"I hear Professor Malfoy is incredibly powerful," Odin Blatche, also from Slytherin, told Snape and the others. "Abraxas Malfoy, my father says he's very close to the Ministry of Magic's top brass."
"Oh, really?" Snape replied. "I only hope he teaches for more than two terms."
"What do you think will happen?" Mary leaned closer to Lily, hearing their conversation, and whispered, "I heard the Ministry is pushing a bill to restrict the employment of Muggle-born wizards. This Malfoy is supposedly one of the main proponents."
"You heard what he said at the Welcoming Feast," Lily's eyes held a hint of worry. "Mary, the Malfoy family isn't exactly known for being open-minded or friendly."
Just as she spoke, a rhythmic set of footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor.
The murmuring ceased abruptly.
Mr. Malfoy's tall figure emerged from the shadows, his light blond hair elegantly draped over his shoulders, and subtle Malfoy crests embroidered on his black robes.
"Now," he stopped before the classroom door, his grey-blue eyes scanning the crowd, then pushed the door open. "Enter."
The students quickly shuffled into the classroom.
Malfoy strode towards the podium, and with a flick of his wand, the heavy curtains drew themselves, leaving only the flickering candlelight from the candelabra.
"Put away your textbooks," he sneered. "Confronting the Faceless? The author of that book is a cowardly half-blood wizard who likes Muggles. I have something to say to you, and I expect your utmost attention."
Amidst the sudden silence, a few students hastily closed their books and tossed them back into their bags.
"I am delighted to have the opportunity to uphold our finest magical traditions and values," Malfoy said, resting both hands on the podium. "Firstly, you need to purge the incorrect information you've received from your minds. I want you to recognise your true enemies, and they are certainly not dark creatures."
"Let us begin with a basic history lesson," Malfoy waved his wand, and white writing appeared on the blackboard: "The True History of Wizards and Muggles." "I will lead you into the real world, which is so sorely lacking in boring History of Magic lessons."
"Muggles—" his lips twisted into a contemptuous sneer, as if uttering some vile word. "Like animals, dirty and stupid. For centuries, they have been cruel and brutal to wizards, burning our kin, forcing us to hide in the shadows, unable to enjoy a good life."
"That's not true! Everyone makes mistakes! At least two-thirds of the victims of the medieval witch hunts were Muggles!" a Hufflepuff Muggle-born student suddenly stood up, his face flushed. "My parents are Muggles, they—"
"Ten points from Hufflepuff, sit down! Interrupt me again, and you'll have detention." Malfoy looked at him coldly. "Your words only prove the inherent depravity of Muggles.
"Now, outside of Hogwarts, there is a group of great wizards striving. Thanks to their efforts, a wonderful order is being established, and every single one of you here, as a wizard, should join this magnificent endeavour."
Snape found Mr. Malfoy's words rather uninteresting; it was the same old "pure-blood supremacy" and "Muggles are vermin" drivel.
"Even in this very classroom," Malfoy continued, his gaze sweeping over several visibly uneasy students, "there are some wizards who have unfortunately been tainted by Muggles, but I believe that tracing back to a certain ancestor, the traces of magic must flow in your blood."
"Although you have strayed from the right path for a long time," he offered a false, predatory smile, "there is still an opportunity to unite around pure-blood wizards—"
During Mr. Malfoy's rather soporific lecture, a voice suddenly came from the back of the classroom: "Professor Malfoy, why do you believe pure-bloods are nobler than half-bloods or Muggle-borns?"
Everyone's heads turned to the source of the voice – Blatche was sitting there, looking eagerly at Malfoy.
Malfoy's eyes lit up. "An excellent question. Five points to Slytherin." He straightened up. "The purer a wizard's bloodline, the more powerful their magic. Conversely, wizards who associate with Muggles possess weak, pathetic magic, easily defeated, and can only find a shred of superiority amongst Muggles or Squib rubbish."
"To prove this, I will now teach you truly fascinating and righteous magic."
"Dark magic is a legitimate means to use against traitors and Muggles. To better protect ourselves and advance our great cause, we should learn and master them." Malfoy's voice grew fanatical. "Today, you will learn not only how to guard against them but how to use them. Only by understanding them can you truly wield them well."
He waved his wand, and the words on the blackboard transformed into three chilling spell names: Imperius Curse, Cruciatus Curse, Avada Kedavra.
A collective gasp swept through the classroom.
"Dumbledore wouldn't allow this!" Lily finally couldn't hold back and stood up, her green eyes blazing with fury.
Malfoy's smile vanished, replaced by a furious expression.
"A Gryffindor, I presume? Very well, twenty points from Gryffindor," he said softly, yet his voice sent a chill through everyone. "Forget Dumbledore. This is my classroom now."
Snape's eyes narrowed slightly, and he turned to Lily, shaking his head gently at her.
"Alright, back to the topic," Malfoy suddenly raised his voice. "Theory is always theory; it cannot replace practice." He snapped his fingers. "Dobby!"
With a crack, a tiny house-elf appeared in the centre of the classroom.
Dobby was still wearing his filthy pillowcase, and his large, tennis-ball-like eyes were filled with terror.
"Now, you may practice spells on it," Malfoy said casually, as if discussing the weather. "House-elves have strong magical resistance; they won't die easily and are perfect for practice."
Contrary to Snape's expectation, there were no widespread objections in the classroom. Most students simply looked at Dobby as if it were routine.
"That's a bit wasteful, isn't it?" Abbott said to Snape. "Most families wouldn't dare use a house-elf like that."
Snape said nothing to Abbott; he understood that in the eyes of most wizards, house-elves were not considered equal beings. Despite being sentient creatures, unlike Centaurs or Goblins, house-elves didn't even have a dedicated liaison office within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
The only official organisation, the "Office for House-Elf Relocation," existed solely to find new masters for elves who had lost theirs.
"This is terrible," Mary whispered to Lily. "The enslavement of house-elves is unjust enough; now they have to endure pain."
Not far away, James and Sirius overheard her words.
"They like it," Sirius instinctively blurted out, earning nods of agreement from several pure-blood wizards. "My family has an annoying elf named Kreacher who practically prides himself on being ordered about, constantly working and still feeling it's not enough. His greatest wish in life is to have his head cut off when he's old, like his mother, and hung on the wall as a decoration..."
"How can you say that?" Lily turned to him, indignant. "No sentient being should be treated like that!"
"This student is absolutely correct, providing us with ample facts," Malfoy interjected, looking approvingly at Sirius. "What's your name?"
Sirius cast a disdainful glance at Malfoy and didn't answer.
"His name is Sirius Black," Wormtail whispered, answering the question for him.
Sirius shot Peter an annoyed look but said nothing.
"Ah, the Black family," Malfoy didn't mind Sirius's haughtiness. "An ancient and noble lineage." He turned to Dobby. "It seems some wizards who aren't pure-blood still hold some misguided notions about this. So, Dobby, are you willing to be everyone's practice subject? Do you have any objections?"
The house-elf trembled, his large eyes brimming with tears. "Dobby—Dobby is willing, Master! Dobby has no objections."
He turned his back, a tear rolling down his pointed nose, which he quickly wiped away with his pillowcase before turning back.
"Professor Malfoy, if our goal is to fight Muggles," Snape suddenly spoke, his voice tinged with just the right amount of inquisitive curiosity, "can we really see the true effects of the spells on a house-elf?"
In that moment, he understood why Dobby's adoration for Harry was so genuine. In the days before the Dark Lord's downfall, the plight of house-elves was truly miserable.
"Furthermore," he paused, "with the permission of the board, led by yourself, we now have a Duelling Club. Its new-term practical session is tonight. Perhaps that would be a more suitable venue for a demonstration?"
"Ah, yes!" Malfoy's eyes lit up. "I've already proposed to Dumbledore that I become the instructor for the Duelling Club." He looked at Snape. "What's your name?"
"Severus Snape."
"Snape—" Malfoy frowned in thought. "Your mother's maiden name is?"
"Prince."
A flicker of understanding crossed Malfoy's face, followed by a smile. "The Prince family, a pure-blood family with a long history."
"Although—" his gaze swept over Snape, the unspoken implication clear.
Malfoy did not have the students cast spells on Dobby again, but he continued his "lesson," demonstrating various minor dark charms on the house-elf.
The house-elf's suppressed whimpers occasionally echoed.
When the bell rang for the end of class, many felt a sense of relief. Finally, on Malfoy's order, the house-elf, covered in injuries, Apparated away once more.
Snape watched Malfoy's retreating back, a cold glint in his eyes.
Night fell, the long tables vanished, and the Great Hall was once again transformed into the Duelling Club's arena.
The first-years crowded at the front, their eyes sparkling with excitement. Older students stood in small groups around, whispering about the day's lessons.
As Malfoy, clad in magnificent silver-trimmed robes, entered the Great Hall, all eyes followed his every step.
He ascended the central platform, and with a flick of his wand, a shower of silver sparks erupted in the air.
"Silence!" he commanded. "As the new instructor of the Duelling Club, I am honoured that so many of you have gathered."
"According to tradition," Malfoy surveyed the crowd, "I will first offer a demonstration. I require an opponent. Who was last year's duelling champion?"
The eyes of all students, except the first-years, turned to Snape. The surrounding students unconsciously made way for him, revealing him to Malfoy.
"Ah, it's you." Malfoy smiled with satisfaction. "This once again proves the importance of wizarding bloodlines. Severus's mother's side comes from the ancient Prince family, which has produced several Potions Masters."
"I am a Half-Blood Prince, sir," Snape said calmly, his voice just loud enough for everyone to hear.
Malfoy's smile froze for a moment but quickly regained its composure. "Yes, half-blood, possessing half noble lineage."
"Of course, don't worry about your champion," he turned to the crowd, a clear hint of disdain in his voice. "I know my limits; I will return him to you perfectly intact. Severus, you may use any spell you wish."
Snape walked onto the stage, a smirk playing on his lips, revealing his teeth. "I look forward to your guidance, sir."
The two turned, walked five paces back-to-back, then simultaneously turned and bowed.
"Three..."
"Two..."
Malfoy counted down.
"Bat-Bogey Hex!" Snape's spell was lightning-fast.
The silver light of the Bat-Bogey Hex struck Malfoy's face, and a swarm of bats flew from his nostrils, covering his horrified face.
Snape was surprised by the spell's effectiveness – he had read about this Bat-Bogey Hex in The Book of Spells: A Compendium of Charms, but to wield such power on his first try, it felt as if his wand was an extension of his arm.
Malfoy frantically waved his wand, trying to swat away the bats.
But Snape gave him no chance. "Expelliarmus!"
A red flash erupted, and Malfoy was blasted backwards, his wand spinning out of his hand.
He crashed heavily into the wall, sliding to the floor.
The entire Great Hall was utterly silent.
Snape stepped off the stage, looking at the still-struggling Mr. Malfoy. He deliberately waited until Malfoy's face was crimson before quietly incanting, "Finite Incantatem."
The bats scrambled back into Malfoy's nostrils.
"Professor Malfoy," Snape's voice was remarkably clear in the silent hall, "judging by the number of bats, you might need to clean your noble nostrils."
"I am a professor! How dare you—"
Malfoy scrambled to his feet, his face livid. "I'll have you expelled! I'll go to the Headmaster!"
"You told me to use any spell I wished, Professor," Snape said innocently, spreading his hands. "I thought, as a senior and noble pure-blood, you'd at least last through two spells."
"It seems I was misled by certain individuals," he turned to the stunned crowd, "and overestimated the abilities of others."
Malfoy's lips trembled, but he ultimately merely swept out of the hall.
Watching him slink away, Snape thought that, since his wand felt so responsive, perhaps he wouldn't even wait until morning to pay old Mr. Malfoy a visit and express his "apologies" most thoroughly.