Since the disastrous episode of the pixies, Professor Lockharthad not brought live creatures to class. Instead, he read passagesfrom his books to them, and sometimes reenacted some of themore dramatic bits. He usually picked Harry or me to help him withthese reconstructions; so far, Harry or myself had been forced to play a simple Transylvanian villager whom Lockhart had cured of a BabblingCurse, a yeti with a head cold, and a vampire who had been unableto eat anything except lettuce since Lockhart had dealt with him.Harry was hauled to the front of the class during their very nextDefense Against the Dark Arts lesson, this time acting a werewolf.If he hadn't had a very good reason for keeping Lockhart in a goodmood, he would have refused to do it."Nice loud howl, Harry — exactly — and then, if you'll believeit, I pounced — like this — slammed him to the floor — thus —with one hand, I managed to hold him down — with my other, I put my wand to his throat — I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex HomorphusCharm — he let out a piteous moan — go on, Harry — higherthan that — good — the fur vanished — the fangs shrank — andhe turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective — and anothervillage will remember me forever as the hero who delivered themfrom the monthly terror of werewolf attacks."
Call me a hypocrite but I loved seeing my brother up there.
The bell rang and Lockhart got to his feet."Homework — compose a poem about my defeat of the WaggaWagga Werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of thebest one!"The class began to leave. Harry returned to the back of theroom, where Ron and Hermione were waiting."Ready?" Harry muttered."Wait till everyone's gone," said Hermione nervously. "Allright . . ." I muttered, nudging.
She approached Lockhart's desk, a piece of paper clutched tightlyin her hand, Harry and Ron right behind her."Er — Professor Lockhart?" Hermione stammered. "I wantedto — 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 Ineed a teacher to 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 fromHermione and smiling widely at her. "Possibly my very favoritebook. You enjoyed it?" "Oh, yes," said Hermione eagerly. "So clever, the way youtrapped that last one with the tea-strainer —"
"Well, I'm sure no one will mind me giving the best student ofthe year a little extra help," said Lockhart warmly, and he pulled outan enormous peacock quill. "Yes, nice, isn't it?" he said, misreadingthe revolted look on Ron's face. "I usually save it for book signings."He scrawled an enormous loopy signature on the note andhanded it back to Hermione.Me and Ron shared a an eye roll.
"So, Harry," said Lockhart, while Hermione folded the notewith fumbling fingers and slipped it into her bag. "Tomorrow's thefirst Quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor againstSlytherin, 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 dedicatemy life to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if ever you feelthe need for a little private training, don't hesitate to ask. Alwayshappy to pass on my expertise to less able players. . . ."Harry made an indistinct noise in his throat and then I pulled him after Ron and Hermione."I don't believe it," he said as the three of them examined thesignature on the note. "He didn't even look at the book we wanted."
"That's cause he's a brainless idiot." I scoffed. "But who cares,we've got what we needed —""He is not a brainless idiot." said Hermione shrilly as we half rantoward the library."Just because he said you were the best student of the year —" began Ron. We dropped our voices as our entered the muffled stillnessof the library. Madam Pince, the librarian, was a thin, irritablewoman who looked like an underfed vulture.
"Moste Potente Potions?" she repeated suspiciously, trying to takethe 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 andthrusting 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 awaybetween the lofty shelves and returned several minutes later carrying a large and moldy-looking book. Hermione put it carefully intoher bag and we left, trying not to walk too quickly or look tooguilty.Five minutes later, we were barricaded in Moaning Myrtle'sout-of-order bathroom once again. Hermione had overridden Ron'sobjections by pointing out that it was the last place anyone in theirright minds would go, so we were guaranteed some privacy.Moaning Myrtle was crying noisily in her stall, but we were ignoring her, and she us.Hermione opened Moste Potente Potions carefully, and the threeof them bent over the damp-spotted pages. It was clear from aglance why it belonged in the Restricted Section. Some of the potions had effects almost too gruesome to think about, and therewere some very unpleasant illustrations, which included a manwho seemed to have been turned inside out and a witch sproutingseveral extra pairs of arms out of her head."Here it is," said Hermione excitedly as she found the pageheaded The Polyjuice Potion. It was decorated with drawings ofpeople halfway through transforming into other people.
"This is the most complicated potion I've ever seen," I said as we scanned the recipe. "Lacewing flies, leeches,fluxweed, and knotgrass," I murmured, running her finger downthe list of ingredients. "Well, they're easy enough, they're in thestudent store-cupboard, we can help ourselves. . . . Oooh, look,powdered horn of a bicorn — don't know where we're going to getthat — 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 ofwhoever we're changing into? I'm drinking nothing with Crabbe'stoenails in it —" I continued as though I hadn't heard him."We don't have to worry about that yet, though, because we addthose bits last. . . ."Ron turned, speechless, to Harry, who had another worry."D'you realize how much we're going to have to steal? Shredded skin of a boomslang, that's definitely not in thestudents' 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," Hermione said. Therewere bright pink patches on her cheeks and her eyes were brighterthan 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 straightto Madam Pince now and hand the book back in —"
"I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be persuading usto break rules," said Ron. "All right, we'll do it. But not toenails,okay?""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 moonand the lacewings have got to be stewed for twenty-one days . . . I'dsay it'd be ready in about a month, if we can get all the ingredients.""A month?" said Ron. "Malfoy could have attacked half theMuggle-borns in the school by then!" "Will lot stop assuming it's him?" I snarled.
"You said he was acting shifty-"
"Yes but-"
But Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously again, andRon added swiftly, "But it's the bestplan we've got, so full steam ahead, I say."