On the deck shrouded in a thin, high-altitude mist, Snape carefully rolled up a piece of parchment and tucked it into a small canvas pouch sewn from thick material, which also contained a few old, still usable wands he had selected. He tied the pouch securely, then gave a soft whistle.
A few seconds later, a beautiful Scops Owl glided silently down from the mast, landing steadily on his outstretched arm. It let out a low hoot, its yellow-green eyes fixed on its master, wings slightly spread, seemingly eager to take flight again and pierce through the clouds. After securely tying the small pouch to Nocturna's talons, Snape gently patted its fluffy head.
"Go on," he said, "be careful, and don't contact other owls."
Nocturna gently nuzzled his finger with its beak, letting out a short, confident reply, then suddenly spread its wide wings, pushing off Snape's arm with powerful legs, and soared without hesitation into the bright but cold sky above the clouds. It circled once in the air, found its direction, and then plunged into the boundless sea of clouds below, its white and brown figure rising and falling in the thick layers.
Snape stood watching the owl disappear. In the letter, he had told Rica that Hogwarts had fallen into Death Eater hands, the castle was no longer safe, and advised her not to trust the Ministry of Magic's promises, but to lead her people deep into the Forbidden Forest to avoid human contact.
Once Nocturna was completely out of sight, he turned and walked back into the warm interior of the ship.
---
### Gossip, Propaganda, and Critical Thinking
In a spacious cabin in the middle of the ship, now serving as a staff office, Professor McGonagall sat behind a large oak desk, spectacles perched on her nose, her brow furrowed as she read the latest Daily Prophet that had just arrived. The other professors were also enjoying a brief moment of leisure before their classes. Most notably, Grindelwald was seated on a comfortable sofa in the center of the office, cradling a steaming bone china teacup, his gaze thoughtfully fixed on the flowing clouds outside the window. Madam Rosier sat quietly beside him, a silver teapot in front of her, ready to refill his cup at any moment.
Pushing the door open, Snape's gaze swept over everyone, finally resting on Madam Rosier. He walked without stopping, heading directly towards Professor McGonagall, but couldn't help but ask:
"Madam Rosier, since Mr. Grindelwald seems to have abandoned his grand ideals and pursuits of the past, what meaning is there in your persistent devotion to him?"
After refilling Grindelwald's teacup, Madam Rosier turned to look at him. "If he truly continued to pursue his past endeavors, Mr. Snape," she gently placed the teapot back on the tray, her voice slightly hoarse but still clear and pleasant, "then I fear you would be rather displeased at this moment."
"Good point," Snape chuckled in response. He didn't press further, instead spreading out the past few days' Daily Prophets on Professor McGonagall's desk.
"Look," he said, "'Hogwarts Rebel Teachers Abduct Students and Abscond, Ministry of Magic Calls for Their Return.' Professor McGonagall, it says here we kidnapped 'innocent students,' including Muggle-borns and some pure-blood and half-blood students, and escaped on a mysterious vessel."
"Professor, your bounty is already two thousand five hundred Galleons. And five hundred of that is from Mr. Barty Crouch, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He says he'll never yield to rebels, not even for his own son."
At this point, Professor McGonagall placed the latest newspaper in front of Snape. The front-page headline blared news of Gellert Grindelwald's escape from Nurmengard, the unprecedented challenge to wizarding world security, and an International Confederation of Wizards' highest alert.
"Severus, are you sure these things," she said with some concern, "should all be shown to the students? Especially this one." She pointed to Grindelwald's wanted poster.
"Of course not," Snape answered crisply. He picked up his wand. "I'm not going to just feed them all the 'truth' as is." He pointed his wand at the latest newspaper, sweeping its tip over Grindelwald's wanted photo, muttering a complex Transfiguration Charm. The photo and text on the newspaper seemed to be erased by an invisible eraser, replaced by a flashy gossip report: "Breaking News: Three-Way Love Triangle at Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, Quidditch Star Caught in the Middle?"
He then pointed to other sensitive reports in other newspapers, transforming them into "Highlights from the 1964 Quidditch World Cup Final", "Cornish Pixies: A Full Analysis of Their Mischievous Habits Under Their Cute Exterior", and a public service announcement: "Ministry of Magic Appeals: Everyone's Responsibility to Protect Rare Magical Plants."
"We can't show them everything, can we?" Snape said casually as he worked. "What if someone sees something they shouldn't?"
He flipped to the inner pages, leaving untouched reports like "Abraxas Malfoy Appointed New Hogwarts Headmaster, Vows to Establish 'New Order'," and "Ministry of Magic to Establish Wizarding Lineage Registration Committee, Vowing to Protect Rights of All Wizarding Backgrounds." These were clearly propaganda meant to whitewash the truth and pave the way for future persecution, as were the wanted posters for Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, and several "traitorous" Aurors.
Next, Snape took out a few blank pieces of parchment, picked up a quill, dipped it in ink, and quickly wrote several paragraphs. He wrote his own critical interpretations of the biased reports he had left untouched. He hoped to convey to everyone that the Ministry of Magic and the Daily Prophet had become mouthpieces for the Death Eaters, that the promises of pure-bloods like Malfoy were completely untrustworthy, and that the Wizarding Lineage Registration Committee was, in reality, a preparatory tool for covert identification and persecution.
When he finished writing, he called over a house-elf who was respectfully standing nearby.
"Take these," he handed the sorted newspapers and the interpretative notes to the house-elf. "Give them to Abbott and young Barty. Tell them to find a few familiar, reliable classmates and have them 'casually' discuss and interpret the articles according to the notes while people are reading the newspapers, guiding their thoughts."
The house-elf carefully took them, bowed deeply, and said in a squeaky voice, "Yes, Mr. Snape," then scurried away with tiny steps.
"Severus, you truly are..." Professor McGonagall shook her head, giving Snape a meaningful look. Then, she glanced at the magical clock on the wall and reminded him, "You should be going to your Potions class now. This morning's two classes are for first and second years, respectively."
Snape nodded, put away his wand, straightened the cuffs of his black robes, and then turned and left the office.
---
### A New Potions Master
The Potions classroom was located in a specially modified large room on the upper deck of the ship. Several rows of long tables were set up in the center of the room, with brass cauldron stands fixed to them. To account for possible accidents, the room was exceptionally well-ventilated, with large exhaust fans humming on either side of the classroom; the floor was also paved with sturdy stone tiles to prevent potion spills from causing corrosion.
As Snape, clad in his black robes, strode into the classroom, the whispering first-year students instantly fell silent. Students from all four houses were mixed together, their young faces a blend of awe and curiosity towards this renowned senior student and new teacher. Snape walked to the front of the classroom and stood behind the podium, his gaze gently sweeping across the room. Then, he began to speak, his voice only slightly louder than a whisper, but every single word was heard clearly by everyone.
"Potions," he said, "is a profound and wondrous magical art."
"I believe that all of you here," his gaze swept over the curious or nervous small faces, "with systematic study and relentless practice, can, to some extent, grasp the exquisite beauty of white smoke rising from a gently simmering cauldron, wafting out a delicate fragrance."
"Under my tutelage," Snape's voice took on a seductive quality, "you will have the opportunity to truly understand how liquids flowing into one's veins can enchant the mind and befuddle the senses." He leaned forward slightly, continuing, "Mastering this mysterious magic can elevate your reputation, brew glory, and even stop death."
After the brief opening remarks, the students' eyes were wide, and they even softened their breathing, seemingly captivated by the future he had painted. Snape didn't give them much time to ponder.
"Now," he said, "open your Magical Draughts and Potions to the page on the Boil Cure Potion. For the simple potions you will encounter this academic year, the steps in the book are generally reliable."
"However, please remember," he changed his tone, emphasizing his words, "when you advance to higher grades and face more advanced, more complex potions, every word, every step in the book may not be correct. You must learn to look at them critically, to think with your own minds, to practice, instead of blindly following."
Then, without any unnecessary preamble, he directly began explaining the key steps and material handling points for the Boil Cure Potion, his voice clear and his instructions precise.
"Begin," Snape divided the students into pairs, guiding them in mixing and preparing the Boil Cure Potion. The classroom immediately filled with the slightly flustered clinking of equipment. Snape, his long black robes trailing, silently moved among the desks, observing the students as they weighed dried nettles, crushed snake fangs, and stirred cauldrons.
---
### A Potions Lesson in Action
When students made mistakes, he didn't criticize anyone, but provided timely corrections and guidance, for example, stopping in front of a student's cauldron and precisely adjusting the flame temperature with his wand, or pointing out a deviation in stirring direction.
Of course, when a little girl picked up a porcupine quill and was about to throw it directly into a cauldron that was still boiling on the fire, Snape couldn't help but raise his voice.
"Stop!" he urgently called out, quickly stepping forward and using his wand to prevent the porcupine quill from falling. "That is a very dangerous act," he said. "While potion-making has many wonderful benefits, we must not overlook the potential dangers involved." He then asked, "Does anyone want to know what happens if you throw a porcupine quill into a boiling cauldron?"
The students all looked curiously at the porcupine quill floating in the air.
"It seems you're very interested," Snape waved his left hand, signaling the students to move back. "Everyone, stand back. Preferably on your stools."
Then, under everyone's gaze, he dropped the porcupine quill into the boiling potion. A pungent, acidic green smoke immediately billowed out of the cauldron. Accompanied by a teeth-grinding hiss, the sturdy brass cauldron was instantly corroded and warped. The hot potion inside splashed out, landing on the stone floor with sizzling sounds, instantly corroding several small pits in the ground and even burning the wooden leg of a nearby table.
The students stood on their stools, gasping in terror. Snape's expression remained unchanged. With a flick of his wand, "Evanesco!" A flash of light, and the corrosive potion splashed on the floor and table leg vanished without a trace, leaving only a twisted, cauldron-shaped piece of metal as a warning.
"Did you see that?" He turned around, his gaze sweeping over the pale faces on the stools, and said gravely, "A small cauldron, a wrong timing for adding an ingredient, can bring such danger. And this is merely one of the most basic potions. The consequences of failure for higher-level potions could be a hundred times worse."
"Dissolved limbs, decaying internal organs, permanent magical damage, even death." He slowed his speech, letting each word sink into the students' minds. "Potions is not a game. Caution is your first and most important lesson when you step into my classroom."
The students looked at him, the tension in their eyes replaced by profound alertness, but the student who had made the mistake was still trembling.
"Alright, Miss Polke," Snape said, "no need to worry or blame yourself. And besides, we should thank you for providing such a valuable opportunity for everyone to learn such a precious lesson right from the start." He reached into his robes pocket and pulled out a Galleon. With a gentle tap of his wand on the coin, several small, glittering words instantly appeared on its surface: "Outstanding Potions Student."
"There's no House Points system anymore," Snape explained, displaying the shimmering badge to everyone. "From now on, the two students who perform most outstandingly in my class each week will receive this 'Outstanding Badge.' As for this one, I've decided to give it to Miss Polke in advance."
"Here, take it," he walked closer to the stool, handing the specially made "Outstanding Badge" to the surprised girl. Polke excitedly took the coin, clutching it tightly in her palm. When the two long, consecutive Potions lessons finally ended, Snape watched the students carefully cleaning their cauldrons and tidying up their materials as they left the classroom, and let out a soft sigh.
"Teaching is really not an easy thing," he thought. "But seeing the genuine interest and respect for Potions ignite in the students' eyes, being a good teacher is, after all, more rewarding than being a harsh and mean one."
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