Kapitel 22: Polyjuice Potion
When it came to Gryffindor's trial, Hermione was even more invested than Harry.
The next morning.
Ron was dreaming of a table full of chicken legs when suddenly his world flipped upside down. The jolt startled him awake. "What's going on?"
Half-opening his eyes, he was met with a bandaged "chicken leg," which frightened him so much that he jerked back, smashing into the wall. Fully awake now, he looked up and realized the "chicken leg" was actually Hermione's injured hand—and her serious face. "Oh, Hermione, what are you doing here?"
"Get up. It's time to go to the library," Hermione replied. "Where's Harry? I didn't see him in his bed."
"Training," Ron mumbled, yawning as he reached for the clock on his bedside table. "It's only six-thirty, Hermione! I don't even wake up this early for class!"
Hermione began lecturing. "Look at Harry—he's out exercising, and all you can do is sleep!"
A chorus of groans followed.
"Ron, you're so loud," Seamus grumbled, pounding his mattress. "Keep it down, I'm trying to sleep."
Neville mumbled, "I must be having a nightmare. Why else would I still hear Granger's voice? Oh, please, spare me…"
He had suffered the worst from Hermione's scolding the previous day.
Apart from Herbology, where he excelled, his performance in every other subject was disastrous. It wasn't that he didn't understand the magic—he could recite the theory perfectly and was arguably the best after Hermione and Harry—but he simply couldn't execute spells properly.
Hermione had spent over an hour drilling him relentlessly, and even back in his dormitory, her words echoed in his head like a haunting refrain.
Hermione turned her head but couldn't see Neville. She shot Ron a fierce glare. "I'll wait for you outside. Be quick, or Harry will be back soon."
Ron groaned miserably and clung to his blanket.
No…
He didn't want to get up. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with his bed.
When Harry returned, he found Hermione sitting bright-eyed in the common room, while Ron sat nearby, looking utterly defeated. Harry blinked in surprise—it was the weekend.
"Up so early?" he asked.
Hermione stood, placing her good hand on her hip. "We can go to the library now."
"How about some breakfast first?" Harry suggested tentatively.
Ron shot to his feet. "Yes, breakfast! Hermione, you can't research on an empty stomach."
Hermione hesitated briefly before relenting.
From the eighth floor, they made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast, then headed to the fifth-floor library.
Madam Pince, yawning as she organized books, was startled to see the three students. Oh… First-years coming to the library on a weekend and so early in the morning? Unheard of, except for fifth- and seventh-years preparing for exams.
Hermione, despite her injured hand, moved swiftly and adeptly among the bookshelves.
Ron, too, got to work, deciding to start with books on alchemy to search for anything on disguises—and maybe stumble upon information about the Philosopher's Stone.
Harry, however, was more relaxed.
He decided to start with something else: researching Dumbledore. After all, he still owed Harry a favor.
As the century's most celebrated wizard, Dumbledore's achievements were well-documented.
Master of Defense Against the Dark Arts, master of Transfiguration, master of Alchemy…
His accolades were dazzling.
Learning something from him seemed like the best option.
As Harry read further, his eyes suddenly sharpened.
A particular line stood out: "Dumbledore possesses the only known magical creature Patronus in the wizarding world. No one knows how he mastered such magic."
Harry was familiar with the Patronus Charm. It was hailed as one of the purest representations of white magic.
However, most wizards' Patronuses were ordinary animals. According to legend, a wizard with an Animagus form often shared the same shape for their Patronus.
If Dumbledore was an Animagus, was his form a phoenix?
Closing the book, Harry made up his mind. This was what he wanted to learn.
By late afternoon, Ron exclaimed, "I found something!"
Madam Pince shot him a sharp glare.
Hermione and Harry both leaned over curiously.
Ron instinctively covered the book in front of him with his hands.
Hermione, impatient, snapped, "Move your hands. Let me see what you found."
Reluctantly, Ron hesitated before Hermione snatched the book from him.
The first line that met their eyes read: "Ancient alchemy describes the creation of the Philosopher's Stone, a miraculous substance with extraordinary properties. The stone can transform any metal into pure gold and produce the Elixir of Life, granting the drinker immortality."
Hermione froze. Rage bubbled up as she crumpled a piece of parchment and threw it at Ron's head. "We're looking for disguise magic, and you're still obsessing over the Philosopher's Stone?"
Ron, sheepish, muttered, "I was looking for disguise magic. I just happened to find this first, that's all."
Smack.
Hermione snapped the book shut and shoved it into Harry's hands. "Keep looking. And don't expect me to let you copy my homework."
Ron shrugged, unconcerned. Most of his assignments didn't come from Hermione anyway.
Harry chimed in, "Same here."
Ron's face fell. "Oh no! Don't do this to me. I'll put my heart into the search, I promise."
Disguise magic proved harder to find than information on Dumbledore. That day, their efforts bore no fruit.
In fact, for a long time afterward, they made little progress.
Their days became monotonous: classes, meals, and endless hours in the library.
Even the Ravenclaws struggled to match their dedication.
Ron developed a visceral aversion to the library. The mere mention of the word made his stomach churn and his abdomen ache.
In Charms class, they began learning their first offensive spell: Fire-Making Charm.
By waving their wands, they could summon a small blue flame with low heat. Professor Flitwick explained that this spell was a prerequisite for the advanced Firestorm Spell taught in later years.
Harry mastered it with ease.
But for him, the spell held deeper significance—he noticed a fundamental difference between the magical systems of this world and the Witcher's world.
In the Witcher's world, magic served as a conduit, channeling elements to cast spells. For example, his Igni Sign used magic to control fire elements, producing flames.
But here, magic itself was the essence.
The pale blue flame summoned by the Fire-Making Charm remained a manifestation of pure magic until it attached to a combustible material. Only when the magic dissipated did the flame transform into real fire.
This explained why some of his Witcher Signs, like Igni, had worked on the troll, while others hadn't.
The realization brought clarity, though he still lacked a complete framework to fully explore its implications.
For most first-years, the Fire-Making Charm was challenging.
Even Hermione struggled at first, practicing with Harry's guidance for a long time before succeeding.
Other students lined up for Hermione's help, which delayed their search for disguise magic—something Ron welcomed as it meant fewer trips to the library.
Distractions and delays kept piling up.
Finally, two days before Christmas, Hermione found something. Excitedly, she spread a book open in front of Harry. "Look at this, Harry—it's exactly what we need!"
Polyjuice Potion.
"Add a piece of the person you want to become—like hair or nails—then drink it, and you'll take on their appearance for an hour."
Harry frowned. "I didn't see this in any potions books."
Hermione shook her head. "It's covered in the O.W.L.s. I only found it while going through exam prep materials. I think the recipe is in the Restricted Section."
She glanced toward the Restricted Section, separated only by a thin rope.
"We'd need a professor's permission," Ron sighed. "And we don't even know which book it's in."
"Advanced Potion-Making," Hermione answered.
"What?" Ron asked, confused.
"It's in Advanced Potion-Making. See here?" Hermione pointed to the reference in her book.
"McGonagall likes you. Maybe we could ask her?" Ron suggested, looking at Harry.
Harry shook his head. "McGonagall definitely wouldn't agree. She's been careful even with the second-year material she's been teaching me during detention."
"I'd sooner believe Snape would write me a pass."
"Second-year material?" Hermione gasped. "McGonagall's detention involves teaching you advanced magic?"
Harry nodded.
Hermione bit her lip, her eyes gleaming with envy. "She's so biased. Oh, not that I'm complaining—I just wish I could do that too."
"Maybe you should ask her," Harry suggested
sincerely.
Hermione hesitated before shaking her head. "Never mind. My Transfiguration isn't as good as yours."
"Let's get back to the Polyjuice Potion plan."
Harry studied the rope separating the Restricted Section. After a moment, he said, "I have an idea."
Hermione leaned in eagerly. "What is it?"
"The Restricted Section doesn't seem to have any magical protections," Harry observed. "I have an Invisibility Cloak. I could sneak in at night and copy the recipe."
Ron's eyes widened. "An Invisibility Cloak? You have one of those?"
"What's that?" Hermione asked.
Ron excitedly explained, "It's a rare magical item that makes the wearer invisible. Harry, where did you get something like that?"
Harry replied simply, "It was my father's."
The excitement on Ron's face froze, replaced by awkwardness and guilt. "Oh… I didn't know. Sorry, Harry."
Harry was unfazed. What was there to apologize for? His parents' deaths were a fact of his life, something he had long accepted.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
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Rangliste 
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Stein