A/N: I'm probably going to stop updating now, at least until next week, if only to stop pissing people off. This is the other half of what was originally to be Chapter 2.

Below, the action starts! Kind of. :P

Enjoy!

Previously:

What I do remember is awakening the next morning to a sickening thought.

That everybody I know is dead, and I am alone.

The first class the next morning was ironically, Ancient Runes. I did not really see the point in it, but that alone did not uncheck the subject on my new schedule. The class itself was actually quite well-taught, yet it dragged on my nerves. This was Rowena's expertise, and Godric's latest 'passion', not mine. Add to this that the 'ancient' spells we were supposedly studying were actually relatively new, and exceedingly volatile in my time, and one can see why I chose to spend my time inking my parchment with daisies, and tumbling elves. And why shouldn't I? I was a student now. It was time for someone else to control the points.

The frizzle-haired girl beside me, however, had much different plans. Having been kind enough to lead me to our first lesson (which I apparently had no clue how to reach), I hated to pass judgement, but she really was working far too hard. Bent-backed, with her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth as she wrote, she looked rather as if she was racing, not learning. Sneaking a peek over her writing, I was surprised to find it incredibly... Well, her hand was as enviable as her enthusiasm. She looked up at me.

"Do you need something?" she whispered. I was flattered by her concern.

"No, I'm quite alright. I was just wondering how you take such good notes," I whispered back. The girl's eyes lit up immediately.

"Knowledge is important," she grinned. I couldn't help but agree.

After Runes, where I had learned absolutely nothing new, was lunch. I had never really gotten the chance to simply sit with my students, and was now admittedly keen to do so. So much had changed - I still couldn't believe my uniform had pants! Shorts, I think they were called. I was eager to catch up on the times, to integrate with them. I was of the growing suspicion that my mannerisms were now considered stuffy - old-fashioned. With any luck, I could pick up enough from this place to terrorise Rowena with when I arrived back home. Pants! She'd simply die!

Deciding to take the initiative, I slid into a position beside the girl from class - Something Granger, I recalled.

"You don't mind?" I asked, gazing around at her friends. She shook her head at me.

"No," she said, "Feel free to sit with us."

I grinned.

"My name's Sal, by the way," I said, shaking hands with the boy across from me; a vibrant redhead.

"Won Weazy," he replied through a mouthful of food, before turning back to his plate. The girl beside me sighed and shook her head in dismay.

"Ron," she corrected, "is a bit of a glutton."

She smiled at me in sympathy, before continuing, "And I'm sure he'd be really pleased to meet you if he wasn't hogging into everyone's food."

She raised her voice at the last part, causing the boy to look up sheepishly, ears turned to scarlet.

"Right," he said, wiping one hand on his robes before extending it to me, "Ron. Nice to meet you."

He looked toward the glaring girl, seeking approval to tuck back into his meal. How anyone could eat such monstrous amount - or afford to - I did not know. In my time, we often had problems feeding the children, much less eating three times our own weight in potatoes.

Soon, another boy came to sit beside the first; black hair covering his face. He looked to be in a bad mood, but perhaps it was just his haircut. It did seem rather...pokey.

My question was answered as soon as he opened his mouth.

"I can't believe that Snape got Defense!" he muttered, looking between Ron and the girl beside me. Admirably, the former actually took the time to look up from his plate.

"I know mate," he said, eyes wide, "He's going to bloody kill us!"

The girl frowned, "Don't be so dramatic. He's a teacher."

As if that assures anyone's safety, I think.

"You wait until he gives you a fifteen foot essay on the way a patronus is s'posed to taste," said Ron, waving his hand around in the air vaguely, "Then you tell me he's only a teacher."

I had no idea what a patronus was, but instead, I asked, "Who is Snape?"

All three of the companions looked at me. The dark-haired boy immediately held out his hand.

"Sorry, I didn't notice you there. Harry Potter."

"Sally Smith," I replied as I took his hand, "but please call me Sal."

He smiled. I couldn't help but think he shared an uncanny resemblance to my cousins, and myself, for that matter - right down to the green eyes.

Perhaps he is a relative? I thought wistfully.

"Professor Snape is our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," he continued as he sat back down.

"He's a stuffy bastard," Ron continued darkly.

"Ron!" Granger chastised. She looked around nervously before continuing in a low hiss, "He might catch you!"

Ron puffed out his chest.

"So what if he does?" he demanded, "Everybody knows it's the truth."

The girl continued hastily "But, Ron, that's not the point!"

"Don't bother, Hermione," Harry sighed, "He's right."

"Tough professor?" I ask.

"The worst," a voice comes from behind me. I look up to see yet another dark-haired boy coming towards us. He slips easily into place beside me.

"Hey Neville," the trio chorus...save for Ron, who waves halfheartedly from somewhere within his bowl.

You'd think the boy never ate...

"Neville Longbottom," the boy states, shaking my hand.

"Sal," I reply. I begin to tire of these introductions.

"Snape used to be our Potions professor. He's been after Defense for years, but Dumbledore wouldn't give it to him. Who knows what he did to get it," he explained, nodding towards the staff table. At the moment, there was only one man seated, and I already knew I didn't like him.

"He surely can't be that horrid?" I replied.

Ron scoffed, "You kidding? Neville's terrified of him."

The boy beside me shot him a dirty look, and I heard someone close-by snicker. Turning back to the Head Table, I caught the professor in question drop gravy onto his robes. Quickly, he swiped it away with his wand, what looked to be a permanent grimace etched into his face. I found myself momentarily gleeful.

So there is a spell for that! ...I still don't like him.

I then returned my gaze to our table once more, heaping whatever I could find onto my plate. If this Professor Snape was truly as bad as mentioned, then I needed all the sustenance I could get, even if it meant eating like Ron.

The first thing I noticed about Defense Against the Dark Arts was that everyone took it. There were very few of my classmates who were not huddled outside the door to the classroom that afternoon. This was not entirely unexpected on my part. The second thing that came to light, appeared as the rather sullen looking professor opened the door and snarled at us to get in.

Upon entering the room, the sheer darkness was near-blinding, compared to the relatively bright day outside. Once my eyes had adjusted to the gloom, however, it was the decor that caught my attention. Portraits of contorted bodies filled the interior walls, spaced apart in such a way as to command one's full attention. As I watched, many of the bodies rocked back and forth, screaming silent screams, participants in a torturous dance of death.

"How...artistic..." I said, nose wrinkled up in disgust.

"Something you wish to say, Miss Smith?" the condescending voice of what I could only assume was our professor flowed through me. I smiled in his direction, sickly sweet.

"You have lovely taste, Professor," I replied. Glancing into my eyes, it was obvious that I thought he did not. He noticed, sending me a sharp warning glare.

"They serve their purpose, Miss Smith," he ground out.

Terrorising First Years?

I thought of stating my opinion, but instead opted for finding a desk next to a dark-skinned Sytherin boy. He turned his nose at my arrival.

Ignorant prat.

As the class went by, I realised that the portraits were, indeed, hung to inspire terror. A somewhat effective method, I agreed, but far too grizzly for my own personal taste. Why teach through fear what can be conveyed with fact? Either way, some would always be swayed into the Dark Arts; through fear, through thoughts of glory, curiosity, even despair.

Professor Snape wasn't exactly setting a good example, either. He was passionate about his class, that much was obvious. But his voice held too much love; too much longing the very things that he was supposed to be teaching against. It was slightly off-putting, and I began to drift off.

I'm so tired...If only I was at home, and this was all but a dream...

As I lost consciousness, the room began to dance around me, the sinister paintings becoming flowers swaying merrily in the breeze. I grinned. If I truly listened, the Professor's smooth voice was not unlike a lullaby...

"MISS SMITH! 50 points from Gryffindor for sleeping in my class!"

"Oh, shushhhhhh, God. You're 'noying me," I reply hazily, waving my hand in the general direction of my friend's voice.

"Miss Smit-"

"I said ssssshhhhuuussssshhh! I 'm gr..t...and powerful...Salad...bar! I...e-eat you..."

"-h, I said I will not tolerate dreaming in my class!" the voice hisses.

"..n-noooo. I-"

A hand slams down on the table in front of me, snapping me out of my daze. I jump.

What was-?

My anger suddenly rises to new extremes.

"For the love of Merlin! Can't you see I'm trying to sleep, you pompous arse!" I snarl out, raising my head to face the man, "What could possibly be so impor-"

Staring back at me is the face of my new professor, red from rage. I find myself thinking that it doesn't suit him at all, before I come fully to my senses.

Oh...shite...

"This class, Miss Smith, is what is so important. Perhaps you ought to remember that next time you think of dozing off in this room?" It was not really a suggestion. I was in trouble now. The professor's face grew redder by the minute, until I began to wonder if he was still breathing, or if he had actually choked to death on his rage.

"You will attend three detentions for laziness, and another six for speaking towards a teacher in a derogatory manner. Starting tonight," he growled.

"Aye," I agreed, not wanting to make the situation any worse. My consent appeared to have no effect, save for angering the man more.

"You will report here straight after dinner, and you will not be late," he spat out. I could hear him grinding his teeth as he spoke. I nodded.

Finally releasing me from his gaze, Professor Snape regarded the rest of the students coolly.

"Class dismissed," he called, obviously struggling to keep his emotions in check.

Well, that was a fruitful lesson, I thought as I exited the room, That man is batshit insane.

A/N: Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it! Mistake reporting is, as always, encouraged!