Hogwarts i am snape

"What's this all about? I thought we'd see something interesting!" Outside the circle, some younger students grumbled, standing on tiptoe and pouting. 

The lawn was filled with wobbling figures. 

Initially, they'd been full of anticipation for the legendary Apparition. But seeing the sixth-years standing rooted, swaying left and right, their faces redder than dragon's blood, they quickly lost interest and began to leave in twos and threes. 

Just then, two students accidentally Apparated into the same wooden hoop and were now blaming each other, wrestling and loudly claiming the other had messed up. 

"It's all your fault! You made me fail my Apparition!" 

"No, you came into my hoop!" 

"Now that's interesting!" The departing younger students stopped in their tracks, laughing so hard they nearly doubled over. 

If the Heads of Houses hadn't intervened in time, it seemed a chaotic brawl of bullying might have broken out that day. 

Many others were simply dizzying themselves, their steps unsteady, toppling over in every direction. 

Towards the end of the lesson, a serious accident occurred. 

A piercing shriek suddenly rang out, and everyone spun around in horror to see Wormtail swaying unsteadily within a wooden hoop, his empty sleeves flapping in the wind. His two hands, which should have moved with him, were still left behind at his starting point. 

The Heads of Houses rushed to his side. With a loud pop, and after a puff of purple smoke dissipated, they saw Wormtail sobbing, his hands reattached, but his face was deathly pale, his eyes wide with terror. 

"Splinching, the separation of a body part," Wilkie Twycross said calmly, wand in hand. "This happens when one's resolve isn't firm enough. You must always keep your focus on your destination; don't panic, be deliberate... like this." 

Twycross elegantly took a few steps forward, spread his arms, and spun on the spot, his robes swirling gracefully with his movements. 

In the blink of an eye, he vanished before their very eyes, only to reappear at the edge of the circle. 

But his success did little to boost their spirits. 

"I'm starting to dislike him," Abbot whispered to Snape. "Any teacher who just says 'Isn't that simple?' ought to reconsider their career choice." 

"Indeed," Snape agreed, growing weary of the futile attempts. "It's as if he's saying 'anyone can do it,' but all we've seen so far is that it's better without hands." 

Though he hadn't made any progress himself, remaining intact was undoubtedly a better outcome than splinching. 

Faced with the students' complaints and frustrations after their failures, Twycross seemed neither disheartened nor bothered. 

He slowly fastened his cloak, his eyes sweeping over everyone, and leisurely said, "See you next Saturday, everyone. Don't forget the three Ds: Destination, Determination, and Deliberation." 

Because of the frustration brought on by Apparition, the students couldn't help but feel a deep aversion to Twycross's constantly emphasized "three Ds." In their minds, these Ds seemed more like "Dumbass," "Dog-breath," and "Dung-head." 

Despite a few minor mishaps, the otherwise pleasant weekend quickly passed. 

In the following week's Care of Magical Creatures class, Snape's eyes widened in astonishment at Professor Kettleburn's lesson. 

It was a rare indoor Care of Magical Creatures theory class, and Professor Kettleburn was laboriously pointing his prosthetic arm at a drawing of a Basilisk on the blackboard. 

"The Basilisk, also known as the King of Serpents, is a magnificent, brilliantly green serpent that can grow up to fifty feet in length. 

"The Basilisk's fangs possess extraordinary toxicity and immense destructive power; it even leaves a trail of venomous slime on the ground it slithers over. 

"However, the Basilisk's most dangerous and direct form of attack is the deadly gaze of its large, yellow eyes. Anyone who makes direct eye contact with it will instantly perish." 

"Yes," Snape thought, "extraordinary toxicity. Even a long-dead Basilisk's fangs can still destroy a Horcrux." 

Professor Kettleburn continued, his voice echoing in the quiet classroom. 

"The first recorded Basilisk was bred by a Greek Dark Wizard named 'Herpo the Foul.' He was a Parselmouth. This creature has an incredibly long lifespan; it's said that Herpo's Basilisk lived for almost nine hundred years. 

"After numerous experiments, Herpo discovered that by simply placing a chicken egg under a toad to incubate, a dangerous serpent with extraordinary abilities would hatch..." 

The more Snape listened, the more astonished he became, muttering to himself: Wait, is he actually teaching us how to conjure a Basilisk from scratch? This is absolutely preposterous! 

"Professor," he couldn't hold back any longer, interrupting Kettleburn's lecture, which sounded like "How to Build a Nuclear Bomb in Your Garage," and asked in shock, "Are you sure this is something we should be learning?" 

"No—" Kettleburn sighed heavily, looking exasperated. "I'm not sure, Severus. But it's clearly stated in the Ministry of Magic's N.E.W.T. curriculum, even though it hasn't been updated in over two hundred years." 

"This was all laid down when Perseus Parkinson was Minister," Kettleburn grumbled softly. "At the time, he even tried to pass a law forbidding wizards and Muggles from marrying—what an imbecile..." 

"Please note, despite my teaching you about Basilisks," Kettleburn stopped his complaining and said seriously, "the act of creating a Basilisk has always been illegal." 

"More importantly, while the breeding process for a Basilisk is simple, I hope none of you ever attempt it. 

"Aside from communicating with Parseltongue, a Basilisk listens to no one. If you're very interested in breeding a Basilisk, trust me, the Basilisk you breed will be far more interested in you than you are in it." 

"Furthermore," Kettleburn paused, then added, "history is full of examples of Parselmouths being swallowed alive by their own Basilisks, or swallowed after being accidentally petrified." 

Gazing at the lifelike drawing of the Basilisk on the blackboard, a strange image suddenly formed in Snape's mind: 

Himself, seated regally on a throne studded with wands, exuding authority. 

Before him, a multitude of Basilisks with covered eyes slithered about, while Tom was bound beside them, his mouth tightly gagged. Under Tom's watchful gaze, Snape would slowly toss one Horcrux after another, letting Dumbledore command the Basilisks to destroy them one by one... 

Fortunately, the class bell finally rang then, ending his daydream. 

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