A Dark Ship
The small witch made good use of her elbows to get to the front of the crowd, “Professor Snape! Professor Snape! My name is Rose Bamba, I’d like to ask you a few questions, if I may?” Snape seemed to be staring into the distance, beyond the crowd. "I’m doing a presentation at this year’s International Alchemical Conference in Cairo: Great Potioneers of the Modern Age. It’s a…” Snape’s gaze was broken at the mention of the presentation. He looked around for the source of the voice, tilting his head down he saw a small flustered witch flicking a note pad open. "And what, precisely… do you wish to know?"
Rose was aware of her heart thumping in her chest, she hadn’t really expected her plan to work. “Well,” she said, “It’s known that as a student at Hogwarts you were able to modify and improve upon the preparations compiled by Libatius Borage for Advanced Potion Making.”
“Yes…” Snape replied, already sounding bored. His gaze returned to the distance. Rose knew that she better make the most of this chance, while it lasted. “So, when you realised that you could maximise the extraction of juice from sopophorous beans by crushing them with a silver dagger, rather than slicing… I was wondering what would you recommend for an up-and-coming potioneer who has no silver dagger?” Snape slowly turned his head back and looked at Rose’s expectant eyes. “The potioneer... is an artist, Miss Bamba. He chooses his tools… like a painter, chooses his brush." Rose felt her brain galloping, “So you’re saying, that if they are already skilled with their tools, they will instinctively know which to choose for the best result?”
Snape drew a slow breath, “Obviously.”
Rose began to scribble in her pad, but something had caught Snape’s attention. He turned saying, “Now if you’ll excuse me.” His black robes billowed behind him as he ploughed a furrow through the crowd. “Thank you, Professor!” Rose called after him, but he was already lost in the sea of faces, a dark ship on an unknown course.