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."
"Add yours, then," says Hermione.
Harry drops Goyle's hair into the second glass and Ron puts Crabbe's into the third one. Both glasses hiss and froth: Goyle's turns the khaki colour of a bogey, Crabbe's a dark, murky brown.
I take Pansy's hair from Hermione and add it to the final glass which turns a deep purple, almost black.
"Hang on," says Harry, as we reach for our 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," says Ron, unlocking the door. "We'll take separate cubicles."
Careful not to spill a drop of my Polyjuice Potion, I slip into the next cubicle.
"Ready?" I call.
"Ready," comes the other three voices.
"One ... two ... three ..."
Pinching my nose, I drink the Potion down in two large gulps. It tastes like a mixture between coffee and lemon. Sour and bitter.
Immediately, my insides start writhing as though I'd just swallowed live snakes, then a burning sensation spread rapidly from my stomach to the very end of my fingers and toes. Next, bringing me gasping to all fours, comes a horrible melting feeing, as the skin all over my body bubbles like hot wax, and before my eyes, my hands begin to grow, the fingers lengthen and my nails become shaped. My shoulders stretch painfully and I watch my hair creep up to my shoulders ...
As suddenly as it had started, everything stops. I lie face down on the cold stone floor, listening to Myrtle gurgling morosely in the end toilet. Slowly, I get to my feet, wiggling my toes, my shoes suddenly slightly tight. Looking down, my robes are slightly looser, my hair shorter.
So this is what it feels like to be Pansy Parkinson .......
Pulling my glasses off and call, "Are you three okay?" Pansy's high squeaky voice comes from my mouth.
Great.
"Yeah," comes the deep grunt of Crabbe's voice.
"Yup," Goyle's low rasp of a voice rings out.
I unlock the door and step in front of the cracked mirror. Pansy stares back at me. This is so weird.
Ron and Harry's door open. I stare at them. They are both identical to Crabbe and Goyle in every way.
"This is unbelievable," says Ron, approaching the mirror and prodding Crabbe's flat nose. "Unbelievable."
"We'd better get going," says Harry, loosening the watch around his wrist. "We've still got to find out where the Slytherin common room is, I only hope we can find someone to follow ..."
Ron, who's been gazing at Harry, says, "You don't know how bizarre it is to see Goyle thinking." He bangs in Hermione's door. "C'mon, we need to go ..."
A high-pitched voice answers 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 ones going to know it's you."
"Come on Hermione! If I have to flirt with Malfoy, you can do this!"
I know, gross right?
"No - really - I don't think I'll come. You two hurry up, you're wasting time."
Harry looks at us, bewildered.
"That looks more like Goyle," says Ron. "That's how he looks every time a teacher asks him a question."
"Hermione, are you okay?" I say through the door.
"Fine - I'm fine ... Go on -"
Harry looks at his watch and I peer at it too. Five of our precious sixty minutes has already passed.
"We'll meet you back here, all right?" Harry says.
I open the door, check the coast is clear and motion the other two out.
"Don't swing your arms like that," Harry mutters to Ron.
"Eh?"
"Crabbe holds them sort of stiff," I whisper.
"How's this?"
"Yeah, that's better. Emily, you need to act more, well, Pansy like."
"Don't worry, Harry, I've got acting like a bitch down!"
We go down the marble staircase. All we need now is a Slytherin who we can follow to the Slytherin room, but there's no one around.
Any ideas?" mutters Harry.
"The Slytherins always come up to breakfast from over there," says Ron, nodding at the entrance to the dungeons. The words have barely left his mouth when a girl with long curly hair emerges from the entrance.
Before I can stop him, Ron hurries up to her and says, "Excuse me, we've forgotten the way to our common room."
"I beg your pardon?" says the girl stiffly. "Our common room? I'm a Ravenclaw."
She walks away, looking suspiciously back at us.
"Well done Ron," I snap, punching his arm. "For future reference, Crabbe is not polite."
We hurry down the stone steps into the darkness, our footsteps echoing particularly loudly, or at least it seems that way.
The labyrinthine passages are deserted. We walk deeper and deeper under the school, constantly checking our watched to see much time we have left. After a quarter of an hour, just when we're beginning to get desperate, we hear a sudden movement ahead.
"Ha!" says Ron excitedly. "There's one of them now!"
The figure is emerging from a side room. As we hurry nearer, however, my heart sinks. It isn't a Slytherin, it's Percy.
"What're you doing down here?" says Ron in surprise.
Percy looks affronted.
"That," he says stiffly, "is none of your business. It's Crabbe, isn't it?"
"Wh- oh yeah," says Ron.
"Well, get off to your dormitories," says Percy sternly. "It's not safe to go wandering around dark corridors these days."
"You are," I glare at him.
"I," says Percy, drawing himself up, "am a Prefect. Nothing's about to attack me."
A voice suddenly echoes behind us, Malfoy is strolling towards us, and for the first time in a while, I'm pleased to see him.
"There you are," he drawls, looking at us, eyebrows raised in my direction, but he doesn't question it. "Have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall all this time? I've been looking for you, I want to show you something funny."
Malfoy glances witheringly at Percy.
"And what're you doing down here, Weasley?" he sneers.
Percy looks outraged.
"You want to show a bit more respect to a school Prefect!" he says. "I don't like your attitude!"
Malfoy sneers and motions us to follow him.
"What are you doing here Pansy? I thought you went home?"
Time to bring out my acting skills.
"It was sooooooo boring and my mother was being soooooo annoying about my grades," I huff, grabbing onto Malfoy's arm and pouting.
"Right," he says, slightly annoyed, as we hurry down the next passage. "That Peter Weasley -"
"Percy," Ron corrects him automatically.
"Whatever," says Malfoy. "I've noticed him sneaking around a lot lately. And I bet I know what he's up to. He thinks he's going to catch Slytherin's heir single-handed."
He gives a short, derisive laugh, and I giggle too.
Malfoy pauses by a stretch of bare, damp stone wall.
"What the new password again?" he says to Harry.
"Er -" says Harry.
"Oh yeah - pure-blood!" says Malfoy, not listening, and a stone door concealed in the wall slides open. Malfoy marched through it and we follow him.
The Slytherin common room is a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling, from which round, greenish lamps are hanging on chains. A fire is crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of us, and several Slytherins are silhouetted around it in carved chairs.
"Wait here," says Malfoy to Harry and Ron, shaking me off his arm, motioning us to a pair of empty chairs set back from the fire. "I'll go and get it - my father's just sent it to me -"
We sit down, Harry and Ron sitting slightly away from me.
Malfoy comes back a minute later, holding what looks like a newspaper cutting. He thrusts it under Ron's nose.
"That'll give you a laugh," he says.
I watch Ron's eyes widen in shock. He reads the cutting quickly, gives a very forced laugh and hands it to Harry.
"Well?" says Malfoy impatiently, as Harry hands the cutting to me. "Don't you think it's funny?"
"Ha, ha," says Harry bleakly.
Well, aren't they shit actors.....
I look at the cutting. It's been clipped out of the Daily Prophet, and it says:
ENQUIRY AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC
Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, was today fined fifty Galleons for bewitching a Muggle car.
Mr Lucius Malfoy, a governor ofHogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where the enchanted car crashed earlier this year, called today for Mr Weasley's resignation.
"Weasley has brought the Ministry into disrepute," Mr Malfoy told our reporter. "He is clearly unfit to draw up our laws and his ridiculous Muggle Protection Act should be scrapped immediately."
Mr Weasley was unavailable for comment, although his wife told reporters to clear off or she'd set the family ghoul on them.
Go Mrs Weasley! This article is so stupid, but gotta keep up the act.
I let out a high-pitched laugh, ignoring the looks from the other two as I hand the article back.
"Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he should snap his wand in half and go and join them," says Malfoy scornfully. "You'd never know the Weasleys were pure-bloods, the way they behave."
Ron's - or rather, Crabbe's - face contorts in fury.
"What's up with you, Crabbe?" snaps Malfoy.
"Stomach ache," Ron grunts.
"Well, go up to the hospital wing and give all those Mudbloods a kick from me," says Malfoy, snickering. "You know, I'm surprised the Daily Prophet hasn't reported all these attacks yet," he goes on thoughtfully. "I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up. He'll be sacked if it does t stop soon. Father's always said Dumbledore's the worst thing that's ever happened to this place. He loves Muggle-borns. A decent Headmaster would never've let slime like that Creevey in."
Malfoy starts taking pictures with an imaginary camera and does a cruel but accurate impression of Colin: "Potter, can I have your picture, Potter? Can I have your autograph? Can I lick your shoes, please, Potter?"
I let out another laugh, slightly sickened by the sound.
He drops his hands and look at Harry and Ron.
"What's the matter with you two?"
Far too late, Harry and Ron force themselves to laugh, but Malfoy seems satisfied; perhaps Crabbe and Goyle are always slow on the uptake.
"Saint Potter, the Mudbloods' friend," says Malfoy slowly. "He's another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn't go around with that jumped-up Granger Mudblood. And people think he's Slytherin's heir! Him and Swift!"
I wait with bated breath: Malfoy is seconds away from telling us something useful.
"I wish I knew who it is," says Malfoy petulantly. "I could help them."
As if he'd have the guts.
Ron's jaw drops so that Crabbe's face looks even more gormless than usual. Fortunately, Malfoy doesn't notice, and Harry says, "You must have some idea who's behind it all ..."
"You know I haven't, Goyle, how many times to I have to tell you?" snaps Malfoy. "And father won't tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened, either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing: last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's only a matter of time before one of them's killed this time ... I hope it's Granger," he says with relish.
I want to punch him so much....
Ron is clenching Crabbe's gigantic fists. Feeling that it would be a bit of a give-away if Ron punches Malfoy, I shoot him a warning look and say, "D'you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?"
"Oh yeah ... whoever it was was expelled," says Malfoy. "They're probably still in Azkaban."
"Azkaban?" says Harry, puzzled.
"Azkaban - the wizard prison, Goyle," says Malfoy, looking at him in disbelief. "Honestly, if you were any slower, you'd be going backwards."
He shifts restlessly in his chair and says, "Father says to keep my head down and let the heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the school needs ridding of all the Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it. Of course, he's got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our Manor last week?"
I stroke his arm, faking a look of concern. To my surprise, Malfoy shrugs me off.
"Yeah ..." says Malfoy. "Luckily, they didn't find much. Father's got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff. But luckily, we've got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor -"
"Ho!" says Ron.
Malfoy looks at him. I glance at him as well. Ron blushes. Even his hair is turning red. His nose is also slowly lengthening - our hour is up. Ron is turning back into himself, and Harry and I are probably doing the same.
Harry and Ron both jump to their feet.
"Medicine for my stomach," Ron grunts, and without further ado they sprint the length of the Slytherin common room, and hurl themselves at the stone wall.
"I'll go find them," I roll my eyes, and lean towards Malfoy.
He pushes me back, I feign a look of anger, scream like Pansy does and storm out the common room.
Harry and Ron are waiting for me, and we begin to run. We crash up the steps into the dark Entrance Hall, which is full of a muffled pounding coming from the cupboard where we locked Crabbe and Goyle. We sprint up the marble staircase towards Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
"Well, it wasn't a complete waste of time," Ron pants, closing the bathroom door behind us. "I know we still haven't found out who's doing the attacks, but I'm going to write to Dad tomorrow and tell him to check under the Malfoys' drawing room."
"You guys were shit at acting," I laugh, glad to hear it back to normal. I check my face in the cracked mirror. Yup, back to normal. I'm putting my glasses on as Ron hammers on the door of Hermione's cubicle.
"Hermione, come out, we've got loads to tell you -"
"Go away!" Hermione squeaks.
Well, that's just rude...
"What's the matter?" I ask. "You must be back to normal by now, we are ..."
But Moaning Myrtle glides suddenly through the cubicle door. I don't think I've ever seen her so happy.
"Ooooooh, wait till you see," she says. "It's awful!"
I hear the lock slide back and Hermione emerges, sobbing, her robes pulled up over her head.
"What's up?" says Ron uncertainly. "Have you still got Millicent's nose or something?"
Hermione lets her robes fall and Ron backs into the sink.
Her face is covered in black fur. Her eyes have gone yellow and there are long pointed ears poking through her hair.
"It was a c-cat hair!" she howls. "M-Millicent Bulstrode m-must have a cat! And the P-Potion isn't supposed to be used for animal transformations!"
"Uh oh," says Ron.
"You alright?" I ask Hermione, then add quickly, "nah, I'm just kittening. Get it, cause it sounds like kidding!"
Hermione glares at me and I stop laughing.
"Just trying to inject a bit of humour ... It would have worked better if you'd turned into a goat, so really who's fault is it?"
"You'll be teased something dreadful," says Myrtle happily.
Hermione looks like she's about to cry and my heart of ice cracks.
"It's okay, Hermione," I say quickly. "We'll take you up to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey never asks to many questions ..."
It takes a long time to persuade Hermione to leave the bathroom. Moaning Myrtle speeds us on our way with a hearty guffaw.
"Wait till everyone finds out you've got a tail!"
"Fuck off Myrtle!"