The Potions Professor's office.
Glass jars of various sizes lined the shelves along the walls, each containing different ingredients preserved in medicinal fluids.
Some looked ordinary enough, dried herbs, sealed animal bones, fragments of roots, and preserved organs.
Others were instinctively unsettling, such as the eyeballs of unknown creatures slowly rotating in liquid, or viscous substances in colours one would rather not examine too closely.
Snape had lit only a single candle on his desk, just enough to illuminate the area directly in front of him.
As a result, the rest of the office remained shrouded in dimness.
Most of the shelves against the walls were hidden in shadow, with only the outlines of glass jars and the occasional glint of reflected light visible whenever the candle flame flickered.
Snape, however, was accustomed to such an environment and even preferred it.
Bright light felt harsh to him, while this gloomy, half-dark atmosphere actually made his thoughts clearer and allowed him to work without unnecessary distractions.
The older professors tended to retire early, but Snape certainly wasn't one of them.
He was still in his prime, full of energy, and had indeed been extremely busy lately.
Balancing both Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts had more than doubled his lesson preparation.
Especially with the end of next term approaching, when the fifth-years would sit their O.W.L.s and the seventh-years their N.E.W.T.s.
The students themselves were under considerable academic pressure, and the professors responsible for those subjects felt the strain of preparation as well.
Exam content had to be reviewed, practical exercises adjusted, and lessons arranged so that even the slower students had some chance of avoiding complete disaster.
Snape picked up the Invigorating Potion from his desk, uncorked it, and drained it in one gulp.
The moment the potion slid down his throat, a cool sensation spread from his throat to his stomach.
The accumulated fatigue seemed to be swept away by an invisible hand, and his mind instantly became alert.
It was a potion developed by Lucien, called something like the "Ox-Horse Potion", a rather strange name.
When Snape first heard it, he had found it difficult to believe that Lucien would choose such a crude naming convention for an otherwise excellent potion.
Still, the potion worked extremely well.
More importantly, it was simple to brew, and a relatively small amount of ingredients could produce a considerable quantity of the finished product.
That alone made it far more practical than many complicated restorative potions.
Sometimes, Snape genuinely wanted to force-feed an entire bucket of Ox-Horse Potion to those young wizards who dared to doze off in class.
Unfortunately, Hogwarts rules did not permit it.
A pity.
After a while, Snape set down his quill and reviewed the lesson plan he had written.
The theoretical framework for Defence Against the Dark Arts was clearly structured, the breakdown of spells progressed naturally from simple to complex, and the practical applications for counterattacks were properly emphasised.
There were defensive exercises, examples of common mistakes, and several sections explaining how to turn defence into an immediate counterattack.
A faint, almost imperceptible smile appeared at the corner of Snape's mouth before vanishing just as quickly.
Snape leaned back in his chair.
He truly felt that he should be the one teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts.
That position should have been his.
His understanding of the Dark Arts, his mastery of defensive magic, his research into combat techniques.
In which of these areas was he inferior to the fellows who changed every year?
Was he worse than a coward manipulated by a remnant soul?
Or a superficial fraud who knew nothing but lies and self-promotion?
Snape was indifferent to the fact that Dumbledore had been unable to find a new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor for some time.
If anything, he was quite pleased about it.
Ideally, the position would simply be given to him permanently next school year.
As for the post of Potions Professor, there were plenty of suitable replacements.
For example, although that old fellow Slughorn had already retired, given his personality, he would probably return if Dumbledore personally asked him.
Besides, the Potions position wasn't cursed.
Finding someone willing to take it would hardly be difficult.
But finding a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor wasn't nearly as easy.
Who would willingly apply for such a dangerous job for such meagre pay?
The position practically advertised the fact that whoever accepted it would be gone within a year.
With no real competition, Snape had already begun imagining the day he would officially be appointed Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor.
"Hmm?"
His gaze suddenly shifted toward the door.
Something was seeping in through the narrow gap beneath it.
At first, there were only scattered specks of silver light, as though someone had thrown a handful of crushed silver into the darkness.
Then wisps of silvery-white mist silently drifted through the gap and slowly spread beneath the dim candlelight.
The glow reflected faintly against the glass jars lining the shelves, making the entire office look even stranger than usual.
Snape's brow twitched slightly.
He was very familiar with this mist.
The Patronus Charm.
More precisely, an incorporeal Patronus.
The spell was difficult to master, and only a small number of wizards could summon a complete corporeal Patronus.
Most could only produce this shapeless silver mist.
Or perhaps they had already learned to summon a corporeal Patronus, but in a moment of panic while facing danger, they were unable to perform it properly.
After all, this was an advanced spell that demanded exceptional mental focus.
Even producing the mist from the tip of one's wand required the caster to concentrate completely on a single, intensely happy memory while maintaining enough magical control to sustain the spell.
Snape was more inclined to believe that a student was practising the Patronus Charm in some nearby room.
But at this hour, coming all the way underground to practise magic?
Should he praise their diligence?
No.
It would be better to go and deduct some points.
Snape's expression remained unchanged.
He wasn't worried that a student had encountered danger and was desperately using the Patronus Charm.
What, had a Dementor somehow sneaked into Hogwarts?
Hmph.
Even if Dumbledore had gone senile, he wouldn't allow something like that to happen.
Letting dark creatures into the school and all...
The previous troll had been an exception.
And an exceedingly embarrassing one at that.
Snape rose from his chair, narrowing his eyes as he watched the silvery-white mist continue to spread through the room.
The density of this mist...
It didn't look like something a beginner could produce.
The caster's magical power was clearly quite substantial.
The mist was not fading either.
Instead, it continued creeping deeper into the office, gathering around the legs of furniture and drifting between the shelves like an unusually bright fog.
And for it to have reached his office...
Even if it had come from the nearest empty room, the range was still unusually large.
An ordinary attempt at the Patronus Charm should not have flooded such a wide area.
Snape's earlier irritation gradually gave way to caution.
Someone was producing an enormous amount of Patronus magic.
Whether deliberately or not remained to be seen.
Snape drew his wand, preparing to cast a spell and investigate.
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