Harry Potter 02 - Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

come on,’ said Ron, wrenching it from her grasp and thrusting 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 away between the lofty shelves and returned several minutes later carrying a large and mouldy-looking book. Hermione put it carefully into her bag and they left, trying not to walk too quickly or look too guilty.
    Five minutes later, they were barricaded in Moaning Myrtle’s out-of-order bathroom once again. Hermione had overridden Ron’s objections by pointing out that it was the last place anyone in their right minds would go, so they were guaranteed some privacy. Moaning Myrtle was crying noisily in her cubicle, but they were ignoring her, and she them.
    Hermione opened Moste Potente Potions carefully, and the three of them bent over the damp-spotted pages. It was clear from a glance why it belonged in the Restricted Section. Some of the potions had effects almost too gruesome to think about, and there were some very unpleasant illustrations, which included a man who seemed to have been turned inside out and a witch sprouting several extra pairs of arms out of her head.
    ‘Here it is,’ said Hermione excitedly, as she found the page headed The Polyjuice Potion . It was decorated with drawings of people halfway through transforming into other people. Harry sincerely hoped the artist had imagined the looks of intense pain on their faces.
    ‘This is the most complicated potion I’ve ever seen,’ said Hermione, as they scanned the recipe. ‘Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed and knotgrass,’ she murmured, running her finger down the list of ingredients. ‘Well, they’re easy enough, they’re in the student store-cupboard, we can help ourselves. Oooh, look, powdered horn of a Bicorn – don’t know where we’re going to get that … 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 of whoever we’re changing into? I’m drinking nothing with Crabbe’s toenails in it …’
    Hermione continued as though she hadn’t heard him.
    ‘We don’t have to worry about that yet, though, because we add those bits last …’
    Ron turned, speechless, to Harry, who had another worry.
    ‘D’you realise how much we’re going to have to steal, Hermione? Shredded skin of Boomslang, that’s definitely not in the students’ 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,’ she said. There were bright pink patches on her cheeks and her eyes were brighter than 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 straight to Madam Pince now and hand the book back in …’
    ‘I never thought I’d see the day when you’d be persuading us to break rules,’ said Ron. ‘All right, we’ll do it. But not toenails, OK?’
    ‘How long will it take to make, anyway?’ said Harry, as Hermione, looking happier, opened the book again.
    ‘Well, as the fluxweed has got to be picked at the full moon and the lacewings have got to be stewed for twenty-one days … I’d say it’d be ready in about a month, if we can get all the ingredients.’
    ‘A month?’ said Ron. ‘Malfoy could have attacked half the Muggle-borns in the school by then!’ But Hermione’s eyes narrowed dangerously again, and he added swiftly, ‘But it’s the best plan we’ve got, so full steam ahead, I say.’
    However, while Hermione was checking that the coast was clear for them to leave the bathroom, Ron muttered to Harry, ‘It’ll be a lot less hassle if you can just knock Malfoy off his broom tomorrow.’
    *
    Harry woke early on Saturday morning and lay for a while thinking about the coming Quidditch match. He was nervous, mainly at the thought of what Wood would say if Gryffindor lost, but also at the idea of facing a team mounted on the fastest racing brooms gold could buy. He had never wanted to beat Slytherin so badly. After half an hour of lying there with his insides churning, he got up, dressed, and went