A Queen and Her Kings

If He Doesn't Scare You, No Evil Thing Will

This guy was clearly not someone you wanted to mess with.

"There will be no foolish pen waving, or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect all of you to appreciate the exact science and supple art that is potionology, but you will all learn it and respect it. If you pay attention, and you will if you desire to pass this class and graduate, I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even put a stopper in death. That is... if you do as you're told, like good puppies.", he said with a voice smooth as silk, his hard expression contorting into a smirk that one might describe as sadistic.

Cassandra blushed a deep red, something that thankfully wasn't too visible given her dark skin color.

'Why is he saying things like that?! This is a fucking class, for God's sake! Don't make it sound kinky! And your literal riding crop with a sex collar attached isn't helping!', she thought as she wondered if everyone else noticed how wrong everything coming out of this guy's mouth sounded or if it was just her.

With that out of the way, the newly identified Professor Crewel turned to face Cassandra with hard eyes, the smirk gone from his face. And with that single glance, she knew she had fucked up.

"Then again, some of you may have come to Night Raven College with abilities so formidable that you feel you can show up whenever it pleases you.", he drawled out slowly as he made his way over to Cassandra, each step he took more agonizingly slow than the last as he gently tapped his pointer against his leather covered palm.

"Mrs. Mikaelson, our new... celebrity.", the poised man said as he came within five feet of Cassandra, his eyebrow raised once more as he began to circle her, like a wolf with its prey. The tanned skinned girl could feel everyone's eyes on her. Some were concerned (her Court) and others were simply waiting for her to slip up.

This would have a normal teenage girl on the brink of a panic attack, but as much as she hated to say something that sounded like a line from a cheesy YA fiction novel even in her head, Cassandra was no normal teenage girl. Instead, she looked out over the sea of first years with an emotionless, half lidded expression, daring one of them to so much as snicker. They seemed thoroughly intimidated if the nervous glances at the suddenly very interesting floor were anything to go by.

"Tell me, Mrs. Mikaelson, what would I get if I added powdered root of absodel into an infusion of wormwood?", Crewel asked as he walked out from behind her to look her in the eye.

Cassandra's head tilted in confusion at hearing that, until she realized;

A; Her professor was testing her with questions she probably wouldn't know the answer to in front of the class in an attempt to punish her.

B; She knew the answer to said question, not only because she studied potions and herbal remedies back home, but because she was an avid Harry Potter fan and that was one of the three questions Snape asked Harry during his first potions class.

And C; This entire conversation was going frighteningly similar to the one that occurred between Harry and Snape during Harry's first potions class. Which was either a very scary coincidence, or Professor Crewel had read Harry Potter before. Due to the Harry Potter series being something that originated from her world and the fact that even if they did have the books here, they were likely well liked here as well known. Quoting the book during what was supposed to be his intimidating first day speech would likely make it so no student would take him seriously, so that option was out.

Realizing these things, Cassandra felt the gears in her head turning. C was useless in this situation, but she could work with B and A.

With her plan to get out of this situation in place, Cassandra answered him with a neutral expression she struggled to keep on her face at the divine humor of it all as the black and white haired man tapped his pointer against his palm impatiently, the slight sound of it hitting his leather glove being the only sound with in the deathly quiet classroom, other than the ticking of the wall clock and the light breathing of her classmates.