A betrayal of a different type

Chapter 21

"Harry Potter !" 

"Here." The aforementioned raised his hand up lazily. He had to work to tone down his smirk as The Sixth years turned to him, gaping. He felt as if he was going to burst out laughing any moment now. Even the Professor couldn't hide a twitch behind the sheet of roll call, though Harry was sure he was the only one who noticed. Only one who could notice, he corrected. It seemed only he was the only one smart to keep his gaze on him. Hermione to her credit kept her pose but couldn't  hide an amused smile. Under normal circumstances she would've found it hard pressed to keep it together, like their Oh, so lovely friend Ron Weasley. Neville looked as if he had constipation. In fact Harry couldn't be sure if it was suppressed laughter or, it was in reality, constipation. He supposed he really didn't want to know.

He winked at Daphne and Blaise who looked so dumbfounded that they would've given Malfoy their own wands if he asked. So much for being the ice princess and assassin's son.

" AAAIIIIEEEEEE!" 

Ladies and gentlemen, effects of a stinging hex. Neville patted the Ravenclaw victim's shoulder, one of the previous gapers.

" Potter! Stop distracting the class! Has fame gone that much to your head that you can't go a single day without your name being worshipped!" 

Harry never appreciated  good of an actor Severus Snape was until now. That didn't mean he still didn't enjoy tormenting his students as Anthony Goldstein, who was rubbing his sore butt, could now tell you. But what begged the question – Why was Snape taking Defence? What happened to Elijah Smith? And he definitely was not Smith pretending to be Snape. He new Snape all too well for that. ( Unfortunately).

" Where's Professor Smith?" Ron asked rudely, as he was known to. 

Snape sneered. " That, Weasley, is none of your business. And 10 points from Gryffindor for asking unnecessary  questions !" 

" I'm impressed he went as long as he did without taking away points" Neville whispered. Hermione choked. " Yes, Longbottom " Snape spat out the name as it were foul to taste. " Would you like to be my next demonstration ?" 

" No sir." he answered politely, with a straight face. 

Snape scowled.

"You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe. Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with N.E.W.T. work, which will be much more advanced." 

He did not hide his glare in the direction of The Gryffindors.  

Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice; the class craned their necks to keep him in view. Harry was reminded of his first potions lesson.

"The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible." 

His voice spoke of the dark arts with such delicacy that Harry himself had to wonder whether that was a part of his cover or did he truly love them.

"Your defences," said Snape, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo.  

Snape pointed around the room. He had imposed his personality upon the room already; it was gloomier than usual, as curtains had been drawn over the windows, and was lit by candle- light. New pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts. Nobody spoke as they settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures.