Severus Snape 1

A throbbing headache, like a battalion of garden gnomes drumming in my skull, was the first thing I felt. I opened my eyes slowly, expecting to see the familiar vaulted ceiling of the Slytherin common room, with its greenish light and the murmur of my classmates.

Instead, I saw a dark stone ceiling, austere and cold. There was no trace of the previous night's wild party. The air smelled of an intimidating mixture of old parchment, strong coffee, and a variety of potion ingredients I couldn't quite identify.

I sat up abruptly, immediately regretting it when my head seemed to protest with a muffled groan. I was in a large bed, covered by heavy black sheets. My eyes widened as I noticed the figure sitting in a leather armchair beside me.

It was Severus Snape, my Potions teacher and head of house.

He wasn't looking at me. He was bent over an old-looking book, his pale face illuminated only by the dim light filtering through a crack in the heavy curtains. His long black robe made him look like just another shadow in the already dark room. The only sound was the almost imperceptible turning of the pages of his book.

I froze, panic settling in my chest. What was I doing here? How had I gotten here? I vaguely remembered the party in the common room, my friends' laughter, the bitter taste of some potion someone had offered me... and then, nothing.

Snape turned another page, his gaze fixed on the text. His expression was impassive, as always, but there was a suffocating tension in the air. I wanted to say something, apologize, run away, but my voice felt trapped in my throat.

There were no reprimands, no threats of arrest, not even a disdainful glance. Only the heavy, ominous silence as he continued reading, and I tried to process the surreal and terrifying situation I found myself in.