Potter's Twin Sister || Draco Malfoy

38

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I entered the still-empty classroom, and my gaze fell upon what might be my task for detention.

Four cauldrons were arranged on a high work table, each accompanied by a list of ingredients required for a specific potion.

With a contemplative expression, I approached the table, my eyes scanning the ingredients.

Drawing upon my knowledge of potions, I recognised the ingredients for a Cure for Boils, Wiggenweld Potion, Sleeping Draught, and Herbicide Potion.

On another table nearby, there were four large jars, their labels blank and waiting to be filled.

I couldn't help but regret my decision to take over Harry's detention. Crafting four different potions in a forced and pressured manner wasn't exactly my idea of a pleasant afternoon, even though I enjoyed working with potions under more favourable circumstances.

Feeling my Mary Jane shoe's strap come loose, I crouched down to fix it.

Once I stood back up, Snape seemed to appear out of thin air, standing behind the table.

His sudden presence caught me off guard, causing me to start and involuntarily place my hands over my chest.

"Suffering from a guilty conscience, Potter?" Snape said idly.

"No, but it seems you might be, sir." I replied in a nonchalant tone.

An eyebrow of his arched in response. "I beg your pardon?"

"You had no right to reveal Remus's condition to everyone." I said, my displeasure evident in my expression.

"Potter, I have neither the time nor the inclination to entertain such sentimental matters." He dismissed.

Rolling my eyes internally, I crossed my arms in front of me.

"Now," Snape began. "Three days ago, a few first-year students managed to have an incident in my class that resulted in breaking four jars of the example potions on the shelves." He gestured towards a wall where a variety of potions were stored on multiple shelves.

"The potions affected are Cure for Boils, Wiggenweld, Sleeping Draught, and Herbicide. I expect all four to be brewed perfectly by the time I return after dinner."

With that, he moved towards the door.

"You didn't provide me with the instructions for the potions, Professor." I interjected before he could leave.

"Considering how often you boast about your supposed mastery of Potions, I believe you can handle it without explicit instructions." He drawled before exiting the room.

Every day, I find myself wondering what exactly went wrong on the day we first met.

I'm in quite a bind. An incredibly tight one. I don't have the Herbicide Potion's recipe memorised.

Breathe, Amelia. Don't panic. Let's think this through logically.

I'll work on two of the potions simultaneously since they share a similar structure—three parts each.

I'll dedicate the time between brewing the first two potions to search the room for any relevant textbooks. Hopefully, I'll find the Herbicide Potion recipe and spare myself some precious time.

Roughly twenty minutes later, I was in the final step of the first part of my Sleeping Draught, chopping the Valerian Sprigs' roots.

Then, I thought I heard something—a door closing, maybe.

I glanced over my shoulder, but there was no one or nothing in sight. Yet, I felt a presence, a distinct one.

Only a limited number of people are aware of my current detention.