The Essay
Defence Against the Dark Arts. If you had asked a certain Harry James Potter what his favourite class was anytime from his first to fourth year he would have said it was his favourite class. But then in fifth year Umbridge came along.
She brought with her textbooks and a curriculum designed by the ministry that almost put Hermione Granger herself asleep. So, consequently an illegal school group was formed. The D.A. Dumbledore's Army. Harry ran this group so his classmates and himself wouldn't be unprepared if Voldemort attacked. He was successful in his cause and everyone in the group received top marks on their OWL's in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Then the year ended and Umbridge was fired.
The students went home for the summer holiday's 100% sure that the following year's Defence teacher wouldn't be half as bad. And you can bet, that they were all surprised when they found out that none other then their beloved potions teacher had finally gotten the position of his dreams. Yes, for our trio's sixth year Severus Snape was Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.
"Great. Bloody Brilliant. Suppose you'll keep the D.A. running then Harry?" Ronald Weasley said upon hearing the news. Harry nodded bitterly and not even Hermione said anything about misjudging teachers and such.
Though they did learn from Professor Snape not one Gryffindor student enjoyed it at all. They spent lessons fighting beasts and spells. Duelling each other and memorizing facts. Mistakes previous wizards made were learnt and recited. All and all the classes seemed as if they were run by a drill sergeant rather then a Professor. Only the Slytherins enjoyed the lessons and even some of them found them unbearable.
Not to mention the homework they were assigned. Essays came by the truckload. Many essays at a one time; ones that were to be a minimum of 5 feet of parchment. Hermione was nearly cracking under the pressure, as were the rest of them.
One day Snape assigned a 6-foot essay on 18th century wizard duelling mistakes and another 6-foot essay on 19th century wizard duelling mistakes. Due in two days. Upon hearing this news Pavarti Patil burst into tears and began to hyperventilate. She had to be escorted to the Hospital Wing only to be released the next day still sniffling.
By now, I hope you've gathered that no one is too pleased to have Snape teaching them DADA. What could make it worse? Could it get worse? Ask Harry that and he will say, 'Yes, it certainly can. And it did.' Now what did Snivellus do that made things worse then they already were?
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It was a fine Friday for 6th year Gryffindors. They had had the morning off to work on homework and after lunch went to Charms class. So why did they all wear scowls?
"A perfectly good day wrecked by an over-grown bat," Harry scoffed.
"I know mate, they shouldn't be allowed to lead us on to this being a good day when we have Defence Against the Dark Arts with him," Ron agreed.
"Well, maybe he's sick," Hermione suggested hopefully.
"Hermione, with all do respect, has Snape ever been sick?" Ron asked.
"There was that once, no that was Lupin, remember when, no Flitwick, no he hasn't. But there's a first time for everything right," Hermione concluded.
"Whatever you say Hermione," Harry said as they lined up outside the door in alphabetical order.
A few minutes later a harsh voice sounded, "In!" The students filed in silently and took their assigned seats. 'Nope. Not sick,' Harry thought as he prepared himself for another excruciating lesson.
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It was, finally, then end of the lesson and Snape was once again handing out homework. "One 2-foot essay," everyone's faces brightened at the small length momentarily, "on how you think the Cruciatus Curse would feel like. Due Monday. Dismissed!"
Everyone filed out of the classroom slightly happier then usual with the small essay. Everyone, that is, except Harry. He filed out of the classroom livid. 'He wants me to write on essay on what the Cruciatus Curse feels like? Does he want a detailed description? Or would a comparison due? I could compare a Death Eater to Voldemort. Or an experienced Death Eater to an inexperienced one. Or maybe the curse to watching my parents die over and over again. Know what I could do! I could compare the pain the curse brings to the pain I felt when Sirius f-fell behind the veil. Bitter old traitorous ...' fortunately Harry didn't get to finish his thought.
"Harry, you look angry," Hermione said softly. That did it. He turned on her.
"Think about it," Harry snarled at a now stunned Hermione and Ron. Then Harry stormed off into the common room. He spoke to no one. All weekend Harry thought cynically about the essay and Snape. Hermione and Ron tried to talk to him but each time had their heads snapped off.
At long last Sunday evening came and Harry had still not started his essay. He sat alone in the common room that night staring into the crackling fire. Eventually out of pure exhaustion and fury he wrote his essay and went to bed.
The next day they had Double Defence Against the Dark Arts first. Harry handed in his essay and Snape spent the first half of the class marking them while his class memorized facts about famous duels. When he was done he called for attention, "Class!"
"Yes, Professor Snape sir?" the class chorused.
"I have finished marking your essays and most of them were dismal. I don't know how you people got into this class. However, three essays were pf satisfaction. I will now read them," he said and Harry remembered the first time he did that.
[Flashback]
"I will now read them aloud," Snape announced. A collective groan rose from the class. Snapes eyes flashed dangerously and his wand emitted a loud cracking sound like a ruler snapping on a desk. "10-foot essay on respect," he growled maliciously. The class's eyes widened but no one made a sound.
[End of Flashback]
So, as always the class made no sound when Snape announced the reading of three essays. "The first one is by Miss. Granger." Snape read her essay that went on and on in exquisite detail about how she imagined the curse would be like and how she had never experienced it and hoped she never would. "The next is by Mr. Malfoy."
Harry turned slightly to look at Malfoy expecting to see a smug smirk plastered to his face but instead he was quite pale. And by that I mean paler then normal. Harry returned his attention to Snape as he read Malfoy's essay. It spoke of how he had experienced the curse from his father a lot and how it was one of the worst things imaginable. "The last is by Mr. Potter."
Harry's ears perked and he looked at the Professor slightly interested and taken aback. "Mr. Potter's essay reads:
Professor Snape, to all rules there is an exception. Here is my essay.
What It's Like To Have The Cruciatus Curse Put On You
By Harry Potter.
Like Hell.
The class was stunned and Harry and Snape shared a respectful glance. Snape then dismissed the class without homework. Harry found himself marvelling as he left the classroom. 'Hmm, if Snape and I can share anything respectfully then anything's possible.'
He then ran off to catch up with his friends and apologize. "Merlin, this day may be better then expected," he muttered before yelling, "'Mione! Ron! Wait up!" His two best friends turned around and smiled with happiness and understanding while waiting for their him to catch up to them.
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