Snape sat at his desk, his expression unreadable beneath the curtain of his lank black hair. The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was thick with shadows, save for the sickly green glow emanating from preserved specimens in clouded jars. The dancing flames of black candles cast writhing shadows across ancient texts of dark magic scattered across his desk and the horrific images of curse victims on the walls.

He was waiting for a student, one who had been absent from his class without explanation- specifically, his lecture on resisting the Imperius Curse, a crucial lesson no competent wizard should miss. He was finally teaching the class he had been wanting to teach for years- so why did the idiot children refuse to attend? They should realize the value of finally having a competent Professor.

His long, pale fingers traced the edge of a detailed report on counter-curses while he waited. The room was silent except for the occasional soft hiss of what might have been a cursed object contained behind one of the glass cases. Snape was not one to tolerate such negligence, particularly in a subject where such carelessness could prove fatal. He had summoned the student to his office to demand answers, his patience wearing thinner with each passing moment. As the minutes ticked by, Snape's irritation manifested in the rhythmic tapping of his raven-feather quill against the oak desk, each tap more forceful than the last.

Finally, the heavy door creaked open, and the student had arrived.

"You're late," he sneered, each word dripping with cold venom. "Explain yourself before I decide that remedial Defense lessons every evening this month might... improve your sense of punctuality."