Times Of Her Blood

Forty Four | Enemies of the Heir

"Can anybody tell me about the structure of a basic potion? What ingredients are common, what ingredients are uncommon. What kind of potions are common and so on," Snape eyed the students as is cloak trailed behind him, billowing out slightly.

He peered over Seamus' desk, eyeing the scribbles on his parchment.

"Something on your mind, Mr Finnigan?" He demanded, "or are we wasting ink for no reason."

Seamus dropped his quill eyes fixed ahead, "No Professor. Sorry Professor."

Snape didn't hide his smirk at the reaction the boy had. He was quite enjoying this batch of Second years. In fact, he'd never had a troublesome year out of first or second years. That is, until two Weasleys, a Jordan and a Black.

They reminded him terribly of a certain four people he'd known a while ago. They sent shivers down his spine even before they began to deliberately wind him up.

Of course, Black was always the worst. Those eyes were what haunted him as she easily taunted him.

It had been the same with Bellatrix Lestrange. She hadn't had the same methods. Laurel Black reminded him of her a lot, though. The hair, the face shape... it was all somehow more similar to Bellatrix. He supposed they were related. All the Blacks looked strikingly similar with very defining features.

He noticed the muggle born raise her hand instantly when nobody else did. He hadn't liked her from the start, either. Gryffindor, muggleborn, friends with the Potter boy he couldn't stand to see everyday.

And then the Weasley. The youngest boy in the family. Thankfully not like his brothers, and yet he still annoyed Snape all the same.

He supposed he shouldn't have been thinking about the red headed evil, or the Black girl.

Because as if by magic, the door to his silent classroom banged open, causing the potion bottles to shake uncontrollably. He frowned at that, noticing that they were tremoring far more than they should have in such a sturdy room.

And then he realised that it wasn't the force of the door, but rather the force of a person.

And there was only one student with enough uncontrolled magic to be able to make an entire room shake.

He spun around, glaring right at a tall red headed boy accompanied by a slightly shorter black haired girl.

"Is there a reason my door has been blown off its hinges?" He tried not to sound irritated. He knew that if either of the two noticed this they'd latch onto it straight away.

Just like two other people had done so many times before.

"Sorry," Laurel looked a little stunned by it herself, grimacing as she closed her eyes and flexed her fingers. Immediately, the rattling stopped.

Snape relaxed a little at that. Though he wasn't going to let it slide, even if it was an apparent accident.

"We've been sent here," the Weasley ran a hand through his messy hair, "By Lockhart."

There was a loud chorus of high pitched sighs around the room. The rest groaned.

Snape watch Laurel, who looked as equally annoyed by the name as he was. Perhaps he had a small amount of respect for the girl after all.

"What does he want?"

The Weasley shrugged his shoulders, and Snape glared, "So why are you here?"

"We need a potion," Laurel sighed, "Lockhart named one, of course," she gritted her teeth, "But it doesn't exist."

"I am sure your Professor knows what he is talking about. He is, after all, far more experienced than a fourth year like yourself in potions."