Sirius's son

Half blood prince

The classroom door opened as she spoke, and Snapestepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as ever bytwo curtains of greasy black hair. Silence fell over the queueimmediately. 

"Inside," he said. 

Rigel y noticed that Snape had imposedhis personality upon the room already; it was gloomier thanusual, as curtains had been drawn over the windows, and waslit by candlelight. New pictures adorned the walls, many ofthem showing people who appeared to be in pain, sportinggrisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts

"I have not asked you to take out your books," said Snape,closing the door and moving to face the class from behindhis desk; Hermione hastily dropped her copy of Confrontingthe Faceless back into her bag and stowed it under her chair."I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention." 

His black eyes roved over their upturned faces, lingering for a fraction of a second longer on Harry's than anyone else's. 

"You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe."

When he said this, he said it detachedly, as if he hadn't observed each teacher come in go from this position for the past five years.

"Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be much more advanced."

Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice; the class craned their necks to keep him in view.

"The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, everchanging, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."

With the way he speaks about the Dark Arts, Rigel can't help but be enamored. Though, from the way Harry is staring at Snape he didn't share the sentiment

"Your defenses," said Snape, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures" — he indicated a few of them as he swept past — "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse" — he waved a hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony —"feel the Dementor's Kiss" — a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall — "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius" — a bloody mass upon the ground.

"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" said Parvati Patil in high-pitched voice. "Is it definite, is he using them?"

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," said Snape, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now . . ."

He set off again around the other side of the classroom toward his desk, and again, they watched him as he walked, his dark robes billowing behind him.

". . . you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. Snape took his time looking around at everybody else, making sure he had no choice, before saying curtly, "Very well — Miss Granger?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. However, for once, this was something Rigel would like to speak. He always found something thrilling about dueling; the lights and dramatics of it all. But there was the adrenaline it filled him with, too. How every strike needed to be precise. That there was more them just brute force, but also the mind games of it all; the knowing your opponent, knowing their offensive and defensive, knowing their weaknesses.