Potter.
Chapter One
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The Tonic
Professor Severus Snape paced back and forth the stone dungeon, which had become his main abode over the years. His hands were tucked and folded upon each other behind his back, and his wand was gripped firmly in his right hand. His eyebrows were pressed together in contemplation. Jars of curiosities sat upon rows of shelves preserved in clear solution. It made the walls come alive somehow, considering all the curiosities were dead, it was a very unnerving space to be in.
The floor was washed with a gentle green light, and the textures of the stone walls were surreal and hyped up with a green tinge. As Snape marched back and forth, the air would whip the faintly green flamed torches about causing shadow and light to mingle and dance back and forth. Old wooden chests of draws lined the walls neatly, and there were labels written in beautiful calligraphy stating what resided inside them. Frogspawn, skrewt teeth, boomslang, and werewolf claws were but a few of the hundreds of labels adorning the symmetrical draws.
A handsome, heavy oak table sat in the middle of the dungeon. Thick sturdy legs supported it. They were elaborately carved with intertwining serpents – fearsome, and tenacious in appearance. The table was stained with a very dark tint. It was as neatly organized as every other corner of the dungeon was. An area upon the table had been cleared, and was ready to receive an influx of student essays. A pot of ink sat, recently filled – and a raven feathered quill lay beside the pot yearning to be picked up and used. The quill emitted a scathing presence, and no doubt the essays about to receive its nib were going to be harshly criticized.
You could be forgiven for stepping into the atmosphere, and feeling uncomfortable. However, Professor Snape was in his element. In fact he flourished in the grim environment. He very rarely left the dungeon, unless it was to do the bidding of Albus Dumbledore, to attend a staff gathering, take to the quidditch pitch or take potions lessons. His stomach was lurching at the thought of having to leave his dungeon today.
September 1st always meant there would be an influx of new students to deal with. Young, bright eyed bushy tailed students, all looking to embark on their journey to magical accomplishment. A few young minds were worth mentoring and melding, but the majority were worthless and hardly worth all the time and effort – Especially when it came to potions. Very few students stood out in this field, and an outstanding student was few and far between. Severus could barely count the young wizards and witches in training who had taken him by surprise, on one hand. His lip curled, as his stomach gave another horrible lurch.
He sat down in a heavy leather chair, behind the oak table and placed his wand tip to the tabletop. He blinked as he considered which potion to summon: A stomach numbing tonic? Perhaps a peppermint flavored neutralizer? What about a spine tingling pick me up? No. Tonight was the arrival of the new students, and he wanted to cut an authorative demeanor. A stomach numbing tonic would do the trick. Snape lifted his wand from the desk, and pointed at a draw to his left hand side. A draw whizzed open, and a silver goblet came flying out. The goblet sped towards the table, and landed right side up with a light clunk. Snape lifted his wand, and tapped the lip of the goblet. A translucent liquid began filling up the goblet slowly. It bubbled very gently, and had the consistency of runny honey. Luckily for Snape, his talent at potion making meant he was able to concoct most potions with a pleasant taste, and not compromise their healing abilities. He lifted the goblet in his left hand, and downed the contents in several gulps.
It felt like liquid gold to his throat. If there was one comfort in life, it was a potion brewed to perfection. He felt his insides tingle ever so faintly – and before long, he could no longer feel his stomach lurching about uncomfortably as though there were snakes in the pit of his stomach. It was not often Snape had this feeling these days, but he had had it most of his life since he was a young boy. His days as a student at Hogwarts had been the worst; but he often used his stomach trouble as motivation to perfect his potion making. It had paid off handsomely in the end. He was now the potions master at Hogwarts, and hadn’t suffered any physical ailments during adulthood.
It did get a little annoying in winter, when professors flocked to him for protective potions against the common cold. Snape’s Cold Deflecting potion acted as a shield against the common cold, and had a fairly high success rate unless you were as unpopular as the wheezing caretaker Argus Filch. Snape’s fellow professors would do anything to avoid using Madam Pomfrey’s Pepper Up potion, which caused steam to billow from the drinker’s ears. Although the potion cured the common cold, all professors agreed that the potion was extremely disruptive during lessons – at which times students would burst into giggle fits at the sight of a professor steaming away like a kettle.
Snape placed the goblet back down on the table. He watched it gleam by torchlight, as he reached up with his left hand and flicked raven black strands of hair from his face. He placed the tip of his wand to the lip of the goblet and tapped it gently. An odd metallic sound rent the air, as though two pieces of metal had been tapped together. A bright shimmer radiated from the goblet quickly, and it was evident Snape’s cleaning spell had taken to it perfectly. He tapped it once more with his wand, and the goblet rushed back towards the draw it had come from. The draw itself closed with a hurried snap. Snape took a deep breath. Any moment now, the headmaster would surely summon all lecturers and students to the great hall, to prepare for the sorting.
