Stick to the Script
by Child of Two Worlds
Orla Quirke - She is in first year the year that Harry is in his fourth. She is in Ravenclaw. So this isn't an original character. =P This takes place in the beginning of Goblet of Fire (just so you have a time reference).
---*---
Orla Quirke walked into her first Potions lesson with a piece of paper clutched tightly in her fist. She wasn't excited about this lesson so much as scared out of her mind, because sitting at the front of the room was a unpleasant looking man bent over papers on his desk. His face was drawn into a menacing scowl while his quill scratched symbols into the parchment. He was Professor Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
From what she heard from the other students between her sorting and this morning Professor Snape was not a teacher to cross. He gratuitously favored his own house over the other three and was the plague to any Gryffindors who had the displeasure of being his student - which was all of them. She thanked whatever Powers-That-Be she was in Ravenclaw and not Gryffindor; at least as a Ravenclaw she was relatively neutral to him. She definitely didn't feel brave enough to face down this teacher as one of the abhorred Gryffindors. Double whammy, she thought as she walked down the row.
She took a seat in the middle of the room. By her reasoning, too far forward would put her under his direct scrutiny and being in the back was the place for those who didn't want attention. Namely the scared and the ill prepared - he would pick on those students most. So the middle was the safest place to be.
Carefully she unfolded the piece of parchment she had carried into the room and placed it inconspicuously on her lap. It would be easy to read without him seeing if she put it there. If only I had copied it into my notebook last night, she thought morosely. Her books were now in place, ink pot at the front of her desk, and a new quill laying beside an open notebook. All the students were seated and ready for the lesson.
Shortly after the bell rang Professor Snape looked up from what he was working on. He sneered coldly at them then produced another piece of paper from his desk and began taking the role call.
So far so good, she noted with a glance at the parchment. When he reached her name she tried not to sound scared, but she had a feeling she'd failed.
Once he was done with that he stood up and moved in front of his desk. With his long, hooked nose, sallow skin and black robes he truly looked like the vampire he was described as. Add that to the fact that the dungeons may give you enough light to work with but were nothing like the sterile and brightly lit Muggle labs, it looked and felt like she had stepped into a scene from a Muggle horror novel. I am never reading Goosebumps again. She gawked at the professor, all but expecting him to swoop down and stick his fangs into someone's neck.
His black eyes glittered maliciously. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art-" he began in a quiet voice, yet it filled the room.
-of Potion making, Orla finished in her head.
His eyes narrowed to slits, "As there is little-"
-foolish wand waving here,-
"-many of you will hardly believe this is magic."
His look of contempt clearly conveyed his opinion that none of them knew what they were getting themselves into by attending his class and attempting to learn the art he had mastered.
But when he spoke, Orla's thoughts were in sync with his speech, I don't expect you will really understand the beauty-
"-of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes," his voice was soft and full of wonder.
the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins,
"bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses..."
"Dramatic pause" she read.
Snape paused in his speech to draw himself up so he looked impressive and superior, "I can teach you how to bottle fame,"
brew glory,
"even stopper death." There was nothing but awed silence after that statement.
"If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach," Orla whispered, reading the paper on her lap, as Snape said just that at the exact same time.
Snape's cold, black eyes swept up and down the rows, glaring at each and every student. Then he commanded, "Copy this down," and turned to the board.
Wow, she giggled as she folded the detailed sheet and put it in her pocket. Padma was right! He really does say the same thing to the first years every year!
by Child of Two Worlds
Orla Quirke - She is in first year the year that Harry is in his fourth. She is in Ravenclaw. So this isn't an original character. =P This takes place in the beginning of Goblet of Fire (just so you have a time reference).
Orla Quirke walked into her first Potions lesson with a piece of paper clutched tightly in her fist. She wasn't excited about this lesson so much as scared out of her mind, because sitting at the front of the room was a unpleasant looking man bent over papers on his desk. His face was drawn into a menacing scowl while his quill scratched symbols into the parchment. He was Professor Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
From what she heard from the other students between her sorting and this morning Professor Snape was not a teacher to cross. He gratuitously favored his own house over the other three and was the plague to any Gryffindors who had the displeasure of being his student - which was all of them. She thanked whatever Powers-That-Be she was in Ravenclaw and not Gryffindor; at least as a Ravenclaw she was relatively neutral to him. She definitely didn't feel brave enough to face down this teacher as one of the abhorred Gryffindors. Double whammy, she thought as she walked down the row.
She took a seat in the middle of the room. By her reasoning, too far forward would put her under his direct scrutiny and being in the back was the place for those who didn't want attention. Namely the scared and the ill prepared - he would pick on those students most. So the middle was the safest place to be.
Carefully she unfolded the piece of parchment she had carried into the room and placed it inconspicuously on her lap. It would be easy to read without him seeing if she put it there. If only I had copied it into my notebook last night, she thought morosely. Her books were now in place, ink pot at the front of her desk, and a new quill laying beside an open notebook. All the students were seated and ready for the lesson.
Shortly after the bell rang Professor Snape looked up from what he was working on. He sneered coldly at them then produced another piece of paper from his desk and began taking the role call.
So far so good, she noted with a glance at the parchment. When he reached her name she tried not to sound scared, but she had a feeling she'd failed.
Once he was done with that he stood up and moved in front of his desk. With his long, hooked nose, sallow skin and black robes he truly looked like the vampire he was described as. Add that to the fact that the dungeons may give you enough light to work with but were nothing like the sterile and brightly lit Muggle labs, it looked and felt like she had stepped into a scene from a Muggle horror novel. I am never reading Goosebumps again. She gawked at the professor, all but expecting him to swoop down and stick his fangs into someone's neck.
His black eyes glittered maliciously. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art-" he began in a quiet voice, yet it filled the room.
-of Potion making, Orla finished in her head.
His eyes narrowed to slits, "As there is little-"
-foolish wand waving here,-
"-many of you will hardly believe this is magic."
His look of contempt clearly conveyed his opinion that none of them knew what they were getting themselves into by attending his class and attempting to learn the art he had mastered.
But when he spoke, Orla's thoughts were in sync with his speech, I don't expect you will really understand the beauty-
"-of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes," his voice was soft and full of wonder.
the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins,
"bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses..."
"Dramatic pause" she read.
Snape paused in his speech to draw himself up so he looked impressive and superior, "I can teach you how to bottle fame,"
brew glory,
"even stopper death." There was nothing but awed silence after that statement.
"If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach," Orla whispered, reading the paper on her lap, as Snape said just that at the exact same time.
Snape's cold, black eyes swept up and down the rows, glaring at each and every student. Then he commanded, "Copy this down," and turned to the board.
Wow, she giggled as she folded the detailed sheet and put it in her pocket. Padma was right! He really does say the same thing to the first years every year!