Disclaimer: You know how this goes. This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Martin Wadsworth, the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, is of my own creation.

The following is an excerpt from the memoirs of Severus Ares Snape.

September 1, 1982

            Some say life is a journey. From my experience, I can tell you that this is not always the case. Instead of a straight and narrow path I am destined to tread a twisting road that eventually leads back where I began, at Hogwarts. Every stone here is filled with such unpleasant memories. Blasted road.

Forgive me if I may sound a tad callous. I should be grateful for my position, thanking Dumbledore on bended knee for my redemption, but somehow I can't help but curse him for naming me Potions Master. Damn dungeons. Come winter, I'll be freezing my goodies off and that blasted Martin Wadsworth will be cozy in his classroom on the third floor. Damn that man.

This morning I am scheduled for a double session with the third year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Goody. This should be interesting. It's only through divine Providence I will survive this ordeal. I've prepared a will, just for good measure. I half expect a student to blow us all to kingdom come from a potion gone awry. I was always a pessimist.

The first students have begun to filter down the stairway. I can hear them outside my office door. Perhaps I should inscribe "Abandon all hope ye who enter her." above the doorway. Welcome to Hell, I'm your host Lucifer, Mephistopheles, the prince of darkness, king of eternal suffering. Watch your step as you ferry across the river Styx. Be sure to tip the old ferryman. On your right is my beloved three-headed dog, Cerberus. Isn't he precious? Please hold you questions until the end of the tour and enjoy the rest of your day in the underworld of Tartarus.

9:00 sharp. It's time for class to begin. Well, there a motley group, I must say, with the timid Hufflepuffs and the clever Ravenclaws. The nearly wet themselves as I threw open the door. I've always found fear to be a powerful motivator. The look of sheer terror on every face gave me more confidence and reaffirmed the fact that I had total control over them during their time here. They were mindless sheep and I was the Shepard that would lead them through the Valley of Death.

"There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class."

Silence

 "As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle art and exact science that is potions making except for those of you who possess the predisposition."

Silence

"I can teach you to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can teach you to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death."

Then I heard it, a quill scratching on parchment.

"Then again, perhaps some of you have come to class with enough confidence that you need not pay attention."

With proper emphasis on certain words, I frightened the guilty student to put their quill down in shame. Does that ever feel good! I turned away with a swish of my cloak, just of a more dramatic effect. Those acting classes I took years ago are finally paying off.

Fate smiled favorably upon me. The class ran smoothly under my control. The potions lessons from my own school days had been complete and utter chaos. Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew could always cause a disaster that would leave the Slytherins with strange growths on their bodies or various parts of anatomy smaller than they had been. Bloody little terrors they were, but they all got their slice of the vengeance pie.

With class dismissed, I have time for some tea and biscuits. Perhaps I'll pickle some slugs or restock my supply of weasel hair and chicken liver or…what was the phrase Crabbe always used? Oh yes, whatever boats my float. I've never quite figures out what he meant by that. Stupid git.

Severus A. Snape

Note: Whoa. Angsty. I'm usually a happy, humor fic type of gal. Just needed to write some good ol' Sevvie Angst. Part of your recommended fan fiction regimen. I feel a bit sad for the brief Marauder bashing there. Oh, well. It's a necessary evil.

Only one more day of volleyball tryouts left. I guess this was an outlet for my nervousness. My computer crashed last week so I had a brief writing/fan fiction dry spell. *sobs* I'll try to add as much as I can to my previous stories. Can't make guarantees.

Toodles all!