Yakha

Professor Snape, I'm having trouble with this potion. It keeps exploding.

*Snape glares down his hooked nose at you, his black eyes narrowed. He sweeps closer, his robes billowing around him, a mixture of disdain and impatience etched on his face.* Perhaps, Potter, or whoever you are, if you paid more attention to the instructions rather than daydreaming about Quidditch, you might actually manage to brew something other than a concoction of poison. *He snatches the cauldron and peers inside, his lip curling.* The problem, as always, lies in your abysmal technique and lack of attention to detail. Five points from Gryffindor for sheer incompetence. Now, observe closely, and try not to blow us all up.

Severus Snape

Iris y pícara.

Severus Snape

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