CHAPTER ELEVEN
needed the bicorn horn and the boomslang skin, and the only
place they were going to get them was from Snape’s private stores.
Harry privately felt he’d rather face Slytherin’s legendary monster
than let Snape catch him robbing his office.
“What we need,” said Hermione briskly as Thursday afternoon’s
double Potions lesson loomed nearer, “is a diversion. Then one of
us can sneak into Snape’s office and take what we need.”
Harry and Ron looked at her nervously.
“I think I’d better do the actual stealing,” Hermione continued
in a matter-of-fact tone. “You two will be expelled if you get into
any more trouble, and I’ve got a clean record. So all you need to
do is cause enough mayhem to keep Snape busy for five minutes
or so.”
Harry smiled feebly. Deliberately causing mayhem in Snape’s
Potions class was about as safe as poking a sleeping dragon in the
eye.
Potions lessons took place in one of the large dungeons. Thurs-
day afternoon’s lesson proceeded in the usual way. Twenty caul-
drons stood steaming between the wooden desks, on which stood
brass scales and jars of ingredients. Snape prowled through the
fumes, making waspish remarks about the Gryffindors’ work while
the Slytherins sniggered appreciatively. Draco Malfoy, who was
Snape’s favorite student, kept flicking puffer-fish eyes at Ron and
Harry, who knew that if they retaliated they would get detention
faster than you could say “Unfair.”
Harry’s Swelling Solution was far too runny, but he had his
mind on more important things. He was waiting for Hermione’s
signal, and he hardly listened as Snape paused to sneer at his watery
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