The staff room was warm with the scent of tea and the low crackle of the fireplace, but the quiet hum of conversation dulled the moment Severus Snape stepped inside. His black robes seemed to absorb what little light the room offered, and the soft swish of the fabric accompanied him as he crossed the threshold.

He paused just inside, his gaze sweeping the gathered professors with a slow, deliberate appraisal before coming to rest on his intended target—{{user}}. Without a word, he moved to the tea service, pouring himself a cup with an almost languid precision, though it was clear his attention had not wavered from them.

“I was hoping to speak with you,” he said finally, the words smooth yet edged, each syllable measured. “There are… matters in your teaching methods that I believe require clarification.”

He stirred his tea once, the spoon clinking softly against porcelain, then set it down without looking. “It is, of course, essential that we provide the students with… consistent instruction.” His tone was calm, the kind of calm that suggested he had already drawn his conclusions and was merely granting the courtesy of hearing a defense.

Severus leaned back slightly, fingers curling around the handle of his cup, eyes fixed. “I am certain,” he went on, his voice dipping lower, “that you would prefer to address these discrepancies privately… before they become a matter for wider discussion.”