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第7章 我不活了

“No!” said Hermione, as Ron unwrapped the tiny little bottle of golden potion, looking awestruck. “We don't want it, you take it, who knows what you're going to be facing?”

“Magic always leaves traces,” said Dumbledore, as the boat hit the bank with a gentle bump, “sometimes very distinctive traces. I taught Tom Riddle. I know his style.”

“Of course not,” said Madame Maxime, fluttering her long black eyelashes.

“Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative,” said Hermione, sounding as usual as though she had swallowed the textbook. “It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state.”

“Oh!” I thought, “she is not going to die; they are mistaken: she

“No, I’m not,” retorted Hermione. “I’m hoping to do some good in the world!”

“Look,” said Hermione patiently, “it's always you who gets all the attention, you know it is. I know it's not your fault,” she added quickly, seeing Harry open his mouth furiously. “I know you don't ask for it…but - well - you know, Ron's got all those brothers to compete against at home, and you're his best friend, and you're really famous - he's always shunted to one side whenever people see you, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is just one time too many…”

“So that's why Snape doesn't like you,” said Harry slowly, “because he thought you were in on the joke?”

“Or someone who looked like a girl or a woman,” said Harry. “Don't forget, there was a cauldron full of Polyjuice Potion at Hogwarts. We know some of it got stolen...”