Tansy woke at five on Christmas morning after a horrible nightmare involving Polyjuice potion and, for some inexplicable reason, Ginny's diary. She slipped out of bed, noting the small pile of presents on her bedside table with a smile, and hurried quietly out of the dormitory. The school was eerily silent and although the corridors were still in darkness, the smell of cooking was starting to waft tantalisingly through the air. She was relieved to finally reach Moaning Myrtle's bathroom because although there was a grey area in the rules regarding early risers she was technically still out of bed after hours, or before hours in this case.
'Hi Myrtle, happy Christmas,' she said softly to the ghost girl who haunted the toilet. Myrtle gave a tragic wail in response.
'I don't know what should be happy about it for me! When I'm… when I'm… dead!' Myrtle gave a loud sob and dived into the nearest toilet, showering Tansy from head to toe in toilet water. Tansy sighed and picked her way carefully across the slippery floor to the cubicle, where the Polyjuice Potion was bubbling away happily to itself. She then removed her wand from her sleeve and performed a drying charm on herself. Unfortunately this wouldn't do anything to get rid of the germs and she itched to get back to Gryffindor tower to have a shower.
An hour later she was joined by a frantic Hermione who started speaking the minute she laid eyes on Tansy.
'Oh my goodness. I think it's ready! What do you think Tansy?' Tansy nodded in reply and went on stirring the potion. 'I think we should do it today, what do you think?' Hermione went on feverishly.
Tansy sighed, 'I still don't know whose hair to steal Hermione… I know you've already got yours but…' The potion gave a particularly big bubble and shot a large globule of brown gunk into her face, cutting of her words. She wiped it off absent-mindedly, thinking hard; she knew that even under the influence of Polyjuice potion she would find it hard to talk to the Slytherins and she wasn't sure how to tell this to Hermione. Instead, with the air of one grasping at straws, she settled for another problem.
'Do you really think that Malfoy would just admit to any Slytherin that he was the Heir? There would just be so much more chance that someone could let slip to one of the teachers without meaning to or something if he just told everyone. I think it's much more likely that he has only told his close friends.' Hermione looked thoughtful.
'Well maybe,' she answered doubtfully.
Tansy spent the rest of the morning opening her Christmas presents with her friends and the other Weasleys. As well as another pencil case from Brooklyn House, Hermione had given her an interesting book on Animagi and Harry a book called An Idiot's Guide to Simple Potions. Tansy promptly threw it at his head and remarked that after successfully brewing the Polyjuice Potion she was now Potion-master-extraordinaire and would soon be replacing Snape. Ron and Hagrid had given her sweets and Mr and Mrs Weasley another beautiful hand-knitted jumper, some home-made mince pies and some chocolates.
As the day wore on, Tansy began to feel increasingly nervous about the idea of taking the Polyjuice Potion that evening, and she didn't enjoy the Christmas celebrations nearly as much as she had the previous year. She also had no idea whose hair she was going to rip out because she was quite sure that even Malfoy wasn't stupid enough to go around telling each and every one of the Slytherins that he was the one attacking people. Tansy knew from past experience that the more people you let in on a secret then the more likely it was to be found out. She shuddered as some of her own secrets reared their heads and shook herself mentally, telling herself firmly to get a grip.
She voiced her concerns to Hermione as they entered Moaning Myrtle's bathroom after tea, having left Harry and Ron with strict instructions to knock Crabbe and Goyle out, with the help of two strategically placed chocolate cakes filled with a simple sleeping draft, and to pull out a few of their hairs. Hermione nodded but Tansy could see that she wasn't paying attention because she was rereading Moste Potente Potions with a crazed expression.
'Whose hair are you ripping out anyway Hermione?' She asked, as a sudden thought struck her.
'Hmm? Oh I've already got mine but you really need to get a move on if you want to find a Slytherin, Tansy…' Hermione answered, with her nose still in the book. Tansy made a non-committed noise and reached for the tiny glass vial containing Hermione's stolen hair. She felt herself stiffen as she looked at the tiny brown hair; it didn't look like human hair. In fact it looked extremely similar to the hairs that Lucky left all over her pillow…
'Erm, Hermione I don't think…' At that moment the door flew open and Harry and Ron careened into the bathroom, waving hairs aloft in a triumphant manner.
'Got 'em,' Ron said, 'are you both ready?' Tansy shook her head.
'No, I haven't got anybody's hair…' Ignoring Ron's indignant exclamation she turned towards her best friend. '…Hermione, this is cat hair; the potion isn't meant for animal transformations – something really bad could happen.' Hermione's face fell.
'How can you tell?' She asked. Tansy pointed to the hem of her robes which were permanently covered with hairs from where Lucky had rubbed against her.
Harry shrugged and looked at the hairs in his hand.
'It's too late to find anyone else now; most of the Slytherins have already left the great hall. I reckon that Ron and I should do the potion thing whilst you two stay here, otherwise we're going to run out of time – Crabbe and Goyle will wake up in about an hour.' Tansy breathed a sigh of relief; she'd been let off the hook and they wouldn't need to know how difficult talking might've become. Hermione, however, looked disappointed.
'You never know when we might have the chance again,' she confided to Tansy, after Ron and Harry had transformed into Crabbe and Goyle respectively, and had left the bathroom. Tansy privately thought that they'd probably had a lucky escape; the artist in Moste Potente Potions had depicted people with looks of intense pain on their faces whilst transforming. She made a mental note to ask Harry or Ron how it felt when they returned.
'I was so sure it was Malfoy,' said Ron, (for what felt to Tansy like the millionth time). 'Urgh and now we're back to square one...' He flopped off the sofa and landed with a soft thump on the floor, before groaning theatrically. '…and I just can't do this Transfiguration thing for McGonagall…'
'Serves you right; you really should've done it before,' Hermione answered snappily. It was the last day of the holidays and both Harry and Ron were scrambling around trying to finish off their holiday homework last-minute. Tansy glanced up from the complicated passage she was reading in the book she'd received from Hermione. Taking pity on Ron, who was now moaning with his head in his hands, she pulled his Transfiguration homework towards her and began to coax him through it; she'd covered the same topic very early the previous year. Hermione gave an indignant snort/huff and went back to her book.
A few days after returning to the bustle of school life, Tansy and Harry were walking back to Gryffindor tower after dinner when a loud and angry outburst from Filch made Tansy stop in her tracks. Harry beckoned her forwards but Tansy shook her head – she had absolutely no desire to see Filch; ever since the attack on Mrs Norris he had made a point of trying to put her in detention every time he saw her, on the last occasion she'd only just been rescued in time by Professor McGonagall. Luckily by the time they rounded the corner Filch had left the scene. Tansy immediately saw what he'd been expostulating about because it looked like Moaning Myrtle had flooded her bathroom-lair again and the excess water had spilled out all over the corridor floor. Gingerly, she splashed her way through the puddle, trying and failing to keep her socks dry, and Harry pushed open the bathroom door.
Moaning Myrtle was sobbing loudly in her toilet. Tansy approached the cubicle cautiously, fully aware that Myrtle might soak her with one sudden move. 'What's up, Myrtle?' She asked in as-cheerful-a-voice as she could manage.
'Who's that?' Myrtle glugged from somewhere near the U-bend. 'Come to throw something else at me?'
Tansy took a couple of steps backwards before replying; she could sense a major Myrtle-meltdown approaching.
'Why would I want to throw something at you?' She asked, trying to sound as reasonable as possible.
'I don't know!' Myrtle emerged in a wave of water and Tansy quickly moved backwards even further out of range. 'Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me.'
'But it wouldn't hurt you?' Harry said reasonably. Myrtle puffed herself up in rage and swooped over until she was floating face to face with him.
'Let's all throw books at Myrtle, just because she can't feel it!' She shrieked, 'what a lovely game, I don't think!'
'Myrtle, calm down, listen, who threw the book at you?' Tansy asked, before Myrtle could carry on yelling.
'I don't know, do I? I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death…' (Tansy hid a grimace). '…when it fell through the top of my head. It got washed out over there.'
Myrtle glared at a nondescript and extremely shabby black leather book which was lying in a puddle under one of the cracked enamel sinks. Harry picked it up and turned over the soggy cover and Tansy felt a strange needle of awareness prick her; she was sure she'd seen it before. But the diary was dated fifty years previously and neither she nor Harry had ever heard of the name T. M. Riddle, (which was the only thing written inside). Putting it out of her mind she bade Myrtle goodnight, ('what's good about it, when I'm dead?'), and they continued on their way to Gryffindor tower.
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