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Harry
dropped
Goyle
's
hair
into
the
middle
glass
and
Ron
put
Crabbe
's
into
the
last
one
.
Both
glasses
hissed
and
frothed
:
Goyle
's
turned
the
khaki
color
of
a
booger
,
Crabbe
's
a
dark
,
murky
brown
.
"
Hang
on
,
"
said
Harry
as
Ron
and
Hermione
reached
for
their
glasses
.
"
We
'd
better
not
all
drink
them
in
here
...
Once
we
turn
into
Crabbe
and
Goyle
we
wo
n't
fit
.
And
Millicent
Bulstrode
's
no
pixie
.
"
"
Good
thinking
,
"
said
Ron
,
unlocking
the
door
.
"
We
'll
take
separate
stalls
.
"
Careful
not
to
spill
a
drop
of
his
Polyjuice
Potion
,
Harry
slipped
into
the
middle
stall
.
"
Ready
?
"
he
called
.
"
Ready
,
"
came
Ron
's
and
Hermione
's
voices
.
"
One
-
two
-
three
--
"
Pinching
his
nose
,
Harry
drank
the
potion
down
in
two
large
gulps
.
It
tasted
like
overcooked
cabbage
.
Immediately
,
his
insides
started
writhing
as
though
he
'd
just
swallowed
live
snakes
-
doubled
up
,
he
wondered
whether
he
was
going
to
be
sick
-
then
a
burning
sensation
spread
rapidly
from
his
stomach
to
the
very
ends
of
his
fingers
and
toes
-
next
,
bringing
him
gasping
to
all
fours
,
came
a
horrible
melting
feeling
,
as
the
skin
all
over
his
body
bubbled
like
hot
wax
-
and
before
his
eyes
,
his
hands
began
to
grow
,
the
fingers
thickened
,
the
nails
broadened
,
the
knuckles
were
bulging
like
bolts
-
his
shoulders
stretched
painfully
and
a
prickling
on
his
forehead
told
him
that
hair
was
creeping
down
toward
his
eyebrows
-
his
robes
ripped
as
his
chest
expanded
like
a
barrel
bursting
its
hoops
-
his
feet
were
agony
in
shoes
four
sizes
too
small
.
As
suddenly
as
it
had
started
,
everything
stopped
.
Harry
lay
facedown
on
the
stone-cold
floor
,
listening
to
Myrtle
gurgling
morosely
in
the
end
toilet
.
With
difficulty
,
he
kicked
off
his
shoes
and
stood
up
.
So
this
was
what
it
felt
like
,
being
Goyle
.
