Deep Underground Mist?

Potions Professor's Office.

Along the wall shelves were glass jars of various sizes, each containing different materials soaking in medicinal liquid.

Some looked fairly normal—dried herbs, packaged animal bones; others were instinctively unsettling—the eyeballs of unknown creatures slowly rolling in liquid, a viscous substance whose color made you not want to look too closely...

Snape lit only a candle on the table to illuminate the area in front of him.

So the entire office remained dimly lit, with most of the shelves against the wall hidden in shadow, only the outlines of the glass jars and the occasional reflection of light visible.

However, Snape was used to and liked this kind of environment.

The bright light was blinding to him, while the dim, gloomy atmosphere actually made his thoughts clearer.

Older professors tend to retire earlier, but this certainly doesn't include Snape.

He was in his prime, full of energy, and had indeed been quite busy lately—simultaneously teaching Potions Class and Defense Against the Dark Magic, more than doubling his lesson preparation workload.

Especially at the end of the second semester, fifth graders will face the OWLs exam, and seventh graders will face the NEWTs exam.

Students face significant academic pressure, and professors of the corresponding courses also face considerable pressure in preparing lessons.

Snape picked up the potion from the table, uncorked it, and gulped it down.

The moment the medicine entered my throat, a cool sensation spread from my throat to my stomach, and the accumulated fatigue seemed to be swept away by an invisible hand, instantly invigorating me.

This is a potion developed by Lucien, called "Ox-Horse Potion," a rather strange name.

When Snape first heard the name, he found it hard to believe that Lucien would use such a crude naming convention.

However, the results are quite good. The key is that the refining process is simple, and a sufficient number of finished products can be produced with a small amount of materials.

Snape sometimes really wanted to give those little wizards who dared to doze off in class a bucket of Ox-Horse Potion.

Unfortunately, Hogwarts rules do not allow it.

After a while, Snape put down his quill, looked at the lesson plan he had written, and reviewed it.

The theoretical framework of Defense Against the Dark Arts is clearly laid out, the steps for breaking down spells are explained from simple to complex, and the practical application of counterattacks is also highlighted...

A barely perceptible smile appeared on Snape's lips, vanishing in an instant.

Snape leaned back in his chair, feeling that he should be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.

This position should have been his.

His understanding of Dark Magic, his mastery of defensive spells, and his dedication to combat skills—in which aspect isn't he far superior to those guys who change every year?

Is it that they are no match for cowards bewitched by remnant souls, or for empty-headed fools who only know how to deceive?

Snape was indifferent to Dumbledore's inability to find a new Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts during this period, and even welcomed it.

It would be best to give him a permanent position next academic year.

As for Potions Class professors, there are plenty of backup candidates.

For example, even though Slughorn has retired, given his personality, he'll most likely come back if Dumbledore asks.

Anyway, there's no curse associated with this position.

But Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts are not so easy to find.

Who would apply for such a dangerous job for such a low salary?

With no competition, Snape was already envisioning his formal appointment as Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Um?"

His gaze suddenly turned towards the doorway.

In the dim light, something was seeping in through the crack in the door.

First came scattered silver light, as if someone had sprinkled a handful of broken silver in the darkness.

Immediately afterwards, wisps of silvery-white mist silently seeped in through the crack in the door, slowly spreading in the dim candlelight.

Snape's brow twitched slightly; he was very familiar with this fog.

"Patronus Charm."

To be precise, it was an unformed Patronus Charm.

This spell is very difficult to learn; only a few wizards can summon a complete, fully formed Patronus.

Most of the others could only summon this amorphous silver mist.

Or perhaps they've already learned how to summon a physical Patronus, but panic when faced with danger and can no longer use it.

After all, this is a rather advanced spell, requiring exceptional concentration.

Even something as simple as making mist emerge from the tip of the staff requires the caster to concentrate fully on recalling one of their happiest memories.

Snape was more inclined to believe that a student was practicing the Patronus Charm in a nearby room.

Why are you practicing magic underground so late at night?

Should we praise his hard work?

Let's deduct some points.

He wasn't worried about the students being in danger, but in a moment of desperation, he used the Patronus Charm —could it be that Dementor had infiltrated Hogwarts?

Ha, even if Dumbledore senile, he wouldn't allow such a thing to happen.

Letting dark creatures into the school or something...

The previous Troll are excluded.

Snape stood up, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the lingering silvery mist in the air.

The density of this mist... doesn't seem like something a beginner could create; it shows the caster has considerable magical power.

And the mist could even drift into his office...

Even if the signal originates from the nearest empty room, the range is still quite large.

Snape drew his wand, preparing to cast a spell to investigate.