Percy Jackson and the Hound of Hogwarts [Book 3]

19) Potions

Pansy Parkinson kept asking Draco if his arm hurt. Draco had found out the hard way that if he said no, she would screech about at him. I found it hilarious. Draco did not.

Pansy had asked him again as he walked late into Potions. He had been gone because he was teaching Samantha and Kahlida some of the myths, and they had accidentally angered a goddess. He'd had to calm everything down.

"Settle down, settle down," Snape said as everyone turned to Draco.

We were making a Shrinking Solution, and I had finished it earlier in the class, so I was lounging back in my seat, feeling bored.

"Sir," Draco called, "sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm—"

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

Ron turned red.

I watched Ron furiously cut Draco's daisy roots. It was pretty funny.

"Professor," Draco drawled. "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir."

Snape walked over to their table, staring down his nose and at the roots. He gave Ron a very unpleasant smile.

"Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."

"But, sir—!"

Ron had spent the last fifteen minutes carefully cutting his roots into perfect pieces.

"Now," Snape said dangerously.

Ron shoved his roots across the table at Draco, picking up the knife again.

"And, sir, I'll need this shrivelfig skinned," Draco said, trying not to laugh. Messing with people was always very fun.

"Potter, you can skin Malfoy's shrivelfig," Snape looked at Harry with loathing he reserved only for him.

After Harry flung the freshly skinned shrivelfig at him, Draco asked, "Seen your pal Hagrid lately?"

"None of your business," Ron huffed, not looking up.

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

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

"— 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, who knows if my arm'll ever be the same again?"

The other students had brought Draco's injury up with the faculty, and the whole incident ended up reaching his father. Things really were out of hand.

"So that's why you're putting it on," Harry said angrily. "To try to get Hagrid fired."

"Well," Draco whispered, "partly, Potter. But there are other benefits too. Weasley, slice my caterpillars for me."

"Orange, Longbottom," Snape looked down at Neville's potion, which was supposed to be acid green. "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."

Neville looked to be on the verge of tears.

"Please, sir," I said, "please, I could help Neville put it right—"

"I don't remember asking you to show off, Mr. Jackson," Snape said coldly. "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."