Sweet Dreams
First class of the day. First years. And the first ever potions lesson that Severus Snape would be taking. Anyone could have guessed that was a recipe for disaster. He could have made it easy on himself (and them). He could have started with the basics of theory and knife skills, and bored them all to tears in the process.
But Snape had always been an ambitious over achiever with ideas above his station.
He had sort of been manipulated into taking the position of Potions Master while in a haze of regret, self loathing, and grief, and since then had been working through the stages of acceptance. Firstly reluctance; this would not have been his chosen career by any stretch of the imagination. Second optimism; he was lucky to get any job, and it was actually fairly prestigious. Third pessimism; no one wanted to teach potions to kids, which is why the school had been stuck with Slughorn for so long, Albus had been desperate, and frankly so was he. Fourth terror; what in the hell was he thinking? He had all too recent experience of how awful teenagers could be. Those kids were going to rip him to shreds the vicious little buggers.
Finally he had come to some sort of acceptance, by doing what he did best and shoving all of those different thoughts and emotions way way down in the deepest depths of his mind and just getting on with it.
After that was done, he entered a sort of fifth or sixth stage of over zealous confidence. He was the youngest Potions Master in over a century. He knew his craft, and though had not gained much recognition, he was a fucking genius, everyone knew it though few said it out loud. He was going to be the best fucking potions teacher these kids had ever seen. He was going to kick them into shape and have them all brewing NEWT level potions by the time they hit fourth year. He’d done it, whilst adjusting the recipes and inventing new potions at the same time. With his expert guidance and tutelage, perhaps Hogwarts might even become some tort of specialist brewing academy.
It was with that attitude that he strode into his first lesson on his first day of teaching, his brand new black robes (pure Himalayan cashmere which had set him back his entire first month’s salary) billowing behind him.
The student’s tiny, eager little faces stare at him, eyes wide as if he is Merlin himself. Oh yes, this was good. A fresh start for everyone. Nobody knew him as Snivellus or “that greasy kid”. Here he was the Master of their little world, and he would fill them with wonder.
‘You are here to learn the precise art and subtle science which is potion brewing.’ He intones in his deepest and most plummy voice. (Learned from Lucius Malfoy) ‘This most ancient and enthralling of the magical arts is as diverse as it is dangerous, as noxious as it is beautiful. A potion can bewitch the living, cure fatal wounds, bring you incredible luck, take down the most terrible foe, and even raise the dead.’
Jaws drop open, and eyes as round as marbles glint in the candle light with wonder at his words.
A ripple of whispers flitters around the room.
‘Silence.’ He intones, elated to find that the sound snaps off as the students all obey at once. ‘This is the potion will shall be making today.’ He tells them, waving a hand at the board.
Sweet Dreams
‘Variants of this potion have been used to trap people in blissful slumber – living out their most desperate fantasies in their dreams while their bodies waste away.’ Severus looks around the room so see a mixture of thrill and horror on the children’s faces now. ‘At it’s base however, the Sweet Dreams Potion will simply give the drinker a pleasant dream in which they eat their favourite candies.’
All other emotions turn to pure joy amongst the students now. Take that doubters. The evil ex Death Eater is going to give your children candy. Actually it sounds a bit weird when one puts it like that. Still, the little terrors look happy enough.
‘Now, this potion can be quite tricky for the novice, but as long as you follow my precise instruction we should not have too much trouble. Do you think you are up to the challenge?’
A chorus of ‘Yes!’ and ‘Yes sir!’ ripples around the room.
‘What’s a novice sir?’ One kid pipes up.
‘You are Berkley. But not for long.’ Severus intones, full of confidence.
Things start off quite well. After a strong word to get them all to calm down, they listen to his explanation of the instructions written on the board, then line up outside the potions store with only a minor amount of pushing and shoving.
Several of the students somehow manage to pick out the wrong things even though it is all clearly labelled by his own hand, and he has to correct them. These are 11 year olds, has no one taught them to read yet?! But it’s fine, it’s fine. He’ll read the instructions out as they go just in case.
‘Did I tell you to start Barnaby? That is not even the correct first instruction!’ Snape yells, making a few of the students jump. He takes a deep breath and calms his voice. ‘Tip out your cauldron and await my instruction. Right. Firstly we must prepare our ingredients. Take the lavender and strip off the flowers. No not like that Jones, you must not have any stalk. Yes that’s it Selby. Now place the flowers into the mortar and grind… the mortar… the stone bowl.’ Severus clenches his teeth. Who doesn’t know what a mortar is?
The following 20 minutes are occupied with frantically trying to give individual instruction to half a dozen children at any given time, and he is beginning to wonder if there are any regulations against cloning spells because he could do with at least another three of himself.
By the time they get to the actual brewing part the kids are so hyped up to get on with it that they are practically throwing things into their cauldrons.
‘Next stage is to add the Syrup of Helebore – measure it first! One gill. No a gill Berkley, that’s smaller… Jones! Syrup of Helebore not Agave Nectar, that comes at the end. Now… Selby it needs stirring before you add the fairy wings. Ten times widdershins.’
‘What’s widdleshins sir?’
‘Widdershins Forbes.’ Snape rolls his eyes. ‘As in sunwise and widdershins.’
While he is distracted having to demonstrate the directions of stirring, some of the students have decided to carry on with out him and are tipping various things into their cauldrons with delight. Suddenly there is a light rumble, followed by a pop, and a high pitched whine.
‘Jones step back!’ Snape roars, whipping his wand out and aiming it across the room. Jones stumbles backwards just as her cauldron explodes quite spectacularly in a volcanic display of spewing opalescent purple glory.
Several children scream as Snape manages to contain the still bubbling mixture which pops and spurts against the walls of the magical barrier. A desk has been transfigured into a giant teddy bear by a burst of accidental magic, and a child is cowering behind it – though it looks more menacing than comforting in his opinion. Another student is floating up near the ceiling, one has turned their cauldron into what looks like a muggle bomb, and there is water spraying from somewhere.
All of the potions are now neglected, panic is spreading, as is the smoke from several unattended brews, and another cauldron is beginning to rumble and whine.
‘Enough!’ Snape bellows, his own temper worn down to a thread. He has never had to banish the contents of a dozen cauldrons all at once, and the effort, along with his heightened stress causes the narrow windows high up on the wall behind him to crack, and several jars on the shelves lining the classroom to shatter.
The students squeal and duck beneath desks. One of them starts to cry.
Snape immediately casts a protego over all of the students, shielding them from the broken glass, then takes a moment to collect himself. Calm descends and he unravels the children’s accidental spells one by one, then conjures a hanky for the sobbing child.
‘Everyone back at your desks.’ He instructs them, his tone even, but inviting no refusal.
The shell shocked students do as they are told.
‘Reparo.’ Severus swirls his wand and glass shards rise from the floor, jars forming back together, windows mending themselves, the split cauldron forming back into one piece, and the water vanishing from the floor.
‘Wow.’ Someone whispers.
‘Cool.’ Says another.
Oh to be a charms teacher and have the children worship one for a simple mending spell.
Well. That had not quite gone as he had hoped. Snape has the children read through the introduction section of their textbooks for the remainder of the lesson, while he sits at his desk and rethinks his plans.
Ok, so maybe Sweet Dreams had been a little ambitious for a bunch of first years, who clearly had not received proper pre-school instruction, and were quite possibly a bit thick. But he is not going to give up. Next time perhaps something which will help them to practice their preparation skills. And perhaps he should set them to work in pairs or groups, that way he will have less cauldrons to watch.
He scribbles down a few notes, and gives the class an essay to write for next lesson on lab safety, to a chorus of groans. Well, tough you little bastards. You can bloody well lump it.
Professor Snape is determined to teach these imbeciles how to brew whether they like it or not.