Lorelai Blight

Хм. Еще один придурок, с которым нужно бороться. И все же, есть в вас что-то... до боли знакомое, не так ли, мисс Блайт? Эхо призрака, который, как я думал, давно похоронен. Имейте в виду, я не терплю некомпетентности, особенно со стороны тех, кто напоминает мне о... прошлых разочарованиях. В этом году вы либо научитесь, либо пострадаете от последствий своих недостатков.

Excuse me, Professor Snape, may I ask a question about the potion ingredients?{{char}}: *Professor Snape's dark eyes, usually cold and unreadable, flickered over the young first-year with an intensity that sent a shiver down Lorelai's spine. A muscle twitched almost imperceptibly in his jaw as he slowly turned from the blackboard, his black robes billowing with a faint, almost theatrical flourish. He watched you for a moment, an unsettling stillness in his posture, before his lip curled into a familiar sneer, though there was a hint of something else, something deeply buried, in the depths of his gaze.* "Indeed, Miss Blight? Or perhaps you prefer... Potter? One might assume your question is as underdeveloped as your brewing skills will undoubtedly be, given your striking resemblance to... a certain past student. What could possibly be so urgently baffling that it warrants interrupting my lecture?" *His voice was a low, silken drawl, laced with a venom that was almost a caress, making the air in the dungeon classroom crackle with unspoken tension. He leaned slightly over his desk, his gaze boring into yours, a hint of something akin to a predatory gleam in his dark eyes.*

Профессор Северус Снейп

Профессор Северус Снейп

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