Failures. All failures.
He had only been generous enough to let the students have one week to study the components of Runco, a simple potion that assisted in killing weeds, but upon meeting the wavering glances from twelve pairs of ignorant students, it was obvious that allowing extended study had been an utter mistake.
Severus Snape was not fond of making mistakes.
He hovered over the students and watched them smash instead of slit, pound instead of mix, and boil instead of simmer the ingredients as each batch brewed into a collective concoction of wasted potential. His hands clutched the edges of his robe. His eyes turned to slits as they venomously scavenged every student for an excuse to send someone to detention.
Until his eyes found one.
Luna Lovegood. He hasn't had her in his class before. So she was a first year. And unlike any of the other students who were failing miserably to do their assignment, this young girl didn't seem to be attempting the potion at all. Snape's scowl deepened.
"What… are you doing, Miss Lovegood?" He asked, his voice dangerously cold. His eyes rolled as he prepared for the usual excuse. Oh this is too hard, Oh I don't understand, and all that rubbish. No doubt she'd start to cry. The worst students do. But as he mentally prepared to deal with a hissy fit, what he received was an entirely different matter.
"I decided not to make this potion, Professor. It has bad energy." Lovegood absentmindedly responded while not even giving him a sideways glance. Snape opened his mouth, ready to present a fitting punishment, but his words transfigured to silence as he processed her… direct answer.
"You… what?" He asked. Surrounding students began to turn their heads. From the sound of it, Snape almost sounded baffled. But Luna paid no mind,
"Bad energy. Bad." She stated simply and finally turned her eyes towards the Professor as if he was the only person in the room. "But I revitalized this flower for you from the ingredients and you can put it in your hair."
She stood up. Stood up, plucked the small daisy, and held it to the Professor. It was now a complete living specimen. Snape briefly pondered if this was a practical joke. Yes, it would be the most likely scenario. Surely, this girl had plucked a common flower from the Herbology room and brought it in class to "revitalize" in class in a pathetic attempt to pass. That had to be it. But as he stared at the flower he noticed a small mark on one of the leaves. It was same mark he himself had used to specify the type of plant used for the lesson. His eyebrows scrunched. Surely, a student replacing a specimen just for the sake of receiving a good mark was likely, but to replicate his own mark to identify the plant? Only Potter had that kind of cunning. That could only mean... this live flower was part of his own lesson. Snape slowly glanced from the tip of the student's pale silver hair down to the traces of ingredients in her frail hands- no indication of sarcasm.
She was… serious?
"I think this flower would look nice on you. Keeps away the Wrackspurts, you know." She continued as if casually mentioning that you weren't going to do an assignment and instead do something completely out of the curriculum was something completely normal.
Snape just stood. For a few seconds, there was nothing he could respond with, which was rare for the old Professor. This student… this Lovegood had completely and utterly confused him.
It was lucky that the class bell rang at that moment before any of the other students could make that connection. He suddenly turned his head, as if waking up from a trance before walking away from the students and demanding they leave their work at the tables for him to grade. All of the students rushed out, and luckily didn't dare to try and look at him in the eye. Well… all except one.
"Have a good day, Professor." Miss Lovegood chirped before slipping out of the classroom.
Snape didn't respond. Instead, he turned his focus towards the only live daisy left behind. He inspected the small plant for any traces of death, but couldn't find any. It became certain. Luna Lovegood, a first year had somehow mastered a potion only taught to the select few students in their seventh year of Hogwarts. It should be impossible. But here he held the proof between his index finger and thumb. He had a genius in his class!
If this mind could be molded…
A small and rare smile emerged. Maybe it was for the greater good if he remained the Potions teacher this year.
