Brewing regrets
Just like the last nine years the children remained disrespectful and unimaginably dumb. It was only the second day of school and there were already students who had decided to ignore every safety precaution he had a start to experiment with their ingredients. Third years of course those Weasley twins could not wait even just for the second week of school to cause chaos. He took points and assigned the year's first detentions to the pair. This was a record even for them.
Starting his lesson with the first years he did the same as always calling out names and marking them on the attendance, up until he came across the boy’s name.
“Harry Potter our new celebrity,” he said earning a snicker from his house. “In this class, there will be no silly wand waving. Knowing children, you will not think of this art as a form of magic at first but to those that have just an ounce of discipline, I could teach how to brew glory, bottle fame, and even how to put a stopper on death,” he spoke. To this speech, the children quieted down some of them eager to show that they indeed had the talent the professor had spoken about. “Potter” he spoke up suddenly turning to face the boy. “Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” when the boy did not answer he continued. “You don't know? Well, let's try again. Where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?”
“I don’t know sir,” he answers in a quiet voice.
“And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?” he asked another question to humiliate the boy further.
“I don’t know sir.” said again.
“Pity. Clearly, fame isn't everything, is it, Mr. Potter?” he said then turned his attention back to the other students.
After the first half of his lesson when he went over each ingredient and how to prepare them, he told the student to put away their quill and parchments. With a flick of his wand, the recipe has appeared on the blackboard. Simple and relatively easy it should not be much of a challenge for their first brew. While the students were starting their assignments, he walked around checking on their progress. Just as he expected pathetic. His mood was horrible these past few days worse than usual for the start of the school year. He never liked coming back to teach from the summer vacation and if things were up to him, he would have never become a teacher. Children usually annoyed him to no end. The only students he remotely enjoyed teaching were the sixth and seventh years. They were serious about this subject, and he could work with that.
Suddenly came a shout from the end of the classroom. When he saw what had happened, he had to control himself and not bury his face in his hands from frustration. Unsurprisingly the Longbottom boy had managed to melt his cauldron. The how was a mystery as he did not assign them anything too dangerous in the first class. He strolled over to their table to asses the damage to the area.
“You imbecile child!” he shouted. “What have you done?” but the boy could not answer whimpering from the pain of the injuries his botched potion gave him. “You, bring him to the hospital wing,” he ordered the boy's brewing partner. The mediwitch should be able to treat his injuries without him. After the two had taken off to the hospital he turned to Potter at the next station. “Potter why did you not warn him not to put the needles in his cauldron.” he snapped at him. “You thought it would make you look better if he failed?” asked the potion's master with sarcasm heavy in his voice. “A point from Gryffindor for this. Now everybody go back to your work as it will still be graded.” The child wanted to argue this unfairness, but his friend stopped him shaking his head.
The next time the potions master spoke again was when they were nearing the end of that class.
“Those that had managed to brew something they are able to bottle without injuring themselves in the process bring it here at the end of the lesson and those that did not will be writing me an essay about this potion its properties and how to prepare the ingredients to ensure it can be made,” he said.
During the rest of the class, things did not go better than they had started out. Two melted cauldrons one from each house. From the Gryffindors he kind of expected it but from his own house. It was supposed to be a simple cure, child’s play to those that sufficiently read ahead of the textbook but even those should have been able to manage it who saw the recipe the first time. When the bell had finally rung the children left as fast as they could leaving behind a frustrated potions master to clean up his classroom. It would take him a while to do so without magic he could not use in this case not to disrupt the ambient magic of the ingredients. With a heavy sigh, he set to do hoping to finish before the next bunch of menaces came through the door.
“Really? Put a stopper on death.” came a highly amused voice from behind him.
“Of course, you have been here the whole time.” he sighed “You know what I mean by that,” he said not even turning around and continuing his task of scraping up the cauldron from the ground.
“Yes, I do but it still doesn’t make it less funny.” she teased as she set on with helping him finish it faster. “So, I saw how you were with the kids. I think you are being a bit too harsh on the boy. Don’t you agree with me?”
“He has to be knocked down a few pegs and learn just because he became some sort of a celebrity, not everyone will bend at his whim.”
“While part of it is true this was downright humiliating for him and don’t even get me started on the Longbottom kid, he seemed like he was ready to burst into tears at any second.” she chastised him.
“If the boy had even bothered to open up a textbook, he would not have had a hard time answering any of my questions. About Longbottom, I am sure you have seen with your own eyes the mess he made. The mess we are still cleaning up as I am speaking.”
“He is a little clumsy and easy to scare but that is no reason to be this cruel to him. You should have kept your cool better.”
“He is a walking talking disaster in this classroom.” he corrected her.
“If you were so sure of that you should have kept a closer eye on him instead of antagonizing the other kid,” she argued.
“He isn’t the only one that I have to watch while the class is in session.”
“Still why did you blame the Potter kid for the mess he did not make. I mean how could have he prevented Longbottom from messing up the potion? He wasn’t his partner, and he wasn’t the instructor, it wasn’t his job to monitor his fellow students. The last time I checked you were supposed to do that.”
“I do not wish to discuss this matter anymore.” said in an annoyed tone gathering the last remains of what used to be the boy's cauldron and tossing it.
“Well then let’s discuss those questions that you wanted the boy to answer. I knew you were big on symbolism but even I am surprised by this display of it. I mean I am sure no one else has put it together but I have to ask you this. If things mean this much to you why this forced cruelty.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about.” he lied.
“Really? Because asphodel is a type of lily, which according to Victorian Flower Language if I am not wrong means "My regrets follow you to the grave." Meanwhile, wormwood means "absence" and symbolizes bitter sorrow. If I put these two together, it seems like you are apologizing to him for his mother’s death”
“Could you please drop it?” he asked sounding desperate.
“All right but only on one condition,” she said sternly. “You will tone down this hate campaign against those kids. Okay?” but he did not answer. “I will take your silence as a yes to my question. Now I have to go, and your next class will be here shortly. Take care.” she said and without waiting for a reply vanished.
He was trembling with anger. This was not fair from her, taking the side of those insufferable brats. She should have taken his side just like he always did the other way around.
The rest of his day went just as any other would, but he could not stop thinking about how disappointed Rae was when she confronted him after that lesson. The look she gave him while speaking of his treatment of the students, she rarely was like this with him. This was the thing they had the most disagreements about. His treatment of students who were not in his house. He argued that they needed his kindness more than any other, she then would usually tell him all the students could use more of that. During the years he had been there he took care of all of his snakes to the best of his abilities no one could fault him for having no patience for those that fooled around in his classroom.
His students that day were even more vary of him seeing his mood was even worse than usual. Seeing his sour expressions his colleagues steered clear of him too.
After the dinner even Minerva had approached him with caution about what had happened in the lesson with first years. She rarely did so trusting he would make the right call in regards to how to discipline the children.
“Severus do you have a moment for us to talk?” she asked approaching him.
“About what?”
“About your lesson with the first-year Gryffindors and Slytherins,” she said sternly. “I heard there was an accident concerning one of my lions. Could you elaborate as to why he was covered in boils? I would like to know how could something like that happen in the first lesson.”
“Ah yes, Longbottom’s little accident today. As I am sure you have heard the boy caused it all himself if you were implying any foul play in his misfortune,” he said coldly.
“That was not why I asked, and you know why I have to follow up with these kinds of things,” she said becoming frustrated with her college’s nonchalant answer.
“Yes, I do.” he drawled “Are you satisfied with my answer now Minerva?”
“Hmp...” and without another word she left his colleague.
This combined with everything made him more irritated than ever. Now even his fellow professors were questioning him. Of course, he knew she had to ask about it as a kid was indeed hurt during his lesson. He prided himself on the fact that since he assumed the role of the potion’s master there were hardly any accidents in his classroom. Today was an outlier in that measure.
By the time he had retired for the night, he could hardly think of anything else than what went down during the day. An accident, a humiliation, and an argument all in a day. Maybe she was right he was too harsh on the boy but when he stepped into his classroom so many memories that he would rather forget surfaced suddenly. Years of humiliation by those Gryffindor boys and the loss of his dearest friend to one of them. It made him feel weak again like he was just a boy trying to survive another day at school. The resemblance the child had to his father was uncanny.
He decided. He would try to ignore the boy to the best of his abilities outside of class and even there he would keep their interactions to a minimum this thing was not worth the arguments he would have with her if he kept up this act. Just because she had asked him, he would tone things down.