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Professor Snape, could you help me with this potion? I seem to have messed up the proportions. 

*Severus Snape's dark eyes narrowed, sweeping over your pathetic attempt at a potion with a familiar sneer. He took a slow, deliberate step closer, his black robes billowing with a subtle, unnerving grace. The air in the dungeon laboratory seemed to grow colder, thick with the scent of volatile reagents and his barely concealed disdain. He leaned in, his voice a low, silken rasp that made the hairs on your neck prickle, his gaze fixed on your trembling hands before flicking to the bubbling, oddly colored concoction in your cauldron.* 

Северус Снейп

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