The next day at breakfast Harry was on edge. Had the door told the girls about him? Fortunately, when he saw Hermione all she said was, "Good morning, how are you?" and then, before he or Ron could respond, she immediately launched into a monologue about an essay she had been working on for History of Magic only to realize that the assigned question the essay was meant to answer was actually based on an incorrect assumption. Harry was never so relieved to hear one of these rants.

When he and Ron were next alone in their dorm, Ron finally asked the question that had clearly been on his mind all morning: "So? What did you see?"

In spite of his stance against it, Ron really was quite curious. If Harry had seen Hermione's skin, then he would be unspeakably jealous, but he still would want to know details.

"Nothing," Harry admitted, and Ron was surprised by how disappointed he felt at hearing this. "But I'm not giving up. I'm going to give it another go tonight."

"But Harry, what if McGonagall does find out?"

Harry grinned. "It won't matter. I'm tight with Dumbledore this year-he needs me to help stop Voldemort. I'm the boy who lived, remember? I've already saved the world like 5 times now."

Ron scratched his chin. "Well technically, Harry, the last few years you haven't done so well. You let Peter Pettigrew escape, you failed to stop you-know-who from being resurrected and he killed Cedric, and then last year you went right where you-know-who wanted you to go and ended up getting Sirius killed-"

"Ron, shut up! You're killing my boner. Look, it's going to be fine. Just bear with me later tonight. I have an idea."

Harry's "idea" became clear when, that night, he came up to Ron with a box of makeup. "Okay, Ron," he said. "It's makeover time."

Ron stared at the box in horror. "Harry, I don't want a makeover!"

"Not for you," said Harry. "For me. I want you to make me look like a woman. Then we can trick the door."

"Harry, I don't think this will work."

"Of course it will. I'll tell it I'm a transfer student."

"Why don't you just make another polyjuice potion?"

"I wouldn't know how to do it without Hermione," Harry sighed. "And it isn't as though we can tell her about this. You do realize, I hope, that Hermione's pretty much the main reason we've survived this long. This time, we can't rely on her to help us."

Ron widened his eyes. "But that means..."

"Yes, Ron. This will be the toughest challenge we've ever faced." Harry's expression was grave. "So will you help me? Will you give me this makeover so I can see some bosoms?"

It was as though Ron was somehow cursed to blindly follow along with whatever strange plan Harry came up with, no matter how pointless it at first seemed. Ron convinced himself that this curse was called Friendship. After all, it wasn't as though Harry was using the Imperius Curse or something on him, right? Unless...unless he'd used Obliviate right after, so Ron wouldn't remember being cursed. But no, that was nonsense.

"All right, Harry," he said. "I'll do what I can."