New Potions and an Enraged No-Nose (1)

Professor McGonagall rose from the staff table. She moved so quickly that she knocked her chair backward, but she did not stop to right it. Her gaze swept from the crystal bottles on the Slytherin table to the people gathered around Draco Malfoy, then from them to the students shut out of the crowd, standing on tiptoe to peer inside with anxiety and fear written all over their faces. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and the muscles in her jaw twitched faintly. She raised a hand, wanting to say something, but her voice was drowned out.

Professor Flitwick stood on his chair, holding a half-finished cup of pumpkin juice. The rim rested against his lower lip, but he did not drink. Behind his round spectacles, his little eyes shone with a complicated mixture of shock and concern. He watched the students snatch up those potions of unknown origin as though they were discounted goods, watched people who normally copied others' Potions homework now worship a bottle of potion, watched Draco Malfoy stand there like a king looking down upon his subjects.

Severus Snape stood in the shadows at the very edge of the staff table, his black robes drifting soundlessly. He was not looking at Draco, the potions, or the students scrambling madly to buy them. He was looking at Fuli Dolun, the sixth-year boy who had returned to the Ravenclaw table, relaxed into his seat, and begun eating.

There was a small wet patch on the front of the boy's school robes—the mark left by spilled potion. When he drank it, a drop had slipped from the bottle's mouth and landed on his robes, leaving a tiny dark stain that was nearly invisible beneath the warm yellow light.

Snape stared at the stain, his nostrils flaring slightly.