“Well Mr. Potter, what a surprise to see you in Slytherin.” Severus said, sitting down at the desk. “Many thought you would follow your parents into Gryffindor.”

Harry tensed. He had already heard about the rivalry between the two houses.

“How are you finding life amongst the serpents?” Professor Snape asked, his tone suddenly neutral.

“Good.” replied Harry quickly.

“Your eloquence leaves me quite speechless, Mr Potter. Mainly because there is little to which I can respond. Pray continue.”

Harry hesitated “Draco is nice…”

“Although somewhat ‘up himself’,” continued Snape with a smile “he gets that from his father.”

Harry stared: that was unexpected. “Um, maybe a little. But then, I must seem rather stupid. I don’t even know what a Seeker is.”

Severus eyed the boy contemplatively: James Potter had been Chaser for Gryffindor and Lily had been a fairly staunch supporter of the Harpies, dragging her poor parents to many a match. In the circumstances, therefore, Harry’s dearth of Qudditch knowledge was surprising. What was more surprising, nay, concerning, was Harry’s sincerity when he called himself stupid.

“There is a game called Quidditch” Severus found himself saying “it is played on brooms and is a little like muggle football: the goal is to put a ball called the quaffle into one of the opposing teams three nets. However, if being hundreds of feet above the air is not dangerous enough, bowling balls are hexed to collide with players: two of the team, the Beaters, are charged with the duty of batting these balls, which are called bludgers, away from their team mates. The Seeker is responsible for catching the last ball which, like the bludges, flys around of its own volition. This ball, called the golden snitch, is small, fast and elusive; the Seeker who catches it wins 150 points for their team.” Snape paused.

“Quidditch is fast, dangerous and often brutal so, as you can imagine, boys gravitate to it like flies to a honey-pot.”

“Oh!”

“Yes, read the chapter on Quidditch tonight: otherwise the boys might decide that you belong in the girls’ dorm.”

Harry giggled, despite himself “But Blaise doesn’t like Quidditch.”

“Blaise Zabini Senior, Mr Zabini’s father, was a famed dueller and his mother, Guinevere, is a Potions Mistress who has been widowed too many times for the public’s comfort. Quite frankly, although Blaise is a nice boy, they simply wouldn’t dare.”

“Now,” said Professor Snape, changing tack “You live with Amanda and Richard Evans…”

“Who?”

“Your mother’s parents.” Severus had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

“Um, no. I live with my aunt. And my cousin.” replied Harry hesitantly. Severus noticed, again, that gleam of fear in the boy’s eyes.

“You mean Petunia?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Severus felt his mouth go dry. Oh, it was all falling into place.

“You mentioned a cousin, do you have an Uncle as well?”

“He died.” The boy’s shoulders slumped.

“My condolences.” Severus muttered. What had Dumbledore been thinking? He had told Severus that the boy was living with his grandparents!

Severus licked his lips. As little as he wished to take a stroll down memory lane- with James Potter’s son of all people- he knew full bloody well that Petunia Evans was no fan of magic. Marcus Flint’s observation that Harry seemed ‘scared of ‘is shadow’… It all added up. But should he talk to the boy now? At school, Harry was in no immediate danger from his relatives, wouldn’t it be better to let him settle in first?

“Is there anything else you would like to tell or ask me, Mr Potter?” Severus finally asked, discretion winning over valour. Harry shook his head.

“Very well.” Professor Snape lifted the privacy charm and, after receiving a significant look from Madam Pomfrey, escorted the boys to the door and bid them goodnight.