Disclaimers 'n' Stuff:

I do not own these characters, nor did I create the universe in which they live or the magic that they use. All I do is flesh them out a little.

I am also very much NOT British in any way, shape, or form, so if I'm not entirely accurate with anything, I apologize in advance. I do have one Brit friend (thanks much, Davenport!!) so hopefully I didn't botch too much of it.

Read on, enjoy, and please leave some constructive criticism!


The dungeon door flew open very suddenly, and Professor Severus Snape strode quickly to the front of the class, cape billowing behind him. He whirled to face his students and crossed his arms. The seventh-year Advanced Potions class watched him expectantly, each sitting behind a cauldron. The room was completely silent.

"The Acuity Potion is among the most difficult to successfully make. Can anyone tell me why?" A certain frizzy-haired know-it-all would have been straining out of her seat to answer, but she had graduated the previous year. Potter had made a spectacular show of foiling the Dark Lord, and so Snape was back to the humdrum life of a Hogwarts Professor. However, this class lacked the motivation of last year's students; they just sat and stared at him. "No one has an answer? I didn't expect so." Snape let his gaze fall on each student in turn as he spoke. "As you would all know if you had read the assigned pages, after adding the hellebore, and before the lemon rind, the unfinished Acuity Potions give off a bright violet gas that is highly poisonous when inhaled." No reaction from the students. "I normally don't coddle my classes, but the poison is fast-acting and would leave no time for transportation to the Hospital Wing. I'd be the one putting you back together, and I guarantee that I would not make it pleasant for you. I have no desire to play nursemaid tonight." Still no reaction.

"In addition, I have noticed that you students have a tendency to botch even the simplest of potions. This potion can be volatile, so I encourage all of you to use caution. A misstep could be potentially fatal. For once, try to avoid the usual miserable failure."

Snape's penetrating gaze met only blank stares and thoughts of class's end.

"Well?" he said, sneering. "What are you waiting for? Begin."

The N.E.W.T-level Advanced Potions class had only a handful of students, mostly Slytherins who thought they had favor in Snape's eyes. There were two Hufflepuffs who were determined to become Healers, one Ravenclaw who would have almost been as insufferable as that Granger girl if she ever opened her mouth, and one bland-looking Griffindor who… well, Snape had no clue why she had taken the course, but since she hadn't blown anything up and her grades weren't as horrible as most, he had allowed her to continue to the higher levels. Snape walked slowly about the room, peering into the cauldrons and occasionally questioning the students. The Ravenclaw girl was the first to raise the purple strands, jumping back from the cauldron as soon as a hint of a wisp began to appear. Snape quietly moved to stand next to her.

"Miss Miller." She jumped again, this time a few inches back from him. He stared at her, the corners of his lips turned up in not-quite-a-smirk. "I told you this was poisonous, not out to consume your soul. Watch." The rest of the class watched, too, as the purple wisp rose higher from the cauldron. Snape extended one fingertip and curled the mist round his finger, as if it were a piece of string. When he took his hand away, the loop stayed there, moving slowly upwards by the gradual push of new-formed mist below it. "It acts like a viscous solid, quite difficult to inhale. As long as you don't try to kill yourself, you should be fine, Miss Miller. I only gave the warning in case any of you decided to be profoundly mentally retarded today. Now get back to your seat."

The dark-haired girl sat down again, but her eyes were still bugging out of her head, and her face was still pale. One would think that Snape had asked her to kiss a dementor, not sit in her seat like a sane person. Snape returned to the front of the class and watched tendrils of purple reach towards the ceiling. He glanced up at the vaulted ceiling, knowing that soon enough the mist would be pooling up there, and he'd have to be the one to clean it out. He could probably just burn the stuff, but if he did it while it was too near the ceiling… that may be a bad idea. No, first he had to create a little wind to push it down here, contain it somehow… Snape's gaze fell back to his students just in time to see the Griffindor girl slump over with a small squeak.

"Back!" He snapped, rushing towards her. "Back! Away from the cauldrons!" The other students flew to the sides of the dungeon. Snape knelt at the girl's side, trying to remember her name. She lay awkwardly twisted, facing the ground, her brown hair almost touching the fire beneath her cauldron. Snape brushed her hair back from the flames, put one hand on her shoulder and one hand on her hip, and turned her slowly onto her back. When he saw her face, he remembered her name. "Miss Archer," he growled. She mumbled something, sounding drunk. Snape sat up a few inches and peered over the lip of her cauldron. Green, not purple, and a fog, not a few strands. In one smooth motion he produced a vial from his pocket, uncorked it, and emptied it into her cauldron. The smoke immediately dissipated. Realizing what she had probably done, he scooped the unconscious girl into his arms. "Stay there," he commanded his class. "Don't. Touch. Anything."

The class murmured a terrified collective reply.

"I'll be back as soon as I can." Still holding the girl, Snape managed to get to his feet unaided. "Miss Archer, it seems, has no regard for her own safety and no qualms about threatening the safety of others. When I have taken care of her idiocy, I shall return to deal with the rest of you." Snape swept out of the room as suddenly and dramatically as he had entered.