A Hogwarts Legend: Round Two [2]

Chapter Twenty One

Unedited

Chapter Twenty One - "I've got acting like a bitch down!"

To Harry and Ron's utter amazement, stage one of the operation goes as smoothly as Hermione said. Never doubt Hermione.

We lurk in the deserted Entrance Hall after Christmas teas, waiting for Crabbe and Goyle, who have remained alone at the Slytherin table, shovelling down fourth helpings of trifle. Harry has perched the chocolate cakes on the end of the banisters. When we spot Crabbe and Goyle coming coming out of the Great Hall, Harry, Ron and I hide quickly behind a suit of armour next to the front door.

"How thick can you get?" Ron whispers ecstatically, as Crabbe gleefully points out the fakes to Goyle and grabs them. Grinning stupidly, they stuff the cakes whole into their large mouths. For a moment, both of the chew greedily, looks of triumph on their faces. Then, without the smallest change of expression, they both keel over backwards onto the floor.

The most difficult but is hiding them in the cupboard across the hall. That's because none of us have any arm strength... Once they are safely stowed amongst the buckets and mops, Harry yanks out a couple of the bristles that cover Goyle's forehead and Ron pulls out several of Crabbe's hairs. They also steal their shoes, because their own are far too small for Crabbe- and Goyle-sized feet. Then we sprint up to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

I can hardly see for the thick black smoke issuing from the cubicle in which Hermione is stirring the cauldron. Pulling our robes up over our faces, I knock softly on the door.

"Hermione?"

I hear the scraps of the lock and Hermione emerges shiny-faced and looking anxious. Behind her I hear the gloop gloop of the bubbling, treacle-thick Potion. Four glass tumblers stand ready on the toilet seat.

Unhygienic much?

We're making a Potion in a bathroom, I don't think it can get much worse....

"Did you get them?" Hermione asks breathlessly.

Harry shows her Goyle's hair.

"Good. And I sneaked these spare robes out of the laundry," Hermione says, holding up a small sack. "You'll need bigger sizes once you're Crabbe and Goyle."

The four of us stare into the cauldron. Close up, the Potion looks like thick, dark mud, bubbling sluggishly.

"I'm sure I've done everything right," says Hermione, nervously re-reading 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 whispers.

"We separate it into four glasses and add the hairs," I whisper back.

Why are we whispering?

Hermione ladles large dollops of the Potion into each of the glasses. Then, her hand trembling, she shakes Millicent Bulstrode's hair out of its bottle into the first glass.

The Potion hisses loudly like a boiling kettle and froths madly. A second later, it turns a sick sort of yellow.

"Urgh - essence of Millicent Bulstrode," says Ron, eyeing it with loathing. "Bet it tastes disgusting."