Butterfly Effect ; H. Potter

4. boggarts.

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 was the 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 generally favoured his own students before all others.

They were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution. Malfoy set up his cauldron right next to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Antheia 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 towards him and began to chop them roughly, so that they were all different sizes.

"Professor," drawled Malfoy, "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir,"

Antheia suddenly felt a strong urge to throw her knife at Malfoy.

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."

"But, sir -!"

Ron had spent the last quarter of an hour exactly 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 at Malfoy, then took up the knife again. Antheia looked up to see Snape leave and quickly swapped her own perfectly cut roots with Ron's mutilated ones, as she had already completed her potion. Ron gave her a grin.

"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 and skinned it as fast as he could and flung it back across the table at Malfoy without even 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 and I will not hesitate to throw this knife at you," Antheia retorted.

" - 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?"