Chapter 3

The Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher

October 4, 1996

A sneering, blonde boy sat in the back row of transfiguration class. He kept glancing over at that new girl, the Snape girl, Alexandria or whatever the hell her name was. It was not that she was anything real special to look at, but he couldn't help it. This girl was supposed to be dead; everybody knew it. He had heard about her death impartially and not only from the stupid Daily Prophet; he had a more reliable source.

Professor McGonagall began taking role; when she read out, "Malfoy," the blonde boy gave a careless raise of his hand. When McGonagall called out the Snape girl's name half the bleeding class turned to look at her. She merely turned red and looked at the professor helplessly and McGonagall marked her present.

Draco Malfoy had only had one other class with this girl today, but he could already tell that she was a know-it-all. Potions was the class they had together and old Slughorn was about to wet himself when he saw her, the first Antilegilimens in two centuries. Honestly, between her and Potter, Slughorn was practically unbearable, going off about how her and Potter were going to make something of themselves someday and all that rubbish. It also did not help that the Snape girl answered Slughorn's questions as if she had a bloody encyclopedia inside her head. That was all the school needed another know-it-all, show-off like that mudblood, Hermione Granger.

Draco continued to watch her as she began taking note. Her hand ran furiously across the page. She leaned so close to the paper; it was a wonder that she didn't splatter ink all over her face.

This girl was very pale and the darkness of her hair made her skin seem even more pallid in comparison. She also had a somewhat large nose; not that it could have been avoided, as she was related to Severus Snape. In many ways she did share several physical traits with her cousin, but she looked almost nothing like him.

Though, she was pale like Snape was, her cheeks would often turn pink with embarrassment, a blush that wouldn't be caught dead on Professor Snape's face. And though her hair was black, she did not wear it in greasy curtains around her face, like Snape did, but pulled it back and let it fall in long, healthy waves behind her. Her nose was large and slightly hooked, but it was nowhere as large as Professor Snapes nose. Where Professor Snape's eyes were dark and cold, this girl had brilliant blue eyes and they looked kind and warm.

McGonagall asked a question and only Hermione and the Snape girl had their hands up. McGonagall called on the Snape girl and she answered a question as if she was trying to see how many big words she could possibly fit into one sentence. Draco rolled his eyes as Professor McGonagall confirmed her answer to be correct. A slight smile ran over the girls lips, making her completely indistinguishable to her cousin.


I stared down at my dinner, playing with my mashed potatoes. I felt people's eyes on me. I tried to convince myself that it was just my imagination, but it wasn't.

I did not have Defense Against the Dark Arts yet; that was tomorrow. Today, I did have History of Magic, Herbology, Potions and Transfiguration. I was really excited when I heard that History of Magic was taught by a ghost. Professor Binns, the ghost teacher entered the classroom through a wall, and that was by far the most interesting thing about the entire class.

I had never taken Herbology before, since I was home schooled, and I had never anticipated how dangerous it would be. Today we were supposed to brush the teeth of this vicious plant that I couldn't remember the name of. I left the green house with both my hands swollen and bleeding slightly. I am so behind in that class, but luckily I was table partners with this very nice boy called Neville. He was very helpful and he knew everything there was to know about Herbology. He was able to brush the fanged plant's teeth without getting bitten once.

Potions was taught by Professor Slughorn. I have always really liked Potions class, and I could say pretty confidently that I'm really very good at it. I was looking forward to Potions after I had just left Herbology feeling rather stupid. I was ready to go to a class that was easy for me and that I knew I could excel at, but once I got there I really just wanted to leave.

People had been pointing and staring at me all day and I hated it. Professor Slughorn just made matters much, much worse. As soon as I entered his class he got up from his desk and welcomed me, over excitedly. Normally, I would have thought he was just trying to be nice, but he had this almost greedy look in his eye as he showed me to my seat.

Then he began taking role. When he reached my name he called out 'Miss Snape, the first Antilegilimens in two centuries,' as if it was my title. This blonde Slytherin boy in the back row let out a definite snigger and then several other people began giggling; I wanted to die.

Finally we got to start actually making potions. We were simply making Pepper up Potion, which is a cure for the common cold. I had made it about a million times before. It was really easy, but Slughorn kept hovering over me, watching me work. He was impressed, of course and he started praising me so loudly, that I sort of wished I wasn't so good at potions.

The only time I got any peace during that class was when Slughorn left to go praise-annoy Harry Potter, who I was surprised to see had made a potion even better than mine or Hermione's.

I was so happy to leave the class when the bell rang, but before I even made it to the door Slughorn called me back and told me to look out for an owl from him, with an invitation to one of his parties. Apparently he throws parties for members of this club of his, The Slug club; it just sounded horrible. I must remember to be sick those night, I thought.

Thankfully, once I got to Transfiguration Professor McGonagall treated me just like everybody else and didn't even acknowledge that she had ever seen me before in her life. So far she was my favorite teacher; although, I hadn't met Professor Snape yet.

Hermione nudged me slightly underneath the table. I turned to her. "What?" I asked as she gestured to the professor table at the head to the great hall.

"It's Professor Snape," she told me in a whisper. I looked up automatically. A man had just entered through a side door and was walking along the table to his seat.

"Oh," I said lamely. 'Oh', was all I could think to say. He looked nothing like I thought he would. "The one with the black hair" I asked hesitantly, just to make it perfectly clear that we were talking about the same person?

"Yes," Hermione answered, a hint of caution in her voice, "the one that just sat down." We were talking about the same person. I knew Ron and Harry were listening.

"Oh," I said again. I looked at the tall bat like figure, which was Professor Snape. He seemed to be in a bad mood over something because he scowled down at his dinner plate as if it had done him a personal wrong. Disappointment seemed to wave over me. My mom had always told me to not judge a book by its cover, but, honestly.

Professor Snape looked like someone who didn't seem to like anyone. I watched as Professor Slughorn attempted to converse with Snape. Slughorn smiled gleefully as he animatedly told Snape something. As Slughorn's face lighted even still, Snape grimaced, revealing yellowed teeth. And paired with his greasy hair it was clear to me that the Professor Snape did not believe in personal hygiene. I felt my left eye twitch.

I continued to watch the two teachers undetectably, until they both suddenly look straight at me. I'm sure my face was something like a deer in headlights'. And to my great displeasure, Professor Slughorn pointed me out of the crowd. It was obvious to me now what Slughorn had been telling Professor Snape about. As if the situation could not have gotten any more awkward, Slughorn waved at me, full heartedly, attracting attention from both staff and students alike. I tried to return his wave with a smile, but failed miserably, with a face that I'm sure looked as though I was about to vomit.

All my nerve was being sucked out of me by this look of pure disgust Severus Snape was conflicting on me. What could I have possible done? Or maybe Professor Snape holds grudges over people with clean hair. I got up; I was not hungry anymore.

"I'll see you back in the common room," I told Hermione as I walked quickly from the hall.

I was feeling angry and upset, but at the same time I had an absurd desire to laugh. Laugh about how completely unfair this was. It is quite funny really; I though mirthlessly, my mom, dad and sister were murdered and the only relative I have left hates me. I laughed humorlessly to myself, a laugh that soon turned in to dry sobs. The portraits on the walls watched me hesitantly as I made my way through the many halls.

When I entered the common room, it was completely deserted. I didn't know what bothered me the most. Was it my immediate disappointment in him or of his immediate disappointment in me? I angrily kicked the nearest armchair before completely breaking down.

October 5, 1996

I stood next to Hermione and held my breath, waiting. The class room door opened slowly; there he stood in the doorway, unsmiling. I wanted to smile at him or say a friendly 'good morning,' but my nerves wouldn't allow it.

I took a seat in his dimly lit class room. I wondered if Professor Snape enjoyed being depressed. Professor Slughorn's class room was in the dungeons and it was cheerier than Snape's 5th floor class. Everyone was seated now. The room was tense, no one dared to speak.

Professor Snape walked swiftly to the front of the room, his long black robes billowing behind him. Without a greeting the he began taking role. Brown, Granger, Malfoy, the names flowed. I stiffened in my seat as he said Smith, I knew I was next. I watched his face. What did I think would happen? But, never the less I waited to see his emotion as he read "Snape". He looked disgusted as he said his own name. Hatred was etched across his sallow face.

Pain shot through me. "Here," I said softly, secretly wishing I wasn't there at all. He didn't even look at me.

"Today's subject is Vampires," said Professor Snape as he scribbled the word 'Vampires' on the black board. I smiled slightly, I knew a lot about vampires, and I bet I could answer any question he asked. I will make him like me. I thought determinedly.

He began to lecture. I already knew all of the information, yet, I listened attentively. I wouldn't want him to think I wasn't paying attention.

His voice was deep and guttural; it reminded me of my dad's voice. Professor Snape spoken in almost a whisper; though, he held the whole class's attention without fail.

Then finally he asked. "Who can tell me, how long it takes to transform into a vampire after being bitten?" I knew this one (3 very excruciating days). I raised my hand; Hermione's hand was up too. We were the only two students with answers.

"Anyone?" said Professor Snape, ignoring Hermione…and me. "Pathetic," he pronounced after a few painful minutes of blank stares from the rest of the class. He finally couldn't avoid it any longer and called on Hermione. She gave a more than perfect answer, yet the professor didn't seem pleased, he just scowled and nodded.

Then he asked what the characteristics of a vampire are? I raised my hand (red or gold eyes depending on their diet, pale, cold skin, strength, speed and beauty). Hermione's hand was up again too. He called on Hermione again. And again she gave a perfect answer.

He needs to call on me. I need to make him notice me. So without thinking, when he asked how vampires could be killed, I stood up and shot my hand into the air. Hermione just looked at me as she lowered her raised hand. I heard a few people laughed; they didn't understand how serious this was. I was not thinking.

"Sit down," Professor Snape hissed at me. I quickly obeyed as if he had shouted. He started to turn away from me.

I couldn't let him do that. "Professor Snape, I have an answer."

"Well, obviously," he said and turned away.

I stood again. "Vampires are immune to the killing curse," I started. "Because their hearts do not beat, that is where the term 'the living dead' came from. The only way to kill a vampire is to cut them up and burn the pieces. But, doing just that is nearly impossible for any mortal, because of vampires speed and toughness of skin. It takes a lot of force to break apart a vampire, if you can catch one that is. The only wizard to do this was Octavian Luke James Pariweather the third, in 1834, by uses of a slowing charm and goblin made ax carried by a troll. Although you could argue that it was the troll and not Pariweather who actually killed a vampire." I concluded slightly out of breath. I could feel every eye on me, except for Professor Snape's, who still had his back to me.

He turned around slowly. "Are you quite done?" he asked. I nodded. The room was dead quiet as he spoke, "fifty points from Gryffindor." He faced me straight on now. "If I had wanted a know-It-All answer, I would have asked." And for the first time he smiled, but it was a cruel, vicious grin, revealing everyone of is disgusting yellow teeth. "But as irritating as it might have been, you are correct." The mangled smile widened. "Therefore, thank you for informing the class so well. I have no doubt they will have any trouble writing a 10 inch essay on the proper way to kill a vampire, to be turned in by Monday. Class dismissed." He went to his desk.

I turned to see all the dirty looks I was getting. Thankfully, Ron's, Harry's and Hermione's were directed at the professor not at me. The classroom emptied. I told Hermione and the others that I would catch up with them later. So I took a deep breath and walked to Professor Snape's desk. "Um, Professor?" my voice cracked and I blushed. He slowly looked up from his papers.

"What?" He said. The word burned

"I-I'm really sorry Professor. I shouldn't have done that, I-" I didn't know if I should say what I was really thinking, but I did, "I just wanted to- to impress you." It sounded even lamer out loud then it did in my head. He stared at me attentively. "I'm sorry," I said again. "I will never answer a question again, unless you ask me to. I promise."

He sat up in his chair and interlocked his fingers. "Is that all?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," I said. He gestured towards the door. I left the classroom in silent tears.