The Polyjuice Problem
Draco woke up as he did every other morning. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and reached out for the flask full of Polyjuice Potion sitting on his nightstand. Only, today, when he lifted the flask it felt rather…light.
The cloud of sleep vanished to make way for the sharp feeling of dread. Draco peeked inside to find the flask completely empty.
Unthinkable. He was out of Polyjuice Potion.
How could he be out? At the beginning of the year, when he had first stolen the Polyjuice Potion from his father’s study, he had made sure it was enough to last the entire year.
He supposed that he hadn’t accounted for the fact that he would end up having five people to impersonate, rather than the initial one person that he had planned for.
Draco was at a loss for what to do. He had been hoping he could turn into Cedric early this morning, and sneak out of the Slytherin Common Room before he had to face Crabbe, but seemingly this would not be the case.
Already awake, Crabbe sat on top of his bed, glaring in Malfoy's direction.
"You," Draco hissed, nearly shaking with rage. "You betrayed me."
Crabbe's dumb-looking face broke into an even more dumb-looking smirk. "I won. Fair and chair."
"No, no not 'Fair and chair!' I told you to let me win!" Draco said through gritted teeth.
"And I was gonna, before I realized I wanted to win more,” Crabbe said with a shrug.
“I’m going to make you sorry for what you did to me,” Draco said, fuming. “Just wait until I tell my father-”
A sudden yawn interrupted their argument. Goyle sat up, looking around groggily.
“Mornin’ already?” he asked, scratching himself. He looked more tired than he usually did, probably due to the very traumatic experience he had inside the Giant Squid.
Draco stood. “Come, Goyle. I need your help today.”
Crabbe made a distinctly annoyed face.
Goyle’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Wha’ about Crabbe?”
“Who?” Draco asked as he walked out of the room. Goyle hurried after him, still completely oblivious to the animosity surrounding Crabbe, but eager to please Draco nonetheless.
“Where are we going?” Goyle asked when Draco turned down a corridor that did not lead to the Great Hall.
Draco let out a long-suffering sigh at the fact that Goyle could not read his mind, before he explained the situation at hand. However, knowing Goyle, it took him several tries before he got Goyle to actually understand.
“Wait…so you’re out of toilet paper?” asked Goyle.
“No, you genetic mistake, I said I’m out of Polyjuice Potion!” Draco screamed.
“Wait…so you’re out of Lolyjuice Lotion?” asked Goyle.
“Goyle!” Draco exclaimed, seconds away from feeding him to the Giant Squid again “I couldn’t be more clear if I was made out of glass! Polyjuice Potion! I’m out of Polyjuice Potion! Do you need me to spell it out for you? Oh wait, you can’t read!”
Draco rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration, sighing when they finally reached their destination. “Well, here we are. Follow me.”
“Malfoy, I still don’t understa-”
“I don’t care.”
Draco made a hushing sound at Goyle as they shuffled towards Snape’s Potions Storeroom. It was risky, Draco knew, but if there was one place in the school which would have Polyjuice Potion it would be the Potions Storeroom, surely. It was the perfect moment to go steal it too, seeing as Snape would be down in the Great Hall eating breakfast. He just hoped that, when Snape inevitably realizes his supply of Polyjuice is missing, he would have the sense to blame it all on Potter.
Tip toeing to avoid making excess noise, they slipped inside the room. Fingers tingling in anticipation, Draco scanned his eyes over the labels on the various vials holding colorful contents. He recognized one that had a similar consistency to Polyjuice Potion, and picked it up off the shelf to examine the label more closely. The words were smudged slightly, so Draco had to squint to try and make them out. It looked like it might’ve said ‘Polyjuice Potion,’ but on the other hand he wouldn’t be that surprised if it said something else like ‘Lolyjuice Lotion’ instead.
“Hey I think I see it!” Goyle said suddenly, reaching up for a vial that most certainly did not hold Polyjuice Potion.
“Goyle, you inbred buffoon, that’s not-”
But Draco could not finish his thought, because Goyle had, in the process of reaching up with his clumsy, beefy hands, knocked the vial over entirely. Draco could do nothing but watch in horror as an outrageously comical domino effect occurred, and vial after vial toppled off the shelves, splashing everywhere and shattering into a messy pile on the floor.
Draco stood, rooted to the spot in shock. His skin began to burn with what Draco thought was rage but then soon realized was just a side-effect of being doused in so many different potions.
“Goyle you-” but Draco could not finish, for the burn intensified, sending jolts of pain all through his body.
A scream tore out of his throat and he dropped to his knees, writhing. The last thing he saw before blacking out was Goyle’s stupid face.
***
When Draco’s eyes reopened, he met the severe stares of Severus Snape and Madam Pomfrey both looming over him threateningly.
Draco jumped to a sitting position on instinct to find himself lying in the Hospital Wing. “Uh,” he said. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Mr. Malfoy,” said Snape, scowling. “Can you explain to me why I found you and Mr. Goyle unconscious in my Potions Storeroom, with my entire Potions stock destroyed?”
“Yes, I can,” said Draco. This was Snape after all, and the man always tended to have a bias for him. “You see, I was just minding my own business, walking to class, when I saw a mouse run under the door to the Storeroom! I was worried the mouse would knock over something, so naturally I went in to try and stop it. But when I got there the mouse was holding a beater’s bat, and it just clocked me right over the head! I must’ve broken the rest of the potions from my fall sir, I’m really sorry.”
Snape blinked at him, unimpressed. “That’s a very interesting tale, Mr. Malfoy. Forgive me if I feel it is a bit…far-fetched,” he tutted. “And your story did not account for Mr. Goyle’s presence.”
Draco threw a glance to the bed on his right, where Goyle was still sleeping. “He was the mouse.”
Snape let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Your father will be hearing of this.”
Draco looked down in shame. This was largely an act, however, because he probably would have told his father anyways. Speaking of his father, Draco felt the beginnings of an idea form.
Snape turned on his heel and strode out of the room, his cloak billowing behind him, leaving Draco alone with an unconscious Goyle and Madam Pomfrey.
Memories from the last time he was alone with Madam Pomfrey flooded his mind, and he jumped from the bed.
“You know, I’m feeling much better now, I best be off!” Draco said, scurrying out the door before Madam Pomfrey could get a word out.
***
Stealing Polyjuice Potion from Snape might not have gone as expected, but that didn’t mean Draco was going to give up. His second plan, or Plan B as he liked to call it, was fully in motion by breakfast the next day.
He sat at the end of the Slytherin table, next to Goyle who was discharged from the Hospital Wing upon waking. The daily flock of owls descended upon the Great Hall, and Draco scanned the crowd for the Malfoy family’s owl.
Draco perked up when he saw it, the black-banded owl soaring past the others and landing directly in front of him, a letter and parcel attached to its foot.
“Who’s that from, Malfoy?” asked Goyle.
Draco gave him a look. “My father. Who else?” he asked, before hurrying to open the letter.
The previous day, after he ran from the Hospital Wing, he had sent his father a letter asking him to send some Polyjuice Potion. Knowing his father, he would do anything for Draco, no questions asked.
Draco put the parcel aside to open the letter first.
It read, “Draco, you really must work on your handwriting. Reading your letter was like deciphering another language. Did you write it while blindfolded? Anyways, I don’t know what scam you are pulling at that school of yours, but whatever it is be keen that Dumbledore doesn’t find out about it. I have attached your request with this letter. It took me about twenty minutes to figure out what you were asking for - your handwriting is really that bad - so you should really be thanking me.”
Draco threw the letter aside. Did his father really have to comment so much on his handwriting? Surely it wasn’t that bad. Especially when compared to the chicken scratch the other students in his year call words. Why, Potter’s handwriting looked like an ink spill half the time!
Shaking his head slightly, Draco grabbed the parcel, excited to get his hands on more Polyjuice.
He ripped away the packaging to find a long, white cylindrical tube. Draco pursed his lips. This wasn’t the usual bottle that Polyjuice came in…
He turned it over in his hand to reveal the label; “Lolyjuice Lotion,” it read.
Draco’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me?”
Maybe he really did need to work on his handwriting. Furious, Draco threw the bottle of Lolyjuice Lotion at Goyle’s head. It cracked open upon impact and the white, creamy contents spilled all over Goyle’s face.
His eyes widened for just a moment before the Lolyjuice Lotion took effect and Goyle shrunk.
In his seat, amidst the mess of clothing that was now much too big for him, rested nothing but a small, green lollipop.
“Goyle?” Draco asked, tentatively, but Lollipop-Goyle could not respond.
Draco glanced around the Slytherin table to see if anyone else had noticed Goyle transform into a lollipop, but everyone seemed to be absorbed in their own conversations. On the opposite end of the table Crabbe sat alone, ostracized by his only friends. They accidentally made eye contact, and for some reason, Crabbe took it as an invitation to approach him. He abandoned his breakfast and walked to Goyle’s now nearly-vacant seat.
“Malfoy, I-” he went to sit but paused when he saw the lollipop. “You gonna eat that?”
Draco blinked in horror. “What? No, Crabbe that’s not-”
But he was too late. Crabbe had already picked up the Goyle-lollipop and he ate it in one, foul chomp.
Draco let out a panicked noise. “Crabbe, even if that was a real lollipop, why on Earth would you take a bite out of it? You’re supposed to lick them, you monster!”
Stick hanging out of his mouth, Crabbe asked, “What d’you mean it’s not a real lollipop?”
Draco stared at Crabbe for a long moment, breathing in deeply through his nose. “Hospital Wing. Now.”
***
For the second time in two days, Draco found himself alone with Madam Pomfrey. Crabbe occupied the Hospital Wing’s toilet, currently dealing with the effects of regular-sized laxatives. Draco thought about waiting around for Goyle, but quickly decided against it when faced with Madam Pomfrey.
“Right,” Draco said awkwardly, very aware of Madam Pomfrey’s eyes on him. “Well, I’d best be off.”
“Wait,” said Madam Pomfrey, and Draco paused, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. “Would you mind doing a little favor for me first?”
Draco scrambled for an excuse. “I would love to, but I can’t. You see, I have a very important date with…the Minister.”
It was an absurd lie, and Madam Pomfrey seemed to think so too, from the way her eyebrows shot to her hairline. “You have a date with Cornelius Fudge?”
“Not a date, date,” Draco clarified. “Just a business date.”
“Why would the Minister of Magic want to have a business date with a fourteen-year-old student?”
Draco huffed, offended. “Okay, first of all - that’s fourteen and a half. And second, maybe he appreciates my political views! I’ll have you know, I’m planning on running for Minister one day, so you might want to tread carefully around me or-”
“Okay!” Madam Pomfrey put her hands up in surrender. “Please stop talking. I’ll let you go, but there is one thing I want to give you, if you’ll come to my office for just one moment.”
Draco tapped his nonexistent watch. “Would if I could, but I’m on a strict schedule.”
Draco tried to turn towards the door, but let out a yelp when he was pulled backwards by the collar of his robes. Madam Pomfrey was strong for a bird, and he could do nothing to stop it as he was dragged into her office.
Draco staggered forwards once she let go of him, rubbing his neck. She went to her desk and began shuffling through papers, muttering to herself, while Draco watched. In her scuffle she accidentally sent a random paper flying off the desk and onto the floor by Draco’s feet. Seeing as Madam Pomfrey was too busy to care, Draco picked it up and gave it a look over.
Poppy,
This morning I wanted to eat an apple, but I stopped myself, because I don’t want to keep you away, my doctor. Thank you for sending me that sleeping draught with your last letter. If it’s not too much to ask could you send more with the next one? You’re the best. Xoxo
I would really like to meet in person sometimes too, but I’m very shy so I’m not sure when it could happen. I hope you understand, hot rod.
Respond quick!
Love, Buckbeak
Draco gaped at the parchment before him. How could Madam Pomfrey possibly be in correspondence with Buckbeak, if Buckbeak had been executed the year before?
“Found them!” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, oblivious to the horror Draco was currently feeling. “Sorry for lying to you, but this is the favor I was going to ask you.”
She held out a stack of pamphlets.
“Would you mind passing these out to all the Hufflepuffs? I caught wind of the little…problems you were having and thought this might help.”
Draco glanced at the top pamphlet. It read, “Don’t be a lame bore! End the gang war!”
Draco supposed that she hadn't found out that the gang war already ended. “I’ll get right on it,” he said faintly, making a grab for the pamphlets, not even bothering to try and tell her that he’s in Slytherin.
“Hold on,” she moved the pamphlets out of his reach. “What have you got?”
Her eyes shot to the letter in Draco’s hand. A bright flush appeared on her neck when she realized what it was.
“That wasn’t for you to read!” she squeaked, visibly flustered.
Draco folded the letter in half and placed it on her desk slowly, like one would put down a weapon. Seeing Madam Pomfrey get all embarrassed over a dead hippogriff was probably the last thing he ever wanted to see.
As it was, he couldn’t help but say something. “Um. You know Buckbeak is dead right?”
She gave a shaky laugh. “What?”
“I mean he’s not breathing or moving anymore.”
“I know what dead means, Mr. Malfoy,” she snapped. “But my Buckbeak is clearly not dead, seeing as he writes to me every day.”
Draco sighed. “No, he’s definitely dead. I had him executed last year. If I had to guess, I would say you’re being tricked by someone who’s using you for easy Potion access.”
Madam Pomfrey froze, her face going completely blank. Draco shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unsure of what to do.
“Uh, hello?” he asked, waving a hand in front of her empty eyes. He snapped at her, but she didn’t even blink.
Officially freaked out, Draco attempted to back up and sprint away from her, but the second he took a step she charged.
Draco didn’t have time to react as Madam Pomfrey lunged at him, slamming him against the wall and pinning him there. The stack of pamphlets in her hands flew across the room, scattering all over the floor.
“What are you-”
“Shh,” she whispered, covering his mouth with her hand. Up this close, Draco could see individual tear drops glisten in her eyes. “Say it isn’t so!”
Draco flinched from the harshness of her voice. He tried to speak, but he couldn’t from behind her hand.
“Do you know who did this?” she asked, her expression growing ugly with rage. “Do you know who ripped my heart to shreds?”
Draco shook his head rapidly. She loosened her grip on him, and he slipped aside, panting heavily.
She let her head hang, dejected. Draco had never seen someone look so pathetic before.
“Okay, you may leave,” she said. Draco was halfway to the door when she spoke again. “Wait.”
Draco nearly screamed. What could the insane woman/bird possibly want now?
He turned around and she handed him a single pamphlet, different from the previous ones.
“That was pathetic! Learn to be sympathetic!: The art of breaking bad news in a nicer way.”
Did she just make this one second ago? There’s no way she just had it lying around.
Draco turned back to the door and he ran without looking back.
***
Three days had passed since Draco had last used Polyjuice Potion and things were starting to get seriously worrisome. Only so many days can pass in which a person can completely hide away, claiming to be “sick” before someone goes looking for them. And, by the way the friends of Cedric, Cho, and all his other victims were acting, three days was pushing that limit.
He needed to get his hands on Polyjuice Potion by tonight, or else someone might call for a school-wide manhunt! Luckily, Draco had one last trick up his sleeve.
Who in this school, besides Snape, would be most likely to have Polyjuice Potion?
Why, Mad-Eye Moody, the hardened, ex-Auror of course. Knowing the paranoid man, he probably had all sorts of useful things from his Auror days, and Draco would bet all his father’s money that Polyjuice Potion was on that list.
For a man constantly going on and on about “Constant Vigilance,” breaking into his room was surprisingly easy.
Dinner had started just minutes prior, meaning Moody shouldn’t return for quite some time, giving Draco plenty of opportunity to ransack the place.
Draco went straight for the dresser beside the man’s bed, which was made of light colored wood with a large mirror resting on top of it. He opened the first drawer, heart light with hope, but it turned out to be the underwear drawer. Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. He never took Moody to be a tighty-whities type of guy, but the evidence was clear before him.
Draco opened the second drawer, crossing his fingers for luck. Upon doing so he stepped back, staring at his shocked face in the mirror. It was…another underwear drawer? How many pairs did the man need?
Growing more and more bitter with each drawer, Draco opened the third one. More underwear? Outrageous! How many pairs did he go through each day, that he would need three whole drawers full of them?
Draco grabbed the handle of the fourth drawer but waited to open it, rage filling him at even the prospect that this drawer might also contain underwear. Bracing himself, he pulled it open.
Oh. The fourth drawer just so happened to be filled to the brim with unused bottles of Polyjuice Potion. How convenient!
Draco’s heart sang in triumph as he began piling as many bottles as he could into his arms. Once he was satisfied that he had grabbed enough for the rest of the year, he shot himself a smirk in the mirror.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY BEDROOM?” roared a gruff voice behind him.
Draco jumped, scrambling to hold onto the bottles so they didn’t fall on the floor. He spun around to see Mad Eye Moody himself with his wand drawn.
”I thought you were at dinner!” Draco cried.
“I was! But then my magic notified me that someone had broken into my room!”
Draco felt rather stupid for not accounting for the fact that Moody had placed wards around his room.
“STUPEFY!” Mad Eye Moody roared. Draco ducked instinctively, and Moody’s red bolt of light shot over his head, grazing his hair. It made a loud, pinging sound as it hit the mirror and rebounded, striking Moody straight in the chest.
Moody collapsed at once, leaving Draco way over his head with an unconscious Auror on his hands.
He had just knocked out Mad Eye Moody. He just knocked out Mad Eye Moody!
Draco looked around the room, wildly, worried someone would blame him for the mess he just got himself into. He hadn’t even done anything really, Moody kind of brought the whole thing on himself.
But what to do? He could just leave him here, but then Moody would surely find him and make him pay for sneaking into his room the moment he woke back up. Something told Draco that he didn’t want to get on the wrong side of Mad Eye Moody.
Draco wished he knew how to perform a Memory charm - it would make so many things so much easier.
A sense of gloom settled onto Draco as he faced the only solution - the one that was there the whole time, but he really didn’t want to resort to.
Sighing deeply, Draco shifted the bottles of Polyjuice to the crook of his left arm, and grabbed Moody’s ankle with his free hand.
It was a good thing mostly everyone was still at dinner, or else he’d have to answer a lot of questions.
***
By the time Draco arrived at his dormitory in the Slytherin common room, he was out of breath. Moody was heavier than he looked. Hoping that this would be the last time Draco would ever have to haul an unconscious body through the school, he set down the bottles of Polyjuice on his bed before turning back to face Moody.
Only in the place Mad Eye Moody resided just a minute ago, was now an entirely different person. The man had pale, lined skin, and was much more slender than Mad Eye Moody had been moments before. He groaned in his sleep, clawing at the magical eye still protruding into his real eye, and kicking away the wooden, prosthetic leg of Moody’s.
“What?” Draco asked, needing to voice his confusion despite no one being around to hear it.
Who was this guy? And where was the real Mad Eye Moody? Was it possible that someone had stolen Mad Eye Moody’s identity just as Draco had stolen Cedric’s? It would certainly be a good explanation for the sheer amount of Polyjuice Potion in the man's dresser.
Draco approached the unidentified body cautiously, before nudging it a little with his foot. Something caught Draco’s eye, and he glanced down to see a black smudge on the man’s arm.
Draco’s heart skipped a beat. Hold on…that wasn’t just any black smudge. He knelt beside the man and glanced upon his arm to find a full-fledged Dark Mark!
A Death Eater stole Mad Eye Moody’s identity? Draco half-wanted to wake the man up and tell him who his father was, but he knew that his father wouldn’t appreciate that. Lucius Malfoy was still acting as if he was under the Imperius Curse during the Dark Lord’s reign, so it wouldn’t do well to let anyone know otherwise.
Well, there was nothing else to do but throw him down the hole. Draco opened his trunk and yelled, “Heads up!” before pushing the man down with the rest of his victims.
Draco laughed softly to himself as he heard someone let out a yell before the lifeless body landed on them.
“You monster!” Cho Chang yelled. “How many more people are you going to capture!”
“Hopefully no more,” Draco said, honestly, and he made to close the lid before a hand shot up out of the trunk, and he stumbled back in shock.
It seemed that so many people were in his trunk that they had formed a human ladder, and Cedric Diggory’s torso was halfway free from the prison.
“NO!” Draco yelled, slamming the lid shut as hard as he could over Cedric’s head. He heard a faint crash as the stacked bodies fell to a clump at the bottom of the trunk. He would have to be more careful the next time he opened it.
Draco collapsed on top of his bed, holding the newly acquired Polyjuice Potion tightly to his body with relief. It had been a long day, possibly the longest of his entire life, but he had succeeded. He only had one more task to win, and then everything will pay off.
With the image of the stupid face Potter will make once Draco wins, Draco drifted off to sleep.
***
Draco spent the next morning covering all his bases. He started the day as Moody, so that he could call in sick and have another teacher teach his class that day. Then he took a turn as Cedric, Cho, Fleur, Viktor, and S.G respectively to tell all their friends that they were alive, but still suffering from that mysterious stomach bug going around.
That evening, however, Draco knew he had to do something about the Mad Eye Moody thing in particular. He could get away with only acting as the students every once and a while, since all of them, with the exception of Cedric, were disgustingly unpopular, but a teacher was a different story. He couldn't fake sick as Moody and miss all his classes, now could he? It was a difficult situation, but after a lot of thinking he came up with a solution.
It was simple really. He just had to fake Mad Eye Moody’s death.
Draco strode into the Great Hall that night for dinner, neatly disguised as Moody. Acting as Moody was the most difficult role by far, seeing as he had to fool more than just stupid kids. He sat at the Head Table, sure to look around his shoulder now and again, just as the paranoid Moody would.
He just had to wait for the right moment….the right moment to…
“Oh no!” Draco yelled, standing up and causing the eyes of everyone in the hall to fall on him. He clutched his chest. “My heart! It’s having an attack!”
Draco lunged on top of the table, pushing plates out of the way and sending them to the floor with a crash. The teachers on either side of him jumped to their feet, looking at him with concern.
“Alastor,” McGonagall began, but Draco cut her off.
“It hurts!” Draco writhed on the table. “It feels like I’m gonna- gonna.”
Draco rolled onto the floor, and the onlookers gasped.
“Alastor, are you quite alright?” Dumbledore asked, concern in his piercing blue eyes.
“No!” Draco cried. “I’m about to die!”
The crowd gasped a second time. A few first years even burst into noisy tears.
“Quick, Madam Pomfrey can attend to-”
“No, no, no!” Draco said before Madam Pomfrey could move. “That is quite unnecessary. You see, there is no saving me. I’m a goner.”
Several more first years began to cry, along with one hyper-sensitive seventh year.
“Yes, I feel it now. The light, oh the terrible light! Goodbye cruel world, and farewell!” Draco finished his speech by rolling onto his back, tongue out and eyes closed.
“Prefects please lead your students back to their dorms!” Dumbledore said urgently, and everyone obeyed his order at once. “Severus, would you please check Alastor’s pulse.”
Uh oh. Draco sat back up. Everyone paused in confusion. “Before I go,” he continued, hastily. “My last request is that you don’t touch my body in any way, even to check my pulse! I promise you I won’t have a pulse, there’s no need to check! Farewell!”
Draco rolled back over. That should do it.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Well, then. I should make it clear that, in light of this tragedy, we will be cancelling the rest of the Triwizard Tournament.”
What? No! Draco jumped back up. “And as my second last request, please do not cancel the Tournament in light of my death! It’s not what I would have wanted! And goodnight!”
Draco rolled over for the final time. Though he couldn’t see it, Draco felt Dumbledore’s penetrating stare on his back. He hoped deeply that he managed to fool the old goat with his acting ability.
“Prefects, please take your students out of here. Teachers, stay behind for a brief discussion. And Filch, please... take care of Moody”
Draco braced himself to be dragged outside and dumped somewhere. At least he took care of the pressing situation at hand. One less person to impersonate was good news for him, no matter how…suspicious the Hogwarts staff may be.