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Malfoy didn't reappear in classes until late on Thursday morning, when
the Slytherins and Gryffindors were halfway through double Potions. He
swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages and bound
up in a sling, acting, in Harry's opinion, as though he were the heroic
survivor of some dreadful battle.
"How is it, Draco?" simpered Pansy Parkinson. "Does it hurt much?"
"Yeah," said Malfoy, putting on a brave sort of grimace. But Harry saw
him wink at Crabbe and Goyle when Pansy had looked away.
"Settle down, settle down," said Professor Snape idly.
Harry and Ron scowled at each other; Snape wouldn't have said "settle
down" if they'd walked in late, he'd have given them detention. But
Malfoy had always been able to get away with anything in Snape's
classes; Snape was head of Slytherin House, and generality favored his
own students above all others.
They were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution. Malfoy set up
his cauldron right next to Harry and Ron, so that they were preparing
their ingredients on the same table.
"Sir," Malfoy called, "sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots,
because of my arm --"
"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," said Snape without looking up.
Ron went brick red.
"There's nothing wrong with your arm," he hissed at Malfoy.
Malfoy smirked across the table.
"Weasley, you heard Professor Snape; cut up these roots."
Ron seized his knife, pulled Malfoy's roots toward him, and began to
chop them roughly, so that they were all different sizes.
"Professor," drawled Malfoy, "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sit."
Snape approached their table, stared down his hooked nose at the roots,
then gave Ron an unpleasant smile from beneath his long, greasy black
hair.
"Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."
Ron had spent the last quarter of an hour carefully shredding his own
roots into exactly equal pieces.
"Now," said Snape in his most dangerous voice.
Ron shoved his own beautifully cut roots across the table to Malfoy,
then took up the knife again.
"And, sir, I'll need this shrivelfig skinned," said Malfoy, his voice
full of malicious laughter.
"Potter, you can skin Malfoy's shrivelfig," said Snape, giving Harry the
look of loathing he always reserved just for him.
Harry took Malfoy's shrivelfig as Ron began trying to repair the damage
to the roots he now had to use. Harry skinned the shrivelfig as fast as
he could and flung it back across the table at Malfoy without speaking.
Malfoy was smirking more broadly than ever.
"Seen your pal Hagrid lately?" he asked them quietly.
"None of your business," said Ron jerkily, without looking up.
"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," said Malfoy in a tone of
mock sorrow. "Father's not very happy about my injury -"
"Keep talking, Malfoy, and I'll give you a real injury," snarled Ron.
"- 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 gave a huge, fake sigh - "who knows if my arm'll ever
be the same again?"
"So that's why you're putting it on," said Harry, accidentally beheading
a dead caterpillar because his hand was shaking in anger. "To try to get
Hagrid fired."
"Well," said Malfoy, lowering his voice to a whisper, "partly, Potter.
But there are other benefits too. Weasley, slice my caterpillars for
me."
A few cauldrons away, Neville was in trouble. Neville regularly went to
pieces in Potions lessons; it was his worst subject, and his great fear
of Professor Snape made things ten times worse. His potion, which was
supposed to be a bright, acid green, had turned -
"Orange, Longbottom," said Snape, ladling some up and allowing to splash
back into the cauldron, so that everyone could see.
"Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of
yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one 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?"
Neville was pink and trembling. He looked as though he was on the verge
of tears.
"Please, sir," said Hermione, "please, I could help Neville put it right"
"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger," said Snape
coldly, and Hermione went as pink as Neville. "Longbottom, at the end of
this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see
what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly."
Snape moved away, leaving Neville breathless with fear.
"Help me!" he moaned to Hermione.
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