Snape went on.
“I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying good-bye.”
And then Seamus stood up and started shaking his lower body, which at first the class thought was a jinx cast on him. There were a few gasps and giggles, until Snape’s cold voice sliced through the confusion.
"Mr. Finnigan," Snape said, narrowing, "sit down at your seat or I shall have you testing antidotes on yourself until your eyebrows regrow — assuming you survive the first round."
But before Seamus could sit, Dean Thomas suddenly stood up beside him. At first it looked like he was trying to help Seamus, but instead he started doing the same shake, this time adding dramatic hand gestures. One of his hands landed on Seamus’s shoulder, and suddenly, they were couple dancing, right there in the middle of Snape’s classroom.
Snape’s eyes went deathly with the same energy as a cursed potion about to explode.
"Mr. Thomas," he said, in a cold voice, "if I wanted a demonstration of absurd Muggle mating rituals, I’d ask Hagrid to host it in the Forbidden Forest, preferably far away from me and my remaining sanity."
Despite Snape’s warnings, the Gryffindors clearly took it as encouragement.
Lavender Brown stood up with a squeal, grabbing Parvati's hand, and the two of them started twirling around the classroom.
Ron, who was watching all this with wide eyes, suddenly snapped to attention as if fate had personally tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to Hermione and, in a voice full of hope and nerves, said, "My Mione, dance with me."
Hermione, who had been watching Dean, Seamus, Lavender, and Parvati with clear disapproval, turned a bright shade of pink. Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again, and in the end, she forgot all about her judgment and took Ron’s hand. After all, it was Ron.
Meanwhile, Harry was still sitting at the first bench, not turning around to look at the disaster unfolding behind him. But he himself was making lovey and kissy faces at Snape.
Snape noticed.
Snape did not appreciate.
Then, as if the moment couldn’t get any worse, Neville Longbottom stood up.
Everything stopped.
Even the Slytherins, who had been watching with horrified expressions and muttering about Gryffindor insanity, went silent. No one expected Longbottom to rise. Not for a dance. Not for anything.
Snape slowly turned toward him.
"Mr. Longbottom," he said, voice low, old, bitter, and full of dread, "if you so much as twitch your pinky in rhythm, I will personally hex you into next Christmas, where I hope you find a better sense of self-preservation than you clearly have now."
There was a long silence.
And then Dumbledore barged in, looking absolutely delighted. With a cheerful clap, he announced, “Absolutely splendid display of house spirit and creativity!”
He raised his arms dramatically and declared, “One thousand points to Gryffindor! And an additional five hundred to Mr. Longbottom—for bravery beyond measure.”