Obsidian screens divided the entire space.
Subtle serpentine patterns were carved into the screens.
They partitioned the classroom into individual stone chambers.
Like a precise, cold-hearted hive.
A magical lamp hung above each chamber.
Its light was a ghostly green.
The beam fell precisely over the workbench in the center.
It illuminated only the working area.
The surroundings remained steeped in darkness.
Snape seemed to believe that excess light would disturb the potions as they coalesced.
The workbenches were no longer scarred wooden tables.
Instead, each had been polished from a solid slab of obsidian.
Their surfaces were smooth as mirrors and cold to the bone.
Douglas touched one lightly with his fingertips. A chill seeped through his skin, and he could even feel the steady flow of magic within the stone.
Faint silver patterns flowed beneath its surface.
Those were temperature-sensing runes.
The air lacked the pungent, muddled smell of herbs that had filled it before.
There was only a faint scent of disinfectant.
Mixed with the bitter freshness of dragon blood and wormwood.
Huge copper ventilation hoods hung overhead.
They were engraved with intricate alchemical symbols.
They worked in utter silence.
Drawing away every impurity that might interfere with the experiments.
Precise, cold, and orderly.
Yet also steeped in an oppressive, Gothic aesthetic of darkness.
"Welcome to the N.E.W.T.-level Potions laboratory."
Snape's voice sounded behind Douglas.
It brimmed with undisguised pride and conceit.
"A place truly built for precision and discipline."
Snape walked up beside Douglas.
His gaze swept over the obsidian workbenches.
His eyes held an artist's infatuation with his most perfect creation.
"I must admit, Holmes."
"Even those crude Muggle factories are not entirely without merit in certain aspects of their philosophy."
"Isolation and standardization, for instance."
Douglas understood at once.
This classroom was Snape's radically