The Last Potion

The Potions Master


Justin Penny
Normal
Justin Penny
2
353
2003-04-24T04:31:00Z
2003-04-24T04:31:00Z
4
1276
7275
60
14
8934
9.2720







The
Potions Master

 

I stood
silently in the doorway for a moment, just long enough to gather myself back
together. I took one long, deep breath and closed my eyes before releasing the
iron grip I had around the doorframe and walked into the Potions classroom.

There was simply no doubt that he could hear my
heels clicking against the stone floor, but he didn’t turn around to see me. He
didn’t even budge.

Typical.

He made no welcoming gesture nor even gave
me a crude, sarcastic salutation. I began to wonder if he’d gone deaf over the
last decade.

I was standing right behind him when I heard
him sniff again. He cleared his throat and then brushed his finger under hiose ose before returning his hands to his slicing and dicing.

“I see you’ve got yourself a cold,” I said.
“It’s no wonder. The dungeons always were ten times cooler than the rest of the
castle.”

I could see him turning to look at me in the
corner of his eye. He brushed his sloppy hair out of his face and then returned
to his work. “If you’d bother to cover more than the essentials you would find
this atmosphere far more agreeable.”

“It’s summer time Professor Sn” I ” I
reminded him. “If you’d bothered to join the rest of us once in a while, you
may have noticed.”

“I’m well aware of what season it is,” he
spat at me. “I’m quite busy this time of year. I’ve got a lot to prepare for
when the students arrive and you’ll not be seeme ume up above until my work is
finished.”

“I see,” I said. “Well, should you change
your mind, you may also notice that you’re the only one still dressed from chin
to toe around here.”

“And nothing the weather does will change
that,” he told me just before he added his finely chopped Aconite to the
cauldron in front of him. “You’ll not see me in anything less than full robes.”

“Hmm,” I murmured in agreement. “Yes, I
can’t imagine anyone will be able to take you seriously again after seeing your
pasty white legs sticking out through a pair of summer shorts.”

Quite suddenly, Professor Snape stood up
from his wooden stool and spun around to face me. His cold, empty black eyes
looked me up and down before he towered right in front of me and glared deep
into my eyes. At that very moment I remembered how terrified I really was of
him. I could now recall that it was this sort of adrenaline that I sought
after. His effortless ability to drive fear into us as students was unmatched…
and incredibly enticing.

It was his power, his intimidation, and his
sleek black figure that excited me and attracted me to him. He excited me even
now as he loomed over me, his brow curving down in disapproval and his hands
fumbling at his sides as if he were trying to keep himself from drawing his
wand out to turn me into something foul and disgusting.

Oh Merlin! He’s never stohis his close to me
before! I could feel his soft, warm breath upon my face. His sweet, spicy aroma
lingered in the air around me. Merlin, he smells so good! If I could only
reach up and touch him. His lips are only inches away from mine… I could even
kiss him.

Oh sweet mother of Merlin! What am I saying?
What I can only call a ‘look of disgust’ appeared on my face once I realized
what sort of fantasy my imagination was cooking up. I don’t want to kiss
him! Professor Snape is nothing more than a cunning, old slimeball.

Before my imagination could run off without
me, I closed my eyes and turned my head away from him and backed away a little.

“That is just about to boil over,” I said
and pointed at his cauldron. I peeked at him before opening my eyes and stood
up straight as he began to slither away from me.

He smoothly glided back into his stool and
gently began stirring the thick mixture within the cauldron. Once he pulled his
stool closer to the table I heard him clear his throat again.

“Is there something I can do for you, young
lady?” he asked quietly. “Or have you just come down to look over my attire?”

Once my heart settled back down I took a
moment to look around the all too familiar Potions classroom. “There’s nothing
you can do for me,” I told him. “I just came down to look around, that’s all.”

“Very well then,” he said. “Have your look
and then be on your way. As I already told you, I’m quite busy.”

“Perhaps I could help you.” The words
slipped out of my mouth before I could even think about what sort of an offer I
had just made. I didn’t want to spend another second down here… alone… with
him!

I wanted to go back upstairs, enjoy a hot
meal, see my friends one last time and go home… not spend any more time here
with… him.

Oh Merlin… the memories. Ten years back I
would have done anything to commit my precious time to him.

“You know, that would be far easier if you
turned the temperature down before adding the -”

“I don’t want your help!” he scolded before
I even had a chance to finish what I was saying. “I’m managing just fine.”

“Yes, of course you,” I,” I agreed. “I just
thought I’d let you know that last spring I read in Witch Weekly that adding
Asphodel at a lower temperature won’t clump in the brew.”

“My concoctions don’t clump,”
Professor Snape hissed at me just before he sprinkled the Asphodel into the
cauldron.

I leaned myself up against one of the desks
and watched from a short distance as his mixture began to bubble violently and
I could have sworn I heard him cuss shortly before he began stirring and
stabbing at the mixture with his spoon.

Smiling in appreciation, I couldn’t help but
let out a little chuckle. “There’s a first time for everything I suppose.”

Professor Snape set the cauldron at a lower
temperature and got his concoction under control before turning around to give
me another one of his sinister glares. “You don’t even know what this is,” he
assumed. “You’re distracting me! I suggest you leave before I have time to
silence you myself.”

“I studied Advanced Potions for six years. I
know very well what this particular potion is,” I told him as I pointed at the
cauldron. “In fact, the Wolfsbane Potion is one of the simpler potions we brew
at Rubens Winikus. I must have done it a hundred times already.”

Professor Snape took an old rag and began
dotting along the edges of the cauldron to sop up what had begun to boil over.
He angrily slapped the rag onto the counter and placed his hand on his hip as
he turned to me again.

“You work for Rubens Winikus?” he
asked with steep doubt lingering in his voice.

“Yes,” I assured. “Like I said, I studied
Advanced Potions for six years before I started working for RWC.”

“Very well,” he accepted. “Where is it that
you studied?” he asked dryly.

“FIAMA,” I told him. “The French
International Academy-”

“I know what it stands for!” he interrupted
and batted his hand at me.

“- of Modern Alchemy,” I finished anyway.

Professor Snape was obviously as irritable
as ever. Professor Dumbledore was the only one who seemed to be able to carry
out a full conversation with the Potions Master. Perhaps that was because he
was the only one Professor Snape would never speak back to or treat like
vermin. Everyone else was easily dismissible.

“You must have had an outstanding school
record to be accepted by FIAMA,” the professor stated. “I understand only two
hundred and fifty applicants from around the globe are accepted per year.”

I nodded in agreement even though he wasn’t
facing me anymore. I crossed my arms and bit down on my lip as I do when my
nerves wind up on me. “You understand correctly. Two hundred and fifty students
are accepted per year. Barely half of those two fifty see it to the end of the
fourth year, and half of those students remain for the additional two years. I
graduated along with sixty-three of my original classmates.”

Professor Snape tried his damnedest to hide
his intrigue, but I could see the fascination glittering in hiss. Is. I would
have bet my bottom Knut that even he doesn’t have the knowledge of alchemy that
I do. And the funny thing is… it was my lovesick fascination with him that inspired
me to see it to the end of year six at FIAMA. Afteven ven years of aspiring to
be the best in his class, I managed to be the best in almost all the world. I
graduated near the top of those sixty-three students.

“Quite impressive,” Professor Snape hissed.
“Well then, I can only imagine that the work Rubens Winikus has is enough to
keep you quite occupied. Surly you don’t have the time to sit around here with
me concocting silly little potions for knucklehead students like mine.”

He looked at me once again and seemed to be
admiring my sense of Muggle fashion more than he’d care to admit. The corner of
my lips turned up into a small, devious smile as I turned away from him and
walked towards the classroom door. “Perhaps you’re right,” I said and looked back
at him one last time. “Good night, Professor Snape.”

“Good night, Miss…”

“Sullivan,” I told him. “Ms. Liza Sullivan.”