Chapter Three

Harry had thought he'd be used to seeing the suspended green head of a person in a fireplace, especially after using it as a regular means of communication between Aurors, but the sight still made his stomach clench.

"Ah, Harry, Draco," Slughorn's head now said jovially. "How good to see you two again. Everything well at Hogwarts, I presume?"

Malfoy and Harry were seated by the fireplace in Harry's sleeping quarters, looking into the green fire caused by Floo powder. "All's well," Malfoy said dismissively. "Professor Slughorn, if we could have a moment of your time. Potter and I are attempting to brew a certain potion, and we're wondering if you could help us."

Slughorn's translucent green face became even more joyful. "I'd be absolutely delighted. Such bright minds you two have for Potions! It still amazes me. Well, carry on."

Harry picked up the conversation. "Well, you see, Professor, this potion is a little advanced and we just wanted some professional guidance before attempting it. Maybe some tips as to the brewing process."

"Gladly," Slughorn said. "But I don't have much time to dawdle. What potion are we talking about?"

"Felix Felicis, sir," Malfoy intoned.

Slughorn's eyebrows knit slightly though he didn't outwardly frown. "That's quite a complicated potion to brew. Whatever reason you must have for brewing it must be an important one."

Malfoy exchanged glances with Harry, as though asking how much they should reveal. Harry turned to Slughorn's peering face. "Yes, it is. I'm planning to take it to complete a rather difficult mission."

"Ah, very well," Slughorn said, sensing the tenseness and closure in Harry's voice. "I must warn you though, this potion, even when brewed correctly, has certain side effects if taken too often. This mission of yours should be completed rather quickly. If you take the potion for several consecutive days, you will become reckless and may endanger rather than help yourself. You may attempt things well above your ability."

Harry's heart sank at hearing this. If the effects of the potion wore off after a day, he would have to take it again in order to drive away the Dementors again. The Dementors would not stay away just because he Patronus-ed them away once. Still, it was the only idea he had at the moment.

"That's fine, Professor," Harry finally said. "I'll do the best I can to avoid taking it more than once."

Slughorn nodded happily. "Very well. I'm sure you've already glanced at the list of ingredients and directions. The length of time to brew the potion—is that an inconvenience? I presume this mission of yours is a whiles away?"

"Er…" Harry said. "Exactly how long does it take to brew?" He hadn't seen any length of time written upon the page in Malfoy's book.

"Six months," Slughorn replied promptly.

Harry's eyes widened perceptibly. He opened his mouth and for several seconds, couldn't say anything. "S-six months? I don't have six damn months!" He had presumed two months at most. Someone would surely recognize that Harry was having difficulty with his Patronus in six months.

"Yes, my boy," Slughorn said evenly, although he looked surprised at Harry's reaction. "I thought we'd already established that this was a difficult potion. Time is partly the reason this potion is so complicated. Haven't you looked at the directions? They state instructions like, 'Keep solution frozen for three weeks until it becomes green in color.'"

Harry pursed his lips. Now he understood why Malfoy had said he doesn't have the time for such a potion. He glanced at Malfoy, who only looked at him expectantly, as though asking if he was still up for the challenge. "I think six months will be fine," he reluctantly told Slughorn.

Slughorn looked at him concernedly. "Well, now that we've discussed these things, I have some suggestions for you as to the brewing process. I realize the potion asks for a cup of sweetwater, but I find that honeywater is more effective. It gives you more potency but does sacrifice the amount of potion you can take at one time. The effects of recklessness become stronger, so that choice is up to you."

Malfoy had begun writing these suggestions down on a piece of parchment in an elegant, cursive script. "Honeywater is also more common," he said absentmindedly.

Slughorn's lips stretched into a smile. "Very good, Draco! Yes, honeywater is more easily accessible. The other ingredients, I'm afraid, would lose their magical properties if exchanged with others. That's why you must follow the other directions as precisely as possible. This potion will require your utmost attention. One extra clockwise stir or an extra toe of toad's foot could end up killing you, Harry."

Harry was reminded of Malfoy's warning, that the wrong brew could poison him. He suppressed a shudder and wondered for the tenth time if this was his best option. After all the doubts he harbored, he decided that it would have to be. "Thanks, Professor. We'll do our best."

Slughorn pursed his lips and looked deep in thought. He finally said, "I believe that's all the advice I have for you today. I've brewed this potion twice and have avoided injuring myself. I have faith that you'll do the same." He gave them an encouraging smile.

Harry smiled back while Malfoy continued to scribble things down. "Thank you, Professor Slughorn. We'll contact you if we need anything else."

"I welcome your questions!" Slughorn said, then his head turned toward the back of the fireplace, as though he'd heard another voice on his side. "Very well, I must leave you. Good luck!"

Then the green head in the fireplace disappeared, leaving only cold, black ashes on the hearth.

"Well, that's a good start," Malfoy said, finishing his scribbles. "I'll look through my storeroom to see if I can find some honeywater and some of the more common ingredients. Then tomorrow we'll start looking for some…" he glanced at the list of ingredients in the book. "Porcupine quills and snake fangs."

Harry looked at the list of ingredients in the volume, trying to memorize them in case he found one by accident.

For the Brew of Felix Felicis, Obtain:

5 porcupine quills

10 puffer fish eyes

2 non-venomous snake fangs

2 scarab beetles

20 dragonfly wings

3 twigs from a Whomping Willow

2 dried and crushed red bat ears

3 toad's feet (obtained at the Full Moon)

1 ginger root

1 cup powdered goosegrass

½ cup leech juice

¼ cup elderflower wine

1 Doxy egg

1 powdered moonstone

1 cup sweetwater

Harry let out a deep breath. "Well, this will take some time to gather."

Malfoy just gave him an irritated look. "Which is why I was hesitant to do this in the first place. I think I have some Elderflower wine and a moonstone in storage. The ingredients that involve animals—those we'll have to find and extract ourselves."

Harry glanced at the list; the more he thought about the materials, the more disgusted he became. They'd have to handle real leeches and puffer fish, crush the leeches into juice and gouge out the fish's eyes. He never realized how easy the potions in Snape's class were compared to this. The ingredients were given to them, the animals already dead, their respective parts already extracted. He sighed and pushed the thoughts away. The more he reflected upon it, the less he'd be inclined to brew the potion. And that wasn't an option.

"I'm heading to my classroom to find some reference books," Malfoy suddenly announced, getting up from the carpeted floor. Harry was yanked out of his thoughts. He got up as well, picking up the Potions volume.

"You don't mind if I follow along?" Harry asked, thinking he had nothing else to do anyway. And he really wanted to get started on getting the ingredients. If just brewing the potion would take six months, they needed to get the ingredients quickly. He might as well get comfortable at Hogwarts, Harry thought dully.

Malfoy shrugged. "You might be useful."

They left the sleeping quarters and strode through the hallways toward the Potions classroom. The hallways were mostly empty. It was probably a Hogsmeade weekend, Harry considered. He felt strange walking through the school again, not heading toward classes nor doing homework. He felt like a spectator, an outsider, and that almost made him wish he were back as a student. He missed the good times he'd had with Ron and Hermione, memories that were untainted by Voldemort's return.

They rounded the corner and reached the classroom, when Harry noticed that a fourth or fifth year student was standing by the door, looking fidgety and holding a parchment quite tensely. Upon closer inspection, Harry noticed the symbol of a lion upon his cloak—he was a Gryffindor. As the two approached him, the student gave Malfoy a tight-lipped smile, and upon seeing Harry, his face lit up like Christmas lights.

"Mr. Harry Potter," he said reverently. He extended his hand, "Euan Abercrombie, sir. Pleased to meet you."

Harry smiled and shook the boy's hand. "Pleased to meet you too, Euan."

Malfoy simply raised his eyebrows at the student. He said nothing and simply strode into the Potions classroom. Harry and the student walked in behind him.

Malfoy began looking through his reference manuals when the student approached him, parchment in hand. Malfoy glanced at him and finally asked, "What's the matter, Abercrombie? Something wrong with your last paper?"

The student immediately demanded, "Professor, why did I not receive full marks for this essay? I did everything you asked."

Malfoy paused in his search for reference books and snatched the student's paper to give it a quick once-over. After a pause, he began, "Well, Abercrombie, I should think the answer would be obvious. Your task was to write about the components of antidotes as compared to poisons and how they might be brewed. This," he indicated the parchment, "is trash. You merely mentioned that a bezoar can be used for all poisons and left it at that. I wanted a bit less sarcasm and more critical thinking."

The student's eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms. "I heard that Mr. Potter once used a bezoar to save his best friend from a poisoned drink. That seemed to have worked just fine."

Malfoy's eyes briefly met Harry's across the room. Both recalled that it was Malfoy himself who had concocted that particular poison. "Well, Mr. Potter doesn't know about all types of poisons, now does he?"

The boy was as offended as if he was Harry himself. "I'm sure that even if he had written that paper, you wouldn't think it was good enough! You know, when Snape was the Potions Master, he was unfair toward all non-Slytherins just like you! That bastard got exactly what he deserved as You-Know-Who's right hand—and you, Malfoy, you should have gotten the same! It's bollocks! Just because you're a stupid git who changes sides right when he's about to be thrown into Azkaban!"

Harry was shell-shocked. He had never, in his entire life, heard a student insult a teacher with such irreverence and hatred. Even he had had some respect for Snape as a professor. To hear a fellow Gryffindor slander Snape's name as though he had done nothing for the cause during the War only enraged Harry. The pride he had for the Gryffindor House deflated a bit.

But if Malfoy was just as infuriated, he didn't show it. He simply handed the parchment back to the student and betrayed no emotion as he said, "Detention. Two months."

The student looked disappointed not to have gotten a rise out of Malfoy, but merely grabbed his paper and stormed out of the room. On his way out, he gave Harry a conspiratorial wink, as if the two were on the same side of the argument. Harry just felt more disgusted with him. After the boy left, slamming the door loudly behind him, Harry quietly approached Malfoy, who was still looking through the books, though distractedly now.

Harry was unsure what to say for a moment. The words the boy uttered were ones Harry himself might have said years ago. But now that he'd seen the two sides of the War—had seen Snape's memories and Malfoy's helpless gaze in the burning Room of Requirement, he'd realized that not all Slytherins were to blame for the war.

Tentatively, Harry asked, "Why did you let him say those things without fighting back?"

Malfoy looked up at him. "Why? I don't know, Potter—because I'm tired of arguing my case? This isn't the first time Abercrombie has cussed me out—for Merlin's sake, don't look so surprised—and I'm not willing to stoop down to his level and give him the pleasure of getting angry. Besides, giving him detention is much more satisfying." He paused and looked thoughtful, "In fact, I might even make him gather some of our potion ingredients."

Harry was still not convinced by Malfoy's argument. "So what, you let this one student walk all over you even though you're his teacher?"

"Oh, he's not the only one who's out of line," Malfoy said unconcernedly. "Plenty of your Gryffindor buddies have told me exactly what they think about the Slytherins returning to Hogwarts after the massacre here."

"Plenty?" Harry echoed. "Don't they know what happened? Don't they know that Snape helped me defeat Voldemort—that he was Dumbledore's messenger and died giving me instructions on how to kill Voldemort?"

Malfoy winced slightly at the multiple mentions of Voldemort's name, but maintained his composure. "You're forgetting, Potter, that these students are young and impressionable. Their families were most likely destroyed by the War: Many of them resent the former Death Eaters for killing their parents or siblings. They have a reason to be angry." His voice darkened. "But they certainly don't have a reason to be angry at Slytherins. Especially the younger Slytherins who had nothing to do with the War."

"So this is why they attempted to destroy the Dungeons," Harry finally understood. "It wasn't just a harmless prank, was it?"

Malfoy's voice sounded tired. "No, it wasn't. They've been egging the Slytherins on for months now. Up until the Dungeons incident, they've been somewhat harmless. They've been using the Weasleys' wizarding wheezes, or whatever those monstrosities are called, and setting up fireworks or slipping puking pastilles and fainting fancies into the Slytherins' goblets. The problem with those is that they require an antidote, which the Gryffindors by any means aren't inclined to give us. Madame Pomfrey and I have been quite busy fixing up the Slytherin students."

Now that Harry took a closer look at Malfoy, he realized that the latter had aged, at least as much as was possible at twenty years of age. His face was leaner and paler, his gray eyes lackluster, and his robes baggier than necessary. Harry hadn't realized how much the War had affected Malfoy. The way the Gryffindors were vengeful toward the Slytherins surprised Harry even more. He had never sympathized with the Slytherins before, but he was finding himself doing so now.

"Is it just the Gryffindors that are wreaking all the havoc?" Harry asked.

Malfoy was looking through his books as he answered, "No. I've overheard that many of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs are swearing up a storm about the Slytherins too. They're just less zealous—less brave, should I say—" He gave Harry a sardonic look, "—to start anything themselves. So they're riding on the coattails of the Gryffindors' pranks."

"No one's doing anything about this? The professors—"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Give it a break, Potter. Since when have teachers butted in on some harmless House rivalry? At least, that's what they are seeing. Even McGonagall doesn't think there's anything wrong. Some of the teachers are actually joining in on the fun."

"What?" Harry asked, surprised. "Who would do that?"

Malfoy was copying something down on his parchment. "It's really just one bloke. He's from Hufflepuff. You probably don't know him."

Harry was absorbed in thought about this dilemma, but before he could consider it too deeply, Malfoy shut his books, gathered up his parchments and said, "Well, I think we're done for today. I'll take a look at my storage supplies and tomorrow we'll get started. I think we'll begin by getting some porcupine quills and snake fangs from the Forbidden Forrest."

Harry smirked at Malfoy. "So you finally got over your phobia of the Forbidden Forrest?"

Malfoy looked as though he remembered their first year detention, when they had to go into the Forrest with Hagrid to inspect the disappearing unicorn blood. "I wouldn't be talking about phobias, Potter. I suspect your current fear of Dementors is a little more powerful at the moment than my past eleven-year-old fear of the Forbidden Forrest."

Harry immediately ceased smiling, remembering why they were making the Felix Felicis to begin with. "Fair enough. I'll see you tomorrow, I suppose."

Malfoy didn't even acknowledge his departure, merely gathering up his belongings. Harry left the Dungeons, making his way to the Great Hall for lunch or dinner, whichever was being served. He had lost track of time in talking with Malfoy and Slughorn about the potion. He found Ron at the staff table and struck up a conversation with him, all the while shoveling mashed potatoes and pork chops onto his plate.

"So what've you been up to the past few days?" Ron asked, his mouth full of food.

Harry was equally hungry as he gulped down his pumpkin juice. The last few stressful days and sleepless nights due to his inability to deal with the Dementors seemed behind him now that he and Malfoy would concoct a potion to bring up his happier memories. "Well, I've been looking around the castle, seeing what's changed. Have you heard about the damage to the Dungeons because of that flood? All the potion supplies were apparently ruined."

Ron snorted. "I say those gits deserved to have their precious Dungeons ruined. That lot of Death Eaters finally got what was coming to them."

Harry paused while gnawing on his pork chops and set them down on the plate. "Well, I know they haven't been our best friends during the War, but some have done their part to help our cause. Besides, the younger Slytherins had nothing to do with the War."

"I'm sure they would've helped out the Death Eaters if they had been there. Slytherins are all alike, mate. They're all nothing but dishonest, treacherous bastards." Ron conveyed his point by setting his goblet down loudly.

"Isn't that a little unreasonable, Ron? What about Snape?" Harry asked, his dinner now completely out of mind.

"What about Snape?" Ron shot back, not quite fighting with Harry, but appearing surprised that he sympathized with the Slytherins. "I don't know how you've blocked out all the years of humiliation and misery we had in Potions, but Snape wasn't always the great guy you seem to think he was."

Harry didn't know how to respond to that. Besides, fighting with Ron was like hitting a brick wall. No matter how he tried to approach the situation, his point would never be made across. "I guess I was just surprised by the bad shape of the Dungeons, that's all," Harry finally said. Then deciding to change the subject he asked, "Hey, what's Dawlish doing about the Dementors?"

Ron continued slobbering up his food, accepting the change of subject. "Seems like we're just waiting it out. The Dementors are getting hungry, but they're afraid of us using our Patronuses, so they're just hiding out now, most likely. Dawlish thinks they might attack again, but only when they get desperate."

Harry nodded, also believing that to be the case. After finishing his dinner, he went to his sleeping quarters, unsure of how else to occupy his time. Most of his previous Auror missions had been quick, lasting days at the most. This particular mission seemed like it would last months, especially if he and Malfoy were going to finish the Felix Felicis potion.

The idea of him and Malfoy working together amused Harry. He would be surprised if they didn't hex each other at some point in their search for potion ingredients or during the potion-brewing itself, but he had to admit that he was a little curious about the way Malfoy had changed after the War, hardened toward the rest of the hateful Houses, and become adept at potion-brewing. Harry hadn't really given much thought as to the whereabouts or happenings of Malfoy after the War and hadn't heard anyone mention him either. In fact, the only thought he had given Malfoy concerned the object he had used to defeat Voldemort.

Harry crossed the room to his trunk, and rummaged around until he pulled out the hawthorn wand. He observed it for a moment, unable to believe that this object belonged to Draco Malfoy, the previous owner of both the hawthorn and Elder wands. Now, of course, the Elder wand was destroyed, but the hawthorn wand was still intact, lying in Harry's palms.

Harry placed the hawthorn wand on his nightstand, alongside his own, intending to return the object the next time he saw Malfoy.

A/N: Thanks for reading! All comments are appreciated!