CHAPTER TEN
“Moste Potente Potions?” she repeated suspiciously, trying to take
the 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 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 deter-
mined to detect a forgery, but it passed the test. She stalked away
between the lofty shelves and returned several minutes later carry-
ing a large and moldy-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 stall, but they were ig-
noring 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 po-
tions 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 sin-
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