Snape paced back and forth across his office. He was angry. His dark eyes
were colder than ever before and there was even more of a sneer to his
face, than was normal. He hated the world, and it felt as if the world
hated him right back. How long had he been a teacher at this place now?
Must have been at least a decade. Sighing, in an irritated fashion, he
stopped walking, and leaned against one of the damp, stone walls.
He hated this school and he hated everyone in it, especially that Harry
Potter. He snarled under his breath. In the eyes of Dumbledore and the rest
of the dim-witted lot here, Mr Potter could do no wrong, Mr Potter was a
hero; he would even go as far as to say that they worshipped him; and why?
All because of a bit of luck and an ugly scratch on his forehead.