𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

Chapter 3

Transformation: Chapter Three

"You won't believe what happened this morning in the library," Hermione said to Harry and Ron as they stood in the courtyard, hands in their pockets against the October cold. Her cheeks were stung red with the wind, which made her look even keener about the news. "Pansy Parkinson started a row with some first years. They weren't even Slytherins; I think two of them were from Hufflepuff and one from Ravenclaw. All because of some silly book."

Ron rubbed his hands together in the chill and said dryly, "Parkinson stole a book from some first years? And that's exciting why?"

"She threatened them with hexes until they gave it up," Hermione said, as if Ron hadn't spoken. "But the best part was, it's some silly book about household spells. I'll bet your mum has it, Ron. A Thousand Ways To Scrimp With Sylvia, or something ridiculous–"

"It's not ridiculous," Ron said, looking suddenly embarrassed. "Mum got tons of ideas about mending old robes from that book. She learned how to shrink Bill's shoes to fit Ginny in first year."

"Oh," Hermione said, looking rather embarrassed herself, "well, yes, that's just it. Why would Pansy Parkinson need a book like that?"

Harry hadn't been paying much attention and said absently, "The Slytherins will probably have a good laugh about it."

"No," Hermione replied, and she almost sounded triumphant. "It was for Malfoy."

"That wanker?" Ron scoffed. "He's got loads of money. What's he need that for?"

"No, I heard from Padma that he hasn't got any money left," Hermione informed them both. "She said she heard the Slytherins weren't so inclined to treat him like royalty now that his dad's name's sullied. Apparently, he's borrowed Nott's robes for a few Sickles. Did you notice at breakfast how they seemed too long on him?"

"I have better things to do with my time than remember what Malfoy was wearing," Ron said disgustedly.

Harry interrupted. "His mother won't even send him new robes? Surely–"

"Serves him right," Ron muttered, finally seeing the justice in the situation. "All those years of his jibes, let him see how it feels! I hope he mixes up the spells and turns his robes pink or something awful."

"Ron," Hermione said. "I'd think you would be more understanding, seeing as–"

"As what, Hermione? Seeing as I've been hearing from Malfoy ever since I met him how poor my family is? How we're good for nothing because we live in a hole and all our things are secondhand and even Ginny's got clothes that were my mum's when she went to Hogwarts? How do you think it feels, Hermione? D'you think I'm going to be chummy with Malfoy because he can't buy new quills either? I'd rather make friends with Grawp!"

Hermione flushed, apologetic, but Harry was embarrassed himself: he had lent Malfoy money to buy quills, and he hadn't even got any for Ron. "I would buy you quills, Ron," he said, quietly.

"I don't need any bloody quills," Ron snapped. "Forget it. How does Padma Patil know all this, anyway?"

Hermione still looked flustered. "She's seeing Nott," she explained, shrugging. "They've been on and off since the middle of last year."

"Theodore Nott?" Ron choked. "That weedy bastard? But his dad was in Azkaban!"

"Well, Theodore wasn't," Hermione said, though she did look away; it had, after all, been Hermione herself who'd Stunned Theodore Nott's father in the Department of Mysteries. "Besides, Padma says Nott doesn't know anything. She wouldn't be with him otherwise. Honestly, Ron, she was in the DA."