It would be odd to say, but it was even odder to see - certain people were starting to take arriving at Snape's ... martial... class as the highlight of their days. After all, it was always interesting. Harry Potter wouldn't have expected that - the often dour professor certainly didn't seem the 'exciting' sort that Lockhart had been, or even the 'nice' sort like Remus Lupin.
But, if there are some things you had to see to believe, Harry was, belatedly, seeing this one.
Hufflepuffs, in the main, with some Ravenclaws. People enough out of the direct fire that they could treat this as just a class, albeit one that gives its students whiplash.
Some of the Gryffindors attempted to swagger in, but the mood of "This is Snape's Class" had them circling up and looking defensive, slightly hunkering down with hands nearing their wands.
The Slytherins, as always when they weren't baiting someone, were quiet. Neutral. Silent.
Harry and his friends weren't really in any of the categories, so they sat together, waiting. Harry was too attentive to fidget, wondering if Snape was already in the room with them, invisible. Or if today would be the day when they got creatures. Yanno, like falling spiders. Falling invisible spiders.
They never look up. Harry thought firmly, remembering Dudley, and resolutely relaxing into a stance.
Snape entered in his usual swirl of robes, proving that Harry really wasn't becoming a psychic. He lept onto the small podium, and launched in, without even greeting people. As this was usual, people mostly just listened (except if they were overachievers like Hermione Granger, in which case they tried to take notes despite the obvious lack of a place to write on. At least she wasn't writing on Ron.)
"How does one win a battle?" Snape said.
"By working well with others." Susan Bones said.
"And...?" Snape prompted, not content to either dismiss her or completely turn his attention to her.
"Death." Someone unidentifiable said from the back of the room, "By killing people."
"Alternatives?" Snape said.
"Incapacitation. If they can't hurt you, you've probably won." Seamus said, his mouth threatening to grin, despite the serious conversation.
"And the obvious problem with that inane approach?" Snape responded.
"They can recover. Knock a man good in the head, and he's down. Kill him, and he's down for good." That was Tracey Davis, of all people. Not the person Harry'd expected to say anything, let alone that.
"How does an auror prevent that?" Snape said, his eyes flashing around the room. "MacMillan. Your answer."
"By... locking people up?" He said, the answer coming more as a question than anything else.
"On the field of battle, not afterwards." Snape derided with an eyeroll.
"Ropes, apparation, stupefication." That was Ron, who generally knew better than to say something in Snape's class. Of course, Snape's class was generally potions, so...
[As we return to the further Adventures of the Unsuspecting Sixth Year class ... the poor line I had to kill, because Snape's really not that relaxed in front of a class to kid around.
I continue to surprise myself as to how much lecturing Snape does. Oh, well, this is the cat-catching class!
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