Harry Potter A Master Of One Thing, A Master of All.

Severus Snape sat at his office desk, copying down a list of necessary ingredients for a medicinal potion for Madam Pomfrey, the new school nurse. He read over the list again, checking to be sure he had not forgotten anything, having done the entire list strictly from memory. "Ah," he snarled to himself, making a mental note to beat himself later with a textbook. "Moly." Though he was thoroughly angry with himself for forgetting such a vital ingredient, he couldn't suppress a small smirk. Without the moly, a rather mushroom-like plant, the antibacterial potion he had intended to make would be nothing more than very sticky, very nettle- like water. For a moment he considered making it anyways to threaten his students with, but quickly squashed the idea under the pretense that Dumbledore would disapprove.  
  
Rule number One: No torturing students. Of course, there was no rule stating that students were not allowed to torture their professors, but you make due with what you have. Once again, Severus rubbed at his temples and re-read the list. It seemed as if he had everything, and stood, pulling his cloak over his shoulders (though the heat of the early summer was already beginning to seep in through the stone walls,) and leaving the dungeons to search for Madeline, the squat little witch who taught Herbology. He made his way through the surprisingly uncrowded hallways, pausing to berate a running student or break up a couple displaying a bit too much public affection. There were still three full weeks left of school and already the students were behaving as if it were summer. Not that it surprised Severus anymore, for since he had become a professor here nearly four years ago, he had learnt never to underestimate the laziness of youth.  
  
As he passed through the Entrance Hall doors and out into the sunshine, he nodded briefly to a young man, Parkinson, if he wasn't mistaken, who was one of Voldemort's followers.  
  
Along with himself, of course.  
  
Severus squinted against the powerful sun blazing down on his pale skin and dark hair, and he could feel the top of his head growing hot under the rays. He forced himself not to run when he saw Parkinson's girlfriend, Patty, rushing over to him.  
  
"Professor Snape!" She greeted jovially, as always she did when she needed something. "You know, I was studying with Alexander the other day and we were just wondering what you were planning to put on the last section of our N.E.W.T.S.. I mean, I know I'm not supposed to ask,-"  
  
"That's right, you're not-"  
  
"-But it would mean so much to me if I could study something specific, so I'm guaranteed to pass at least part of my exams. I don't want to have to repeat a grade."  
  
Severus frowned and squinted more against the sky. "I am not going to help any of my students cheat. If Dumbledore ever found out, he'd have my head, for sure."  
  
She stopped her foot angrily on the ground. "Oh, Dumbledore's an old coot. He'd never know." But despite her persisting, Severus just ground his teeth and walked off, muttering about something Patty couldn't quite make out. Which was lucky for him, because he wasn't quite sure how much he wanted to receive a howler from the girls parents.  
  
Slowly approaching the greenhouse, Severus pushed open the door and poked his head inside. Madeline was squatted on the floor next to a very filthy first year, who had tears running down his cheeks. Being sure to remain silent and unseen, he shut the door noiselessly and moved closer to the group.  
  
"It's alright, hun," the lady was whispering soothingly to the young boy, "No one gets it on their first try." The boy sniffed and rubbed his nose with a dirty hand, unknowingly smearing mud onto his face. "I know," he pouted, "but I really didn't mean to. . . to. . . to k-kill it." Again he sobbed and acquiesced when she pulled him into her arms.  
  
"Oh sweetheart, that's alright. Plants die. Everything dies. It wasn't your fault," she cooed, and Severus finally took notice that the boy in her arms was her grand-nephew, Evan or Ian Sprout. He strongly suspected it was Evan, but he could've been wrong.  
  
"I'm still sorry," he sniffed as he stood and brushed off his robes, "I'll buy you a new one--promise." The woman smiled kindly and patted him on the shoulder. "Go on dear," she mollified, "or you'll miss lunch." At this, the boy ran off, casting a horrified glance in Snape's direction before darting from the room.  
  
The Professor stood up as well and jumped slightly at the towering man in front of her. "Oh, Severus! I didn't hear you come in! Do you have the list for me?"  
  
He nodded and produced the list from his pocket, and she snatched it up and read over it quickly. "I can have all but the Wiggumtree bark by tomorrow. I'll have to send Hagrid out for that one." Severus merely nodded and left with a polite, "Thank you." He didn't even bother to shield his eyes when he was once again accosted by the sunlight.  
  
As he re-entered the school building, his eyes danced with color before adjusting once again to the slightly darkened torch lights. Professor McGonagall was walking by with her hands full of research texts. "Severus!" She exclaimed upon seeing him, and he nearly jumped a foot in the air. "Could you give me a hand? I dropped a book a couple steps back." Severus growled but did as he was asked, and skulked down the corrider until he found the book, spine up and pages bent askew, and returned it to the witch. She smiled faintly at him for his service, though he wished she hadn't. It wasn't a big secret that none of the staff trusted him very much, and her forced grin reminded him more of a grimace than anything pleasant.  
  
Instead of trying to respond, he stepped by her and into the Great Hall and proceeded up to the staff table. Dumbledore and Hagrid were there, as was the dwarf Flitwick, who Severus never could get a first name from. 'Probably thinks I'll use it against him,' he thought angrily to himself. In the middle, Dumbeldore was speaking with one of his seventh year students, Matilda Thatch, if he wasn't very much mistaken from his view from behind. He wondered briefly what business she might have with the Headmaster, but brushed the thoughts aside and sat down next to the old wizard as the girl left their company.  
  
"Hello, Severus," he greeted happily, and Severus smiled back, reveling in the light he got from only one person anymore. The only man who trusted him after all he'd done. "Headmaster," he said formally, and quickly ducked his head and began to eat some things he assumed were brussell sprouts.  
  
"Did you sleep well last night?" The jovial man continued, most likely hoping to pull him out of his depressed withdrawal with little success so far.  
  
"Yes, I tried to," he answered in between bites, "It is always easier knowing it is the longest possible time until I am forced to go back." Dumbledore nodded and decided to let the subject drop for now. "Aside from the Dark Lord, how have you been? I believe you have 7th year exams next period."  
  
Severus nodded and sipped his wine, which Dumbledore took away after a moment. "I only hope some of my students this year won't fail. I don't think you know how disconcerting it is when not a *single* student seems to have learned or absorbed anything I've tried to teach them." He sighed heavily and felt himself slumping in his chair against his will. Dumbeldore just smiled and patted his arm under the table.  
  
"I believe you have a least one student hoping to catch your attention with a job well done." At this he tilted his head in the direction of one of the house tables, and Severus fought a losing battle not to look over at it. Eventually, he allowed his eyes to wander to the Gryffindor table without Dumbledore's knowledge and looked around at some of the seventh years. None of the ones he could see were particular geniuses at Potions, and he immediately tore his gaze away, not wishing to give Dumbledore the satisfaction of knowing he fell victim to his bait. Though by the look on his face, he already knew.  
  
Slumping further in his chair, he grumbled something to himself and finished his meal, just seconds before the release bell rang for the next class. He stood stiffly and nodded to the Headmaster equally so and proceeded out the doors and into the corridors of the gloomy school. Practically knocking over any student in his path was a specialty of his, one he was very well known for, and immediately a path cleared to allow him passage ahead of them. Upon arriving at the door of his beloved potions classroom, he unlucked it with a charmed skeleton key and set it gently in his pocket. Only one other person had another which could open the potions' door, and it wasn't Filch. But Dumbledore never had to use it anyways.  
  
He let the children in (seventh year Slytherins and Gryffindors,) and watched as they sat in their normal seats which they had assigned themselves, and the chairs were pulled closer to the students' respective sides of the room, so that they wouldn't have to risk contamidation upon getting too close to a member of another house. Or some other such thing.  
  
Severus sighed as they set about their work, slicing the proper ingredients for a potion he had taught them to make on one of their more difficult lessons. This one would take a while, and, Severus thought avidly, if they don't pick up the pace, they'll never finish.  
  
One boy, a small, nearly runt-like child whose body consisted of half legs, was currently under Severus' focus, and despite him being a Gryffindor, (or maybe because of it,) he swooped down on his every mistake with extreme predjudice.  
  
"My, my," he hissed under his breath as the boy began to tap some thyme out of a canister, "it seems that after nearly 7 full years in my class, you failed to learn a thing." The child cringed. Again, Severus stepped around him hin a predatory movement and eyed the top of his head. "And why exactly, Mr. Archer, do you find it necessary to add unneeded ingredients to the mix?" The boy shivered and continued to stare down at the spoon in his hands. "Or is it that, perhaps, you have once again decided against taking notes while I lectured on how exactly to form this potion?" Again, the boy shuddered and twisted the spoon between his fingers. "Or perhaps you just have every intention of failing yet another potion in my class, so that you could keep your record of unmucked potions at a nice, crisp, clean zero."  
  
"I'm sorry sir, I just-"  
  
"No excuses!" Snape barked, immediately picking up the boy's cauldron and dragging it over to the sink, "You're going to start this all-over-again. Am I understood?" He nodded, and Severus dumped the abomination down the drain. Normally he would not allow a student to retry on an exam, not even such a terrible one, but his mood was foul and he wasn't the right mood to want to scrub up 'Goo de Archer' when his potion exploded. Never the less have to explain it to Dumbledore.  
  
Again, the Archer boy set to work on constructing a proper potion, borrowing the notes from a more compitant student and working slowly. In the end it was all worth it to watch, as the final bell was ringing, the boy jump up and hug all the girls near him (one Slytherin included,) on having completed his first (and most likely last) successful potion. Severus had to fight down a smile.  
  
04.11.02 


End file.
