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OVER the year, Enoch has developed a dislike for the DADA classroom. He doesn't hate the class, exactly, but the setting itself sets Enoch on edge every time he enters it. Maybe that's the intention, with the dark atmosphere and gruesome paintings, but it's an intention Enoch can't really appreciate. It makes him miss his old DADA classes, in the kitchen (sometimes the garden if the weather was nice), with his mother walking him through them. She had been far more patient than Snape, far kinder.
But, the man did respect his art. That Enoch can appreciate. And, as far as teachers go, his emotions aren't unpleasant; they're dull, as if closed off from him, but he can still sense them. The dark chocolate that rests underneath, the brine and vinegar that comes in small waves, the honey that coats it all but never manages to reach his face. Something akin to the storm he felt in Harry rolls around in the air, the scent of rain coming. But not like Draco's petrichor—this is more of a threat, less pleasant. So, even when the dark man scolds them for not performing as well as he'd like, Enoch can taste the stress behind his words and can't quite bring himself to be as mad as some of the other students are.
"Today, we will be practicing your nonverbal spells. Some of you," Snape sends a purposeful glance to Harry Potter, "Are nowhere near sufficient enough in your spellcasting. Thereforea, this lesson, you will all have an opportunity to duel one another. You may use anything you have learnt in this subject, so long as no spells are spoken. Those that win will move on to duel the other winners; those that lose or utter a spell will have to watch and, hopefully, learn something from those more skilled."
There are some quiet groans from the students around Enoch, not quiet enough to escape Snape's cold stare. Enoch doesn't mind so much; even a year in, learning proper magic in a classroom hasn't quite lost its excitement. Of course, he did plenty of practicals back at home, but it's not quite the same when your partner is a witch with far more skill and experience up her belt. Beating his mother has always been a near impossible struggle, one he's only managed to succeed in once. It's a little easier here, with students around his own skill bracket.
Enoch can't quite tell Snape's method in choosing which students duel who, and in what order. Harry Potter does get chosen early on, singled out because of his decision to whisper to his friends and Snape's very clear dislike towards him. That duel ends within seconds, as a word slips past the Chosen One's lips, deflecting the attack sent towards him.
"Potter, I do believe the point of nonverbal spells is that they are not spoken." The DADA teacher scolds, voice dripping with disparaging venom. The two students are made to sit back down, but there's something stiff in Harry's movements as he does so, a glower on his expression. As Snape chooses his next pairing, the brunet continues to glare at him. Even across the room, Enoch can taste the hint of chilli radiating from him. That hint is enough for him—too much, really—and he moves his focus away.
