第 25 页

sit down on the end of Ron's four-poster. "If we're going to do it, I

say it should be tonight."

At that moment, Hedwig swooped into the room, carrying a very

small package in her beak.

"Hello," said Harry happily as she landed on his bed. "Are you

speaking to me again?"

She nibbled his ear in an affectionate sort of way, which was a far

better present than the one that she had brought him, which turned

out to be from the Dursleys. They had sent Harry a toothpick and a

note telling him to find out whether he'd be able to stay at Hogwarts

for the summer vacation, too.

The rest of Harry's Christmas presents were far more satisfactory.

Hagrid had sent him a large tin of treacle fudge, which Harry decided

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to soften by the fire before eating; Ron had given him a book called

Flying with the Cannons, a book of interesting facts about his favorite

Quidditch team, and Hermione had bought him a luxury eagle-feather

quill. Harry opened the last present to find a new, hand-knitted

sweater from Mrs. Weasley and a large plum cake. He read her card

with a fresh surge of guilt, thinking about Mr. Weasley's car (which

hadn't been seen since its crash with the Whomping Willow), and the

bout of rule-breaking he and Ron were planning next.

No one, not even someone dreading taking Polyjuice Potion later,

could fail to enjoy Christmas dinner at Hogwarts.

The Great Hall looked magnificent. Not only were there a dozen

frost-covered Christmas trees and thick streamers of holly and

mistletoe crisscrossing the ceiling, but enchanted snow was falling,

warm and dry, from the ceiling. Dumbledore led them in a few of his

favorite carols, Hagrid booming more and more loudly with every

goblet of eggnog he consumed. Percy, who hadn't noticed that Fred

had bewitched his prefect badge so that it now read "Pinhead," kept

asking them all what they were sniggering at. Harry didn't even care

that Draco Malfoy was making loud, snide remarks

* 2:L2 *

about his new sweater from the Slytherin table. With a bit of luck,

Malfoy would be getting his comeuppance in a few hours' time.

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.

"We still need a bit of the people you're changing into," said

Hermione matter-of-facdy, as though she were sending them to the

supermarket for laundry detergent. "And obviously, it'll be best if you

can get something of Crabbe's and Goyle's; they're Malfoys best

friends, he'll tell them anything. And we also need to make sure the

real Crabbe and Goyle can't burst in on us while we're interrogating

him.

"I've got it all worked out," she went on smoothly, ignoring Harry's

and Ron's stupefied faces. She held up two plump chocolate cakes.

"I've filled these with a simple Sleeping Draught. All you have to do is

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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 closet."

Harry and Ron looked incredulously at each other.

"Hermione, I don't think -"

"That could go seriously wrong -"

But Hermione had a steely glint in her eye not unlike the one

Professor McGonagall sometimes had.

"The potion will be useless without Crabbe's and Goyle's hair," she

said sternly. "You do want to investigate Malfoy, don't you?"

"Oh, all right, all right," said Harry. "But what about you? Whose hair

are you ripping out?"

*213*

"I've already got mine!" said Hermione brightly, pulling a tiny bottle

out of her pocket and showing them the single hair inside it.

"Remember Millicent Bulstrode wrestling with me at the Dueling

Club? She left this on my robes when she was trying to strangle me!

And she's gone home for Christmas - so I'll just have to tell the

Slytherins I've decided to come back."

When Hermione had bustled off to check on the Polyjuice Potion

again, Ron turned to Harry with a doom-laden expression.

"Have you ever heard of a plan where so many things could go

wrong?"

But to Harry's and Ron's utter amazement, stage one of the

operation went just as smoothly as Hermione had said. They lurked

in the deserted entrance hall after Christmas tea, waiting for Crabbe

and Goyle who had remained alone at the Slytherin table, shoveling

down fourth helpings of trifle. Harry had perched the chocolate

cakes on the end of the banisters. When they spotted Crabbe and

Goyle coming out of the Great Hall, Harry and Ron hid quickly

behind a suit of armor next to the front door.

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"How thick can you get?" Ron whispered ecstatically as Crabbe

gleefully pointed out the cakes to Goyle and grabbed them. Grinning

stupidly, they stuffed the cakes whole into their large mouths. For a

moment, both of them chewed greedily, looks of triumph on their

faces. Then, without the smallest change of expression, they both

keeled over backward onto the floor.

By far the hardest part was hiding them in the closet across the hall.

Once they were safely stowed among the buckets and mops, Harry

yanked out a couple of the bristles that covered Goyle's fore

* _2 14 *

head and Ron pulled out several of Crabbe's hairs. They also stole

their shoes, because their own were far too small for Crabbe- and

Goyle-size feet. Then, still stunned at what they had just done, they

sprinted up to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

They could hardly see for the thick black smoke issuing from the stall

in which Hermione was stirring the cauldron. Pulling their robes up

over their faces, Harry and Ron knocked softly on the door.

"Hermione?"

They heard the scrape of the lock and Hermione emerged, shiny-

faced and looking anxious. Behind her they heard the gloop gloop

of the bubbling, glutinous potion. Three glass tumblers stood ready on

the toilet seat.

"Did you get them?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

Harry showed her Goyle's hair.

"Good. And I sneaked these spare robes out of the laundry," Hermione

said, holding up a small sack. "You'll need bigger sizes once you're

Crabbe and Goyle."

The three of them stared into the cauldron. Close up, the potion looked

like thick, dark mud, bubbling sluggishly.

"I'm sure I've done everything right," said Hermione, nervously

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rereading the splotched page of Moste Potente Potions. "It looks like the

book says it should ... once we've drunk it, we'll have exactly an hour

before we change back into ourselves."

"Now what?" Ron whispered.

"We separate it into three glasses and add the hairs."

Hermione ladled large dollops of the potion into each of the glasses.

Then, her hand trembling, she shook Millicent Bulstrode's hair out of

its bottle into the first glass.

*215*

The potion hissed loudly like a boiling kettle and frothed madly. A

second later, it had turned a sick sort of yellow.

"Urgh - essence of Millicent Bulstrode," said Ron, eyeing it with

loathing. "Bet it tastes disgusting."

"Add yours, then," said Hermione.

Harry dropped Goyle's hair into the middle glass and Ron put Crabbe's

into the last one. Both glasses hissed and frothed: Goyle's turned the

khaki color of a booger, Crabbe's a dark, murky brown.

"Hang on," said Harry as Ron and Hermione reached for their glasses.

"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," said Ron, unlocking the door. "We'll take separate

stalls."

Careful not to spill a drop of his Polyjuice Potion, Harry slipped into

the middle stall.

"Ready?" he called.

"Ready," came Ron's and Hermione's voices.

"One - two - three -"

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Pinching his nose, Harry drank the potion down in two large gulps. It

tasted like overcooked cabbage.

Immediately, his insides started writhing as though he'd just swallowed

live snakes - doubled up, he wondered whether he was going to be

sick - then a burning sensation spread rapidly from his stomach to the

very ends of his fingers and toes - next, bringing him gasping to all

fours, came a horrible melting feeling, as the skin all over his body

bubbled like hot wax - and before his eyes, his hands began to grow,

the fingers thickened, the nails broadened,

* 2116 *

the knuckles were bulging like bolts -his shoulders stretched painfully

and a prickling on his forehead told him that hair was creeping down

toward his eyebrows - his robes ripped as his chest expanded like a

barrel bursting its hoops - his feet were agony in shoes four sizes too

small

As suddenly as it had started, everything stopped. Harry lay facedown

on the stone-cold floor, listening to Myrtle gurgling morosely in the end

toilet. With difficulty, he kicked off his shoes and stood up. So this was

what it felt like, being Goyle. His large hand trembling, he pulled off

his old robes, which were hanging a foot above his ankles, pulled on

the spare ones, and laced up Goyle's boatlike shoes. He reached up to

brush his hair out of his eyes and met only the short growth of wiry

bristles, low on his forehead. Then he realized that his glasses were

clouding his eyes because Goyle obviously didn't need them - he took

them off and called, "Are you two okay?" Goyle's low rasp of a voice

issued from his mouth.

"Yeah," came the deep grunt of Crabbe from his right.

Harry unlocked his door and stepped in front of the cracked mirror.

Goyle stared back at him out of dull, deepset eyes. Harry scratched

his ear. So did Goyle.

Ron's door opened. They stared at each other. Except that he looked

pale and shocked, Ron was indistinguishable from Crabbe, from the

pudding-bowl haircut to the long, gorilla arms.

"This is unbelievable," said Ron, approaching the mirror and prodding

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Crabbe's flat nose. "Unbelievable. "

"We'd better get going," said Harry, loosening the watch that was

cutting into Goyle's thick wrist. "We've still got to find out

* 217*

where the Slytherin common room is. I only hope we can find

someone to follow. . ."

Ron, who had been gazing at Harry, said, "You don't know how

bizarre it is to see Goyle thinking." He banged on Hermione's door.

"C'mon, we need to go -"

A high-pitched voice answered him.

"I - I don't think I'm going to come after all. You go on without me.

"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 two hurry up, you re

wasting time

Harry looked at Ron, bewildered.

"That looks more like Goyle," said Ron. "That's how he looks every

time a teacher asks him a question."

"Hermione, are you okay?" said Harry through the door.

"Fine - I'm fine - go on -"

Harry looked at his watch. Five of their precious sixty minutes had

already passed.

"We'll meet you back here, all right?" he said.

Harry and Ron opened the door of the bathroom carefully, checked

that the coast was clear, and set off.

"Don't swing your arms like that," Harry muttered to Ron.

185

"Eh?"

"Crabbe holds them sort of stiff . . . ."

"How's this?"

"Yeah, that's better . . . ."

They went down the marble staircase. All they needed now was

*218*

a Slytherin that they could follow to the Slytherin common room, but

there was nobody around.

"Any ideas?" muttered Harry.

"The Slytherins always come up to breakfast from over there," said

Ron, 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," said Ron, hurrying up to her. "We've forgotten the way

to our common room."

"I beg your pardon?" said the girl stiffly. "Our common room? I'm a

Ravenclaw."

She walked away, looking suspiciously back at them.

Harry and Ron hurried down the stone steps into the darkness, their

footsteps echoing particularly loudly as Crabbe's and Goyle's huge

feet hit the floor, feeling that this wasn't going to be as easy as they

had hoped.

The labyrinthine passages were deserted. They walked deeper and

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 a sudden movement ahead.

"Ha!" said Ron excitedly. "There's one of them now!"

186

The figure was emerging from a side room. As they hurried nearer,

however, their hearts sank. It wasn't a Slytherin, it was Percy.

"What're you doing down here?" said Ron in surprise.

Percy looked affronted.

"That," he said stiffly, "is none of your business. It's Crabbe, isn't it?"

2 19

"Wh - oh, yeah," said Ron.

"Well, get off to your dormitories," said Percy sternly. "It's not safe to

go wandering around dark corridors these days."

"You are," Ron pointed out.

"I," said Percy, drawing himself up, "am a prefect. Nothing's about to