The Boy Who Couldn't See: Year 3

The Boggart in the Wardrobe

Malfoy reappears in classes on Thursday morning. He struts into Potions, the class already halfway done, and is acting as though he's the heroic survivor of a battle. Harry, who is the heroic survivor of two battles, thinks it's extremely infuriating.

"How is it, Draco?" Harry hears Pansy Parkinson say. "Does it hurt much?"

"Yeah," Malfoy says, forcing himself to sound in pain.

"Settle down, settle down," Snape says lazily.

Harry scowls. If he had walked into Potions late, it would've been a much bigger deal.

Malfoy sets his cauldron up at Ron and Harry's table. Today, they're making a Shrinking Solution, and so far, Harry and Ron have been dutifully preparing their ingredients, and it doesn't seem to be going half bad.

"Anyway," Ron mumbles, continuing his and Harry's conversation (gossiping) that was rudely interrupted by Malfoy, "Somebody told me she —"

"Sir," Malfoy suddenly calls, "sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm —"

"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," Snape says.

Ron's knee hits the underside of the table in his attempt to keep his anger at bay. "There's nothing wrong with your arm," he hisses.

"Weasley, you heard Professor Snape; cut up these roots."

Harry scowls to himself and continues crushing up his rat spleen.

"Professor," Malfoy drawls, "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir."

"Ron," Harry hisses.

Ron kicks his shin under the table.

"Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."

"But, sir —!"

"Now."

"And, sir, I'll need this shrivelfig skinned," Malfoy adds, sounding all too pleased with himself.

"Potter, you can skin Malfoy's shrivelfig."

Harry seizes Malfoy shrivelfig, skins it as quickly as he can, and then throws it back at Malfoy.

"Idiot," Harry mumbles, kicking Ron back.

"Dumbass," Ron knocks his elbows against Harry's arm.

"You're the one who —"

"Seen your pal Hagrid lately?" Malfoy says quietly, interrupting them.

"None of your business," Ron says shortly. Both his and Harry's temper are boiling over at the moment and it's honestly a miracle neither of them have snapped yet.

"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," Malfoy says, faking sadness. "Father's not very happy about my injury —"

"Keep talking, Malfoy, and I'll give you a real injury," Ron growls.

"– he's complained to the school governors. And to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this" — he gives a huge sigh — "who knows if my arm'll ever be the same again?"

"So that's why you're putting it on," Harry says through his teeth, "to try to get Hagrid fired."

"Well," Malfoy says, lowering his voice to a whisper, "partly, Potter. But there are other benefits too. Weasley, slice my caterpillars for me."

"Do it right," Harry hisses.

"I am," Ron grits.

"Orange, Longbottom," Harry hears Snape say, momentarily distracting him from Ron. "Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"