A little practise
Severus Snape glanced around the empty classroom on the second floor. His dark eyes scanning every corner for any sign of movement. The room was dusty and unused, with rows of desks pushed haphazardly to the sides and a faint smell of mildew lingering in the air. It wasn’t much, but it would do. This part of the castle was rarely visited; most students avoided it unless they were hopelessly lost or looking for a place to hide.
The fifth floor was a place people rarely bothered with. There were not many important things here.
He turned his gaze to Artemis. She was standing near the doorway, her sharp blue eyes darting around the room. She seemed to be taking in every detail, her expression unreadable everytime. Severus couldn’t blame her for being cautious. If anyone caught them together—especially anyone from Slytherin—it would mean trouble for both of them.
For her, it would mean another round of hexes and jeers, another humiliating reminder that she didn’t belong in their house. For him… well, it wouldn’t be much better. Severus had spent the past two months carefully navigating the treacherous waters of Slytherin House by latching onto Rabastan Lestrange and his group of cronies. He didn’t like them—he despised them, in fact. But they offered protection. As long as he followed their lead and kept his head down, he was safe.
It wasn’t ideal, but he didn’t have many options. He was just a first-year, after all. The older students knew spells and hexes far beyond his current abilities, and while Severus prided himself on knowing more magic than most of his peers, there was a difference between knowing a spell and being able to use it effectively in a fight.
Still, it irked him. The only reason he wasn’t in Artemis’s position—ostracized and tormented—was because he had chosen to align himself with the bullies rather than stand against them. It made him feel weak, cowardly even. But what choice did he have? He was just a firstie. Add to that, a filthy halfblood with no connections, lineage, or old money.
His gaze lingered on Artemis as she circled the room, her steps careful but deliberate. She was an enigma to him—a muggleborn who could perform high-level magic that no first-year should be capable of. He couldn’t understand how she did it, but he was determined to find out.
If she could do it, then so could he.
After all, she was a girl. And boys were supposed to be stronger than girls—weren’t they? It was natural. Everyone knew that.
“Are you going to keep staring at me,” Artemis said suddenly, breaking his train of thought, “or are we going to start practicing?”
Severus flushed slightly but quickly masked it with a scowl. “I wasn’t staring,” he muttered defensively.
Artemis raised an eyebrow but didn’t press the issue. Instead, she crossed her arms and leaned casually against one of the desks. “So,” she said coolly, “what kind of spells do you know?”
The question caught Severus off guard, but he quickly recovered. Straightening his posture, he began rattling off a list of spells and curses with an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance.
“There’s 'Expelliarmu'—the disarming charm,” he began eagerly. “And 'Lumos' for light… 'Nox' to extinguish it… 'Petrificus Totalus'—the full body-bind curse… 'Rictusempra', which is a tickling charm…”
He paused for breath before continuing with even more enthusiasm: “Then there’s 'Flipendo', which knocks people back… 'Locomotor Mortis', the leg-locker curse… Oh! And I know 'stupefy'! Well… I don’t know how to cast it yet,” he admitted reluctantly, “but I’ve read about it.”
Artemis tilted her head slightly as she listened to him ramble on. Her expression remained neutral, but there was a faint glimmer of amusement in her eyes.
“And have you actually used any of these spells?” she asked when he finally paused again.
Severus hesitated for a moment before replying defensively: “I’ve practiced some of them.”
“Practiced,” Artemis repeated dryly. “But not used.”
“Well…” Severus faltered under her steady gaze before muttering grudgingly: “Not in real situations.”
Artemis sighed softly and pushed herself off the desk. “Let’s start simple,” she said briskly. “Show me what you can actually do.”
Severus frowned slightly but nodded. He raised his wand and pointed it at one of the desks near the center of the room.
“Wingardium Leviosa!” he said clearly.
The desk wobbled slightly before lifting off the ground by a few inches. Severus grinned triumphantly as he held it there for several seconds before lowering it back down gently.
“Not bad,” Artemis said with a small nod. “But your pronunciation is off.”
“What?” Severus looked at her incredulously.
“It’s ‘Le-vi-O-sa,’ not ‘Le-vi-o-SA,’” Artemis corrected him patiently.
Severus scowled again but didn’t argue. Instead, he gestured for her to demonstrate.
Artemis stepped forward and pointed her wand at another desk nearby. With a flick of her wrist and a calm voice, she said: “Wingardium Leviosa.”
The desk rose smoothly into the air without so much as a wobble before floating gracefully back down again.
Severus stared at her in disbelief. “How did you do that?”
“It’s all about control,” Artemis explained matter-of-factly. “You have to focus your intent and channel your magic properly. Pronunciation is important, but the intent and control are the major parts of the spell.”
“I was focusing!” Severus protested indignantly.
“Clearly not enough,” Artemis replied with a smirk.
Severus glared at her but didn’t say anything further. Instead, he raised his wand again and tried once more: “Wingardium Leviosa!”
This time, the desk rose more steadily into the air—though not quite as smoothly as when Artemis had done it—and Severus couldn’t help but feel a small surge of satisfaction.
“Better,” Artemis said approvingly.
They continued practicing for the next hour or so, working through various first-year spells like 'Lumos', 'Nox', 'Alohomora', and basic transfigurations like turning matches into needles or making feathers float across the room.
Despite their initial awkwardness around each other, Severus found himself relaxing slightly as they practiced together. Artemis wasn’t like anyone else he’d met—she was sharp-tongued and confident in a way that both irritated him and commanded his respect.
For her part, Fleur found herself grudgingly impressed by Severus’s determination and raw potential. He lacked finesse and control, but there was no denying his intelligence or his hunger for knowledge.
As they wrapped up their session for the evening, Severus turned to Artemis with an almost shy expression on his face.
“You’re… really good at this,” he admitted reluctantly.
Artemis raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she simply said: “Practice more.”
Severus nodded solemnly before adding quietly: “…Thanks.”
“Why Slytherin?” Artemis asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
Severus blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What?”
“Why did you want to be in Slytherin?” she repeated, stopping her pacing to look directly at him. Her gaze was piercing, as though she were trying to see straight into his soul.
Severus shifted uncomfortably, his fingers tightening around his wand. “It’s my mother’s house,” he said defensively. “She always spoke about it fondly.”
Artemis tilted her head slightly, studying him. “That’s it? Because your mother liked it?”
Severus bristled at her tone. “Slytherin is a great house,” he said sharply. “It’s where the ambitious and cunning go—where people who want to make something of themselves belong.”
Artemis raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she walked over to one of the desks and leaned against it casually. “You have a lot of qualities that would fit Ravenclaw,” she said after a moment. “You’re intelligent, curious… resourceful.”
Severus stiffened at her words, unsure whether to take them as a compliment or an insult. “I’m not a Ravenclaw,” he said firmly.
“No,” Artemis agreed softly, her gaze thoughtful. “But you could have been.”
Severus frowned, unsure how to respond. He didn’t like where this conversation was going—it felt too personal, too close to things he didn’t want to think about.
Artemis seemed to sense his discomfort because she changed tack slightly. “Your mother must mean a lot to you,” she said carefully.
Severus hesitated before nodding stiffly. “She does.”
Artemis didn’t press further, but her expression shifted subtly as though something had clicked into place for her. From his clothes—worn and patched—and his guarded demeanor, she had already guessed that Severus didn’t come from a happy home. His pride in his mother’s house only confirmed it for her: he clung to Slytherin because it was a connection to something better than what he had at home.
“I can see why you’d want to honor her,” Artemis said quietly.
Severus glanced at her sharply but didn’t reply.
After a moment of silence, he asked hesitantly: “If you can do such advanced magic… why don’t you fight back? Against Rabastan and the others?”
Artemis looked at him for several seconds without speaking, her expression unreadable.
Finally, she sighed and said, “Because I’m alone.”
Severus frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I might be good at magic,” Artemis admitted, her voice steady but tinged with bitterness, “but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m just one person. There are only so many things I can do before I’m overwhelmed.”
She paused before adding with a wry smile: “Besides, this way everyone underestimates me.”
Severus stared at her, trying to process what she was saying. It made sense in a way—but it also left him unsettled.
“So you’re just… letting them win?” he asked hesitantly.
“No,” Artemis said firmly. “I’m waiting.”
“Waiting for what?” Severus asked curiously.
“For my magic to grow,” Artemis replied matter-of-factly. “Once we hit third year, our magic will be stronger—more stable. By then, I’ll be ready.”
Severus nodded slowly as understanding dawned on him. He had read about how magical growth worked—how children’s magic became more powerful as they aged—but hearing Artemis say it so confidently made it feel more real somehow.
“I’ll help you,” Severus said suddenly. He didn't know what came over him. He had never associated himself as brave. But, he didn't want to see her suffer like this. Artemis reminded him of his mother. The same way, she suffered anything. What good of a wizard or a man he would be, if he couldn't change things? He didn't like pushing around others for fun. He hated these things.
Artemis blinked in surprise. “What?”
“I’ll help you,” Severus repeated more firmly this time. “We can partner up in class or… whatever else you need.”
Artemis studied him carefully before asking skeptically: “Why?”
Severus hesitated before answering quietly: “Because I know what it’s like to be alone.”
There was a weight to his words that made Artemis pause. She could see the truth in his eyes—the loneliness and pain that mirrored her own.
“If we work together,” Severus continued earnestly, “they’ll leave you alone because of me.”
Artemis raised an eyebrow at that. “And what about you? Won’t they target you instead?”
“I’ll manage,” Severus said with a shrug that was meant to look casual but came off as defensive instead. “I’ve been through worse.”
Artemis frowned slightly but didn’t argue further.
“We need more than just classroom magic if we want to get stronger quickly,” Severus added after a moment of thought.
“Like what?” Artemis asked curiously.
“Rituals,” Severus said eagerly. His dark eyes lit up with excitement as he spoke. “There are rituals that can enhance magical power—make us stronger faster.”
Artemis sighed softly but couldn’t help being amused by his enthusiasm. He clearly had much wizarding knowledge. Even if there were gaps in his knowledge. “Rituals are risky,” she warned him.
“But they work,” Severus countered stubbornly.
“They can also backfire spectacularly if done wrong,” Artemis pointed out dryly.
Severus hesitated briefly before nodding reluctantly. “Fine… maybe later then.”
“Later,” Artemis agreed with a small smirk before adding: “For now, we focus on mastering classroom magic.”
Severus nodded again but couldn’t hide his disappointment entirely.
“There’s more to Hogwarts than just classes though,” Artemis said thoughtfully after a moment of silence.
“What do you mean?” Severus asked curiously.
“I think this castle has secrets we haven’t discovered yet,” Artemis replied with a glint of excitement in her eyes. She didn't know why she was telling him. Maybe, she longed for a friend. There were no girls in her year in her house, who wanted to engage in conversation with her. Honestly, Severus was the first person to have honestly started a genuine conversation with her.
“Secrets?” Severus repeated skeptically.
“Yes,” Artemis said firmly before elaborating: “Rooms hidden by magic… places where we could practice without being disturbed—or find knowledge no one else has access to.”
Severus considered this for a moment before nodding slowly. “That… might actually work.”
“It’s worth a try,” Artemis said with a small smile.
They lapsed into silence again after that—but this time it was comfortable rather than awkward or tense…
1 month later......
The dim, damp air of the second-floor girls’ bathroom was filled with the faint sound of dripping water. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows across the cracked tiles and grimy mirrors. It wasn’t exactly an inspiring place to train, but it served its purpose. No one dared to venture here—not with Moaning Myrtle wailing in the background at odd intervals. The ghost’s reputation for sudden outbursts and her general unpleasantness had turned the bathroom into a perfect hideout for Artemis and Severus.
Artemis leaned against one of the sinks, watching as Severus stood in the middle of the room, his wand pointed at a small pile of broken tiles they had gathered for practice. His face was a mask of concentration, his dark eyes narrowed as he muttered an incantation under his breath.
“Reparo!” he said firmly, flicking his wand with precision.
The broken pieces of tile lifted into the air and fused together seamlessly, forming a single unbroken square. Severus exhaled slowly, lowering his wand as a small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.
“Not bad,” Artemis said approvingly. “Your wand movement is getting smoother.”
Severus turned to look at her, his expression guarded but pleased. “It’s just practice,” he said modestly, though there was a glint of pride in his eyes.
Artemis chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Don’t downplay it. You’ve come a long way in just a month.”
And he had. In the weeks since their first secret meeting, Artemis had been able to gauge Severus’s true potential, and it was nothing short of extraordinary. The boy was a prodigy. There was no other way to put it.
At first, she had thought his talents were limited to theoretical knowledge. He crammed History of Magic word for word, knew Astronomy up to fifth-year level already, and could recite potion recipes like they were nursery rhymes. But as they continued their training sessions, she realized that his practical skills were just as impressive, if not more so. She had never met someone so talented, even in Beauxbatons. There were some geniuses and talented wizards and witches, she had met in her time at Beauxbatons. None held a candle infront of him.
With a calm mind and proper guidance, Severus could master spells at a frightening speed. Even Transfiguration—his self-proclaimed weakness—was no match for him when he put his mind to it. In just a month, he had managed to perform transfigurations they wouldn’t officially learn until their end-of-year exams. That too from continuous, rigorous practise with some occasional guidance from her. Even, she knew, that she hadn't been such proficient with magic unlike him. It irked her to no end though. Here, she was jealous of just a first year.
Charms came naturally to him; he had an intuitive understanding of how magic flowed through him and how best to channel it. And Potions? He was born for it. His precision and attention to detail made him excel in brewing even the most complex concoctions.
It seemed that something about their partnership had inspired him. It seemed to have ignited a fire within him that pushed him to work twice as hard as before. He had no intention of being mediocre; that much was clear.
“What type of wizard do you want to be?” Artemis had asked him one evening during one of their sessions.
Severus had paused for a moment before replying with quiet determination: “I want to be greater than Dumbledore… greater than the Dark Lord… I want to be the greatest wizard in history.”
Artemis had raised an eyebrow at that but hadn’t laughed or dismissed his ambition. She understood dreams—how they could drive people forward even when reality seemed insurmountable.
“Big goals,” she had said simply.
Severus had nodded solemnly. “I may not reach it, but I will still be better than most.”
Now, watching him practice with such focus and intensity, Artemis couldn’t help but admire his drive. He might have started out as an insecure boy trying to survive Slytherin House politics, but he was quickly becoming something more—someone more. Honestly, she wanted to attribute his success to her teaching. But that would be a lie and self flattery.
“You’re holding back in class,” Artemis said suddenly, breaking the silence.
Severus glanced at her sharply but didn’t deny it. “It’s better that way,” he said after a moment. “If I show too much… they’ll notice.”
“They?” Artemis asked knowingly.
“The older students,” Severus clarified with a slight scowl. “Rabastan…Lucius. Mulciber… Avery… They don’t like competition.”
Artemis nodded thoughtfully. She understood all too well how dangerous it could be to stand out in Slytherin House—especially as someone who didn’t fit neatly into their rigid hierarchy.
“But you’re still pairing yourself with me,” she pointed out.
“That’s different,” Severus said quickly. “You’re…” He hesitated before continuing awkwardly: “You’re not like them.”
Artemis raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t press further.
“Well,” she said after a moment, “except in Gryffindor classes.”
Severus stiffened slightly at her words but didn’t look at her directly.
“You always pair yourself with Lily Evans,” Artemis continued casually, watching him closely for his reaction.
Severus’s cheeks flushed faintly, and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “She’s my friend,” he muttered defensively.
Artemis couldn’t hide her surprise at that revelation. She hadn’t expected *that*. To think that Lily Evans—the future mother of Harry Potter—was best friends with Severus Snape. It was honestly odd.
She had seen an adult Severus Snape sniping and sneering at Harry Potter, when he had been declared as a Triwizard Champion. Even as a visitor for the Triwizard tournament, she had heard rumours and tales of Severus Snape's cold and no nonsense behaviour with everyone.
“She doesn’t know about this,” Severus added quickly, gesturing around the girl's bathroom to indicate their secret training sessions.
“I figured,” Artemis said dryly. “You don’t strike me as someone who shares secrets easily.”
Severus gave her a sharp look but didn’t respond.
Their training sessions remained strictly between them—something neither of them wanted anyone else to know about. They met regularly in this abandoned bathroom on the second floor, where Moaning Myrtle’s presence ensured their privacy.
Myrtle herself rarely bothered them beyond the occasional curious glance or muttered comment about how boring they were compared to her usual visitors, which mostly consisted of crying girls or mischievous boys trying to escape Filch.
“You know,” Artemis said thoughtfully as she watched Severus practice another spell, “this castle has secrets we haven’t even begun to uncover. Remember, when we talked about this a month before”
Severus glanced at her curiously. “What do you mean?”
“I mean hidden rooms… forgotten passageways… places where we could practice without worrying about being interrupted—or find knowledge no one else has access to,” Artemis explained with growing excitement in her voice.
Severus frowned slightly as he considered her words. “Maybe the ghosts know something about them.”
“Maybe,” Artemis agreed cautiously before adding: “But ghosts can be biased—and let’s face it: the Bloody Baron isn’t exactly helpful.”
Severus snorted softly at that but didn’t argue.
“What about house-elves?” Artemis suggested suddenly.
“The house-elves?” Severus repeated incredulously.
“They work all over Hogwarts—they must know things even the professors don’t,” Artemis reasoned patiently.
Severus considered this for a moment before nodding slowly. “That… might actually work.”
“It’s worth looking into,” Artemis said with a small smile before turning back toward their makeshift practice area. It really felt good to defeat someone soundly in the duels. Even if she had the upper advantage and her opponent was a firstie.