The Potions Mistress (джен)

Up at the teacher’s table, professor Quirrell was talking to a teacher with dirty red hair hanging around her sickly pale face like a curtain. Looking past Quirrell, two poison-green eyes, devoid of any warmth or empathy, found Harry’s own brown ones, and he felt a sharp pain on his scar.
“Who’s that teacher talking to professor Quirrell?”
“Oh, you know professor Quirrell already do you? No wonder he’s looking so nervous, that’s professor Evans, the potions mistress. Don’t get on her bad side, the old hag hates students.“
Harry looked again, but the teacher was no longer looking at him. Still, Harry could not escape the nagging feeling, which he had gotten just from a glimpse of her eyes and the cruel twist of her lips, that professor Evans did not like him very much.