“What, in Salazar’s name, is this . . . muck?”

With a crack that snapped every head in his direction, Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, slammed a glass jar onto the table in front of him with such force that the runny, golden-coloured substance inside sloshed up and over the lip of the jar. He glared at Harry Potter, who had the misfortune to be seated opposite him.

“This is not what I wanted, Potter. It has the consistency of something from a sick Hippogriff, the colour is nowhere near the right shade, and looks rancid to boot, and as for taste . . . no doubt you have discovered a new and virulent way to poison somebody, Potter. Congratulations may be due, but that was not what you were asked for!”

Harry cringed. “I’m sorry, Professor, I didn’t mean—”

“Not another word, Potter!” Snape snapped at him. In a movement so quick that half the people nearby didn’t see it, he picked up the offending jar and threw it at Harry, who easily ducked it. The jar shattered on the stone floor behind him, causing the two girls on either side of Harry to squeal in shock. “Cease that racket!” Snape roared at them.

“Professor—” Harry started again, desperate to appease the enraged Potions Master.

“What did I just say, Potter?” hissed Snape. “Do you not speak English now? Or are you just such a dunderhead that you cannot understand simple instructions?” Harry opened his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it and snapped his jaw shut. “Honestly, it amazes me that such incompetent people can manage to survive for so long without assistance. Perhaps you’d be better off if you studied a book or two occasionally.”

With a suddenness that made everyone jump, eliciting squeals from the same two girls again, Snape was leaning over the table, nose to nose with Harry, glaring at him.

“Perhaps, Potter, tomorrow you’ll have grown at least half a brain, and will be able to complete the task I set you!”

With that, Snape whirled on his heel, robes swirling out behind him, and stalked out of the Great Hall, slamming the side door behind him.

Professor Vector snorted into her tea. “Looks like Sev’s in a snit!”

Professor Dumbledore stared after his Potions professor with a bemused air. “If he didn’t like honey, the house-elves would have brought him some more strawberry jam. He only had to ask.”