On Christmas Day, Hermione woke as usual, before everyone else. It was still dark outside; in winter the sun was in no hurry to rise above the horizon. It was the holidays, she could have stayed under the covers a little longer, but thoughts of sneaking into the Slytherin common room wouldn't let her fall back asleep.
She didn't wake Harry or Ron. First she needed to make sure the potion was all right, and to set a little aside for later, as Terry Foster had advised. She changed quickly, threw on her cloak, and slipped quietly out of the Gryffindor common room.
Hogwarts greeted her with a ringing silence. The corridors lay in half-darkness. Torches smoked high up near the ceiling, casting unsteady shadows along the stone walls. Hermione glanced around and stepped forward; her footsteps echoed hollowly through the empty castle.
Almost all the students had gone home. Only a few had dared to stay in a school now stalked by something. A creature hiding somewhere in the depths of the castle frightened even the bravest. It was said to hunt Muggle-borns first, the so-called Mudbloods, but it had scared everyone.
Hermione was the only Muggle-born left at Hogwarts for Christmas. She had her reasons. The Ministry of Magic had made it clear that protecting her home from the League of Light was too difficult and too expensive. The finance department had already complained about the 'unjustified expenses' of guarding her over the summer.
There was a moment when Hermione seriously considered going home after all, despite the danger. Things were happening at Hogwarts now that made her blood run cold. And her father… he was clearly upset about her decision to stay at school. It showed in every letter he wrote.
Yet, strangely, after the events of Halloween, the threats from the Smiting Hand suddenly stopped. Hermione couldn't understand why, but it brought her a clear sense of relief.
The other danger, of course, hadn't gone anywhere. The monster from the Chamber of Secrets was still somewhere nearby. Even so, when it turned out that Malfoy was staying for the holidays as well, Hermione made up her mind not to leave. It was the perfect chance to use the Polyjuice Potion and finally sneak into the enemy's lair.
With these thoughts, Hermione barely noticed she had reached her destination. She glanced around, pushed the door ajar, and slipped inside.
The potion looked excellent. For a moment, she even caught herself wishing Professor Snape could see it and judge it. The thought faded almost at once; it was enough to imagine how exactly he would express his 'admiration' once he learned Hermione had brewed an illegal potion.
She took out a small vial she had prepared in advance, poured some of the Polyjuice Potion into it, and let out a quiet breath of satisfaction. What remained in the cauldron would be more than enough for the three of them, so Operation 'The Enemy's Lair', as she called it, was in no danger.
Hermione did feel a little uneasy about having to hide something from her friends, but Mr Foster had put her under a Non-Disclosure Charm, so she had no choice. This part of the plan she could share only with Miranda.
Hermione stepped out of the toilet with the vial in her hand. The first rays of sunlight were already reaching through the castle windows, washing the corridor in a soft gold. She smiled at the light and, holding the vial close to her chest, headed back to her room, lost in thoughts of the evening ahead. Then, just around the corner, she heard a hoarse cough. A second later, Peeves shot straight at her.
Hermione's heart lurched at the suddenness of it. Encounters with Peeves rarely ended well, and in an almost empty school she was practically his only target. He spun in the air with delight, baring his teeth as if he had just won the top prize in a lottery.
"Ahhh, look who it is! Hermione Granger!" Peeves screeched, flipping in mid-air. "What are you sneaking around for, eh? You're not about to break some especially important school rule, are you?"
"I'm not sneaking," Hermione said, a little flustered.
"Ooooh, really?" Peeves narrowed his eyes, which gleamed with mischief. "And what's that you've got there?" He jabbed a finger at the vial. "Let me try it!"
Only then did Hermione realise she was still holding the potion in plain sight. 'How stupid, walking around the school with Polyjuice Potion!' she thought, annoyed with herself.
"It's mine," she said as calmly as she could. "I'm ill. Very contagious. This is my medicine."
Peeves stuck out his tongue like a hungry dog that had caught the scent of food and gave a pleased little giggle.
"Contagious? Lovely!" he said, brightening. "I adore contagious illnesses. Come on then, hand over that medicine!"
He darted at her, trying to snatch the vial from her hand, but Hermione quickly hid it behind her back.
"It's mine!" she hissed, glaring at him as if she could burn him on the spot. "Why do you always have to pester everyone?"
"Because you're suspicious!" he sang, darting closer again. Hermione instinctively stepped back. "Hermione's up to something! Hermione's up to something!" he chanted off-key, but with such delight that the sound echoed along the empty corridor.
"No one's up to anything," Hermione said firmly, but Peeves, of course, wasn't about to let it go.
"Oh really? Then I'll tell everyone… hmm, now who would that be?" He tapped a finger against his chin, pretending to think. "Professor McGonagall? Or… maybe Snape? Oh yes, Snape!"
He frowned theatrically, folded his arms, and, with surprising accuracy, mimicked the professor's tone:
"Miss Granger, would you care to explain what potion you have in your hand?"
A chill ran down Hermione's spine. Peeves was behaving as usual, but this time the stakes were too high. She couldn't let him go running to Snape. She had to think of something, and fast.
"You know, Peeves… you're right," she said suddenly, starting to unscrew the vial. "I really am up to something."
What she hoped was a sly smile appeared on her face.
"Why don't you try this potion?" she said softly. "It'll rid Hogwarts of one very annoying problem."
"What problem?" Peeves snatched his hand back just as he was about to grab it, his eyes narrowing.
"A poltergeist," Hermione said calmly. "If you drink this, you'll turn into an ordinary ghost. Like all the others. And you'll stop bothering everyone."
She opened the vial and held it out to him.
"Drink."
"No such potion exists!" he shrieked, but drifted a little farther away just in case. "You're lying!"
Hermione let a small smile touch her lips, doing her best to look confident, though her heart was pounding.
"Oh, it doesn't exist? Then you've nothing to be afraid of. Want to check?"
She held the vial out again. In an instant, Peeves shot up into the air, spun around, and sped off down the corridor, wailing at the top of his voice:
"Oooh, Granger's dangerous! Granger wants to kill me!"
His cries echoed through the empty corridors for a long time before fading into the distance.
Hermione gave a satisfied smirk, screwed the lid back onto the vial, slipped it into an inner pocket of her cloak, and hurried to Gryffindor Tower to wake Harry and Ron. She couldn't wait any longer. Today they would finally try the potion and find out the truth about Malfoy.
***
"I'm sure I've done everything right," Hermione said, checking the Polyjuice Potion recipe once more. "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."
Harry, Ron and Hermione stood around a cauldron of bubbling liquid in the old, dimly lit toilet haunted by Moaning Myrtle. The stench of the potion mixed with the damp, mouldy smell.
The three of them exchanged glances. They filled their cups with the murky, thick liquid, more like swamp sludge than anything you'd want to drink. Harry and Ron each added a hair to their portions. They had got them just moments earlier from Crabbe and Goyle, after knocking them both out.
Hermione took out Millicent's hair, pulled from her robe during the duel, and hesitated. Something about it felt off. And it's shorter… Millicent's hair is longer than this.
Harry and Ron looked at her.
"It's fine," Hermione said quickly, keeping her voice steady. 'Nonsense. I'm just looking for an excuse not to drink it… not to go into the Slytherin common room.'
Bracing herself, she dropped the hair into the potion. After that, they went into separate cubicles to drink it. Despite how confident she sounded, a knot of anxiety tightened inside her.
"You can do this," she whispered under her breath, staring into the murky liquid. "I did everything right. Exactly by the book. This has to work…"
Clutching the cup in both hands, she brought it to her lips and took a sip. The potion burned her throat like liquid fire. Her head spun, her vision blurred. Coughing, she braced herself against the cubicle wall, trying to stay on her feet. Then, forcing herself, she took a couple more gulps.
Hot… too hot. Her skin flared, her bones aching as though something were eating through them. Her hands began to tremble, and she felt her fingers starting to change.
The burning soon gave way to a prickling sensation, and fur began to grow across her skin, short, dense, black. Hermione stared at her hands in horror, her mouth opening soundlessly like a fish thrown onto dry land. The fur spread quickly, and her hands began to shrink. Her fingers vanished, stretching into strange, angular shapes. These were no longer hands. They were paws. At their tips, claws gleamed, thin and sharp as blades.
"No… something's… wrong…" Her voice came out faint and weak, with a strange, plaintive, cat-like note. She tried to clutch at her throat, but instead of skin she felt soft fur.
A sudden pain shot through her spine, forcing a cry from her. Or rather, she tried to cry out, but what came out instead was a thin, pitiful meow. Her back arched, and from the base of her spine a fluffy tail burst out, twitching in a brief convulsion before going still.
She looked down. Her legs were no longer legs. In their place were paws, with soft pads where her feet had been. Hermione turned to the cracked mirror on the wall and froze. A cat stared back at her from the fractured glass. Large amber eyes, triangular ears, whiskers.
Hermione shook her head.
"No, this is a mistake! This isn't me… this isn't me—ow!" An anxious, mewling sound forced its way out of her throat.
At that moment, voices came from outside. Harry and Ron were calling her.
"C'mon," Ron called, knocking on the cubicle door. "We need to go —"
Hermione went still. She didn't know what to do. To show herself like this would mean admitting her own stupidity. And besides, she was afraid they would laugh at her. Ron definitely wouldn't miss a chance like that.
Realising quickly that she wouldn't make it into the Slytherin dungeons like this anyway, Hermione decided to send the boys on without her. 'By the time they came back, the potion should wear off, and no one would know,' she told herself.
"I —" she began, then froze, realising her voice came out as a pitiful meow.
Focusing, she forced out something close to a normal voice:
"I don't think I'm going to come after all. You go on without me—ow."
The boys tried to persuade her, assuming she was just embarrassed about Millicent's appearance. But Hermione stood her ground. In the end, they left the toilet. She let out a breath, carefully settling onto the toilet lid, curling her tail around her paws, and waited.
For the first few minutes, Hermione did nothing but curse herself. 'With something like Polyjuice Potion, you have to be absolutely careful and precise… and I —' she thought, lowering her muzzle onto her paws.
Then her thoughts shifted to Draco. Harry and Ron might learn something about the Chamber of Secrets, but about the Smiting Hand, definitely not. She hadn't even hinted at it to them. And that had been the whole point of the operation. She drew a deep breath. 'One unchecked detail, and everything goes to hell,' she thought irritably. 'How am I supposed to find out now whether Draco is the Smiting Hand?'
For a few more minutes, she ran through possible options, turning over plans in her head, but her thoughts kept circling back to her current situation. She had her chance, and she wasted it. Just sitting there became unbearable. To distract herself, Hermione decided to reread the section on the effects of Polyjuice Potion. She took out the book, opened it to the familiar page, and went over the description: ingredients, properties, instructions for use, notes.
Before, she hadn't read the notes closely. All that had mattered was brewing the potion correctly. But now her eyes caught on the final warning, printed in small type, and the fur along her neck bristled. It read:
Do not use this potion to transform into animals. It is not intended for such purposes, and in such cases the person will not return to their original form.
The book fell from her hands and hit the floor with a bang. Hermione stared at her paws in horror.
"WHO'S THERE?!" a loud voice suddenly rang out, echoing through the toilet. "I said, WHO'S THERE?! Isn't it enough that you're always making noise in my toilet?! Leave me al—"
Hermione turned and saw Moaning Myrtle. Trembling with anger, she had thrust her head through the cubicle wall. But she broke off at once, struck by what she saw inside.
A second later, Myrtle pulled herself together. Her eyes narrowed.
"You… a cat? Who do you think you are, barging into my toilet?" she hissed, drifting fully into the cubicle. "Get out at once! Or I… or I…"
Hermione didn't know what to say. She lowered her head and stared at the floor. Myrtle hovered in the air, staring her down.
"Wait…" the ghostly girl drawled, peering more closely. "You… you're not just a cat. Cats don't wear Gryffindor robes. And they're not that big…"
Her gaze flicked to the book Moste Potente Potions lying on the floor.
"You… you're Hermione!" she cried, her eyes flashing with triumph.
Hermione lowered her head even further.
"Admit it! It's you, isn't it?!" Myrtle shouted.
"Yes," Hermione nodded.
Myrtle circled her, looking her over from all sides, then asked in surprise:
"Well… so what's the plan? The cat's big, sure, but how is this supposed to help the students?"
Hermione still said nothing. Myrtle frowned, her lips twitched with hurt.
"You don't want to tell me again! Of course… why would anyone want to share their secrets with fat Myrtle!" Her voice began to break.
"No, Myrtle, stop…"
"Of course, stop! Don't get in the way of me saving the school! All the glory will go to me! When you needed me to guard your potion, it was 'Pleeease, Myrtle! Be the Keeeper of the Seeecret!' And now that it's getting interesting, it's 'stop'? Is that it?!"
"You don't understand!" Hermione cried. "I made a mistake!" She burst into tears, covering her face with her paws.
Myrtle fell silent for a moment, thinking.
"A mistake… you? Know-it-all Granger?!" There was disbelief in her voice, mixed with barely hidden amusement. "Are you sure you're Hermione?"
"Yes… it's me…" Hermione whispered through her sobs.
"Well…" Myrtle looked Hermione over again, sizing her up. "There's something interesting about your new form…" she said. "At least now you definitely stand out from the rest of the students. Though that's not usually welcome… trust me, I would know," she finished, pouting.
"I can't stay like this!" Hermione cried. "What about my parents?"
"My parents were upset too when I died," Myrtle said philosophically. "What if we tell everyone you died?" she added. "Then no one will know you turned into a cat!"
"Don't be ridiculous!" Hermione snapped.
"Of course! Myrtle's stupid!" Myrtle flared up. "And know-it-all Hermione turned into a cat!" she shouted right in her face, then let out a harsh laugh.
At that moment, voices came from outside, and Harry and Ron rushed into the toilet, out of breath. One of them pulled at the cubicle door handle, then knocked.
"Hermione, come out, we've got loads to tell you —" Ron called.
"Go away!" Hermione shouted.
She didn't know what to do. The book had made it clear: she wouldn't turn back into a human. The thought stuck in her head, pushing everything else out.
"What's the matter?" Ron's voice came again. "You must be back to normal by now, we are."
Ron's words only confirmed her worst fears. Hermione burst into tears. A vindictive look spread across Myrtle's face. She shot through the cubicle door straight to the boys.
"Ooooooh, wait till you see," she announced gleefully. "It's awful —"
Hermione realised there was no point hiding any longer. She pulled her cloak over her head and, with trembling paws, opened the door.
"What's up?" Ron asked, alarmed.
She yanked the cloak off her head. Seeing the horror on Ron's face, she rushed to explain:
"It was a c-cat hair! And the p-potion isn't supposed to be used for animal transformations!"
"You'll be teased something dreadful!" Myrtle cackled from somewhere nearby.
But Hermione no longer cared about her. All her plans had fallen apart. And, to be honest, she was no longer afraid of facing either the monster from the Chamber of Secrets or the Smiting Hand.