Morning came, and Hermione clad herself in her potion master robes. The constant reminder to maintain a proper appearance from day to night echoed in her mind. She scrutinized herself in the mirror, ensuring everything was impeccable. She couldn't afford to begin on the wrong foot with Professor Snape, who had made it clear that she needed to prove her worth, a challenge she was determined to meet. Emerging from the bathroom, she stepped into the adjoining living room. Her Professor stood there, clad in his customary billowing black robes, a sneer gracing his lips. Bravely, she cleared her throat and greeted, "Good morning, Professor."
"Welcome to your first substantial challenge, Ms. Granger. Let's hope you manage to impress me today," he replied sharply.
Suppressing a snarky retort, she vowed to prove herself, though his smug demeanor irked her. Rolling her eyes, she left the quarters without waiting for his response, officially perturbed. Her hope for a more cordial relationship with time proved to be yet another disappointment. Entering the Great Hall with her head held high, she focused on the food before her and began to eat.
Five minutes later, Professor Snape took a seat beside Hermione, casting a disapproving glare at the young witch. "I did not dismiss you."
"I am not a child in need of dismissal," she growled in response. She aggressively stabbed at her food.
"I beg to differ," he snarled in a hushed whisper. "You certainly are acting like one. Get a grip. Class will start in less than 30 minutes."
She bristled at his remark. Get a grip? She wasn't the one being patronizing here. Opting to keep her thoughts to herself, she focused on eating her food and sipping her tea, attempting to rein in her anger. The tea gradually eased her anger. With a hesitant sigh, she admitted, "I'm sorry for leaving the way I did. I'm prepared to teach now." She wished her apology would be enough, but Professor Snape was neither forgiving nor patient.
"Look at me," he demanded sharply. When her eyes lifted from her plate and met his dark gaze, she nearly flinched at the anger simmering in its depths. "You will cease this foolish insolent behavior immediately. I granted you leniency last night after you shouted at me, but perhaps I shouldn't have. I am not one of your friends. You will treat me with respect, and when I am addressing you, I expect you to look at me and not withdraw from the room. You are no longer a student. Do you understand?"
As her confidence waned, she mumbled, "Yes, Professor."
Reluctantly, she trailed him out of the Great Hall and into the Potions classroom. This was her moment—an opportunity to introduce herself to the numerous faces awaiting her. Professor Snape busied himself with shuffling papers on his desk and swiftly rearranging the tables to his preference with a flick of his wand. The first years entered, settling into their seats with hushed whispers. Eager to learn, their eyes were fixed on Professor Snape and Mistress Granger.
Professor Snape's stern gaze fixed on the multitude of young faces, and he growled, "Silence!" The subdued whispers subsided, and all eyes turned to the formidable potions master. "Welcome to First Year Potions. As you're well aware, I am Professor Snape. I anticipate nothing short of excellence from each one of you seated here. My apprentice, Ms. Granger, will be imparting her extensive knowledge to you. You will treat her with respect. Is that understood?"
A chorus of "Yes, Professor" echoed through the room as Mistress Granger stepped to the front of the classroom. She cleared her throat and began her welcoming speech hoping it would impress her master and the students in front of her.
"Good day, aspiring potion-makers! My name is Ms. Granger, and I'm thrilled to welcome each and every one of you to your first day in the fascinating world of potion-making. I've spent years honing my skills in this magical art, and now, I'm excited to share my knowledge with you.
Potions have a reputation for being challenging, but with dedication and a keen eye for detail, you'll discover the wonders and rewards that come with mastering this craft. My goal is to guide you through the intricacies of potion-making, encouraging questions and fostering a collaborative learning environment.
As we embark on this journey together, remember that mistakes are part of the learning process. Don't be afraid to ask for help, and always approach each potion with a curious and inquisitive mind.
I look forward to getting to know each of you, and I'm confident that, by the end of the term, you'll have not only brewed some remarkable potions but also gained a deep appreciation for the art and science of potion-making. Let's make this a year of discovery, growth, and magical achievements! Now, any questions before we dive into our first lesson?" As her voice resonated through the classroom, her confidence swelled. This was precisely what she had envisioned: a room filled with eager students, ready to absorb the knowledge she was poised to impart. Her voice got serious, and she began listing the dangers that was potion-making.
"Potion-making is an art form, and not everyone may have the natural aptitude for successful brewing. Numerous magical ingredients pose inherent dangers and mishandling them could lead to unpredictable outcomes. As we'll be working with exceptionally rare ingredients, some of which could be lethal if used improperly, I must insist that you abstain from using your wands for any reason while in this classroom. Refusal to comply will result in detention and may restrict your future access to this classroom. Any questions before we proceed to equipment handling?"
Throughout the class period, her confidence grew steadily. She covered various types of cauldrons, including brass, copper, and pewter. Demonstrating actively, she explained the correct method for setting a cauldron to boil. Emphasizing the importance of the stirring rod, she stressed the need to adhere closely to the instructions outlined in their textbooks. As the class concluded, she assigned the students their inaugural homework task: crafting a 2-foot essay encompassing everything they had learned in today's session.
As the final student exited the classroom, a faint smile adorned her lips. She managed the session successfully, conducting herself appropriately. Glancing towards her professor, who had observed from the sidelines throughout the entire period, she appreciated that he refrained from uttering a single word while she taught—an aspect for which she felt grateful. She contemplated asking him if he found her abilities impressive, nervously biting her lip and shifting from foot to foot as she waited for his response.
"I may not have granted the same freedoms in terms of allowing students to ask questions and collaborate, but, for now, you've surpassed my expectations. It's evident that you're firm in your instructions, and I appreciate your decision to assign homework, providing an opportunity to gauge the students' retention from their initial session," he eventually replied after a full minute had elapsed.
Hermione's slight smile transformed into a broad grin. Even though he hadn't explicitly used the word "impressed," she was content with his response. "Thank you, Professor. I hope to consistently surprise you throughout the year and demonstrate my value."
"The next class is with the seventh years. I expect you to remain quiet at my desk without uttering a word. You're permitted to take notes if you wish but refrain from any interruptions. Under no circumstances are you to assist the students in any way. Is that clear?" he stated with a warning tone.
"Yes, sir. I understand," Hermione replied in a hushed tone. She settled into the designated seat at his desk, retrieving a piece of parchment to jot down her notes. Resolved to be a diligent apprentice, she remained seated as the students poured into the classroom. A fleeting smile was exchanged with Ginny, after which she directed her attention to Professor Snape as he commenced the lesson.
With a gaze as piercing as ever, he commanded the attention of the seventh years who now found themselves under his tutelage. The cauldrons bubbled, and the distinct aroma of magical ingredients filled the room once more.
"Seventh years," he declared, his voice slicing through the silence like a sharp blade. "This is not a gathering for idle chatter or to squander my time. You have chosen to delve into the intricacies of Advanced Potion Making—a subject that demands unwavering dedication, precision, and intellect."
Moving purposefully in front of the students, his black robes swayed with each step, casting an eerie glow on his angular face in the flickering candlelight. "This blackboard," he indicated, "will be the arena where you refine your potion-making skills to absolute perfection. There's no room for mistakes, and mediocrity is simply not an option."
"The seventh year is no time for frivolous pursuits. It is a period of intense study and progression. I demand nothing short of excellence from each one of you. Your N.E.W.T.s won't be a stroll through the Forbidden Forest; they will be a battlefield, and only the most adept will emerge triumphant."
His gaze locked onto each student, penetrating and unyielding. "You are not children any longer. You stand on the verge of adulthood, and the decisions you make within this classroom will carve the path to your future. Approach your studies with the gravity they deserve or brace yourselves for the consequences."
Hermione drew in a breath, utterly captivated as Professor Snape commanded the classroom. It was almost mesmerizing. A peculiar sensation washed over her, and she swiftly averted her gaze, a blush tinting her cheeks. No, I can't find him attractive. Not now. He's my professor. Despite her mind grappling with these conflicting emotions, a subtle sense of admiration lingered beyond her control.
"Today," Professor Snape drawled slowly, "you will be brewing the Draught of the Living Death." A hushed murmur spread among the students, but it was swiftly silenced by Professor Snape's menacing glare. "The Draught of Living Death induces a potent sleep that can endure indefinitely. This potion is perilous and demands the utmost caution... It is an exceedingly hazardous brew. Execute it with the utmost care, a task that any seventh-year should be capable of accomplishing." He pivoted, jabbing his wand at the blackboard, and his sharp script appeared. "You have one hour to brew this potion flawlessly. Do not disappoint me."
Hermione observed intently as the students commenced their ingredient preparation. Despite the urge to assist, she remained firmly seated. Her eyes, however, seemed to have a will of their own. Though she intended to focus on the students' brewing, she found herself irresistibly fixated on Professor Snape. There was an allure about him that she found nearly intoxicating. His speech, his demeanor, and his prowess as a formidable wizard captivated her. She belatedly recognized her mistake. Professor Snape had singled her out to answer a question. Blinking, she responded, "Yes, Professor?"
"Can you enlighten the class on the proper preparation of the sopophorous bean?" Professor Snape demanded, raising an eyebrow at her delayed reply.
"Yes, sir." She promptly stood and continued, "It is more effective to crush the beans with a dagger instead of cutting them. Crushing releases the juice more efficiently." Hoping to avoid further attention, she took her seat, praying he wouldn't call on her again to address the class. She gazed down at her parchment and was horrified to discover that she had doodled his initials in the corner. Swiftly, she made them disappear and feigned jotting down a few notes, attempting to keep herself occupied.
Fortunately for Hermione, the remainder of the class proceeded as anticipated. Students brewed in hushed tones, and Professor Snape prowled around the room, scrutinizing each cauldron with stern critiques. Hermione perked up when he reached Ginny's table. "Ms. Weasley, let's examine your potion, shall we?" He grabbed a ladle and dipped it into the mixture, studying the color with a raised eyebrow. "Not bad. The color appears correct, and the consistency is satisfactory. Five points to Gryffindor," he remarked, cleaning the ladle before advancing to the next table.
Hermione smiled, pleased that Ginny had succeeded with her potion. She also found it surprising that Professor Snape, typically hesitant to award points to Gryffindor, was suddenly more equitable this year. Perhaps the war had indeed brought about some changes in him.
The conclusion of the seventh-year class brought a sense of relief to Hermione as she settled back into her chair. Professor Snape, in his usual manner, vanished the contents of the unsuccessful potions that remained. Feeling a bit daring, Hermione inquired, "Why do you make the first day of class so challenging?"
He turned to her, a dark scowl etched on his face. "They need to grasp that not everything will be handed to them on a silver platter. If they desire success, they must apply themselves accordingly. As you observed, five of them successfully completed the potion, including your friend Ms. Weasley. I'd say that's an improvement compared to the solitary success during your sixth year."
Hermione's cheeks warmed at the subtle jab. She hadn't succeeded in her initial attempt. Opting not to retort, she asked, "What's the next item on the agenda?"
He rolled his eyes and retorted, "Check your schedule. I spent hours preparing it for you."
She muttered the word "git" under her breath and glanced at her schedule. They had an hour for lunch. The first class was only an hour, while the seventh years had a two-hour slot, indicating it was now noon. She wasn't due back in the classroom until 1. Feeling a bit hungry, she rose from her desk and headed to the door. Before she could leave, Professor Snape halted her by grabbing her arm.
"Next time, I expect you to respond promptly when I ask a question, not stare at me like a fifth-year," he replied irritably.
Hermione's eyes widened, realizing she had been caught gawking at him. She cast her eyes downward, avoiding his intense glare. "Yes, sir," she replied meekly. She left the classroom, keeping her head down. Being Professor Snape's apprentice wouldn't be as straightforward as she had anticipated.