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Snape?" muttered Ron.

"It transforms you into somebody else. Think about it! We could

change into three of the Slytherins. No one would know it was us.

Malfoy would probably tell us anything. He's probably boasting about it

in the Slytherin common room right now, if only we could hear him."

"This Polyjuice stuff sounds a bit dodgy to me," said Ron, frowning.

"What if we were stuck looking like three of the Slytherins forever?"

"It wears off after a while," said Hermione, waving her hand

*159*

impatiently. "But getting hold of the recipe will be very difficult.

Snape said it was in a book called Moste Potente Potions and it's

bound to be in the Restricted Section of the library."

There was only one way to get out a book from the Restricted

Section: You needed a signed note of permission from a teacher.

"Hard to see why we'd want the book, really," said Ron, "if we

weren't going to try and make one of the potions."

"I think," said Hermione, "that if we made it sound as though

we were just interested in the theory, we might stand a chance ......

"Oh, come on, no teacher's going to fall for that," said Ron.

"They'd have to be really thick . . . ."

C H-H A P T V It T 1' N

THE ROGUE BLUDGER

ince the disastrous episode of the pixies, Professor Lockhart had not

brought live creatures to class. Instead, he read passages from his

books to them, and sometimes reenacted some of the more dramatic

bits. He usually picked Harry to help him with these reconstructions;

so far, Harry had been forced to play a simple Transylvanian villager

whom Lockhart had cured of a Babbling Curse, a yeti with a head

cold, and a vampire who had been unable to eat anything except

lettuce since Lockhart had dealt with him.

135

Harry was hauled to the front of the class during their very next

Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, this time acting a werewolf If

he hadn't had a very good reason for keeping Lockhart in a good

mood, he would have refused to do it.

"Nice loud howl, Harry - exactly - and then, if you'll believe it, I

pounced - like this - slammed him to the floor - thus with one hand, I

managed to hold him down - with my other, I

*161*

put my wand to his throat -I then screwed up my remaining strength

and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm - he let

out a piteous moan - go on, Harry - higher than that - good - the fur

vanished - the fangs shrank - and he turned back into a man. Simple,

yet effective - and another village will remember me forever as the

hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf

attacks."

The bell rang and Lockhart got to his feet.

"Homework - compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga

Wagga Werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the

best one!"

The class began to leave. Harry returned to the back of the room,

where Ron and Hermione were waiting.

"Ready?" Harry muttered.

"Wait till everyone's gone," said Hermione nervously. "All right . . . "

She approached Lockhart's desk, a piece of paper clutched tightly in

her hand, Harry and Ron right behind her.

"Er - Professor Lockhart?" Hermione stammered. "I wanted to - to

get this book out of the library. Just for background reading." She

held out the piece of paper, her hand shaking slightly. "But the thing

is, it's in the Restricted Section of the library, so I need a teacher to

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sign for it - I'm sure it would help me understand what you say in

Gadding with Ghouls about slow-acting venoms

"Ah, Gadding with Ghouls!" said Lockhart, taking the note from

Hermione and smiling widely at her. "Possibly my very favorite

book. You enjoyed it?"

"Oh, yes," said Hermione eagerly. "So clever, the way you trapped that

last one with the tea-strainer -"

"Well, I'm sure no one will mind me giving the best student of the year

a little extra help," said Lockhart warmly, and he pulled out an

enormous peacock quill. "Yes, nice, isn't it?" he said, misreading the

revolted look on Ron's face. "I usually save it for book-signings."

He scrawled an enormous loopy signature on the note and handed it

back to Hermione.

"So, Harry," said Lockhart, while Hermione folded the note with

fumbling fingers and slipped it into her bag. "Tomorrow's the first

Quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin,

is it not? I hear you're a useful player. I was a Seeker, too. I was

asked to try for the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life

to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if ever you feel the need

for a little private training, don't hesitate to ask. Always happy to pass

on my expertise to less able players ......

Harry made an indistinct noise in his throat and then hurried off after

Ron and Hermione.

"I don't believe it," he said as the three of them examined the signature

on the note. "He didn't even look at the book we wanted."

"That's because he's a brainless git," said Ron. "But who cares, we've

got what we needed -"

"He is not a brainless git," said Hermione shrilly as they half ran

toward the library.

"Just because he said you were the best student of the year -"

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They dropped their voices as they entered the muffled stillness of the

library. Madam Pince, the librarian, was a thin, irritable woman who

looked like an underfed vulture.

*163*

"Moste Potente Potions?" she repeated suspiciously, trying to take the

note from Hermione; but Hermione wouldn't let go.

"I was wondering if I could keep it," she said breathlessly.

"Oh, come on," said Ron, wrenching it from her grasp and thrusting it

at Madam Pince. "We'll get you another autograph. Lockhart'll sign

anything if it stands still long enough."

Madam Pince held the note up to the light, as though determined to

detect a forgery, but it passed the test. She stalked away between the

lofty shelves and returned several minutes later carrying a large and

moldy-looking book. Hermione put it carefully into her bag and they

left, trying not to walk too quickly or look too guilty.

Five minutes later, they were barricaded in Moaning Myrtle's out-oforder bathroom once again. Hermione had overridden Ron's objections

by pointing out that it was the last place anyone in their right minds

would go, so they were guaranteed some privacy. Moaning Myrtle

was crying noisily in her stall, but they were ignoring her, and she

them.

Hermione opened Moste Potente Potions carefully, and the three of

them bent over the damp-spotted pages. It was clear from a glance

why it belonged in the Restricted Section. Some of the potions had

effects almost too gruesome to think about, and there were some very

unpleasant illustrations, which included a man who seemed to have

been turned inside out and a witch sprouting several extra pairs of

arms out of her head.

"Here it is," said Hermione excitedly as she found the page headed The

Polyjuice Potion. It was decorated with drawings of people halfway

through transforming into other people. Harry sin

*164*

138

cerely hoped the artist had imagined the looks of intense pain on their

faces.

"This is the most complicated potion I've ever seen," said Hermione as

they scanned the recipe. "Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed, and

knotgrass," she murmured, running her finger down the list of

ingredients. "Well, they're easy enough, they're in the student store-

cupboard, we can help ourselves .... Oooh, look, powdered horn of a

bicorn - don't know where we're going to get that - shredded skin of a

boomslang -. that'll be tricky, too and of course a bit of whoever we

want to change into."

"Excuse me?" said Ron sharply. "What d'you mean, a bit of whoever

we're changing into? I'm drinking nothing with Crabbe's toenails in it -"

Hermione continued as though she hadn't heard him.

"We don't have to worry about that yet, though, because we add those

bits last ......

Ron turned, speechless, to Harry, who had another worry.

"D'you realize how much we're going to have to steal, Hermione?

Shredded skin of a boomslang, that's definitely not in the students'

cupboard. What're we going to do, break into Snape's private stores? I

don't know if this is a good idea ......

Hermione shut the book with a snap.

"Well, if you two are going to chicken out, fine," she said. There were

bright pink patches on her cheeks and her eyes were brighter than

usual. "I don't want to break rules, you know. I think threatening

Muggle-borns is far worse than brewing up a difficult potion. But if

you don't want to find out if it's Malfoy, I'll go straight to Madam Pince

now and hand the book back in ='

*165

"I never thought Id see the day when you'd be persuading us to

break rules," said Ron. "All right, we'll do it. But not toenails, okay?"

139

"How long will it take to make, anyway?" said Harry as Hermione,

looking happier, opened the book again.

"Well, since the fluxweed has got to be picked at the full moon and

the lacewings have got to be stewed for twenty-one days ... I'd say

it'd be ready in about a month, if we can get all the ingredients."

"A month?" said Ron. "Malfoy could have attacked half the Muggleborns in the school by then!" But Hermione's eyes narrowed

dangerously again, and he added swiftly, "But it's the best plan we've

got, so full steam ahead, I say."

However, while Hermione was checking that the coast was clear for

them to leave the bathroom, Ron muttered to Harry, "It'll be a lot less

hassle if you can just knock Malfoy off his broom tomorrow.

Harry woke early on Saturday morning and lay for a while thinking

about the coming Quidditch match. He was nervous, mainly at the

thought of what Wood would say if Gryffindor lost, but also at the

idea of facing a team mounted on the fastest racing brooms gold

could buy. He had never wanted to beat Slytherin so badly. After

half an hour of lying there with his insides churning, he got up,

dressed, and went down to breakfast early, where he found the rest

of the Gryffindor team huddled at the long, empty table, all looking

uptight and not speaking much.

As eleven o'clock approached, the whole school started to make its

way down to the Quidditch stadium. It was a muggy sort of day

*166*

with a hint of thunder in the air. Ron and Hermione came hurrying

over to wish Harry good luck as he entered the locker rooms. The

team pulled on their scarlet Gryffindor robes, then sat down to listen to

Wood's usual pre-match pep talk.

"Slytherin has better brooms than us," he began. "No point denying it.

But we've got better people on our brooms. We've trained harder than

they have, we've been flying in all weathers -" ("Too true," muttered

George Weasley. "I haven't been properly dry since August") "- and

we're going to make them rue the day they let that little bit of slime,

Malfoy, buy his way onto their team."

140

Chest heaving with emotion, Wood turned to Harry.

"It'll be down to you, Harry, to show them that a Seeker has to have

something more than a rich father. Get to that Snitch before Malfoy or

die trying, Harry, because we've got to win today, we've got to."

"So no pressure, Harry" said Fred, winking at him.

As they walked out onto the pitch, a roar of noise greeted them; mainly

cheers, because Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were anxious to see

Slytherin beaten, but the Slytherins in the crowd made their boos and

hisses heard, too. Madam Hooch, the Quidditch teacher, asked Flint

and Wood to shake hands, which they did, giving each other

threatening stares and gripping rather harder than was necessary.

"On my whistle," said Madam Hooch. "Three ... two ... one. . .

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the fourteen

players rose toward the leaden sky. Harry flew higher than any of

them, squinting around for the Snitch.

*167*

"All right there, Scarhead?" yelled Malfoy, shooting underneath him as

though to show off the speed of his broom.

Harry had no time to reply. At that very moment, a heavy black

Bludger came pelting toward him; he avoided it so narrowly that he

felt it ruffle his hair as it passed.

"Close one, Harry!" said George, streaking past him with his club in his

hand, ready to knock the Bludger back toward a Slytherin. Harry saw

George give the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Adrian

Pucey, but the Bludger changed direction in midair and shot straight

for Harry again.

Harry dropped quickly to avoid it, and George managed to hit it hard

toward Malfoy. Once again, the Bludger swerved like a boomerang

and shot at Harry's head.

Harry put on a burst of speed and zoomed toward the other end of the

141

pitch. He could hear the Bludger whistling along behind him. What

was going on? Bludgers never concentrated on one player like this; it

was their job to try and unseat as many people as possible ....

Fred Weasley was waiting for the Bludger at the other end. Harry

ducked as Fred swung at the Bludger with all his might; the Bludger

was knocked off course.