The air in the classroom crackled with tension, a palpable energy that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Professor Umbridge, her pink robes a jarring contrast to the somber mood, held aloft the Ministry-approved textbook on Defense Against the Dark Arts. The scent of freshly-printed parchment mingled with the faint aroma of lavender from her perfume, a sickly sweet fragrance that seemed to cling to the air like a suffocating fog. "This, my dears, is the new guide to studying defense against the dark arts, approved by the Ministry of Magic itself," she announced, her voice dripping with a false sweetness that grated on my nerves.
Hermione, her brow furrowed with concern, raised a hand. "Excuse me, Professor, but there is nothing here regarding deploying defensive spells."
Umbridge's smile, a saccharine confection, stretched across her face. "We don't use defensive spells, my dear, because there is nothing out there. You were told that the dark wizard is back, but that's a big lie. The Ministry of Magic itself approved it." Her words, laced with a chilling certainty, sent a wave of unease through the room. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the nervous shuffling of feet and the soft rustle of turning pages.
"It is not a lie! I saw him myself, I fought him, Lord Voldemort came back to life and he killed Cedric!" Harry's voice, raw with grief and anger, cut through the room. His eyes, usually bright with mischief, were now filled with a dark intensity, reflecting the pain of his loss. The air in the classroom, once filled with the hum of anticipation, now felt heavy and oppressive, like a physical weight pressing down on my chest.
"Enough, Mr. Potter!" Umbridge's voice, sharp as a whip, silenced Harry. Her eyes, cold and calculating, glinted with a cruel satisfaction as she leaned forward, her gaze fixed on Harry. "See me after class." The threat in her voice was unmistakable, a promise of punishment for daring to challenge her authority.
No one dared to speak again. Even I, bound by my father's wishes, couldn't voice my own doubts. To go against the Ministry was to go against him, and that was a line I wouldn't cross. The silence in the classroom, broken only by the scratching of quills on parchment, felt heavy and suffocating, a tangible manifestation of the fear that gripped the room.
After class, I hurried to the potions classroom, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. The air in the corridor was thick with the scent of damp stone and old magic, a stark contrast to the sweet, cloying perfume that lingered in Umbridge's classroom. Professor Snape, his black robes swirling around him like a dark cloud, was waiting for me. His face, usually impassive, was etched with lines of frustration, his dark eyes burning with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. "Late again?" he asked, his voice a low growl.
"I'm sorry, Professor," I said, forcing a sweet smile despite the anger simmering in his eyes. The air around him seemed to crackle with a barely-contained energy, a potent mix of power and frustration that made me acutely aware of the danger lurking beneath his calm exterior. I sat in front of him, my chin resting on my hand, watching him work, a silent observer. "What do you think this potion is going to be?" I asked, my voice a soft whisper.
"I plan to make something even more powerful than the Elixir of Life produced by the Philosopher's Stone," he replied, his gaze fixed on the bubbling cauldron. The potion, a swirling mass of emerald green, emitted a faint, pungent odor that tickled my nostrils.
A jolt of energy shot through me, a searing sensation that I made while looking at him intently. "Stop using your power against me! I can feel it!" He exclaimed, Snape looked at me sharply, his eyes piercing, before returning to his potion. The air crackled with an unseen energy, a palpable tension that made my skin prickle.
I was surprised. He could feel my energy? He was truly fascinating. My hypnotism, similar to the Amortentia potion, didn't work on him. But what if I used Amortentia itself? Surely, he would know immediately. He was the potion master, after all. A dangerous thrill coursed through me.
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Love In The Midst Of Darkness
Fanfiction"Who Will Save the Savior?" Severus Snape devoted his life to saving others, even when it meant being hated and reviled by the very people he protected. He died believing he was despised, and branded as a traitor to Dumbledore. But what if, at the l...
