Cauldron Bubble
A clearing of a throat, and a presence that was dominating enough to cause people to shuffle down the benches, made the whole group look up.
Harry put down his utensils slowly, clenching his jaw at the unnerving feeling of someone standing behind him. He didn’t notice everyone’s welcoming face towards the person in question, as he was preoccupied with calming himself down before making a move. It wasn’t until he actually did turn around that he came face-to-face with his girlfriend. Or, ex-girlfriend, or… well, it was complicated.
“Ginny.” He breathed out softly, somewhat shocked at seeing her again after a whole summer of basically ignoring each other. Harry felt as though he was witnessing her sitting down beside him, with an air of confidence and no hint of awkwardness, from outside his own body. They had broken up for a short period of time during the war, he didn’t want to cause any more heartbreak in case he didn’t return from the dead, and he wanted her to move on if that was the end. Since then they had seen each other a couple of times. Ginny and her family were mourning the loss of Fred, Harry was sorting out what the hell happened to him, and the whole arrangement was up in the air. Harry wasn’t sure of Ginny’s opinion on the matter, but he wanted to try. They didn’t get a chance to actually be a teenage couple, his life was always on the line. And now they had that chance. But Harry was worried that he had way too much baggage on his shoulders, he didn’t want to bring her down. So ultimately, it was in her hands. It was her call.
Ginny turned towards Harry. “Hullo Harry.” She replied, a small and soft smile on her lips; Harry was impressed by how much she had changed over the summer. Sometime between their last meet and their return to Hogwarts, she had cut her hair. Really cut her hair. It rivalled Neville with its shortness. It didn’t look bad at all. In fact, it framed her face perfectly and it suited her personality. Harry, in his humble opinion, didn’t think Ginny could’ve been any more attractive – that isn’t to say she wasn’t attractive before, mind you, but this had rebellion and character mixed into it.
“You look… good.” Harry internally winced at his lack of eloquence, “Healthy. How’s the Burrow?” It felt like small talk. Harry hated small talk.
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‘Wow, smooth son.’
‘Can you blame him? They haven’t talked in months.’
‘True, but come on, it’s a bad reflection on me. I wasn’t that bad was I Lils?’
‘You were worse.’
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“Oh, you know,” Ginny waved a hand flippantly, “Ma’s still mourning, George got a mind-healer, but his coping still isn’t healthy. I’ve been helping out at the shop when I can, and Dads been his usual muggle enthusiast self. Just…” She paused then, glancing over at her older brother, “Just a bit more mellow, I suppose.” They shared a sad but strengthening smile over the table before she turned back to Harry, “How about you?”
Harry snorted, “Kreacher still hates my guts, not as bad as before but I don’t think that’s ever going to change. Grimmauld is lonely at the best of times. Still yet to settle with a mind-healer. To be honest, I’d be surprised if anyone is able to help me with this whole mess. Everyone is either asking to be my mind-healer to get in the press and expose any smidgin of information I tell them in confidence, or they’re trying to set me up with their daughter, or their daughter’s daughter, or themselves! At this point, I give up, Hogwarts will be… good… I think…” Harry looked around, glancing at each of the House’s tables, each child smiling, chattering, cheering. His eyes locked onto Malfoy, possibly the only person not engaging in excessive talk. “I hope.” Harry gulped slightly and looked back down at his plate, shovelling food into his mouth as Ginny responded, to then engage in conversation with the others on the table.
“So sorry to cut in Ginny, but we have a potions class to get to and you know how these two are.” Hermione broke through the haze of talking students that had caused a slight buzzing in Harry’s ears.
“Oi! And how exactly are we, Hermione?” Ron asked, hand on his chest in faux offence.
“Difficult.” Hermione replied, grabbing her satchel and hurrying up the other two. She had already made her way through the Great Hall doors whilst the other two scrambled about trying to catch up.
The classroom was buzzing with hushed chatter, the eighth year students cramped in with a collection of the seventh years in the potions classroom. It was exciting, it was weird, it was otherworldly. Students around Harry were all talking to each other, enthused as to who their new Potions Professor was. Harry wasn’t involving himself in the conversation, mainly just asking Ron beside him if he could borrow a second piece of parchment to stack under his singular one; he hadn’t expected to be in a potions class ever again since the war, and yet here he was.
It felt wrong to be in Snape’s old classroom. It felt wrong to look upon the shelves and not see the – admittedly impressive – collection of artefacts, potion books worn from years of use, restricted potions the student would never dream of being able to replicate. The layout of the classroom itself had not changed. The desks still faced towards the teacher at the front of the classroom, the chalkboard wheeled beside the teachers desk, which doubled as a demonstration station.
A hush fell across the room as their new Professor walked in and down the middle of the desks towards the front.
The lone figure was wearing long dark robes, they trailed the ground – not billowing out behind them like they did when Snape walked the halls – their shoes clacking against the hardwood floor with each step. Harry couldn’t get a good look at the face, and he would be lying to himself – and Ron, seeing as he nearly jumped out of his stool in shock – if he said he didn’t think Snape had come back from the dead.
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‘Speaking of Snape, where is he?’
‘I’m assuming he’s rotting in Hell.’
‘Hey now, he saved Harry didn’t he?’
‘Yeah, but he also tormented and bullied students, which, I do believe, is against every single safeguarding rule there is in both muggle and magical schools.’
‘Thanks for the back-up, Moony.’
‘You’re welcome, James.’
‘Fine, I give up with this age-old argument.’
‘Finally, took you a while Lily. Now, who in Godric Gryffindor’s name is this new Professor?’
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The collection of students leaned forward in their seats, each and every one of them disquisitive as they watched with eagerness as the new Professor set their briefcase atop the desk and turned around. Every single pair of eyes tracked the Professor’s movement as they pulled out a few sheets of paper, a textbook and upholstered their wand to place it next to their other stuff. They turned around and leaned their hands against the table behind them, a casual air surrounding them.
“Hullo, I’m your new Potions Master and Professor this year, and hopefully for future years to come if the Headmistress allows it, Professor Orion Moore.” Professor Moore’s deep yet smooth voice filled the classroom.
“Right, now, that’s as much of an introduction as you’re getting out of me. Please turn to page one hundred and twenty five in your new Potions textbook, and start reading the first paragraph. Make notes on key points, I’ll be asking you questions after the task is complete.” Their new Professor grinned, “You have fifteen minutes.”
Harry couldn’t catch the words on his page. They were jumbling. Potions had always been a mind numbingly boring lesson for him and their first task was just that. And it was only three minutes into the task.
Harry glanced at Ron to copy down some of his notes, which he was copying off of Hermione. However, Harry noticed that even Ron was able to make sense of what they were reading and make his own notes; which left Harry feeling as though he should be at least attempting to try and do his own work.
The classroom door opened and closed, the person walking in as silently as possible, Harry wouldn’t have even noticed if it wasn’t for the fact the figure had chosen the only free seat behind him. The last desk and in the far corner.
The new Professor had made his way towards the lone figure and introduced himself again.
“May I get your name for attendance?”
“Draco…” Came a quiet reply, as though the teen was all too aware of the eavesdropping occurring from every other student. “Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”
Harry couldn’t help but zone in, a habit that was seemingly hard to shake off.
“Well, nice to meet you Draco, please make sure this doesn’t become a regular thing. I’d hate to give out detentions the first week back.”
Harry couldn’t fight the urge. He turned slightly in his stool to look behind his shoulder at Malfoy. The other teen was grabbing things out of his satchel and inking his quill as he went. Harry was disappointed, to say the least, at the lack of enthusiasm from Snape’s once prized student being so… nonchalant about a Potions lesson.
Malfoy’s head tilted upward slightly to catch Harry staring. His eyebrows pinched between the brow and his jaw worked in circular motion.
A cough.
Harry snapped his head back around to come face to face with Professor Moore. Ron had stopped what he was doing and stared, admittedly a bit scared, between the two. Hermione had rolled her eyes and shook her head, adamant that she would not get distracted this year.
“I propose you keep your eyes to your own work, Mr Potter. Turn around and sit properly in your seat, and Mr Weasley.” He turned to address the other boy, who shrunk back in his seat. “Please try and leave Miss Granger alone and do your own work. You can’t copy another student's work in your N.E.W.T.S.”
Both Harry and Ron looked at each other, abashed. There was no doubt those sniggers they heard travelling through the room were aimed at them.
The two of them put their heads down and made sure to get as many notes down as possible whilst Hermione let out a huff of laughter beside them.
“Okay! I think we covered everything, can we all partner up and grab a cauldron? We’re now going to test this theory.”
Hermione immediately got up and walked over to Susan Bones, leaving Ron and Harry to partner up. They weren’t complaining, but they were only two thirds of a whole brain, and Hermione had the whole brain.
“Right, I’ll grab the utensils, you grab the ingredients.” Ron said, to which Harry did not argue.
However, now he wished he did.
He couldn’t for the life of him remember what he was supposed to be getting and now Harry had, once again, come face to face with none other than Draco-Sodding-Malfoy. Whilst Harry stood and pondered over what on earth he was actually supposed to be collecting, Malfoy had walked up silently to and stood behind Harry.
“Can you hurry up?” Malfoys dreary voice came from behind Harry, causing the shorter teen to jump and shoot a glare over his shoulder. “Some of us have a Potions’ practical to do.”
“Oh, ha ha.” Harry retaliated, “Sod off Malfoy, just grab your stuff and leave me alone.”
“I would… If you weren’t standing directly in the way.” There was a dull rush that ran through Harry at their bickering. It was like a foggy memory of a time long gone. Their bickering wasn’t like the past seething remarks, but Harry could feel it all bubbling its way back to the surface. He should probably just grab whatever and leave before he said something; he would later claim it was in good faith at the face of Hermione’s disappointed stare.
“Fine.” He snapped, and grabbed a randomly corked vial and jar, not even bothering to look at the label.
Harry made his way past Malfoy, attempting to make as much space between the two of them whilst Malfoy stared at him with the reminiscent of a sneer he once wore like clockwork.
“Merlin, why Snape risked his life for you is beyond me.”
Harry swivelled back around and hissed at Malfoy under his breath, angry but altogether too tired to be dealing with this nonsense so early into the school year. “Why you came back to Hogwarts when you should be sharing a cell with your father in Azkaban is beyond me. Don’t speak ill of the dead Malfoy, you of all people should know that.” He didn’t wait for a response, instead he made his way back to Ron at their desk, ignoring Ron’s questioning eyebrow raise.
Potions carried on with Harry and Ron’s concoction bubbling over and immediately exploding with great heat causing a scorch mark to be left at the bottom of their cauldron. Their first lesson back, and already they were setting the tone for the rest of the year.