Severus Snape

The dim torchlight cast flickering shadows on the stone walls of the dungeon. The air was thick with the scent of dried herbs, sulfur, and something suspiciously sweet. The fourth-year Gryffindor and Slytherin students sat in pairs, preparing for another Potions lesson.

"Today you will attempt to brew a Calming Potion," Professor Snape said, walking slowly between the rows. His voice was as cold as the north wind, and his black robes rustled like a shadow sliding across the floor.

Harry and Ron, sitting at the same cauldron, exchanged glances. Hermione had already pulled out the parchment with detailed instructions and was carefully chopping valerian.

Snape stopped at their table, leaned over the cauldron and whispered:

"Mr. Weasley, if you confuse valerian root with mandrake root again, the consequences will be... explosive."

Ron swallowed nervously and nodded.

Meanwhile, at the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy, grinning smugly, was adding an extra drop of prickly pear tincture to the potion. Snape, as if by magic, appeared nearby.

"Malfoy, you may think you're an expert, but if the potion foams, you'll be washing cauldrons for the rest of the term."

Draco turned pale and quickly put the bottle down.

Snape continued his rounds, not missing a single movement. His gaze was like X-ray: piercing, all-seeing. Even the most daring students didn't dare whisper or be distracted.

As the potions began to change color, Snape stopped at Neville Longbottom's cauldron. The potion was bubbling and making a suspicious squeak.

— Mr. Longbottom... You must have been trying to brew a potion to communicate with squirrels?

The class giggled, but immediately fell silent under his gaze.