Chapter 4

The Potions Master, Severus Snape, sat at his desk and watched chattering students fill his classroom. 'Urgh.' He thought in disgust. 'Annoying Gryffindor second-years. Great. Just what I need.'

One particular girl caught his eye. Short and skinny, with lime green hair. She came straight to the front, and sat right beneath his overly long and hooked nose.

She was a new student.

Snape glanced at his roll. Delia Feyt. The Professor's lip curled, as she smiled innocently up at him. 'Clearly a brainless little git,' he sneered inwardly. 'She isn't even scared of me!'

Presently, Professor Snape stood. In a record time, the class before him grew silent. Looking down at them with distaste, he addressed the children, "Welcome to your second year at Hogwarts. Hopefully this year will be more successful than the last, but with you lot of dunderheads, I dare not hope.

"Andrews…" Snape started to call the roll. When he reached the F's, the man paused. In a poisonous whisper, he began, "Ah, yes, our new pupil.

"Feyt!" his tongue lashed out. "What do you make by dissolving a unicorns hair in dragon saliva?"

Delia Feyt smiled trustingly at him, and chirruped, "A potion strong enough to melt a diamond, sir. And speaking of hair, sir, I think it's about time you did something more interesting with yours. It's that really icky brown colour!"

Immediately the cold dungeon filled with amazed and excited whispers. Completely dumbfounded, Snape sat down heavily in his chair. Never before, never, in all his time at Hogwarts, had a student spoken to him like that- much less a second year Gryffindor! In little more than a hoarse gasp, the Potions Master asked, "You think I should do something with my hair?!"

"Yes!" exclaimed Delia earnestly. She stood up, and started walking around the teacher and his desk. Inspecting him seriously, the girl added, "I think you could get some blond highlights, or maybe red or purple. And definitely get some better shampoo!"

Severus Snape looked as though he was having a fit. He blinked repeatedly, and his thin lips trembled. The kids watched with interest as their hated teacher's face turned first white, then red, then a mottled purple.

Finally he snapped. Leaping up in a towering rage, Snape roared (spraying spittle everywhere), "Get out! OUT!"

The poor students were only too eager to comply.