"Giving the new Defence professor a proper welcome on his first day," a Slytherin from an older year said with a smirk as he passed Sean's table. "That's our Sean."
He didn't wait for a reply, just offered a conspiratorial nod and disappeared into the crowd. He was one of many. Ever since the disastrous Defence Against the Dark Arts class that afternoon, a steady stream of older students had approached Sean, offering cryptic words of approval before melting away without so much as an introduction. It was bewildering.
Sean pushed the last of his steak around his plate, his appetite gone. "Blaise," he said, "I'm heading to the Potions Club. I'll see you back in the common room later."
Blaise shook his head, a look of noble determination on his face. "Not tonight. My girlfriend and I have a study session in the library. We're going to work hard and improve together."
Sean looked at his friend, who was practically puffing out his chest with mock sincerity, and had to suppress a sigh. This new relationship was doomed. Blaise Zabini was many things, but a quiet, diligent library-dweller was not one of them. This sweet, accommodating phase—born of the thrill of a new romance—was destined to be short-lived. Some poor older girl was about to have her heart broken by a master.
Shaking his head, Sean parted ways with his friend and made his way down to the dungeons. The Potions Club, small and exclusive, was even smaller this year. With the graduation of last year's Head Girl, their number had dwindled to four. When Sean entered the familiar, chilly classroom, only four workstations remained.
"Hey, Sean. You're here." Caspian Avery, a fifth-year Slytherin, greeted him from across the room. "I heard about what happened in Defence class this afternoon. Well done."
Sean raised a hand in acknowledgment. "Don't mention it. I was just hoping to see if the new professor had any actual skill. The result was... predictable."
"A slacker, then," Caspian said with a wry smile.
Sean nodded and changed the subject. "Fifth year now, Caspian. You must be starting to prepare for your O.W.L.s. Feeling confident?"
A flicker of anxiety crossed Caspian's usually composed face. "Somewhat. But my parents expect straight 'Outstandings'. It's the only way to secure a good position at the Ministry when I graduate. My Potions work is strong, but..." He sighed. "My Transfiguration and Ancient Runes are lacking. I'll likely only manage an 'Exceeds Expectations' in those."
For most students, an 'E' was a mark of distinction. But for a family like the Averys, it was a near-failure. Sean understood the pressure. Caspian, like Cedric Diggory in the year above and Sean himself, was academically at the top of his year. The expectations were immense.
They chatted for a few more minutes before the other two members arrived: Brocklehurst Ike, a quiet Ravenclaw from the fourth year, and Jennifer Frawley, a sixth-year Slytherin with an unnervingly watchful gaze.
Just as they were all settled, the door swung open and Severus Snape swept into the room, his black robes billowing behind him like the wings of a great, angry bat.
He stood before them, his dark eyes sweeping over the four students. "My requirements for you this year remain unchanged," he began, his voice a low, dangerous drawl. "By the time you graduate, I expect each of you to have published your own paper in a reputable Potions journal. I do not demand The Golden Cauldron, but a publication in a secondary journal, such as The Brewer's Fire or White Smoke, is the absolute minimum. Fail to do so, and you will not claim to have been a member of my club."
He paused, his gaze landing on Sean, his eyes as cold and empty as a winter sky. A familiar sense of foreboding washed over Sean.
"Of course," Snape continued, his voice dropping even lower, "there is one exception."
Sean's stomach tightened.
"Sean," Snape said, the name sounding like a curse on his lips. "You are the exception. Before you leave this school, you will publish two more papers in The Golden Cauldron. Anything less, and you will deny you ever studied under me."
Two papers? The man was trying to kill him.
Sean felt the crushing weight of his Head of House's "favoritism." For a fleeting, insane moment, he considered transferring to Beauxbatons. He could feel the heavy, suffocating weight of Snape's expectations, a burden designed to either forge him into something brilliant or break him completely.
"Un... understood, Professor," he managed to say, his voice tight. He knew better than to complain. A single word of protest, and the requirement would surely become three papers or four. When it came to creative cruelty, his Head of House was a master.
"Good," Snape said, a flicker of something that might have been satisfaction in his dark eyes. "Now, let us begin our discussion of advanced brewing techniques..."
After the meeting, Brocklehurst Ike, who seemed to possess a deep-seated social anxiety, was the first to flee the room. Caspian and Jennifer, however, both moved toward Sean. Jennifer hung back, waiting with a patient, predatory stillness as Caspian finished his conversation.
"Good work tonight, Sean," Caspian said, then gave a curt, dismissive nod in Jennifer's direction before taking his leave. It was clear, despite his polite exterior, that Caspian did not like her.
The moment he was gone, Jennifer's bright, false smile was directed at Sean. "Sean, let's talk."
"Jennifer. What do you want?"
"My, my, still so formal after a whole year," she chided gently. "Sean, I heard that you joined the Slytherin Brotherhood's reserve organization."
"That is correct."
"Then you should have told me," she said, her voice dropping to a confidential murmur. "Oliver is also a member. I could ask him to look out for you. Oh, forgive me," she corrected herself with a light laugh. "I meant the two of you could look out for each other. After all, you are cousins, are you not?"
(End of Chapter)
***
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