Chapter 2: When a subject becomes totally obsolete we make it a required course.
Double Potions, Fridays. Slytherins, Griffindors.
Harry Potter et al.
She could understand why her elder brother .... um.... (Oh why mince words?) hated this class. With gloating Malfoy and his old school-boy nemesis's look-alike, what was there to adore? Sevi did have his limits. And with Voldmort's return, the fact that he didn't have Longbottom anymore was probably the only thing that was keeping him sane.
Oh, they weren't that bad a lot, she mused 2 months into term. Just that each class was a lesson in futility. There was no way that Luci's little clone, Draco, was going to evolve enough to brew glory, stopper death and all those other neat little things. The Granger girl had started to learn that digesting a book was not everything. Potter, of course, was only passing because Granger hissed instructions in his ear.
"Remember, do not add the thyme until the foam had reached the edge." Rowena watched the class through the steam of over 20 cauldrons. She waited, listening to the silence, only a faint shimmering to be heard.
As the class brought up each of their beakers, she murmured to Weasley, "At least you didn't blow this one up."
He gave her a wane smile before fleeing. The door closed behind him, locking her in the silence of the dungeons.
"Professor?"
She looked up surprised. Harry Potter stood at the back of the room, cloaked in the shadows. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"
"May I ask you a question?"
Rowena Snape felt her personal walls slam down. "You may ask, Potter. I make no guarantee of an answer," she answered, trying not to sneer.
Harry's eyes narrowed. "Where is Professor Severus Snape?"
"As Professor Dumbledore stated quite clearly at the beginning of the year, Professor Snape is on an extended assignment for the Ministry." Her voice was as cool as a zombie's, her eyes only a little more alive. "If there is nothing else..."
Potter shook his head and left without voicing his opinion. Rowena Snape nodded and quietly went back to her marking. She had taken to avoiding the Friday dinners. The hustle of the student population was overwhelming for her, she who was by choice a loner. Crowds were not her forte. She grew up with older siblings who were either at Hogwarts, Durmstang or had jobs outside the family's influence.
As she closed the door to the Potion Master's office Rowie slipped off her cloak. The rains had drenched her from her last trip to Hogsmeade. "Why can't we get a Portkey or something?" she muttered, turning to stretch the cloak over the fire.
"Sister."
She yelped. "Sevi, don't do that. At least clear your throat or something." She sank down in front of the fire.
He scowled at her nickname, but otherwise ignored it. 20 odd years and he hadn't been able to stop her from using it. One more argument wasn't going to change much. "I need you to Owl me a box of potions from my stores. The...ah."
"The creative inventory ones?" she asked, eyebrow raised.
"Yes. It seems I'm getting assignments 2nd hand now." Severus's face, floating in the fire, showed his digust with such arrangements.
"It's an improvement," she said, getting quill, ink and parchment.
"I'm not it is." He paused, and then began to list items.