Snape returned to the dueling stage and faced the students below, his wand twirling deftly between his fingers.
His immediate priority was to continue the Dueling Club activity tonight; he couldn't disappoint so many eager young wizards.
"It seems our Professor Malfoy has more important matters to attend to," Snape said, feeling the gaze of hundreds of eyes upon him. "Perhaps I can continue teaching you dueling techniques. Any objections?"
A murmur spread through the audience; the students seemed somewhat confused by the evening's events.
"Things are unsettled outside," Snape suddenly raised his voice, cutting through the whispers. "Death Eaters are running rampant everywhere, and the walls of Hogwarts won't protect us forever."
"When you need to defend yourselves, what spells will you use? A Levitation Charm? A Colour-Changing Charm? Or—" his gaze swept over every face, his wand suddenly pointing at a training dummy in the corner—"—like this?"
A flash of red light, and the dummy instantly exploded into several splinters, scattering across the floor.
"Ah—" several first-years shrieked.
Snape calmly waved his wand. "Reparo."
The fragments reassembled, and the dummy stood perfectly intact once more.
"Dummies can be repaired," Snape said softly, "but if you're hit by a Dark Curse, you might not be so easily mended. In the face of danger, spending the rest of your life in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries is a luxury many can't afford. If you don't know what St. Mungo's is, feel free to ask your classmates."
After the students' chatter subsided, Snape continued, "You should all take practice seriously, so that you can effectively protect yourselves when you need to defend yourselves one day. For example, a very effective defensive charm, the Shield Charm, whose incantation is Protego, is essential for you to master." He suddenly called out, "Miss Mary Macdonald," Mary looked up, surprised, "would you mind coming up to demonstrate the Shield Charm for everyone?"
Mary hesitantly walked onto the stage.
"Wrist a little higher," Snape instructed concisely, gently adjusting her posture with his wand. "Like this. Remember, the power of a spell comes from firm resolve."
"Come, let's try. No nonverbal spells." He stepped back. "Careful—Rictusempra!"
"Protego!" Mary shouted.
A burst of heat erupted from her wand tip, forming a translucent barrier in front of her.
Snape's spell hit the barrier, dissipating like a raindrop into a lake. A round of enthusiastic applause erupted from the audience.
"Very good," Snape clapped along. "As you can see, Mary very effectively warded off my Tickling Charm."
"Next, I'll demonstrate the Disarming Charm," he said, pointing his wand at the dummy. "Mobilicorpus!"
The dummy floated onto the stage.
"For the benefit of first-years who might not know, the incantation for the Disarming Charm is Expelliarmus." Snape said, casting the Disarming Charm on the dummy.
The wooden stick in the dummy's hand flew into the air and was gently caught by Snape.
"Alright," he said. "You can now freely team up and practice the Disarming Charm, or other spells, but do not cause permanent harm to your classmates. If you have any questions, you can ask me."
For the next hour, the Great Hall transformed into a massive practice ground.
Snape wove through the crowd, lingering a few times in the spot where Professor Malfoy had fallen earlier. He occasionally corrected students' wand grips and patiently demonstrated spell pronunciations. With his help, Quirrell even nervously performed his first successful Disarming Charm.
"Don't cast jinxes on your classmates," he warned as he passed two Gryffindors practicing on each other, "unless you wish to spend the weekend with Madam Pomfrey."
As the practice neared its end, Snape noticed the atmosphere in the Great Hall had completely changed. Even the most timid and introverted students were loudly chanting spells.
"How does it feel?" Snape stood back on the dueling stage, his wand tapping his throat, his voice amplified by a Sonorus charm.
"Amazing!" yelled Bertram Aubrey from Ravenclaw.
"Much better than Malfoy taught!" Quirrell echoed, then seemed to realize what he'd said and quickly shrank his neck.
A slight smirk played on Snape's lips, but he immediately composed himself.
"I believe Professor Malfoy also taught you something else today—about the superiority of pure-bloods." He paused, his dark eyes sweeping over the entire hall. "Mary, who just demonstrated a splendid Shield Charm for you, comes from a Muggle-born family."
"And, I'm sure you all saw that the esteemed Head of the famous Malfoy family, a noble pure-blood, couldn't even stand two of my moves. To be precise, just one. He even—even had to go complain to the Headmaster."
A ripple of laughter went through the Great Hall.
"It's clear that almost nothing he says is worth believing. However, there's one point in his views that's worth considering—" Snape raised a hand for silence. "We need unity."
"Not unity around some pure-blood wizard, but all four Houses united together. Regardless of bloodline, House, or ability, as Hogwarts students, we all face the same threats. You must live together in harmony, just as in the school's founding days, and be of one heart."
"Therefore, I propose forming a club." Snape continued. "If you agree with this idea, you're welcome to join. We'll call it—The Order of the One. The club will engage in mutual aid, and discrimination and bullying, both internal and external, will be absolutely forbidden."
"And why should we unite around you?" a challenging voice came from the crowd. "Why should we 'unite' with Slytherin? How many Dark Wizards have come from your House?"
The atmosphere in the Great Hall instantly quieted.
Snape didn't get angry; he recognized Sirius's voice, but he didn't care.
"That's precisely the point," he said calmly. "I wouldn't ask such a question. I don't care which House you're from, what your background is, or whether you're strong or weak. Everyone is equal."
Sirius opened his mouth to retort, but Lupin pulled at his sleeve.
Then, to everyone's surprise, Lily Evans raised her hand.
"Miss Evans?" Snape said.
"I'd like to join," Lily said clearly. "Lily Evans, Gryffindor."
"Very good," Snape said, taking a roll of parchment and a quill from his robes and noting down her information.
Then, more hands went up—"Pandora Flahos, Ravenclaw—"
The quill automatically recorded the name of each applicant.
At the edge of the Great Hall, Sirius somewhat displeased, said to Lupin and Peter, "Let's go! This is simply—"
"Actually, I think Snape has a point," Lupin whispered, looking down. "The antagonism between the four Houses has indeed caused too many unnecessary conflicts. No one has ever done anything like this before—"
Sirius stared at him in disbelief. "You're taking Snivellus's side?"
"I—" Lupin hesitated. "I just—"
Sirius's face darkened, and he turned, striding towards the exit.
Peter quickly followed; Lupin cast a quick, complex glance in Snape's direction, then hurried after them.
Just as they were about to exit the Great Hall, they ran straight into Dumbledore.
"Ah, is it over already, Mr. Black?" the Headmaster asked kindly.
Sirius stiffly nodded, walking around the Headmaster and out.
Dumbledore stepped aside, but called out to Lupin, "Remus, your actions surprise me. It takes immense courage to stand your ground in front of friends. This time, you did very well."
Lupin's face reddened, and he mumbled a "Thank you, Professor," before hurrying away.
Dumbledore slowly walked towards the dueling stage, students automatically parting a path for him.
Snape was checking the names of the applicants, his head down, until the surrounding quiet drew his attention.
He looked up and paused when he saw Dumbledore.
"Ah, Professor," Snape quickly regained his composure. "Are you joining our student club as well?"
"Well taught, Severus," a glint of amusement passed in Dumbledore's eyes, then he turned to the other students. "However, joining a club is an important decision, and in some ways, it will determine how you spend your time at school. So, you don't need to rush your decision tonight; you can consider it carefully and then find Severus."
"That concludes our dueling lesson for today," he said. "You may all return to your common rooms and rest."
The students began to pack up and leave, excitedly discussing the evening's practice.
Dumbledore looked at Snape. "Come to my office; there are some matters we need to discuss."
In the corridor leading to the Headmaster's office, Snape couldn't help but complain, "I've walked this path too often, Professor. I hope to come here less in the future."
"If you don't cause trouble, that is," Dumbledore replied gently.
"I'm always like that, Professor," Snape shrugged. "I like a quiet life, you know."
Dumbledore smiled, shaking his head.
The stone gargoyle sprang aside, and the spiral staircase carried them slowly upwards.
When they entered the circular office, Abraxas Malfoy was pacing back and forth agitatedly.
"Finally!" Malfoy's complaint hit them square on. "Dumbledore, I thought you intended for me to wait until morning!"
"One mustn't interrupt the young wizards' practice, nor dampen their enthusiasm, Abraxas," Dumbledore said calmly, gesturing for Snape to sit down. "A valuable dueling lesson is worth a short wait."
"Am I more important, or are those brats' meaningless games more important?" Malfoy angrily questioned.
Dumbledore and Snape exchanged glances, both wisely remaining silent.
Malfoy launched into a lengthy accusation of how Snape had "disrespected his teacher," demanding severe punishment for him.
"I was merely demonstrating dueling as you requested, Professor," Snape responded calmly. "You can't blame me for your lack of skill."
"Dumbledore, look at this!" Malfoy's face was twisted almost beyond recognition. "This is the excellent student you've taught!"
"I thought you'd be calmer, Abraxas," Dumbledore said, timely conjuring a plate of sweets and a bottle of wine. "Try some; I hope it calms your anger."
Malfoy picked up a biscuit, tasted it, and immediately spat it out. "Too sweet! Utterly unpalatable!"
"Dobby!" he shouted.
With a loud pop, the house-elf in the dirty pillowcase appeared in the center of the office.
"Master called Dobby?" he squeaked, his ears twitching nervously.
"Fetch some proper sweets!" Malfoy commanded. "Immediately!"
Another pop, and the house-elf vanished.
Moments later, Dobby returned with exquisite pastries, standing respectfully beside his master.
"Such behavior," Malfoy waved a waffle, "this disrespectful brat must be severely punished!"
"No problem," Dumbledore said. "Perhaps we should forbid Snape from attending Defence Against the Dark Arts class further."
"Missing class? That's fine, it'll save me time," Snape thought, his gaze falling on Dobby—the house-elf stood trembling nearby, ears drooping, skeletal, and covered in scars. "But, can't Malfoy release Dobby? Malfoy was humiliated by me; he'll likely take it out on Dobby."
"Missing class?" Malfoy's voice pulled Snape back to reality. "Detention isn't enough! We need the old, harsher forms of punishment—hang him by his wrists from the ceiling for days!"
"Hmm, what about the Imperius Curse?" Snape continued to ponder methods for freeing Dobby. "If I used the Imperius Curse to make Malfoy give Dobby a piece of clothing, could that free him? That's uncertain."
"Because even though Lucius's act of giving Dobby a sock lacked malicious intent, his action was at least autonomous. If the master is controlled by the Imperius Curse, their actions aren't of their own free will, and the magical contract's ruling might be disputed."
"Besides," Snape thought, glancing up at Dumbledore, dismissing the plan, "Dumbledore would never let me do such a thing."
He continued to listen absently to Malfoy and Dumbledore's conversation, his fingers quietly reaching for his sock. The Imperius Curse might not work and was too risky, but Transfiguration... robes weren't suitable, and he couldn't take off his trousers—
After much thought, a sock was indeed the most convenient, no wonder Harry made the same choice.
Snape recalled the animate Transfiguration techniques he'd learned in Advanced Transfiguration, and while Dumbledore was appeasing Malfoy, he swiftly slipped off one sock.
He exposed the tip of his wand and lightly tapped the sock.
The sock wriggled in Snape's palm, transforming into a tiny, dark red venomous snake, its scales still speckled with black spots.
"Professor Malfoy," he suddenly stood up, interrupting the other's endless complaints, a rare humility in his voice. "I realize the error in my behavior and sincerely apologize for what happened earlier."
Snape extended his hand, as if to shake hands in apology, and as Malfoy, perplexed, took his hand, Snape slipped the small snake into the other's palm.