's thick wrist. "We still have to find the Slytherin common room. I just hope we can find someone to follow..."
Ron, still staring at Harry, smirked. "You don't know how bizarre it is to see Goyle thinking."
He banged on Hermione's stall. "C'mon, we need to go—"
A high-pitched voice answered, hesitant. "I—I don't think I'm going to come after all. You go on without me."
Ron frowned. "Hermione, we know Millicent Bulstrode's ugly. No one's going to know it's you."
"No—really—I don't think I'll come. You three hurry up, you're wasting time."
Hope furrowed her brows, staring at the stall door.
Harry shot Ron a look. "That looks more like Goyle," he muttered. "That's exactly how he looks whenever a teacher asks him a question."
Hope turned back to the door. "Hermione, are you okay?"
"Fine—I'm fine... Go on—" Hermione's voice was hurried, almost desperate.
Harry glanced at his watch. Five of their precious sixty minutes had already passed.
"We'll meet you back here, all right?" he said.
The three opened the door to the bathroom carefully, checked that the coast was clear, and set off.
"Don't swing your arms like that," Harry muttered to Ron.
"Eh?"
"Crabbe holds them sort of stiff," Harry said.
"How's this?" Ron asked, stiffening his arms.
"Yeah, that's better." Harry nodded.
They made their way down the marble staircase. Now, all they needed was a Slytherin to follow to the common room—but the corridors were empty.
"You need to be snootier," Ron whispered to Hope.
She paused before scrunching her face slightly and lifting her chin, looking as though everything in her path was beneath her.
"Like this?" she asked.
"Perfect," Ron said.
"Any ideas?" Harry muttered.
"The Slytherins always come up to breakfast from over there," Ron said, nodding at the entrance to the dungeons.
The words had barely left his mouth when a girl with long, curly hair emerged from the entrance.
"Excuse me," Ron said, hurrying up to her. "We've forgotten the way to our common room."
She blinked at him. "Our common room? I'm a Ravenclaw."
She walked away, glancing back at them suspiciously.
The three hurried down the stone steps into the darkness, their footsteps echoing as Crabbe and Goyle's massive feet hit the floor. This wasn't going to be as easy as they had hoped.
The labyrinth of passages was deserted. They walked deeper under the school, constantly checking their watches to see how much time they had left. After a quarter of an hour, just when they were getting desperate, they heard movement ahead.
"Ha!" Ron said excitedly. "There's one of them now!"
A figure emerged from a side room, and their excitement quickly faded. It wasn't a Slytherin—it was Percy.
"What're you doing down here?" Ron asked in surprise.
Percy looked affronted. "That is none of your business. It's Crabbe, isn't it?"
"Wh—oh, yeah," Ron said quickly.
"Well, get off to your dormitories," Percy said sternly. "It's not safe to wander dark corridors these days."
"You are," Ron pointed out.
"I," Percy said, drawing himself up, "am a Prefect. Nothing's about to attack me."
A voice echoed behind them. "There you are."
Draco Malfoy was strolling toward them, and for the first time in her life, Hope was happy to see him.
"Have you two been stuffing your faces in the Great Hall this whole time? I've been looking for you—I want to show you something funny."
He turned to nod at Hope with a smirk. It took everything she had not to scowl.
Malfoy glanced at Percy witheringly. "And what are you doing down here, Weasley?"
Percy's face went red. "You ought to show a bit more respect to a school Prefect! I don't like your attitude!"
Malfoy sneered and motioned for Harry, Hope, and Ron to follow. Harry almost apologized to Percy but caught himself just in time.
As they turned into the next passage, Malfoy scoffed, "That Peter Weasley—"
"Percy," Ron corrected automatically.
"Whatever," Malfoy said. "I've noticed him sneaking around a lot lately. Bet he thinks he's going to catch Slytherin's heir single-handed."
He let out a short, derisive laugh. The three exchanged excited looks.
Malfoy stopped by a stretch of bare, damp stone wall. "What's the password again?" he asked Harry.
"Er—"
"Oh yeah—pure-blood!" Malfoy said, not waiting for a response. A stone door concealed in the wall slid open, and Malfoy marched through, the others trailing behind.
The Slytherin common room was a long, low underground chamber with rough stone walls. Greenish lamps hung from chains, casting eerie light over the carved chairs and the fire crackling under an elaborate mantelpiece. A few Slytherins lounged near the hearth, shadows flickering on their faces.
"Wait here," Malfoy said, motioning to a pair of empty chairs set back from the fire. "I'll go get it—my father just sent it to me."
Harry and Ron sat down, doing their best to look at home. Hope perched on the edge of the sofa.
Malfoy returned a moment later, holding a newspaper clipping. He shoved it under Ron's nose.
"This'll give you a laugh," he said.
Hope leaned in, catching a glimpse of the article. She had to swallow back a concerned gasp. Ron's eyes widened in shock. He skimmed the cutting quickly, let out a forced chuckle, and passed it to Harry.
It was clipped from the Daily Prophet:
ENQUIRY AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC
Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, was today fined fifty Galleons for bewitching a Muggle car.
Mr. Lucius Malfoy, a governor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where the enchanted car crashed earlier this year, has called for Mr. Weasley's resignation.
"Weasley has brought the Ministry into disrepute," Mr. Malfoy told our reporter. "He is clearly unfit to draft laws, and his ridiculous Muggle Protection Act should be scrapped immediately."
Mr. Weasley was unavailable for comment, though his wife told reporters to clear off or she'd set the family ghoul on them.
"Well?" Malfoy demanded impatiently as Harry handed the clipping back. "Don't you think it's funny?"
"Ha, ha," Harry said flatly.
"Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he ought to snap his wand and go join them," Malfoy scoffed. "You'd never know the Weasleys were pure-bloods, the way they act."
Ron's—rather, Crabbe's—face twisted in fury.
"What's up with you, Crabbe?" Malfoy snapped.
"Stomachache," Ron grunted.
"Go to the hospital wing and give all those Mudbloods a kick from me," Malfoy said, snickering. "I'm surprised the Prophet hasn't reported these attacks yet. Dumbledore's trying to hush it up. He'll be sacked if it doesn't stop soon. Father says he's the worst thing to ever happen to this place. Loves Muggle-borns. A proper Headmaster wouldn't have let slime like Creevey in."
Malfoy mimed snapping pictures. "Potter, can I have your picture? Can I have your autograph? Can I lick your shoes, Potter?"
He dropped his hands and frowned. "What's wrong with you two?"
Too late, Harry and Ron forced themselves to laugh. Malfoy seemed satisfied—maybe Crabbe and Goyle were always this slow.
"Saint Potter, the Mudbloods' friend," Malfoy sneered. "And people think he's Slytherin's heir!"
Hope leaned in slightly, waiting for the confession. Harry and Ron held their breath. Malfoy had to be seconds away from revealing the truth.
But then—
"I wish I knew who it was," Malfoy said petulantly. "I'd help them."
Hope blinked in disbelief, it wasn't him.
Ron's jaw dropped so hard that Crabbe's face somehow managed to look even more gormless than usual. Fortunately, Malfoy didn't notice. Thinking fast, Harry said, "You must have some idea who's behind it all..."
"You know I haven't, Goyle. How many times do I have to tell you?" Malfoy snapped. "And Father won't tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened, either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it. He says it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much. But I do know one thing: last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's only a matter of time before one of them is killed this time... I hope it's Granger," he added with relish.
Ron's fists clenched, his knuckles whitening as Crabbe's gigantic hands tightened. Harry, sensing trouble, shot him a warning look and quickly asked, "Do you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?"
"Oh, yeah... whoever it was got expelled," Malfoy said. "They're probably still in Azkaban."
"Azkaban?" Harry repeated, frowning.
Malfoy gave him a look of disbelief. "Azkaban—the wizard prison, Goyle. Honestly, if you were any slower, you'd be going backwards."
He shifted restlessly in his chair. "Father says to keep my head down and let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it. Says the school needs ridding of all the Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it. Of course, he's got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our manor last week?"
Harry forced Goyle's dull face into something resembling concern. Hope mustered her best sympathetic look. "Oh no."
"Yeah..." Malfoy smirked. "Luckily, they didn't find much. Father's got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff. But we've got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor—"
As Draco spoke, Hope's eyes flicked to his hands. He was fiddling with something—a silver chain, his fingers twirling it absently. A sickening jolt went through her stomach.
"Draco, what's that?" she asked sharply.
Draco lifted the chain, revealing a small pendant dangling from it. Hope's breath hitched. Her mother's necklace. The one she had searched for hours desperately throughout the school.
"Lousy Lupin's necklace," Draco sneered.
"Where'd you get it?" she asked through gritted teeth, barely keeping her composure.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Pansy, I already told you," he said dismissively, "I found it on the Quidditch pitch. What an ugly little thing." He scowled and shoved it into his pocket.
Hope saw red. Her whole body felt like it was vibrating with anger. He had taken it. Of course he had. After all her searching, her desperation, it had been in his hands this whole time. Playing with it like it was some meaningless trinket.
She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep herself from lunging at him.
Draco gave her a once-over, raising an eyebrow. "What's wrong with you?"
Hope opened her mouth, but before she could snap back, Ron's voice rang out.
"Ho!" Ron blurted.
Malfoy turned, frowning. So did Harry. Ron's face burned red, his nose beginning to lengthen. Their hour was up.
Without hesitation, they jumped to their feet.
Malfoy's confused expression barely registered before Ron grunted, "Medicine for my stomach!" Then, in a mad dash, they sprinted across the common room. Harry knocked into Malfoy as they hurled themselves at the stone wall, bolting up the passage. Hope could feel her hair lengthening and her height shifting as they burst into the dark Entrance Hall, breathless, the muffled pounding of Crabbe and Goyle still trapped in the cupboard ringing in their ears.
Leaving their shoes behind, they tore up the marble staircase towards Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
"Well, it wasn't a complete waste of time," Ron panted, shutting the bathroom door behind them. "I know we still haven't figured out who's behind the attacks, but I'm going to write to Dad tomorrow and tell him to check under the Malfoys' drawing room."
"And now I know what happened to my necklace," Hope said bitterly.
"Oh yeah?" Harry turned from inspecting his now normal reflection in the cracked mirror. "About that..."
He lifted his palm, revealing Hope's necklace gleaming in his hand.
"Merry Christmas, Hope," Harry said with a small grin.
She stared at him. "But how—"
"When I knocked into Malfoy, I nicked it," he said. "Might want to wait a few days before wearing it, though... make him think he lost it."
Hope didn't think. She just threw herself at him, wrapping him in a tight hug. Harry blinked in surprise but gave a small, awkward hug back.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she mumbled against his shoulder.
"Don't mention it," Harry said, adjusting his glasses as she pulled away.
Meanwhile, Ron hammered on the door of Hermione's cubicle. "Hermione, come out, we've got loads to tell you—"
"Go away!" Hermione squeaked.
Hope, Harry, and Ron exchanged glances.
"What's the matter?" Ron asked. "You must be back to normal by now, we are..."
Suddenly, Moaning Myrtle glided through the cubicle door, grinning wickedly.
"Ooooooh, wait till you see," she giggled. "It's awful!"
They heard the lock slide back, and Hermione emerged, sobbing, her robes pulled up over her head.
"Mione, what's wrong?" Hope asked hurriedly.
"Have you still got Millicent's nose or something?" Ron asked uncertainly.
Hermione let her robes fall.
Hope's eyes widened. Ron backed into the sink.
Her face was covered in black fur. Her eyes had turned yellow. Long, pointed ears poked through her hair.
"It was a c-cat hair!" Hermione wailed. "M-Millicent Bulstrode m-must have a cat! And the P-Potion isn't supposed to be used for animal transformations!"
"Uh oh," Ron muttered, Hope elbowed him in the side.
"Honestly It doesn't look that bad." Hope said, though anyone with eyes would know she was lying through her teeth. It was very much that bad.
"You'll be teased something dreadful," Myrtle said happily.
"It's okay, Hermione," Harry said quickly. "We'll take you up to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey never asks too many questions..."
It took a long time to persuade Hermione to leave the bathroom.
Moaning Myrtle sped them on their way with a hearty guffaw. "Wait till everyone finds out you've got a tail!"