Undefeated

Severus Snape

The classroom was filled with mind numbing first years, whose vocabulary only consisted of how great they were. Pathetic, children are a useless excuse of a living being. Unable to comprehend the complexities of incantations and life itself. Instead here they sit with high opinions of there own individual being. I wonder who placed them on high pedestals, probably their parents. Each one thinking their child is the greatest gift to the world, the one to end war and prevent hunger. All lies, some of these dim witted students will end up a waste of space. Where they belong.

These students have never learnt the meaning of silence, despite their substantial education so far. Chatters swarm into the air, creating a hum of noise. I take my stance at the front of the class, covering my hands with my cloak. Scanning through the group of measly looking individuals to try find the trouble endorsers. My eyes land on the girl who has blonde hair, which have been tied into two neat little ringlets, I never learnt her name but she always seems to be the one in trouble. Her eyes sparkle with mischief. She has found it most unpleasant to act upon any impulsive misconduct in my sight. Her itchy fingers creeping toward her wand to create havoc that will not be condoned.

"Foolish behavior will not be accepted in my classroom. If you want to act like a clown, go back to the muggle world."
Their blank stares trying to find an understanding in my words. Some students absorb the meaning faster than others. I had gotten used the smell of damp walls that currently surround my form but my nasal passages will need to adjust to the smell of a new educating space. The smell of past failed educators will linger in my new appointed position. I had been informed of my new position for next year. The students shadows cast eerie silhouettes on the walls, creating the perfect atmosphere to educate in.

"By now everyone should know why Hogwarts insists on teaching this class, should they not?"
Unsure expressions dart on their faces, suddenly they aren't as smart as their parents made them out to be. A few shaky hands raise into the air, a few are brought immediately back down. They still clearly don't grasp the gravity of how useful potions class is. They should all take this class with high seriousness. Ignoring the hands that haven't gone down, I start to walk to the nearest window. Their heads follow my movement almost in captivation of my words. What a lousy way to start a week, teaching these misfits. Making no eye contact with any of the students, I simply stare out the window.

"The year is almost finished and no one can tell me the importance of this class. Have I been educating brainless students for the past year? Once again I will reiterate my past wor-"
My words are cut short due to the interruption of the doors banging open. The students heads follow the sound of the distraction. A figure looms in the shadow of the doorway, the attention of the pupils are no longer concentrated on the lesson. My lessons are of great value and someone decides to interrupt. I am absolutely outraged at this notion. The figure starts to move forward and takes the shape of Draco Malfoy.

"Mr Malfoy has no one taught you the ability to knock!"
He may be from my own house but I will not hold back my irritation. My eyes are not drawn to his face but rather the blood stained shirt sleeves. He swiftly makes his way to meet me at the front of the class. All the while glistening eyes of younger ones follow him with disgust, apparently no news is private anymore. Everyone knows everyone's business even though it's fairly recent news. His breath is loud and out of its usual pace. He must have been running. There is a a soft pattering sound that follows each step he takes.

"Professor..." his breath is making it hard for his words to take form. Instead he sounds more like a puffing train.
"Professor Snape, Dumbledore needs to see you urgently in his office now."

"I am currently involved in a lesson, Dumbledore can wait. Send him my regards."
I motion toward the door hoping he will get out. His face morphs into a serious expression. He starts to dig in his trouser pockets and proceeds to pull out a letter. It has the look of an acceptance letter but a very old one. He holds it out for me to take.