Page 228 - [2]Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

THE POLYJUICE POTION

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 mo-
rosely in the end toilet. With difficulty, he kicked off his shoes and
stood up. So this was what it felt like, being Goyle. His large hand
trembling, he pulled off his old robes, which were hanging a foot
above his ankles, pulled on the spare ones, and laced up Goyle’s
boatlike shoes. He reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes and
met only the short growth of wiry bristles, low on his forehead.
Then he realized that his glasses were clouding his eyes because
Goyle obviously didn’t need them — he took them off and called,
“Are you two okay?” Goyle’s low rasp of a voice issued from his

mouth.
“Yeah,” came the deep grunt of Crabbe from his right.
Harry unlocked his door and stepped in front of the cracked
mirror. Goyle stared back at him out of dull, deepset eyes. Harry
scratched his ear. So did Goyle.
Ron’s door opened. They stared at each other. Except that he
looked pale and shocked, Ron was indistinguishable from Crabbe,
from the pudding-bowl haircut to the long, gorilla arms.
“This is unbelievable,” said Ron, approaching the mirror and
prodding Crabbe’s flat nose. “Unbelievable.”
“We’d better get going,” said Harry, loosening the watch that
was cutting into Goyle’s thick wrist. “We’ve still got to find out

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