Favorite Snape Scenes - He's such a lovely professor, no really.

[vmonte]

No: HPFGUIDX 122172


vmonte responds:

Professor Snape was forcing them to research antidotes. They took 
this one seriously, as he had hinted that he might be poisoning one 
of them before Christmas to see if their antidote worked. 
"Densaugeo!" screamed Malfoy. 
Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in midair, and 
ricocheted off at angles—Harry's hit Goyle in the face, and Malfoy's 
hit Hermione. Goyle bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where 
great ugly boils were springing up-Hermione, whimpering in panic, was 
clutching her mouth. 
"Hermione!" 
Ron had hurried forward to see what was wrong with her; Harry turned 
and saw Ron dragging Hermione's hand away from her face. It wasn't a 
pretty sight. Hermione's front teeth-already larger than average—were 
now growing at an alarming rate; she was looking more and more like a 
beaver as her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, toward her chin— 
panic-stricken, she felt them and let out a terrified cry. 
"And what is all this noise about?" said a soft, deadly voice. 
Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamored to give their 
explanations; Snape pointed a long yellow finger at Malfoy and 
said, "Explain." 
"Potter attacked me, sir—" 
"We attacked each other at the same time!" Harry shouted. 
"and he hit Goyle—look—" 
Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would 
have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi. 
"Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly. 
"Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron said. "Look!" 
He forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth—she was doing her best to 
hide them with her hands, though this was difficult as they had now 
grown down past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin 
girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from 
behind Snape's back. 
Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference." 
Hermione let out a whimper; her eyes filled with tears, she turned on 
her heel and ran, ran all the way up the corridor and out of sight. 
It was lucky, perhaps, that both Harry and Ron started shouting at 
Snape at the same time; lucky their voices echoed so much in the 
stone corridor, for in the confused din, it was impossible for him to 
hear exactly what they were calling him. He got the gist, however. 
"Let's see," he said, in his silkiest voice. "Fifty points from 
Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get 
inside, or it'll be a week's worth of detentions." 
Harry's ears were ringing. The injustice of it made him want to curse 
Snape into a thousand slimy pieces. He passed Snape, walked with Ron 
to the back of the dungeon, and slammed his bag down onto the table. 

vmonte: 
The more Snape treats these kids like garbage the less respect they 
are going to have for him. I admit though that the children are 
learning a great lesson here, although not about potions. 

vmonte: Even the bad guy knows...
 
"Potter!" Snape snarled, and he actually turned his head and stared 
right at the place where Harry was, as though he could suddenly see 
him. "That egg is Potters egg. That piece of parchment belongs to 
Potter. I have seen it before, I recognize it! Potter is here! 
Potter, in his Invisibility Cloak!" 
Snape stretched out his hands like a blind man and began to move up 
the stairs; Harry could have sworn his over-large nostrils were 
dilating, trying to sniff Harry out—trapped. Harry leaned backward, 
trying to avoid Snapes fingertips, but any moment now— 
"There's nothing there, Snape!" barked Moody, "but I'll be happy to 
tell the headmaster how quickly your mind jumped to Harry Potter!" 
"Meaning what?" Snape turned again to look at Moody, his hands still 
outstretched, inches from Harry's chest. 
"Meaning that Dumbledore's very interested to know who's got it in 
for that boy!" said Moody, limping nearer still to the foot of the 
stairs. "And so am I, Snape... very interested..."  
Snape was looking down at Moody, and Harry couldn't see the 
expression on his face. For a moment, nobody moved or said anything. 
Then Snape slowly lowered his hands. 
"I merely thought," said Snape, in a voice of forced calm, "that if 
Potter was wandering around after hours again ...it's an unfortunate 
habit of his ...he should be stopped. For—for his own safety." 
"Ah, I see," said Moody softly. "Got Potter's best interests at 
heart, have you?" 
There was a pause. Snape and Moody were still staring at each other, 
[...] 
"I think I will go back to bed," Snape said curtly. 
"Best idea you've had all night," said Moody. 

vmonte: Ron doesn't get enough credit...

"So you think Snape could be up to something, then?" asked Harry, but 
Hermione broke in. 
"Look, I don't care what you say, Dumbledore trusts Snape—" 
"Oh give it a rest, Hermione," said Ron impatiently. "I know 
Dumbledores brilliant and everything, but that doesn't mean a really 
clever Dark wizard couldn't fool him—" 

vmonte: And it's always important to be an assertive teacher and let 
those brats know just how much you loath them...

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new—celebrity." 
Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes 
were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They 
were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels. 
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-
making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they 
caught every word—like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of 
keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish 
wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I 
don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly 
simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of 
liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, 
ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew 
glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads 
as I usually have to teach." 
More silence followed that little speech. [...] 
"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered 
root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" 
 
"I don't know, sir," said Harry. 
Snape's lips curled into a sneer. 
"Tut, tut-fame clearly isn't everything." 
He ignored Hermione's hand. 
"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find 
me a bezoar?" 

"I don't know, sir." 
"Thought you wouldn't open a bok before coming, eh, Potter?" 
Harry forced himself to keep looking into those cold eyes. Snape was 
still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand. 
"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" 

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, 
why don't you try her?" 

"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, 
asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known 
as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the 
stomack of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for 
monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by 
the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?" 

Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from 
Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter." 

He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them... 
[... Longbottom melts the cauldron...] 
"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one 
wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before 
taking the cauldron off the fire?" 

Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to 
Neville. 
"You—Potter—why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought 
he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another 
point you've lost for Gryffindor." 
[... Ron kicked Harry behind their cauldron...] 
"Don't push it," he mutterred, "I've heard Snape can turn very 
nasty." 

vmonte: And he never shows preferential treatment...

They were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution. Malfoy set 
up his cauldron right next to Harry and Ron, so that they were 
preparing their ingredients on the same table. 
"Sir," Malfoy called, "sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy 
roots, because of my arm—" 
"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," said Snape without looking 
up. 
"Professor," drawled Malfoy, "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sit." 
Snape approached their table, stared down his hooked nose at the 
roots, then gave Ron an unpleasant smile from beneath his long, 
greasy black hair. 
"Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley." 
"But, sit—!" 
Ron had spent the last quarter of an hour carefully shredding his own 
roots into exactly equal pieces. 
"Now," said Snape in his most dangerous voice. 
Ron shoved his own beautifully cut roots across the table at Malfoy, 
then took up the knife again. 
"And, sir, I'll need this shrivelfig skinned," said Malfoy, his voice 
full of malicious laughter. 
"Potter, you can skin Malfoy's shrivelfig," said Snape, giving Harry 
the look of loathing he always reserved just for him. 

vmonte: Teacher tip! Don't forget to threaten your students pets and 
then deduct house points when their pet doesn't die...

The end of the lesson in sight, Snape strode over to Neville, who was 
cowering by his cauldron. 
"Everyone gather around," said Snape, his black eyes glittering, "and 
watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he has managed to produce 
a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't 
doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned." 
...Snape picked up Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a 
small spoon into Neville's potion, which was now green. He trickled a 
few drops down Trevor's throat. 
There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then 
there was a small pop, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in 
Snape's palm. 
The Gryffindors burst into applause. Snape, looking sour, pulled a 
small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on top 
of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown. 
"Five points from Gryffindor," said Snape, which wiped the smiles 
from every face. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class 
dismissed." 
Harry, Ron, and Hermione climbed the steps to the entrance hall. 
Harry was still thinking about what Malfoy had said, while Ron was 
seething about Snape. 
"Five points from Gryffindor because the potion was all right! 

vmonte: Jealous much?

"How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter," Snape said 
suddenly, his eyes glinting. "He too was exceedingly arrogant. A 
small amount of talent on the Quidditch field made him think he was a 
cut above the rest of us too. Strutting around the place with his 
friends and admirers... The resemblance between you is uncanny." 
"My dad didn't strut," said Harry, before he could stop himself. "And 
neither do I." 
"Your father didn't set much store by rules either," Snape went on, 
pressing his advantage, his thin face full of malice. "Rules were for 
lesser mortals, not Quidditch Cup-winners. His head was so swollen—" 

and a racist too..

"Don't ask me to fathom the way a werewolf's mind works," hissed 
Snape. "Get out of the way, Potter." 
"YOU'RE PATHETIC!" Harry yelled. "JUST BECAUSE THEY MADE A FOOL OF 
YOU AT SCHOOL YOU WON'T EVEN LISTEN—" 
"SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!" Snape shrieked, looking 
madder than ever. "Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved 
your neck; you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have 
been well served if he'd killed you! You'd have died like your 
father, too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black—now 
get out of the way, or I will make you. GET OUT OF THE WAY, POTTER!"
  
vmonte