Harry Potter 02 - Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

tell him to check under the Malfoys’ drawing room.’
    Harry checked his face in the cracked mirror. He was back to normal. He put his glasses on as Ron hammered on the door of Hermione’s cubicle.
    ‘Hermione, come out, we’ve got loads to tell you –’
    ‘Go away!’ Hermione squeaked.
    Harry and Ron looked at each other.
    ‘What’s the matter?’ said Ron. ‘You must be back to normal by now, we are …’
    But Moaning Myrtle glided suddenly through the cubicle door. Harry had never seen her looking so happy.
    ‘Ooooooh, wait till you see,’ she said. ‘It’s awful !’
    They heard the lock slide back and Hermione emerged, sobbing, her robes pulled up over her head.
    ‘What’s up?’ said Ron uncertainly. ‘Have you still got Millicent’s nose or something?’
    Hermione let her robes fall and Ron backed into the sink.
    Her face was covered in black fur. Her eyes had gone yellow and there were long pointed ears poking through her hair.
    ‘It was a c-cat hair!’ she howled. ‘M-Millicent Bulstrode m-must have a cat! And the P-Potion isn’t supposed to be used for animal transformations!’
    ‘Uh oh,’ said Ron.
    ‘You’ll be teased something dreadful ,’ said Myrtle happily.
    ‘It’s OK, Hermione,’ said Harry quickly. ‘We’ll take you up to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey never asks too many questions …’
    It took a long time to persuade Hermione to leave the bathroom. Moaning Myrtle sped them on their way with a hearty guffaw.
    ‘Wait till everyone finds out you’ve got a tail !’

 
— CHAPTER THIRTEEN —
     
The Very Secret Diary
    Hermione remained in the hospital wing for several weeks. There was a flurry of rumour about her disappearance when the rest of the school arrived back from their Christmas holidays, because of course everyone thought that she had been attacked. So many students filed past the hospital wing trying to catch a glimpse of her that Madam Pomfrey took out her curtains again and placed them around Hermione’s bed, to spare her the shame of being seen with a furry face.
    Harry and Ron went to visit her every evening. When the new term started, they brought her each day’s homework.
    ‘If I’d sprouted whiskers, I’d take a break from work,’ said Ron, tipping a stack of books onto Hermione’s bedside table one evening.
    ‘Don’t be silly, Ron, I’ve got to keep up,’ said Hermione briskly. Her spirits were greatly improved by the fact that all the hair had gone from her face and her eyes were turning slowly back to brown. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got any new leads?’ she added in a whisper, so that Madam Pomfrey couldn’t hear her.
    ‘Nothing,’ said Harry gloomily.
    ‘I was so sure it was Malfoy,’ said Ron, for about the hundredth time.
    ‘What’s that?’ asked Harry, pointing to something gold sticking out from under Hermione’s pillow.
    ‘Just a Get Well card,’ said Hermione hastily, trying to poke it out of sight, but Ron was too quick for her. He pulled it out, flicked it open and read aloud:
    ‘To Miss Granger, wishing you a speedy recovery, from your concerned teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and five times winner of Witch Weekly’s Most-Charming-Smile Award.’
    Ron looked up at Hermione, disgusted.
    ‘You sleep with this under your pillow ?’
    But Hermione was spared answering by Madam Pomfrey sweeping over with her evening dose of medicine.
    ‘Is Lockhart the smarmiest bloke you’ve ever met, or what?’ Ron said to Harry as they left the dormitory and started up the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower. Snape had given them so much homework, Harry thought he was likely to be in the sixth year before he finished it. Ron was just saying he wished he had asked Hermione how many rat tails you were supposed to add to a Hair-Raising Potion, when an angry outburst from the floor above reached their ears.
    ‘That’s Filch,’ Harry muttered, as they hurried up the stairs and paused, out of sight, listening hard.
    ‘You don’t think someone else’s been attacked?’ said Ron tensely.
    They stood still, their heads inclined towards Filch’s voice, which sounded quite hysterical.
    ‘… even more work for me! Mopping all night, like I haven’t got enough to do! No, this is the final straw, I’m going to Dumbledore …’
    His footsteps receded and they heard a distant door slam.
    They poked their heads around the corner. Filch