Author's note: for disclaimer, please see chapter 1

Chapter 02:

When the students arrived in the Great Hall the next morning, it was easy to see that the arrival of the new Professor Snape had been discussed for a long time in every common room, except for Slytherin's. While they looked wide-awake and happier than they'd been in a long while, the rest of the students clearly hadn't had enough sleep. They were constantly yawning and some of them seemed to have trouble staying awake. Neville even literally fell asleep over his breakfast and only Hermione's attentiveness prevented him from falling face down in a bowl of porridge.

When they had gotten their timetables, the trio checked them to see what their day was going to be like.

"Fuck, fuckity fuck fuck!" Ron exclaimed.

"Ron!" Hermione scolded, looking angry. "Don't use that sort of language in front of everyone. You still have to set an example for the first years', even if you aren't a Prefect anymore."

Ron shrugged and said: "You'd say exactly the same thing if you were me. Have you checked your timetable yet? We have double Charms and double Potions this morning. Not really a good start of my day, two Snapes in a row."

"That may be so, but that still doesn't mean you have to use that kind of language," Hermione bristled. "Besides, no-one put you up to taking Potions. You did that all by yourself when you decided you wanted to become an Auror."

On the other side of the castle, Professor Severus Snape was getting himself worked up for his annual "bottle fame, brew glory" speech, or, as he sometimes called it in the privacy of his own mind, the "scare the first years' shitless" speech. It was never very difficult for him to get himself in the right frame of mind. In fact, it had always sort of come naturally to him to be pissed off at his students. This year he had had even less trouble getting worked up, thanks to his "little brother" (he was Sylvester's senior by 13 minutes). Severus couldn't begin to imagine what had possessed Dumbledore when he had decided to hire Sylvester, but it was even more difficult for him to understand why Sylvester had felt the need to accept the job. If the boy had any luck he'd survive the first week, but Severus was sure Sylvester wouldn't last much longer.

But what angered Severus the most was that Sylvester seemed to want to lay a personal claim on Severus's evening hours. Over the years Severus had gotten quite attached to those solitary moments in which he would read up on new developments in potion making, or would go for a stroll. Last night at the feast, however, Sylvester had been insisting they spend their evenings together. "For old times' sake," Sylvester had said. Severus had answered that he'd rather eat scorpions than spend one evening in the company of his brother.

As he was busy recalling this, he walked down towards the dungeons. He smiled grimly when several first years' jumped several feet as he slammed the door. Let the games begin, he thought as he took a deep breath.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. "There will be no foolish wand waving in this class, so many of you will find it difficult to believe this is magic. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew gl-" Severus broke off as the door of the classroom opened.

"Good mo-"

"WHAT do you think you are doing here Sylvester? You are interrupting my class," Severus fumed. "Unless someone has died, remove yourself from this room before I dso it for you."

Sylvester looked slightly taken aback. As he moved to leave the classroom again, he muttered something about coming back later.

Severus couldn't resist yelling: "Appointments must be made at least 24 hours in advance!" at the retreating figure. Still very angry, he snapped back at the students. "Get your quills out and copy down what I'm about to tell you. NOW!"