After breakfast, Eira made her way to Herbology class, sharing the greenhouse with Ravenclaw and Slytherin students. The scent of damp soil and herbs filled the air, and she focused on the task at hand, trimming leaves and checking the roots of mandrakes.
By the time lunch arrived, the castle buzzed with the aftermath of the morning's incident. Earlier, the Daily Prophet had been delivered, and Eira had witnessed the uproar it caused. Rita Skeeter's latest article focused on Harry Potter, claiming that he cried at night over the loss of his parents. The article, sensationalized as always, immediately fueled gossip throughout the school. During breakfast, students had jeered at Harry, calling him a crybaby, while Hermione had been criticized, some whispering cruelly that she was manipulating boys or behaving as if involved in some secret relationship.
Now, as Eira entered the Great Hall, she could see the effects of the story firsthand. The Gryffindor table seemed strangely quiet. Harry and Hermione were absent, their usual places empty. Eira frowned slightly but dismissed any concern—clearly, they had chosen to avoid the crowds and the whispers, unwilling to give life to the false narratives. She slid into her own seat, keeping her eyes forward, listening as snippets of conversation floated around her. Students speculated freely, some laughing, some shaking their heads in judgment, and others simply eager to gossip.
After lunch, Eira joined the other fourth-year Slytherins as they made their way to Potions class in the dungeons. Today, the lesson was shared with Gryffindor. The walk was quiet, the stone corridors echoing the shuffle of their footsteps. Some students lingered outside the classroom, talking nervously, but Eira and Tracey slipped inside and took their usual seats, ready for the afternoon ahead.
Tracey sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Double Potions is always a horrible experience," she said, frustration heavy in her voice. "It's so difficult to get it right. Nothing ever turns out the way it should."
Eira smiled, amusement in her eyes. "Your only weakness is patience. If you slowed down a little, focused on each step, you could make a very fine potion. It's not impossible, you know."
Tracey groaned. "But why can't it be like Charms? One flick of the wand, a single word, and it's done. Why does everything have to be so complicated?"
Eira laughed softly. "Magic is already convenient enough. Imagine if every spell worked instantly—wizards and witches would become lazy in no time. Potions teach patience, and patience is a skill charms can't give you."
Before Tracey could respond, a loud explosion of laughter and shouting erupted from outside the classroom. The sound bounced off the dungeon walls, startling a few students.
"What's happening out there?" Tracey whispered, eyebrows drawn together.
Eira shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I don't know. I'm here with you, so how should I know what's happening outside the classroom? But whatever it is, let's go see for ourselves and find out what's caused all this commotion."
As both of them stepped outside the classroom, Eira and Tracey were met with an unusual and shocking sight. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy stood face to face, wands raised, eyes blazing with defiance. On one side, Goyle groaned, his hands clutching his face as large, ugly boils began to sprout across his nose. The sight was grotesque, and even though such spells were not uncommon among Hogwarts students, it was enough to make Tracey turn away and vomit, unable to stomach the horror. Eira's stomach churned in sympathy, but she forced herself to look elsewhere, unwilling to let the moment overwhelm her completely.
On the other side, Hermione stood with her hands pressed to her mouth, trying to stifle a sob or scream, while Ron Weasley, beside her, glared furiously at Draco. Without hesitation, Eira rushed to Hermione's side. "What happened, Hermione? Are you—are you all right?"
Her words were cut short by a voice that instantly silenced the chaos.
"And what is all this noise about?"
Severus Snape had arrived, his presence like a shadow falling over the corridor. The Slytherins scrambled, voices overlapping, eager to offer explanations before the reprimand could escalate.
Snape's sharp gaze swept the crowd, then he pointed a long, yellowed finger directly at Malfoy. "Explain."
"Potter attacked me, sir—" Malfoy began.
"We attacked each other at the same time!" Harry shouted. "And he hit Goyle! Look!"
Snape's dark eyes flicked to Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would belong in a textbook on poisonous fungi. "Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said, his tone unnervingly calm.
Ron shoved Eira aside, taking Hermione's hand from her mouth. "Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron pointed. "Look!" he shouted. Eira's eyes widened in shock. Hermione's teeth had elongated, extending past her bottom lip toward her chin. Behind Snape, Pansy Parkinson and several other Slytherin students doubled over in silent giggles, pointing at Hermione's distorted features.
Snape's eyes narrowed as he examined her, his voice icy. "I see no difference."
Eira froze, her blood running cold, as she caught the look on Hermione's face: a mixture of humiliation and despair.
Hermione let out a quiet whimper, her eyes brimming with tears. She glanced first at Snape, then at Eira, and without another word, spun on her heel and ran. Her footsteps echoed down the corridor, fading into silence as she disappeared from sight.
Harry and Ron erupted into simultaneous shouts at Snape, their voices cracking with anger and disbelief.
Eira stepped forward, her gaze level and unflinching, her voice low, cold, and precise. "Professor Snape, what you have just done is indefensible. Hermione is a student under your care, yet you stood there, indifferent, while she was humiliated. Worse, when you finally acknowledged her, you claimed there was no difference. And then, instead of addressing the situation or correcting it, you mocked her yourself. You treated a girl—an innocent student—as a source of amusement. Do you not see how reprehensible that is?"
The corridor fell silent. Even the Gryffindors and Slytherins watching froze, unsure of what to say. Snape's dark eyes narrowed, his pale face almost unreadable, though a faint curl of a sneer touched his lips. "Miss White, it appears that you have appointed yourself arbiter of proper behavior. How fascinating. And pray tell, what exactly makes you believe it is your place to lecture a professor, to dictate how I conduct my lessons?"
Eira's expression remained icy, her tone deliberate and cutting. "Because what you did was not a lesson. It was cruelty disguised as authority. You humiliated a student, ignored her suffering, and pretended it was nothing. You claimed impartiality while actively taking part in her ridicule. That is not teaching, and it is not discipline. That is contemptible, Professor, and if you cannot recognize it, then perhaps your priorities are entirely misplaced."
Snape's eyes narrowed, the thin line of his lips tightening into a sharper sneer. "So now we are to believe the great Miss White has taken upon herself the mantle of moral guardian? I am a professor. My methods, my discipline, my judgments—"
"Your methods?" Eira cut in, her voice icy and unyielding. "A method that includes mocking a student, refusing to acknowledge their pain, and excusing the laughter of others is not discipline. It is cowardice hiding behind authority. You are a teacher, yet you weaponized your power against a girl who had no defense. That is a choice, and a vile one at that. You may cloak it in sarcasm and severity, but the truth is plain for anyone with eyes to see."
Snape's dark eyes glinted dangerously. "Miss White, your insolence has gone far enough. Twenty points from Slytherin for your disrespect. You will also serve one month's detention. I expect your full compliance."
Eira's gaze did not waver. She stepped closer, her tone calm, but every word carried the weight of iron. "I will not serve your detention. Your punishments are meaningless to me. Threaten, scold, cut points—do whatever you will. I will make the governors of Hogwarts aware of this. They will see your actions, and they will demand accountability. You will answer for this, and not just to me."
A ripple of shock ran through the corridor. Students whispered among themselves, eyes wide, some in awe, some in disbelief. Even Harry and Ron froze, staring at her in astonishment.
Snape's voice was now cold, smooth, and venomous. "So Miss White believes she may lecture a professor, insult my judgment, and then threaten authority with her childish fantasies of governors and inspectors. Do go on. Entertain us further with your delusions."
Eira's lips curved into a faint, bitter smile. "Do not mistake my words for the tantrum of a defiant student or the empty threat of a child. What I have said, I stand by. I will ensure this report reaches the other governors. I am a governor myself, Professor. Do not take what I say lightly. You will be held accountable for your actions, and nothing you do will hide the truth."
Snape regarded her for a long, tense moment, his gaze sharp and calculating. Then, without another word, Eira turned and walked toward where Hermione had vanished, each step deliberate and unafraid. The students around her remained frozen, awed and shocked. Even Snape, whose expression betrayed nothing, understood that she would not be intimidated or silenced.