"Good morning Professor Snape." Severus had barely laid a hand on the back of his usual seat at the head table in the great hall, before he was greeted, the first morning of term. He looked to see who was addressing him and found himself shocked that it was Charity Burbage. The Muggle Studies professor always seemed to shy away from any kind of interaction with him. She seemed to have bought into the rumors and the intimidating manners, and Snape had never felt the need to change that opinion. The fact that she was now striking up a conversation, before he could even eat breakfast seemed very brave of her. He nodded curtly at her then sat, hoping that perhaps she was just trying to be pleasant and that she didn't actually want anything. "If you could spare a few moments, I would greatly appreciate your advice about one of your students."
Carefully, yet firmly placing the tea cup back on the saucer he had just picked it up from, he finally fully looked at his colleague. "Who is it, and who is accusing them of bullying them now."
"Oh, it's nothing of the sort." She laughed a little, but then interpreted his expression to mean that it was far too early in the morning for laughter. "It's just that, well . . ." She seemed too embarrassed to say what was on her mind, but then pushed on. "Well, it's just that she is taking my class at all. It concerns me a bit."
"I wouldn't be concerned if I were you. Whichever third year it is will, without doubt, not be able to handle the criticisms of others in the House and will drop it by next year." He said this calmly and in a matter of fact tone. He wasn't going to sugarcoat the fact that for the most part, no student in Slytherin would be caught dead in Burbage's class. It would be an insult to the woman's modicum of intelligence to try.
"She's actually a seventh year, Anezka." She didn't notice the slight twitch that caused Snape's butter knife to clank against his plate. "She took the course last year too, and I assumed as much as you did. That it was an odd whim she had - she does seem to have those." This statement received no rebuttal from Snape. "But she is signed up to be in my class again this term. It's not that her grades aren't good. Well, that is when she can be bothered to not fall asleep in class, her grades are very good, some of the best in her year."
"Then I fail to see the problem, other than her poor attitude and participation in the class, which, unfortunately we have all been suffering from. If I could help you with that I would not have the same problems myself." Again, embarrassment seemed to be holding Charity back, but she pressed onwards.
"Well, I can't help but question her motivation in taking the course."
"No doubt she is looking for an easy O on her Newts." Once again, the woman's honesty was met with an equal, but far more blunt variety. The comment clearly hit a sore spot, but Professor Burbage glossed it over, and mostly managed to not hide her brief frown.
"You may be partially correct - she does seem to have a very clear understanding of Muggle life . . ." He wanted to point out that the fact that she had lived amongst muggles for many years might have something to do with that, but he didn't want to encourage the woman to keep talking. Not only was he not accustomed to conversation over his toast and tea, he didn't particularly cherish having a conversation about a student that he was already trying his hardest to not think about.
"But if that is the case, why does she often take on more work than I require." This did give Snape pause. Even in his own class, a subject that she clearly excelled at and had a passion for, she never did more than the assigned work, not that he would be so foolish as to actually give a grade to unassigned work. It was very unlike her to put in more effort than was needed. The fact that she embodied the idea of 'work smarter, not harder' was one of the few traits he admired about her.
Before he could ponder the fact that he had just used the term 'admired' in relation to Miss Sova, Charity continued her prattling. "For example, for our final projects last year the students were to do an essay on a piece of Muggle literature they had been reading throughout the year. They were to write about the plot and the themes, how they can be applied to Magical life, etc. They were only assigned four pages. She turned in twelve. And all twelve pages were very . . . intense. I feel like she has read the book she chose before."
"Again, I am failing to see how this really has anything to do with me. The student happens to be in Slytherin, that is my misfortune. She happens to be long winded when it comes to discussing trivial fiction and that is your misfortune."
The woman finally seemed at her wit's end trying to get the advice she sought from Severus. "Please, Professor, would you mind terribly reading over the report she wrote? I've been obsessing over it all summer holiday and I really need someone's fresh perspective on it and I can think of no one better."
With a resigned sigh, knowing that the woman would most likely not take no as an answer, he gave a nod and an eye roll. "Very well. Have it to me by no later than dinner tonight. This will be the only night of the year that I won't be busy correcting my own returned schoolwork."
"Thank you . . . Severus." She paused before trying his name, and had to swallow a startled chirp when she heard him huff angrily at her use of it. "I will have one of the prefects take it to your classroom." She said, then turned to say her good-mornings to Professor Sinistra.
Making a summary sweep of the table full of his students, he couldn't help but notice the scene being caused by a yelp and a clatter towards the far end of the benches. Being able to hazard a guess what - or rather, whom - was causing the disturbance, he wasn't all surprised to see Anezka pulling herself up off the floor. Not being able to hear the conversation, all he could surmise was that she had tripped over her shoe laces as if she was a toddler. This was confirmed when he saw the dark haired Argent twin cast a knotting charm at her classmate's feet.
Settling into a seat, Anezka began to absentmindedly charm some cream and sugar into a cup of coffee with one hand, while the other scribbled in a small journal. Her attentiveness to her writing caused him to be suspicious. She hadn't been to any class yet so she had no late homework to be working on, and he could think of no other reason for her to be putting effort into a project over breakfast.
The teasing laughter that haunted him pealed quickly in his mind, telling him that he really was too suspicious and that the poor girl could not catch a break with him, and he would be suspicious of her no matter what she did.
After her less than graceful entrance, Anezka found a seat between Jade and Gretchen, and immediately set to her self-assigned task. The small, leather bound journal she had been writing in on the train was now sitting in front of her and her brow furrowed over it as much now as it had been the previous evening.
"Tournament or not, this year is going to be absolutely wretched without Quidditch." Jade whinged slightly, pausing from picking apart a croissant.
Anezka's small nose went even more upturned then it naturally was. "You are telling me! My sales are looking at a forty-five percent decrease because of it." She was crunching the numbers and was very displeased with the projections.
"Aw, I imagine that there won't be as much need for bruise salve." Onyx chimed in, sympathetically.
"Christ!" Coffee sloshed all over Nezza's hand as she heard this and she twitched angrily. "I hadn't even accounted for that drop in sales! That was just the Felix Felicis the teams won't be needing anymore."
"Which team has been cheating by using Liquid Luck?" Jade gasped, delightfully shocked.
"Pfft . . . you'd be better off asking which one doesn't. Slytherin started it to get the edge over Gryffindor. Gryffindor figured that if Slytherins already broke the rules, they are allowed to also, although admittedly, not the entire team partakes, or even knows. Ravenclaw then found out and went all mind over matter about the issue and decided that it was alright because if they were all using Felix, the effects would negate each other and it was the only way it would become fair again. The Hufflepuff team was the only one that stood on principle and refused to buy in. Said it was cheating and they didn't want to win that way,"
"Is that why you were always rooting for them last year?" Nezza nodded, mouth full off oatmeal. "Yeah. I figured they have to be pretty damn good to be keeping up at all with a bunch of potioned-out, doping cheats."
"You know, some people would give them the leg up by not selling their opponents the potion in the first place."
"Those people don't have a business to run."
"Well, we better hurry up or we will be late for Transfiguaration." Jade said, pushing back her plate and making a move to stand, not even noticing Anezka pause before even being able to take her first bite of baked beans on toast. She, along with Onyx and Gretchen also stood, although she was the only one who charmed some cling-film around her breakfast and stashed it in her bag.
As they all walked down the centre aisle of the hall, towards the door, she felt a pair of eyes boring into the back of her neck. Glancing casually over her shoulder, she noticed Snape staring at her. Last night had been the first time she had encountered him since the ball at the Argents'. He hadn't been in attendance at the Quidditch World Cup, and while his name had been on the invitation list for the post-game party, she highly doubted he would have attended, even if the party hadn't been cancelled.
In the last fourteen days, she had thought a lot about that interlude with him under the stairs. She still didn't know why she had said what she did - any more than she ever knew her own motivation for half of the things that flew out of her mouth, bypassing her brain entirely. Worse still, was when she had called him a 'looker' in front of Jade and Onyx" But said it she had, and after years of attempts, she had quit trying to self-analyze, giving it up as a lost cause, and instead preferred to question his reactions.
Never once, in the entire exchange, had he told her to leave. Never had he implied that her company was any more tedious than anyone else and the only time the masterfully masked, yet obvious to those familiar with it, look of complete annoyance and anger didn't flash in his dark eyes until her awful grandmother showed up. Eleanor Myriddan was enough to make anyone miserable, so that didn't much signify. Most telling of all, though, was his reaction. She couldn't quite tell if it was shock, amusement, disgust, or . . . embarrassment. Perhaps a combination of all of the above.
By now, the girls had reached McGonagal's classroom and Nezza had collapsed into her regular seat from the year before, and had already taken up her half slouched position of trying to make it appear that she was paying attention. It had certainly been a combination of all, embarrassment not being the least. And there had been a similar reaction when she was getting yelled at by him the previous evening. Embarrassment is what confused her. Sure, having a student be so cheeky must be a bit unsettling, but he's been teaching for over ten years, surely some student must have gotten a crush on him at some point, despite him being a mean, standoffish, prick. There was no accounting for teenaged girls hormones, and while he certainly wasn't classically good looking, he was no Quasimodo either, and there were girls who were never to be on the cover of Playwizard themselves that certainly wouldn't pass him up.
"Miss Sova, perhaps you could answer the question?" Professor McGongal's harrowing voice knocked Anezka back into reality and she immediately went into defensive mode.
"I need to go to the loo." She said instantly, realizing that she had no clue what question she was supposed to be answering.
"I understand the Professor Lupin deviated from standard curriculum last year and went over the Unforgivable curses, is that correct?" Professor Moody had barely said hello to his students, and certainly didn't bother to introduce himself, but he was already getting enthusiastic responses to his question. "Although, I would hazard to say that he only went over the theory, never actually bothered showing you what they look like, now did he?"
Again, some said the answers out loud, others shook their heads. "Well, that's better than most, but it leaves the curriculum for you, rather skint. But don't you worry, I've seen the likes of which is too terrifying and too dark to be put in any school book." An excited shiver went through the class. "This year, we will be going more in depth into the Unforgivables, what they look like, and how to protect yourself against them. After that we will be covering lesser known dark magic and curses."
Gretchen's hand shot up rather quickly at this. "Aren't we supposed to also be covering the Patronus charm this year Professor?" She looked both confused and pleased with herself that she was the only one who noticed this listed in the year's textbook index.
"Patronus charm?" Moody scoffed. "Worried about dementors are you? You trust me, there are far worse things out there to fret about then mere dementors."
Most students seemed impressed to be in the presence of such a strong, revered wizard, who could so glibly shrug off the fear of Dementors as "mere". Anezka, was not so easily star struck. She wouldn't mind learning the Patronus charm, but she also knew it wasn't the only way. The alternative, an outcropping of the art of Occlumency, always seemed a more reliable procedure to her. You might not always be able to focus on something happy enough for a reasonably strong patronus, but if you were strong minded enough and trained enough, you should be able to shield any happiness or other human emotion from the joy-sniffing floating freaks. But once again, Anezka found herself being pulled from her own internal monologue, suddenly discovering she wasn't sure what the rest of the class was talking about.
"So what IS the darkest form of magic, in your opinion, Professor?" Edmund Lamorack, a Slytherin seventh year, who could only ever dream of being a great wizard, dark or otherwise, seemed more than a little interested.
"Well, if you must know, lad, there is a branch of magic so unreliable, so wild and so violent that even if the user intends to do good with it, the results are often catastrophic and tragic." Moody shuddered and shook his head, while the class waited with baited breath. "Even I have never . . . seen many wizards stupid enough to attempt a dark curse or spell using Imperfect Magic."
"What's Imperfect Magic?" A tall, ginger Hufflepuff who shared their class asked, so entranced and excited that he forgot to raise his hand.
"What's Imperfect Magic you ask? Well, if you are asking that, I guess you wouldn't know that any spell or charm," Moody paused and flicked his wand, charming a grindylow to shoot out of the tank that it was swimming in and to start floating through the air. "Or curse," Again he flicked his wand and suddenly the creature burst into flames. "That every Witch or Wizard uses is called 'Perfect Magic'. Perfect magic comes from within us. It's a naturally born trait, just as birds can fly and fish can breathe underwater. There is nothing we can do to rid ourselves of it if we were born with it, just as there is nothing we can do to gain it if we weren't"
Anezka knew the truth of this all too well. She had lost count of the nights spent awake listening to her mother scream at her father, to just cast a spell to make her magical. Likewise, she lost count of the books read, herbs grown, potions taken and countries traveled to in an attempt to find an answer.
"If you have magic, as long as you make an effort to learn how, you can control these skills, use them to your benefit and rely on it. Just as you don't see birds being forced to fly against their will, you will seldom see a grown wizard have bouts of unintentional magic. This is 'Perfect' Magic. Now, there are some that think that Magic is a gene, a genetic mutation, some sort of evolutionary adaptation, that has developed over the millennia and is now handed down through families. But, as history tells us that there have been magical folk as long as there has been a walking, talking muggle, so this seems to be only partially correct. Others feel that magic is just a natural variation within a species, just like there are different colours of the same flowers. There is a third theory. This states that magic, is like an element. It is in the atmosphere, in the earth, it is like an energy. Sometimes creatures are born, having this energy embedded inside of them, sometimes not. But not having it born inside of you, doesn't stop it being in the world around us."
"So . . . Magic is like the Force?" All eyes turned Anezka, confusion crossing all faces, not excluding Moody. "You know, THE FORCE. A long time ago, galaxy far far away, 'Energy field created by all living things, surrounds us and penetrates us, binds the galaxy together'. . . the Force? Han Solo? Chewie . . " Her ramblings slowed, and she ended them with a vain impersonation of a Wookie that just sounded like a drowning Yeti. "You all are pathetic." She shook her head, and slouched back into her seat.
Trying to act as if this interruption never happened, Moody continued. "Imperfect Magic is when one tries to tap into the untamed magic of the universe rather than the Perfect Magic, born within them."
"Why would anyone want to do that?" The Hufflepuff scoffed, thinking it sounded absolutely silly.
"For the promise of untold depths of power. Many believe that Imperfect Magic could be stronger and you don't have to be a dark wizard to want that."
Now Lamorack's ears perked up. "Then why doesn't everyone use it."
To this, Moody tutted and shook his head. "It's wild, that is why! Perfect magic is something you can control. Imperfect magic has a will of it's own, and seldom will do anyone's bidding. Others, that might be egotistical or stupid enough to think that they could harness this power, will avoid using is because they dislike the non-exclusive nature of it. Anyone can tap into Imperfect Magic."
Jade's nose wrinkled. "Even Muggles?"
"Even Muggles."
"That is impossible!"
"Is it?" Moody scoffed at this statement from Edmund. "Tell me boy, ever heard of VooDoo?"
"You mean that rubbish stuff from all those stupid Muggle films? Zombies and the lot?" No one dared ask what a pure-blood snob had been doing that he knew anything about muggle films, because Moody's laughter was so divisive it was startling.
"We live in a world where Inferi are a documented fact, but you want to believe Zombies are a muggle make-believe? What's the difference between what you know of the muggle Zombie tales and an Inferius?" The boy's smug smile dimmed quickly. "Now, I am not saying they are the same thing. It stands to reason that if it was a different kind of magic that summoned them, they wouldn't be the same kind of creature. But of the fifty-some noted accounts of so-called 'zombie' outbreaks in the muggle world for the last three thousand years, only five are documented cases of Inferi. And Voodoo and Zombies aren't the only odd occurrence. There are any number of people in the muggle world that claim the title witch for themselves. Usually, the worst thing they can do is smother people with too much incense or own too many black cats, and making odd stews of random ingredients in little cauldrons. But there are some, not magical born, that can make things happen. The theory of Imperfect Magic states that anything they can accomplish is because they are drawing power off the universal magic."
"But if they are only trying to do good things, how can this be Dark Magic?" Gretchen was so thoroughly confused by all this lecture he nose was permanently wrinkled.
Moody tried to curb the annoyed sigh, but didn't have much luck, only managing to smother it by taking a swig from a flask that was sitting on his desk. "It's true that in Perfect magic, intention has something to do with whether or not a spell works - they only way to make an Unforgivable Curse work correctly is to mean it, to poor malice and ill-will into them . . ."
"Too feel the hate flow through you?" Nezza quipped with a sardonic grin. No one laughed at this allusion but her, and she didn't mind. She felt vindicated in her original assessment that magic, as Moody was describing it bore striking similarities to something out of a film that was as old as she was.
Again, she was ignored by Moody, who just went on with his explanation. "Imperfect magic is different because no matter what you 'intend' the outcome is completely beyond your control. You could work a charm to make someone no longer ill, and the charm would work itself out by killing the person who was ill. If they are dead, they are no longer ill, so the charm worked, but you intention was to make them better. That is why it is called 'imperfect'. Imagine the terrible repercussions if someone wanted to work a dark spell!"
"Well, if it can do dark when you want it to do good, why couldn't it maybe do good if you had meant it for bad?" Anezka once again made an observation that she felt was obvious, but all it earned her was more dumbfounded stares, as if she had just said the most unfathomable thing.
Snape had forgone lunch, preferring instead to enjoy the hour of quiet and solitude. He had Seventh year double potions after that and he dreaded the class. His mood had been soured by a second year spilling his entire cauldron of Swelling solution all over himself and four other students, and now, trying to teach his last class how to brew Veritaserum was the furthest thing that he wanted to do.
There was about another half hour until the class was scheduled to start, so he was more than a touch irritated when a student appeared in the abandoned classroom and approached his desk."Professor Snape, sir?"
"What." He growled angrily, looking up from the book that he was reading, to notice that it was the sixth year Hufflepuff Prefect, Diggory, standing in front of the desk.
"Professor Burbage asked me to bring this to you, sir." In classic Hufflepuff fashion the boy remained respectful despite Snape's less than enthusiastic reception. Silently, the tall boy handed a bundle of papers to the professor, then wished him a good day and left.
Severus had completely forgotten that he had agreed to look at Sova's essay for Charity Burbage, and seeing her appallingly sloppy handwriting made his temples pound. He tossed the papers aside, deciding that he was not prepared to deal with her thoughts on some book, just yet. He had yet to figure out why he had agreed in the first place. Instead, he turned his attention back to the treatise on the uses of Dragon Blood in brewing. The time flew by far too quickly and students started meandering their way into his classroom, still jovial and overly-social from their free time during the afternoon meal. Two hours in his classroom would certainly destroy that, and he didn't hesitate to start the process. "Our first class hasn't even started, but you all seem content to be late and disruptive. You will take your seats quickly, and quietly." He said, standing from his desk.
The students complied fairly quickly, except for Anezka, who had wandered in last and was randomly crooning some muggle song to herself as she walked. "Miss Sova!" The girl looked up startled to hear herself addressed. "As all of the earmuffs in the castle are requisitioned by the greenhouses I demand that you cease that noise before all of our eardrums are punctured."
Of all things, the disturbingly strange girl smiled where others would frown, or fight back tears. She dropped her bag to the floor then kicked it casually under the table and collapsed into the chair. With a few wand movements, Snape had the instructions for the days lessons were scrawled across the chalkboard, and with a few barked orders, he set the students to their work. He knew most would struggle with Veritaserum. It was not an easy potion and required careful timing and a rapt attention, none of which even these NEWT level students had.
He circled the room as the students worked, watching with a hawk-like glare, never offering assistance but being more than ready with the criticisms, all the while, listening to all the conversations going on amongst the young ones. Amazingly, despite the potion's complexity, most of the time passed without incident, but Severus was not so foolish as to breath easily just yet. The last phase of the brewing, before it had to ferment for a month, was the most complicated, and often where catastrophe hit. As he reached the back of the room, he heard a slow, lazy voice that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "You see, Rossi," Anezka was slowly dropping Deer's Tongue Seed into the bubbling cauldron whilst her partner was crushing the copal resin in a mortar. "The trick to making a great potion is timing . . . Oh bloody fuck! It's burning, it's burning. Quick, quick, hand me the silver spoon so I can stir it! SHIIIIT!" The last word was said loud enough that the entire class looked up startled.
Snape arrived behind the girls shoulder just as the pewter cauldron's bottom cracked, leaking the liquid into the flame. Luckily, nothing in the brew was combustible, so he contented himself to observe for a moment. He had never seen such a mishap befall the girl and he found himself strangely curious to see what her reactions would be. With a quick dexterity, she extinguished the flame with a flick of the wand, and summoned a large sea sponge from her bag on the floor and used it to absorb the oozing potion, all the while taking no notice of the Professor lurking behind her. It took Rossi tugging on her jumper sleeve for her to finally take her attention away from her mess. "Yes? Can I help you? Nothing to see here. . . " She tried to sound nonchalant as she hid the sponge from Snape's view. He waited for a moment, one eyebrow raised until suddenly she hissed and tossed the sponge onto the table. "Damn that is HOT!"
"Finish cleaning this mess up, and plan on staying after class until you have brewed the potion correctly. Rossi, you are exempt, as clearly she botched this assignment on her own."