Okay soooooooo these next two chapters are going to be Hermione really suffering with this cat thing.

She will miss a lot of what's going on, as she will be in the hospital wing. I will have her be debriefed by Harry and Ron, as they would do anyways, plus some missing moments with Ron and her while she is in there. Maybe throw a moment with Ginny. She wouldn't tell Ginny exactly the reason as to why she ended up a cat, but I feel like she would make something up to explain it away. Trying to put some filler in as she also wouldn't be talking to Myrtle.

Idk, I'll figure it out lol.

On with the fic!

Chapter 39: The Polyjuice Disaster

After presents and being shooed out of the boys' dormitory so they could finish getting dressed, I met Ron and Harry in the common room. Both were proudly sporting their Weasley sweaters—Harry's emerald green and Ron's maroon, as always. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of longing. Those sweaters were such a lovely personal touch from Mrs. Weasley. Maybe, just maybe, I'd work up the courage to ask her for one someday.

We made our way to the Great Hall, and my breath caught as we stepped inside. It was absolutely stunning, like something out of a fairy tale. Dozens of frost-covered Christmas trees sparkled with enchanted lights, their tops almost brushing the holly and mistletoe strung across the ceiling. Above us, snow fell softly, warm and dry to the touch. The hall was filled with carols, led by Dumbledore, whose voice carried a sort of joyful magic in itself. Hagrid was in high spirits, laughing boisterously over his goblet of spiked eggnog—perhaps a bit too spiked.

Fred and George were having their own fun, pointing and giggling at Percy, who remained oblivious that his prefect badge now read "Pinhead." He kept asking why Harry and Ron were laughing, his confusion only making them laugh harder. I chose not to join in. It felt mean-spirited, even if Percy could be a bit pompous.

Malfoy, of course, had to ruin things with his snide remarks about Harry's sweater, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. I glanced nervously at Harry, but thankfully, he didn't seem to care. He just brushed it off with that calm resolve he always seemed to have.

Once breakfast was over, I hustled the boys out of the hall. It was time to finalize our plans for the evening.

"We still need a bit of the people you're changing into," I said, straight to the point. "Obviously, it'll be best if you can get something of Crabbe and Goyle's. They're Malfoy's best friends—he'll tell them anything. And we also need to make sure the real Crabbe and Goyle can't burst in on us while we're interrogating him."

"And how do you expect us to do that?" Ron asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

I held up two plump chocolate cakes with a grin. "I've filled these with a simple Sleeping Draught. All you have to do is make sure Crabbe and Goyle find them. You know how greedy they are; they're bound to eat them. Once they're asleep, pull out a few of their hairs and hide them in a broom closet."

Ron and Harry exchanged doubtful looks, their hesitance plain on their faces.

"Hermione, I don't think…" Ron began.

"That could go seriously wrong," Harry added, frowning.

I fixed them both with my best McGonagall-like glare, folding my arms for emphasis. "The potion will be useless without Crabbe and Goyle's hair. You do want to investigate Malfoy, don't you?"

"Oh, all right, all right," Harry relented, throwing up his hands.

Ron sighed but nodded in agreement.

"What about you?" Harry asked. "Whose hair are you ripping out?"

"I've already got mine," I said brightly, pulling a tiny glass bottle from my pocket. Inside was a single black hair. I held it up for them to see. "Remember Millicent Bulstrode wrestling me at the Dueling Club? She left this on my robes when she was trying to strangle me. And she's gone home for Christmas, so I'll just have to tell the Slytherins I've decided to come back."

Satisfied, I left them to their assignment and made my way to the bathroom to prepare the potion. On the way, I stopped by the school laundry to grab some extra Slytherin robes, just in case. When I arrived, I set everything out carefully, rereading the potion instructions to make sure I hadn't missed anything. My hands were shaking slightly, and my heart was racing as I worked. I was so nervous, and thoughts of what could go wrong were creeping into my mind. What if this didn't work? What if we got caught? I had to push those thoughts away. We had come too far to falter now.

About 20 minutes later, a knock came at the door. "Hermione?" Ron called. My heart pounded like a drum, my nerves frayed to the edge. With a deep breath, I opened the stall door just enough to peer out. My hair was an absolute disaster, sticking out in all directions, and behind me, the potion gurgled ominously, thick and bubbling like swamp muck.

Ron stepped inside with Harry close behind, both of them looking as though they were trying not to laugh at my frazzled state. "Did you get them?" I asked breathlessly, my words rushing out like steam from a boiling kettle.

Harry held up a few strands of Goyle's hair, and I nodded, trying to steady my shaking hands. "Good. And I sneaked these spare robes out of the laundry," I said, holding up a small sack. "You'll need bigger sizes once you're Crabbe and Goyle."

We gathered around the cauldron, staring down at the potion. It looked like something dredged up from the bottom of the Black Lake—dark, viscous, and uninviting. The smell, unfortunately, was even worse. It reminded me of algae mixed with something distinctly rotten.

"I'm sure I've done everything right," I said nervously, double-checking the potion recipe in Moste Potente Potions. "It looks like the book says it should. Once we've drunk it, we'll have exactly an hour before we change back into ourselves."

Ron's voice dropped to a whisper. "Now what?"

I pulled out three glasses, pouring a thick dollop of the potion into each one. The sludge sloshed into the tumblers, hissing faintly. My hand shook slightly as I held up a small vial containing Millicent Bulstrode's hair. "Now, we add the hairs," I said.

As soon as I tipped Millicent's hair into the first glass, the potion hissed loudly and turned a sickly yellow color, like spoiled custard. The smell hit us like a wall of rotten eggs.

"Urgh—essence of Millicent Bulstrode," Ron said, wrinkling his nose in exaggerated disgust. "Bet it tastes disgusting."

"Add yours, then," I snapped, glaring at him. He and Harry quickly dropped their respective hairs into their glasses. Goyle's potion turned a revolting shade of green, while Crabbe's settled into a muddy brown. Each hissed and frothed as the transformation began.

"Hang on," Harry said suddenly, pulling his hand back before touching the glass. "We'd better not all drink them in here. Once we turn into Crabbe and Goyle, we won't fit. And Millicent Bulstrode's no pixie."

"Good thinking," Ron said, unlocking the door to the stall. "We'll take separate stalls."

As they moved into adjacent stalls, I stayed put, gripping the glass tightly and trying to steady my nerves. The room was dead silent except for the bubbling of the potion and the faint rustle of robes. My heart felt like it might beat its way out of my chest.

"Ready?" Harry called.

"Ready," Ron and I said in unison. My voice wavered slightly.

"One—two—three—"

Pinching my nose, I swallowed the potion in one big gulp. It tasted even worse than it smelled, like moldy cabbage mixed with rancid fish. I gagged but forced it down, my stomach churning in protest.

Almost immediately, the change began. Pain shot through my body as though I were being stretched and compressed at the same time. My skin felt like it was bubbling, and I grabbed onto the stall wall for support. But something was wrong—very wrong. Thick black fur started sprouting on my hands, my face, everywhere. My hands weren't hands anymore; they were paws. My head throbbed as my ears moved to the top of my head, pointed and twitching. And then, worst of all, I felt a tail shoot out from my spine.

A tail.

"Are you two okay?" Goyle's guttural voice called from the adjacent stall.

"Yeah," Ron answered, his voice a dead ringer for Crabbe's. "This is unbelievable."

I couldn't answer. My throat felt tight, and my heart raced. I was no longer Hermione Granger. I wasn't even human. I was a cat.

"This is unbelievable," Ron repeated, almost laughing. "Unbelievable."

"We'd better get going," said Harry. "We've still got to find out where the Slytherin common room is."

"C'mon, Hermione!" Ron called, knocking on my stall door. "We've got to go!"

"No!" I squeaked, my voice coming out as a panicked meow. "I—I don't think I'm going to come after all. You go on without me."

Ron snorted. "Hermione, we know Millicent Bulstrode's ugly, but no one's going to know it's you."

"No! Really, I'm fine!" I squeaked again. I couldn't let them see me like this. "You two hurry up. You're wasting time!"

"That looks more like Goyle." I heard Ron say to Harry. "That's how he looks every time a teacher asks him a question."

"Hermione, are you okay?" Harry asked, concern in his voice.

"Fine!" I lied, trying to sound convincing. "I'm fine! Go on!"

"We'll meet you back here, all right?" Harry said.

I gave them a weak good luck and they left.

As soon as I was alone, I slumped onto the cold, cracked toilet. I buried my face in my hands and sobbed. My whole body trembled, not from the chill of the room, but from the sheer weight of my humiliation and failure. I was a cat. A cat. For Merlin's sake, how had I managed to make such a colossal mistake?

I had been so meticulous, so sure. But Millicent's hair...how could I not have noticed the hairs were short? Millicent's hair wasn't short! It had been obvious, hadn't it? I replayed the memory of holding the hairs over and over in my head, my stomach twisting tighter each time. How could I have been so careless?

The potion had bubbled ominously, turning that sickly color just before I drank it. I had ignored the warning signs, trusting my work as I always did. And now look at me. My hands, no, paws, clenched, the fur prickling awkwardly against my palms. I could feel my ears flicking involuntarily. This wasn't a disguise; this was a disaster.

Tears rolled down my cheeks, warm and fast. How would I ever face Harry and Ron? What would they say when they came back and saw me like this? I could almost hear Ron's voice in my head now, dripping with sarcasm: "Blimey, Hermione, you really outdid yourself this time!" And Harry wouldn't be able to hide the shock or pity on his face. They trusted me, depended on me to have everything under control. I was the one with the plans, the answers. But now? I'd let them down. Worse, I'd let myself down.

My cries echoed faintly against the damp stone walls, swallowed by the oppressive silence of the bathroom. Or so I thought.

A sudden, high-pitched giggle pierced through my misery. I jerked my head up, my furred ears twitching involuntarily. Moaning Myrtle floated lazily in front of me, her translucent form flickering in the dim light. Her round, spectacled eyes widened as she took in my appearance.

"Oh," she said, drawing out the word as a wicked grin spread across her ghostly face. "This is rich. Very rich. Hermione Granger, the brilliant know-it-all, reduced to... a cat!" She threw her head back and let out a peal of laughter, shrill and echoing off the grimy tiles.

"Go away, Myrtle," I snapped, but my voice cracked, betraying how close I was to breaking again.

"Why should I?" she said gleefully, floating closer. "This is the most entertainment I've had in years! I mean, you've always thought you were so clever, haven't you? But now? Oh, now you've gone and made a complete fool of yourself."

Her words stung, but I couldn't argue with them. My throat tightened as I tried to fight back more tears, but Myrtle noticed.

"Aw, poor little Hermione," she said in a mockingly sweet tone, circling me like a predator. "What will your precious Harry and Ron say when they see you like this? Oh, I can hear it now! 'Hermione, what on earth were you thinking?'" She mimicked Ron's voice horribly, and I clenched my paws, the claws extending slightly and scratching the edge of the toilet seat.

"Just leave me alone!" I shouted, my voice echoing in the empty bathroom. My ears flattened against my head, and I could feel the tears spilling over again, hot and humiliating.

Myrtle looked momentarily surprised but then smirked, clearly relishing the spectacle. "Fine," she said, tossing her head. "But don't expect me to feel sorry for you. It's not my fault you're stuck like this."

She floated away, her giggles fading into the background as I buried my face back into my hands—paws—and let out another sob. My chest ached, and my mind was a whirlwind of shame and regret.

"Hermione, come out, we've got loads to tell you!" I heard Ron yelling from outside the bathroom door about an hour later. His voice sounded excited, like whatever happened during their mission had been a success. But I wasn't ready to face them. Not like this.

"Go away!" I squeaked, my voice breaking. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing them to leave me alone.

"What's the matter?" Ron asked, sounding closer to the door now. "You must be back to normal by now, we are."

"Ooooh, wait till you see," Myrtle's voice chimed in gleefully. She was clearly delighted by my misery. "It's awful."

I groaned, feeling the lump in my throat grow heavier. Myrtle, of course, would make things worse. Taking a shaky breath, I stood up, my legs trembling beneath me. I wasn't ready for this, but I couldn't hide forever. Bracing myself, I opened the bathroom door, still sobbing, my robes pulled tightly over my head.

"What's up?" Ron asked, his brow furrowed with confusion as he looked at me. "Have you still got Millicent's nose or something?"

I let my robes fall, revealing the full extent of my disastrous transformation. Ron and Harry jumped back, their faces frozen in disbelief.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My stomach twisted. Black fur covered my face, and my glowing yellow eyes stared back at me, unfamiliar and wild. Pointy cat ears poked out through my bushy hair.

"It was a c-cat hair!" I sobbed, my voice shaking. "M-Millicent Bulstrode must have a cat! And the p-potion isn't supposed to be used for animal transformations!"

The words tumbled out as tears blurred my vision. I wanted to disappear, to wake up and find that this was some horrible dream. My chest ached with humiliation and frustration. How could I have missed it? How could I have failed so spectacularly?