disclaimer: I don't own the characters, I created the story. I dreampt it. Try to imagine the situation in your head.
Oh, and the professor is out of place, sorta. He's at the wrong time, but that's because I don't know who the previous potions master was.
'Twas a beautiful spring day, well, as beautiful as it gets when Snape is the teacher for your next class: potions. The students gathered inside the classroom located in no other place than the cold, creepy dungeons of Hogwarts to find a professor they had not expected. Actually, neither of them had ever seen this tall, dark man before, and they all wondered what he was doing there. "Good afternoon, class. Sit down." He harshly told the students. "I am the replacement teacher for a few more days, seeing as your usual professor S-...Snape could not attend." "What's wrong with 'im?" A blonde teen dared, briefly raising his hand. "I never gave you permission to talk. Shut up, all of you. And copy down the notes." He flicked his wand, turning back toward the blackboard. Instantly, bright white letters carved themselves at the speed of light on the dark surface of the board, forming today's lesson. The kids reluctantly took out their notebooks, quills, and ink bottles and started scratching the parchments set out in front of them, on their desks.
Barely half an hour had passed and most of the students had already been kicked out of class or had recieved a week's worth of detentions, only for having disturbed the calm atmosphere. Therefore, there was complete silence for very long periods of time. Highly unusual for these Gryffindor students.
One of the teenagers present had long finished writing down what she had to and was doodling some abstract version of a bird she'd seen on her windowsill only this morning. She, of course, being the perfect student, hadn't been sent out, but was getting terribly irritated at the many rambling-ons of this tall...monster. "He's giving me a headache..." She whined, glancing sideways at her friend. "I'm going to DIE if I have to bear him for any longer!" She replied, obviously feeling the same way. "Hold on." She continued, a smirk creeping up on her face."Create a distraction. I've got a plan." " 'Kay... Sir?" She asked, getting up from her seat and moving to the front of the room. "What's...this word mean?" "Uh-That's an ingredient. A Rimpledud." "Never seen one. D'you think you could describe it for me?" She picked up a chalk and handed it to him. "Uh- sure." The replacement turned to the board, his back facing the classroom, and the door.The girl took the opportunity and slipped out the door, unseen.
"Professor!" She shouted, running into Snape's office, where she knew he'd be. He was never sick, and the only reason he'd miss a day or two would've been to work on some inventions of his. The greasy-haired man stood up, startled. "What're you doing out of class!?" "The replacement teacher...he's ... he's nuts! He's kicked out half the students and gave the other half detentions for a month!" "Hold on, I'm coming." He stuffed the papers in his drawer quickly and followed the girl down the hall, into the mostly empty classroom.
"Alright, Sir." Snape said to the tall man leaning over someone's desk. He straightened himself and cleared his throat, standing way higher than the original potions professor. "You know, the only way to really relax in these cases," Snape continued, walking forward and leading the other to the chair behind the desk at the front of the classroom. "Is by getting a nice brain massage." The replacement teacher sat down, perplexed. "Do you not like brain massages, sir?" "uh-ye-yes." "Calm down, take a deep breath… that's it…" Snape cracked his fingers and fiddled softly with the dark man's scalp. He fell asleep only seconds later. "Class dissmissed. I'll be back tomorrow." Without complaining, the remainder of the teenagers left, heading for the Great Hall to meet up with their friends.
In one corner of the Hall, two boys were surrounded by an agglomeration of fangirls demanding autographs. "They're SO cool." Resounded a voice beside the smart girl who had made her way up after thanking the professor. Her friend, also a fan of James Potter and Sirius Black joined her hands above her heart, on her chest. "They're pathetic." The other replied, rolling her eyes, and pushing her deep red strands out of her face. "They're engorged in their own popularity, and they'll stop at nothing for attention. They're SO arrogant. Absolutely detestable." She finished, nodding. "Absoltuely gorgeous, though. You have to admit they're good looking." "Oh, God-like." She answered thenlaughed sarcastically. She turned away, sickened by all that blabbering about quidditch, this oh-so-useless sport.
Ah, this is more like it. The girl noticed the new edition of Witch Weekly in the hands of one of her friends. She yanked it away and flipped through the pages. Gilderoy Lockhart, young and sexy on the front cover, caressing a new edition of some broomstick and winking every five seconds, obviously enough. She stopped at an interesting title: What's New & What's 'In'. Snitch-shaped lighter; for your fast smoking breaks, a few un-original gadgets, and at the bottom of the page, for only a few gallions, a pair of Dorothy's red shoes; one tap, and you're never late for class again. "Thanks." She handed the magazine back to her friend. Itd be nice to clap your heels together and re-appear somewhere else.
She climbed a few stairs, heading for the Gryffindor common room. "I wouldn't go up there if I were you." A voice called after her. "Don't tell me what to do, Black." She whirled around, frustrated. How dare he give her an order and act all…Sirius-ish.
Only seconds it took for her to realise, however, the reason she should've listened to his advice. The staircase had been hexed (by none other than The Marauders, obviously) with a cleaning potion, and they were still slippery and wet. She lost her grip and fell down, hitting her head nice and hard on the corner of the stairs.
She woke up a few hours later, maybe minutes, or days, whatever, she didn't know.Where was she? The library? Still in the Hall? The common rom? The familiar voice of Madam Pomfrey relaxed her a bit. She was lying in a bed, in the Hospital Wing.The nurse, Pomfrey, an aging lady with a seriousdisapproval ofwhat she called"Teenage-hood". No doubt it was a real word, although she was the only onewho'd found a use for it so far.She wasranting on and on, as usual, about those crazy teenager ideas. "Always…blame…honestly, who do they think they are… going about…dangerous things… and I have to take care of them…it's their fault…why would they risk… don't know what they're risking anyway…...Ah! You're awake." The girl groaned as Pomfrey fetched a piece of chocolate and attempted to stuff it in her mouth. She blacked out, once again.
The End! Review (pretty) please (with a cherry on top)