Another ripple of noise spread through the classroom. Oversee? All Defence sections? And Hermione, predictably, tugging on Harry's sleeve from where she sat behind him. "What about Potions?"
Harry threw the words over his shoulder in a low whisper. "We're getting a substitute."
"You're here to watch only!" sputtered Aran, his fists shaking even as he clenched them.
"And intervene as I see fit," smoothly added Snape. His own level voice only pointed out how . . . emotional Aran was getting over the matter. "I do believe that was made clear to you?"
It obviously had been. Aran had no reply.
"Excellent," said Snape, his voice actually purring over the word. "So, instead of asking the students to read, you'll begin the practical application right away. I understand from your earlier comment that some of your students are still having trouble conjuring caninae?"
Aran gave a stiff nod.
Meanwhile, the class had gone silent once again, everyone's gaze trained on Aran, then Snape, then Aran . . . Harry thought the students looked like they were watching Beaters batting a Bludger back and forth.
There was no doubt about who was going to win this verbal battle, though.
"Am I to understand that you propose to call up the students in difficulty and assist them one-by-one?" Snape's eyebrows drew together. "You've been working on caninae for some time, Professor. Don't you think it would be more efficacious to provide additional demonstrations before asking the students to make another attempt?"
Draco raised his hand. Aran ignored it, of course. That only gave Snape all the more fodder for criticism.
"Is it your practice to disregard your students when they are attempting to garner your attention?"
"Mr Mal--"
"Mr Snape," corrected Snape in a chilly voice. "It really is quite offensive that you neglect to acknowledge my son by his rightful name. I suggest you rectify your habits of speech at once, Professor."
Aran's angry flush faded away, to be replaced by a sickly pallor. He might be stupid, but he was smart enough to hear the threat underlying Snape's words.
"Mr Snape has already mastered caninae," Aran said, taking a step back, away from the Potions Master.
"That doesn't mean he has nothing to contribute. Yes, Mr Snape?"
Draco stood up, probably so his voice would carry better, Harry thought. "I thought you should know, sir, that Professor Aran never did provide us with any demonstration. He just told us to read the text and expected us to start conjuring straight away."
Snape turned shocked features toward Aran. "Indeed? Most unsound practice, Professor."
Harry thought that a laugh considering Snape's own learn by experience obsession. He could count on two hands the number of potions Snape had ever demonstrated before expecting his students to start brewing them.
"Well, let's rectify that matter as well, then," said Snape briskly. "Caninae, if you would, Professor."
For some reason, Aran hesitated. And tried to balk, actually. Snape was implacable, though, finally asking in a mocking tone, "Are you incapable, Professor? Is that the problem?"
Aran bristled. "Certainly not! Miss Patil, if you'll come up here to cast against me--"
Snape pretended astonishment. "Why, Professor, I am right here in front of you. Wouldn't it be simpler for me to hex you?"
"Miss Patil will do."
From further behind Harry, Seamus began to make a noise that sounded suspiciously like a chicken clucking.
Aran pretended not to hear it. When Parvati threw a mild Stunning Hex his way, he waved his wand. "Canis Horribilis!"
A small ball of fur, semi-transparent, erupted out the end of Aran's wand. When it landed and began yipping at Parvati, Harry could see it was no more than a puppy.
A Pomeranian puppy.
Parvati couldn't help it. She laughed.
And then the whole class laughed.
And then Snape as well, just as though he found Aran's caninae so completely ridiculous that professorial decorum could go straight out the window.
Harry had seen his father laugh before, but the other students hadn't, except Draco. They all went still and silent, shocked.
Snape did know how to play up a moment, Harry had to admit. His father fished in a pocket for a handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes as he continued to chuckle. "Oh, Professor. Is that the best you can do? The very best?" And then, in a lower voice but still audible to everyone in the room, "No wonder your students are having such trouble."
Anger apparently made Aran reckless. "I suppose you can do better?"
Snape took a half-step forward, his posture all at once hardening into something resembling a duelling stance. "Canis horribilis!"
The thing that emerged wasn't even a dog, not that Harry could tell. It was more like a huge, vicious wolf, all claw and fang, leaping forth toward Aran in a blur of fur that already looked bloodied. It wasn't even transparent like everyone else's caninae had been.
Aran screamed and scrambled backwards, tripping over his own feet, ending up lying flat on his back. Parvati fled too, but had enough presence of mind not to fall over while trying to get away.
Snape's caninae circled the downed professor, growling, as the class sat shocked, but not silent.
It's going to eat him! . . . Merlin's wand, did you see? Snape didn't even have any curse to cast against! . . . How did he conjure it, then? . . .
"Professor Snape is the correct way to refer to me," said Snape with a slight glare directly at Dean. And then, with another glare at the Slytherin half of the room, "Mr Zabini, if you write one more line during class time you will certainly regret it."
Zabini hurriedly shoved his ink and parchment away and sat with his hands folded atop an empty desk.
Meanwhile, Snape's ferocious wolf-dog was still circling Aran like a shark scenting prey. When Snape flicked his wand slightly, the caninae backed away.
But then, it rushed the Pomeranian still bouncing and yipping in front of the class, and gobbled it up in one bite.
"Oh, no!" said Lavender.
"The strong will vanquish the weak," said Snape, stepping over to Aran and looking down at him. His next word emerged softly. Somehow, that made it all the more chilling. "Always."
Snape looked up and surveyed the class, then. "Remember that, ladies and gentlemen. The strong will vanquish the weak. You are in this class in the hopes that you will acquire the tools to become the former instead of the latter." He gestured toward his caninae, which was sitting on its haunches, licking its chops. "You see what is possible when one has both skill and resolve. Now, choose a partner and practise. Rotate through several pairs as the class progresses. Anyone who has yet to conjure a successful caninae may come to the front for personal instruction."
Nobody made a move to approach Snape. Or at least, not until he waved his wand to vanish away the hulking ugly wolf-dog sitting on the instructor's platform.
But then, a line began to form. And it wasn't Aran's help the students wanted.
Harry couldn't help but smirk, just a little. He still needed help learning to conjure caninae, but he knew that Snape could always tutor him over the summer. If his classmates were going to get some quality instruction, they needed to get it here and now.
It was nice to see that good teaching was available, for once.
And from Snape.
Harry didn't know whether to grin or laugh.
------------------------------------------------------
There was only one topic of conversation in the Great Hall that night, and it was what a brilliant Defence instructor Snape was. Not just the sixth-years, but the other forms too, were saying the same thing. Even Neville was enthusiastic about having Snape in Defence class. Harry could hardly stop grinning. He knew that Percy had been wrong all those years ago, and Snape didn't really want the Defence job at all, but it was still nice to think that whatever happened with next year's disaster of a Defence instructor, at least this week and the next two they'd be getting a decent education in the subject.