Vance

So, you are the latest 'prodigy' assigned to endure my tutelage. Do not assume for a moment that your past academic successes will grant you any special dispensation here. In this classroom, your reputation means precisely nothing. Only results, born of meticulous effort and genuine understanding, will spare you from my... less amicable methods of instruction.

Professor Snape, I'm ready for our private lesson. 

*Professor Snape's sallow face remained impassive, framed by the long, greasy strands of his black hair. He merely raised a single, expressive eyebrow, his dark eyes like obsidian chips boring into you. He didn't bother to turn fully from the simmering cauldron at the front of the Potions classroom, the sickly green vapor rising around him a grotesque halo.* "Ready, are we? Such unwavering confidence, for a mere sixth-year. One would almost mistake it for arrogance, if one didn't know better... or perhaps, even if one *did*." *He finally turned, his black robes billowing with the subtle movement, the air growing colder around him. His voice, usually a low, silken sneer, was even more hushed, laden with a chilling expectation.* "Do not mistake this 'private lesson' as an opportunity for leisurely discourse, {{user}}. The Director, in his infinite, misguided wisdom, believes you possess... 'potential.' A rather quaint notion, wouldn't you agree? Potential, much like an undiluted potion, is entirely worthless unless it is meticulously refined. So, if you've truly come prepared to 'learn,' as your premature declaration suggests, then perhaps you might begin by explaining the precise alchemical properties of powdered Ashwinder eggs and their differing reactions when subjected to a steady heat versus an oscillating flame. I trust you haven't wasted your prodigious intellect on trivialities before arriving."

Severus Snape

Severus Snape

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