By the time the lesson dragged to its end, the room had that heavy, closed-in feeling Snape's classes always left behind. The projector dimmed with a flick of his wand, the image vanishing.
Severus Snape took a slow look across the class, his gaze deliberate, measuring, as if deciding exactly how much of the lesson had actually gone in.
"I trust," he said, voice smooth and cold, "that even this class is capable of understanding the basic nature of a werewolf."
He paused just long enough.
"An abomination," he continued, "created by a bite. A creature that, on the full moon, loses all sense of self-control and becomes a danger to everything around it."
The words weren't rushed.
They were placed.
Carefully.
His eyes moved across the room, then stopped—briefly—on Hermione, then on Victor, as if expecting something without saying it outright.
"For your next lesson," Snape went on, "you will submit an essay on werewolves. Length—no less than two rolls of parchment. I expect detail, not imagination."
There was a small shift in the room.
Then Harry spoke.
"But sir, we have a match this week—"
Snape turned his head slightly, not even giving him the courtesy of a full look.
"Do you imagine," he said quietly, "that I arrange my lessons around your extracurricular distractions, Potter?"
Harry didn't answer.
Snape stepped closer, his tone dropping further.
"You will complete the assignment," he said. "Whether you choose to do so before or after your little game is entirely your concern."
A faint pause followed.
"Fail to submit it," he added, "and I will see to it that you spend your evenings scrubbing cauldrons until the concept of priorities becomes clear to you."
Snape straightened slightly, the matter already closed in his mind.
"Class dismissed."
Chairs moved quickly after that, students not wasting time gathering their things. The moment he allowed them to leave, the room emptied faster than it had filled.
They stepped out of the classroom into the corridor, the door closing behind them with that same heavy finality.
Ron didn't wait.
"Why is Snape taking the lesson?" he said, clearly annoyed. "What happened to Remus Lupin? He's supposed to be teaching this class. It's already bad enough seeing Snape in Potions—now this too?"
Victor walked beside them, unbothered.
"Snape said there were… reasons," he replied. "That's about as much as you're getting."
Ron snorted.
"Yeah, 'reasons,'" he said. "Funny how those reasons only show up when it means we have to deal with him again. He doesn't bother you two, so of course you don't care. Every class he's on us."
Victor glanced at him briefly.
"Have you considered," he said, tone even, "that he picks on you because you give him reasons to?"
Ron stopped mid-step.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Victor continued, not slowing down, "you answer half the questions wrong, don't prepare properly, and still act surprised when he notices."
"That's not—" Ron started, then stopped, trying to argue it.
Hermione didn't interrupt, but the look she gave Ron suggested she wasn't entirely disagreeing.
Ron frowned harder.
"So now it's my fault?" he said.
Victor didn't change expression.
"If you don't want attention," he said, "stop making yourself the easiest target in the room."
Hermione frowned slightly, still thinking about the lesson rather than the argument.
"Isn't it a bit strange?" she said. "Professor Remus Lupin doesn't come in, and Snape immediately decides to teach werewolves, even though that wasn't scheduled. He doesn't usually change topics like that without a reason."
Victor shrugged, not giving it much weight.
"Maybe he just wanted to teach it," he said. "He's a professor. He can change a lesson if he wants."
Hermione didn't look satisfied with that.
"There's something behind it," she said quietly. "He was being very specific."
Ron, who had already had enough of Snape for one day, waved it off.
"Whatever it is, I just hope this week goes better," he said, then glanced at Victor. "Quidditch match is coming up. Gryffindor versus Slytherin."
Victor gave him a brief look.
"I hope you win," he said, "but I'll be supporting my brother."
Ron made a face immediately.
"Hmph. Harry's going to crush Slytherin."
Victor didn't react to that at all.
"Ron, grow up," he said calmly. "That doesn't even bother me."
He paused, then added without changing tone,
"And don't start picking fights just because you didn't make the team."
Ron stopped walking.
"What?"
His expression shifted, irritation replaced by something sharper.
"How do you know that?"
Victor kept moving, not even turning fully toward him.
"I was near the pitch during trials," he said. "I saw what happened."
Ron's face tightened.
"You were watching?" he asked, clearly uncomfortable now.
"Not exactly," Victor replied. "You were just loud enough to notice. The reaction afterward made it obvious."
Ron looked away for a moment, clearly not happy that it had been seen.
*****
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