Chapter 5: The Notice

The next few days passed with their usual rhythm of classes and homework assignments. Transfiguration involved turning beetles into buttons, which required more concentration than expected, given how the beetles kept trying to crawl away. Charms focused on the Banishing Charm, and she managed to send a cushion across the room without hitting anyone, which Professor Flitwick seemed to consider adequate progress.

The potions class arrived again on Tuesday afternoon. She gathered her textbook and materials with the same mixture of dread and anticipation she'd felt all year, then headed down to the dungeons with the other students from her house.

The classroom was already cold when she entered. Snape stood near his desk at the front, arms crossed, while he watched everyone file in and take their seats. She walked to her usual spot in the middle row, arranging her supplies on the desk while trying not to look directly at him.

The lesson began without preamble. Today's focus was on strengthening solutions, which apparently required precise timing during the addition of salamander blood, or the potion would become corrosive instead of fortifying. She took notes on the procedure while watching him move around the front of the classroom. His robes swept behind him as he walked, creating that dramatic effect that probably wasn't intentional but had become so associated with his presence that imagining him without it seemed strange.

When he dismissed them to begin brewing, she started preparing her ingredients according to the textbook specifications. Pomegranate juice needed to be measured in exact amounts, and the salamander blood required storage at a specific temperature until the moment of addition. She worked through each step carefully, aware that Snape would be circulating through the classroom to observe their progress.

Her hands worked through the ingredient preparation with automatic precision. The salamander blood sat in its temperature-controlled phial, waiting for the exact moment when the base solution reached the right consistency. She'd read ahead in the textbook last night, wanting to understand the timing requirements before attempting the potion in class.

Snape's voice carried across the classroom as he critiqued a Hufflepuff student's stirring pattern. She glanced up briefly, catching the moment his eyes shifted toward her workspace before he continued addressing the class about the importance of maintaining consistent clockwise rotations. The look lasted barely a second, too quick to mean anything definite, though her pulse quickened anyway.

She returned her focus to the cauldron. The base solution was beginning to show the faint shimmer described in the textbook, which meant she had approximately thirty seconds before adding the salamander blood. Her hand reached for the temperature-controlled phial, fingers steady despite her awareness of Snape moving closer to her section of the classroom.

He stopped at the desk behind her, pointing out some error in ingredient proportions. She added the salamander blood in three careful drops, watching the solution turn the deep amber color that indicated proper integration. The textbook specified a two-minute resting period before the next addition, so she set down the phial and checked her notes to confirm the upcoming steps.

Snape moved to the desk beside hers. She could see him from the corner of her eye, positioned at an angle that gave him a clear view of Gryffindor students' workspace and her own cauldron. He was making some observation about inadequate heating charms, though his stance suggested he was monitoring more than just the student he was actively criticizing.

The two minutes passed while she organized her remaining ingredients. She worked through each preparation task, conscious of Snape's continued presence just one desk away. When he finally moved on, his path took him toward the front of the classroom rather than continuing his circuit through the rows. She exhaled slowly and added the powdered griffin claw to her potion, watching it dissolve into the amber liquid with the steady spiral pattern that meant everything was progressing correctly.

The rest of the lesson continued without incident. Her potion reached the specified violet shade by the end of class, and she bottled a sample for evaluation before cleaning her workspace. Snape dismissed them with his usual abruptness, already returning to his desk while students gathered their belongings.

Several days later, she entered the Great Hall for breakfast to find it more crowded than usual for this early in the morning. Students clustered near the entrance, and she could hear fragments of conversation about some announcement as she made her way toward her house table.

Dumbledore stood at the staff table, waiting for the Hall to settle. The headmaster's presence at breakfast wasn't unusual, but the way he seemed prepared to address the students suggested something more formal than his typical morning greetings.

She took her seat and poured tea while watching the head table. Snape sat in his usual position, looking as though he'd rather be anywhere else. His expression held that particular blend of boredom and irritation that appeared whenever he was required to participate in school-wide announcements.

Dumbledore raised his hands for silence. The conversations throughout the Hall gradually died down as students turned their attention toward the staff table.

"I have a brief announcement regarding an educational opportunity for our seventh-year students," Dumbledore began, his voice carrying easily through the enchanted space. "Professor Snape has graciously agreed to offer private Occlumency tutoring to select students preparing for careers requiring mental discipline. Those interested in pursuing positions as Aurors, or in high-security departments within the Ministry, will find this training particularly valuable."

A murmur ran through the seventh-year students. Occlumency wasn't part of the standard curriculum, and the chance to learn it directly from a professor was unusual enough to generate immediate interest.

"Sign-up sheets will be available outside the Great Hall following breakfast," Dumbledore continued. "Professor Snape will review applications and select students based on their aptitude and career objectives. Please note that this tutoring will require significant dedication and mental fortitude."

Snape's expression hadn't changed throughout the announcement. He sat perfectly still, giving no indication of enthusiasm or reluctance about the prospect of additional teaching responsibilities. When Dumbledore finished speaking and sat down, Snape immediately returned his attention to the plate in front of him, dismissing the entire matter with practiced indifference.

She picked up her tea, processing the announcement while students around her began discussing whether they would sign up. Occlumency training would genuinely benefit her career prospects. She'd been considering Auror training since her fifth year, though she hadn't committed to the idea completely. Learning to shield her thoughts seemed like exactly the kind of skill that would strengthen any application to competitive Ministry positions.

The fact that it meant regular private sessions with Snape was a complication she chose not to examine too closely.

By lunch period, she'd talked herself into it three times and out of it twice. The sign-up sheet hung outside the Great Hall on a small bulletin board, already containing several names when she approached it during the break between morning and afternoon classes.

She read through the names already listed. Two Ravenclaws, one Slytherin, and a Hufflepuff she recognized from Ancient Runes. All seventh years, all students who had mentioned career plans that would genuinely benefit from Occlumency training.

Her hand moved before she could second-guess the decision again. She wrote her name on the next available line, her handwriting looking slightly unsteady compared to the neat script of the other applicants. The quill felt heavier than it should have as she set it back in its holder.

Learning Occlumency made practical sense for her future. The fact that it would also provide legitimate reasons to be in Snape's presence outside regular classes was just a secondary consideration. Understanding his recent behavior, the repaired earring, and subsequent denial, all of it would be easier to parse if she had more opportunities to observe him in different contexts.

She stepped back from the sign-up sheet and headed toward her afternoon Herbology class, trying to ignore the nervous flutter in her stomach that suggested her motivations weren't quite as straightforward as she wanted to believe.

Three days passed with that same mixture of routine classwork and underlying tension. She checked her house's common room notice board every morning, though she tried to make it look casual rather than anxious. Other students were doing the same thing, gathering in small groups near the board to speculate about when Snape would post his selections.

The notice appeared on Thursday morning. She came down from the dormitory to find a cluster of seventh years already crowding around the board, standing on their toes to read over each other's shoulders. Someone groaned about not being selected, while another student was explaining to their friend why they'd chosen not to sign up in the first place.

She worked her way through the group until she could see the parchment. Snape's handwriting was as precise as his potion-making, each letter formed with sharp angles that somehow matched his general demeanor. The list was shorter than she'd expected—only five names from the entire school had been accepted.

Her name was third on the list. Next to it, in that same angular script: "Thursday, 8:00 PM, Potions Master's Office."

Today. Her first session was scheduled for today, which gave her approximately twelve hours to either prepare herself mentally or talk herself out of showing up. The latter option wasn't really viable, given that failing to attend after being selected would probably earn her Snape's permanent contempt, but her mind offered it anyway as she stared at the notice.

The day's classes felt impossibly long. Arithmancy required calculations that kept slipping away from her focus, and she had to redo the same problem three times before getting results that made sense. Defense Against the Dark Arts involved practical work with Patronus Charms, which normally she enjoyed, though today she could barely maintain the necessary concentration to produce more than silvery wisps.

Dinner arrived with her appetite completely absent. She pushed food around her plate while her housemates discussed Quidditch practice schedules and the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. Someone asked if she was feeling well, noticing how little she'd eaten, and she mumbled something about having studied through lunch.

By seven-thirty, she was walking toward the dungeons with her heart beating too fast. The corridors grew colder as she descended, fewer torches lighting the way the deeper she went into Snape's territory. Most students avoided this area unless they had Potions class, which meant the hallways were empty except for the occasional echo of her own footsteps.

She'd been to the Potions classroom countless times, but Snape's office was separate—a door she'd seen him enter and exit after lessons but had never had reason to approach. It stood at the end of a narrow corridor, set back in an alcove that suggested privacy rather than the academic accessibility of regular classrooms.

The door was slightly ajar when she reached it at precisely eight o'clock. Light spilled through the gap, and she could see part of a bookshelf lined with texts that looked considerably older than anything in the student library. She raised her hand to knock, hesitated, then knocked twice with more confidence than she felt.

"Enter." Snape's voice came from inside, flat and without inflection.

She pushed the door open and stepped into his office. The space was smaller than she'd imagined, lined with bookshelves that reached from floor to ceiling on three walls. Snape sat behind a dark wooden desk positioned against the far wall, several thick reference books spread open in front of him. Their spines showed titles about Legilimency, Occlumency, and mental defense techniques.

He glanced up from the books, his dark eyes meeting hers for a brief moment before he gestured toward the center of the room. "Sit."

A single wooden chair had been positioned in the middle of the office, facing away from his desk toward the empty wall opposite. The placement seemed deliberate, isolating the chair from everything else in the room in a way that made her intensely aware of how exposed she would be sitting there.

She walked to the chair and sat down, folding her hands in her lap while trying to keep her breathing steady. Behind her, she could hear Snape closing one of the reference books and setting it aside.

Her fingers tightened slightly in her lap, pulse quickening despite her efforts to remain composed. Somewhere behind her, Snape inhaled slowly.

And she realized the lesson was about to begin, whether she was ready or not.