A Potions lesson



The dungeon door banged open. Past the rows of students who were sitting, waiting for their Potions Master to start the first class of term,  said man entered, the long black cloak billowing behind, enhancing the dramatical effect of his entrance. With long strides he reached the front of the classroom. The students dared not point, they just stared.

A chilly draft made the students shiver, caused by the purposeful swirling of robes. A contented expression - a smirk - appeared on the older wizard's face.

Then he spoke up: "I am Snape, the Potions Master."

The class politely greeted their teacher in unison: "Hail thee, Professor Snape, Master of bubbling cauldrons and enthralling fumes..."

A disturbed-looking house-elf popped out of thin air, causing several students to gasp in surprise.

With a squeaky voice it uttered, "Master Snape must excuse Dobby's disturbance, sir;" - looking around nervously, the little creature rolled its enormous eyes, apparently in unease - "but Dobby has found Master's potions cabinet a mess, perhaps someone has broken into it..."

Snape turned a darker shade of purple, threw the pitiful elf an especially nasty glare, and, nodding curtly, caused the servant to vanish as quickly as it had come, then mustered his usual unattainable expression.

In the menacing tone of his he growled, "Anyone stupid enough to break into my ingredient cabinet will suffer the first punishment right now," - an evil smirk darkened his features further - "and the detention after classes will probably teach the fool once and for good never to invade my private belongings again."

Then, after a few moments of stunned silence and awkward gulping among the students, he resumed his intruductional speech.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will ready understand the..."

Further he didn't come, because the students chanted simultaneously, "...the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human..." - there they lost track again. Pity if one wasn't all too well prepared... For the professor seemed to be literally fuming, too... just with a slight difference: there was nothing whatsoever soft nor shimmering about him. He was - if outer appearance and the violently throbbing vein in his right temple were any indications - nearly boiling.

At this most tensed of moments, a young man's voice spoke up, clearly inspired by the sight of his potions professor: "...Veins!"

An angry glare from the now half-seething man whose already thin lips had disappeared in the course of action. Still, the bespectacled, black-haired boy with the prominent scar on his forehead continued: "...bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... You can teach us how to bottle fame, brew glory, even... stopper death!"

The rest of his classmates looked in a mix of terrified awe and incredulity at the apparently mad young wizard with the astonishingly precise memory in their midst.

The Potions Master's jaw meanwhile dropped open, his eyeballs protruding from the angry face in a horrible way.

"That will be detention, Potter," he growled through clenched teeth, "and if I'm not very much mistaken this is dragonclaw powder on your mess of a scalp. So I caught the culprit who broke into my cabinet at this first day of the new term red-handed!"

A satisfied brooding expression entered his face, making the students cower in their seats. All - but one.

Harry Potter wore a similarly satisfied smirk and, facing the Potions Master with a firm stare, replied, "as you wish, Professor."


To be continued...

SnapesRaven, who has been perching above the students, watching the whole scene with slight amusement. Always Potter again...




Out of here, as quickly as possible!