J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.
Ron and Harry were in the same abandoned bathroom they had been in while brewing the Polyjuice potion back in their second year. They were, like last time, brewing a potion, but it definitely wasn't the Polyjuice potion. It was, however, pretty much as dangerous as it.
They somehow had figured that they would be able to brew Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world, but after taking one look at the recipe, they decided to try an easier one, though it was weaker.
Ron and Hermione had had another fight a few days earlier; Harry wasn't exactly sure what it had been about, but he would help his friend.
They were going to attempt to slip it into her pumpkin juice.
"Are you sure that it'll work?" asked Harry as they finished stirring it.
"Why wouldn't it?" asked Ron. He took a vial out from his pocket and filled it up.
"The book says that it's supposed to be rose pink, not hot pink."
"So?" retorted Ron. "It's close enough, and I've got nothing to lose."
"Sure, mate. What do we do with the rest of the potion?" asked Harry.
"Cover it with the cloak," suggested Ron. "No one comes in here anyway."
"Except for Moaning Myrtle," added Harry. He pulled the cloak out of his bookbag and threw it over the small cauldron.
"Yeah, but she's dead. She doesn't count."
"Good point."