The First Test
Harry couldn’t believe his luck. Or rather lack thereof. He had been paired with his worst rival, second only to Voldemort himself. Well, technically maybe third to Dolores Umbridge. But still... He’d fought and killed Voldemort and yet he was still forced to work with that snobbish ferret in class. He wondered if Snape was laughing at him right now from beyond the grave. Snape would certainly approve of the professor’s ability to treat him exactly the same as everyone else.
It wasn’t that Harry thought he was better than the rest of them, he just thought that maybe defeating the darkest wizard to ever live would have some perks. Such as not being forced to sit with a death eater.
He took a deep breath, and reminded himself that if he could face off with death eaters on multiple occasions, surely he could stomach and hour of advanced potions with his enemy. And it wasn’t as though he could see any way to get out of their current predicament.
Malfoy seemed to reach that same conclusion as he came to take his seat. He didn’t think Malfoy would dare hex him, at least not here in front of all of these witnesses. Harry couldn’t help but slide his chair a little bit further away from him though.
“Since I highly doubt a single one of you was listening at the welcoming feast yesterday, I took the liberty of writing my name on the board.” The professor said. Harry glanced around, but saw absolutely nothing. Had his eyes gotten worse? The rest of the class seemed to be just as confused as he was though. “Your first task of the year shall be brewing a potion that can be poured over the chalkboard to reveal the hidden writing there.” The professor continued. “Remember to work with your partners on this, don’t just do it on your own.” She glanced knowingly at Harry. “Ready? Begin.”
Harry sighed and turned to face Malfoy. But he was already frantically flipping through the pages of his advanced potion making book. Harry decided the best course of action would be to do the same thing in the hope of finding something useful.
Several minutes passed by and the room had filled with a quiet chatter as other pairs began to get to work on their selected potion and still Harry had found nothing of any real use. He glanced back at Ron and Hermione and they offered him a sympathetic look before returning to their own potions.
“Listen, I-” Harry began, but Malfoy cut him off.
“We shouldn’t just do one potion.” He said.
“Why?” Harry asked.
“Because,” Malfoy said, as though he were explaining something to a toddler, “We don’t know what she did to conceal her writing and therefore, there are several potions that might work for one thing and not another. So if we make more than one, it’ll increase our chances of actually getting the right one. And we won’t really have to actually work together.”
“Fine.” Harry spat.
“Fine.” Malfoy replied. “You make these two.” He pointed down at two potion names he had scribbled on a scrap bit of parchment, “And I’ll do these ones.” He pointed at the remaining two.
“Right,” Harry muttered and got to work. He was hardly five minutes into brewing his two potions simultaneously when the consistency of one of them began to differ from what the book described. It made him miss Snape’s old book again, he knew if he’d been following those instructions then this potion would be going swimmingly. But the Room of Hidden Things had been destroyed from the Fiendfyre that had consumed it during the Battle of Hogwarts. He wondered if it was worth trying to find it in the mess of ash and rumble. He’d ventured inside once after the Battle of Hogwarts had drawn to a close, and the smell alone had been enough to suffocate him.
Behind them, drawing Harry from his thoughts, a cauldron exploded, making Harry jump and eliciting a few screams from his classmates. Beside him, Malfoy flinched so violently that it was as though he had been struck. The entire rest of the class Malfoy was shaking so badly that he accidentally put too many Abraxan hairs in one potion and didn’t evenly spread the aconite fluid in the other. Harry pretended not to have noticed. He spent the remainder of his time fussing over his potions despite the fact that he knew there was no hope of saving them. He was wretched at this class, utterly useless without Snape’s book to guide him.
In the end, Hermione and her partner were the only ones successful in revealing that the Professor’s name was Moore. Malfoy cast a glowering look in Harry’s direction as they packed their things and cleaned up their workstation, but he didn’t say anything.
Harry was about to go when Professor Moore stopped him. “I expect better from the pair of you in the future. You would do well to work together, if you want any hope of being successful in my class.”
Harry didn’t know how to respond to that, so he merely nodded, eyes on the floor and muttered an apology.