Harry gulped and shifted nervously. Marcus Flint’s eyes narrowed.

“As for where someone’s picking on yer in-house, an’ by that I mean other snakes, ye’d best go to the Basilisk. It ain’t my job to sort out domestics an’ the Professor’d ‘ave me hide if I laid hand on yer, even if yer deserved it.”

Rhiannon, a slender, dark-haired girl, punched Marcus in the arm. “However, don’t lllet Marcus worry you too much: bulllying is not tolllerated by any of the Hogwarts staff and Professor Snape is particulllarly fierce with offenders. Not many students are foolllhardy enough to pullll the Basilisk’s tailll, so the lllikellihood of such problems occurring is really quite lllow. However, that said, if someone does start to bullly you, come to us: however big and fierce they might seem, they won’t be a match for us, lllet alone Professor Snape.”

“An’ you’re to come to me if you need ‘elp with yer Quidditch or Herbology an’ Rhiannon for most other subjects” Marcus added “Professor Snape wants yer to do yeh best and if yer stupid at a subject fine, just ask for ‘elp if yer need it an’ do yer best.”

“Now, I expect you’lll be wanting your suppers” finished Rhiannon “Meallls at Hogwarts tend to be chilld-friendlly: lllots of chips and sweet things. We ask that you serve yourselllf a balanced breakfast and a portion of greens with lllunch and supper. And onllly one serving of pud per mealll. Or you’llll get fat as butterballls and Marcus willl have to take you on Quiddich training” Rhannon added with a wink.

“So scram. An’ don’t be late for yer appointments with Snape.” said Marcus brusquely, but with a softening grin. “Yer’ll be going to and from yer interviews in pairs, as it’s late. Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davies will be first up, it don’t take a genius to work it out from there.”

oOoOo

Harry sat down at the table in the great hall, eyeing the food with concern. Marcus looked pretty fierce and, despite the prefect’s assurances, Harry didn’t want to be on the wrong end of those fists.

“Don’t just sit staring at the grub, Harry, you might waste away” said Theodore Nott, rolling his eyes. “The prefects don’t have to inspect your plate; they’ll know you’ve been overeating when you start to waddle and, for skinny kids like us, that’ll take quite some time.”

Harry shyly reached for the hotpot and served himself a small portion, with a few buttered sprouts on the side.

“Training to be a Seeker?” grinned Draco, nudging Harry in the ribs. “Don’t get your hopes up: I’m pretty nifty on a broom if I do say so myself. Shame we can’t try out until second year.”

“What’s a Seeker?” Harry asked hesitantly.

Draco stared at him open mouthed “Whats a… whats a seeker? Harry, where have you been living? On Neptune?”

“Lay off, Draco.” drawled Blaise. “Not everyone lives and breathes Quidditch.”

“Says the boy who has a subscription to ‘Hair and Nails Weekly.’”

Blaise raised an eyebrow “Speaking of which, I thought your father’s article on hair potions was highly illuminating.”

“What! My father wouldn’t… Was there…?” Draco stammered, flushing.

“No, of course there wasn’t!” laughed Pansy.

Draco, after a moment of confusion, began to chortle and, seeing this, Harry giggled along with the other Slytherins, mostly in relief. For a moment there, Harry had shown himself up; it had been stupid to ask what a Seeker was. However, thanks to Blaise, it seemed that his faux pas had been forgotten.

Prefect Flint, who had been watching the first years in amusement, walked past the group’s section of table and nonchalantly shoved a whole quarter of treacle tart in Harry’s direction. The boys around Harry laughed and, after a bit of banter, helped themselves to large portions of pudding. Harry smiled: Hogwarts was great.

OoOoO

“So what do you think happens at these interviews?” whispered Harry to Draco, watching the clock tick steadily towards half seven. His appointment with Professor Snape was at seven-fifty p.m and Harry was becoming more nervous with every second that passed.

“Oh, we’re asked to make Polyjuice Potion and, if we fail, we have get re-sorted into Hufflepuff.”

“But Polyjuice potion isn’t even in the textbook!” Harry exclaimed.

“Lay off, Draco” huffed Millicent “He talks to us a bit about ourselves, asks us if we’re settling in okay and gets Pomfrey to give us a medical.”

“Violet told us.” Pansy stated smugly.

Tracy Davis and Daphne Greengrass entered the Common Room, chatting avidly.

“How did it go?” Blaise asked, smiling winsomely at the flaxen-haired Tracy.

“Not bad, Professor Snape made me drink a pepper-up potion because Pomfrey thought I was coming down with a cold” Tracy made a face.

“I had my interview first,” said Daphne “Professor Snape set up a silencing charm around his desk and Tracy was told to sit in the corner and read for a bit.” Daphne held up a small, brown book entitled ‘Wizarding Etiquette, Culture and Customs’.

“Professor Snape gave us these as ‘induction’ gifts, not that we’ll really need them.” added Tracy, showing them her copy.

Harry smiled to himself.

oOoOo

“Enter, Misters Potter and Malfoy.”

Harry and Draco stepped inside Professor Snape’s office: a small, dark room shelved from floor to ceiling with jars filled with gruesome, floating things. Occupying most of the room was a large, gothic desk, behind which was a chair which seemed fit for a dark-lord. Observing their awed expressions, Severus allowed himself a small smile.

“Come,” the Potion Master indicated to a door behind the desk, “This is only the, ah, public office.”

The two boys followed him into a handsome sitting room, decorated in much the same style and colours as their dorms. Two plush, but comfortably worn, green leather armchairs crowded the roaring fire, well stuffed bookcases lined the walls and in one corner stood a handsome writing desk with two well-padded chairs: not so much furniture to crowd but enough to give the atmosphere a certain snugness.

In one of the armchairs, the one next to a side-table upon which brown books were piled, sat a matronly woman with a pretty and kindly face. She rose to greet them.

“Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy, this is Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts Nurse.”

Draco bowed and Harry, wrong-footed by the unexpected ceremoniousness of the greeting, quickly followed suit.

“Mr. Malfoy, if you would step up to the desk. Mr Potter, please sit with Madam Pomfrey.” Said Professor Snape, indicating towards the armchairs.

Harry lowered himself into the chair in which Madam Pomfrey had not been sitting.

“Good evening, Mr. Potter. As Professor Snape has told you, I am the School Mediwitch, although everyone calls me Nurse. Professor Snape has asked me to give all his new students a check-over: Hogwarts students come from all over England, Ireland Scotland and Wales and they bring their local germs with them- which can result in a pretty nasty flu epidemic if not nipped in the bud.”

As Pomfrey was speaking, Harry noticed that her eyes were slightly shifty and her cheeks a little flushed. She was lying.

“So, I’m just going to cast a little diagnostic spell, it looks like a snake but don’t be alarmed; it’s just healing energy and you won’t feel a thing.”

Harry paled. A spell? Harry could explain away most of the external scars and he had no new bruises- Aunt Petunia had been careful about that- but what if the Magical examination uncovered things which the physical could not.

“Um, don’t you need my Aunt’s permission for that?” asked Harry.

Madam Pomfrey frowned. “During the school year, Professor Snape is ‘in loco parentis’, he has a parent’s rights and responsibilities.”

“What if I refuse?”

“I suppose we would then refer the case to the Headmaster” replied Madam Pomfrey slowly “But why would you refuse, Harry?”

Harry gulped, this wasn’t going well.

“Will you keep my results confidential?” Stupid! Why did he say that? She was already suspicious.

“I would normally, yes, Harry.” Except if there was a child-protection issue, the Mediwitch added in her mind.

“Okay,” Harry said, looking away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Madam Pomfrey twist her wand into an intricate spiral. A white snake, seemingly made from glittering smoke, coiled towards Harry and wrapped him in its coils. There was a sweet, wholesome smell and a feeling of warmth.

Madam Pomfrey tapped her wand against an unstoppered bottle and the smokey-snake was drawn inside and immediately condensed into what looked like grey ink.

“Now, Mr. Potter, I need to write up these notes so read this book, theres a dear.” Madam Pomfrey handed Harry one of the brown books and dipped a white quill into the ink. Harry watched over the edge of his book as the quill, having sucked up the grey ink with a rude slurp, bounced onto a sheet of parchment and began to write.

Harry’s stomach squirmed when Madam Pomfrey’s face fell, then darkened with anger.