From his place at the top table, Severus Snape scowled at the sea of faces in front of him, spread across the great hall, and loathed the thought of the year ahead.
On the bright side, his impromptu meeting with Harry and the Weasley boy in the dungeons had spared him from sitting through yet another sorting ceremony, but the thought of round two following the feast was enough to put him off his food.
Taking a sip from his goblet, Snape's gaze fell upon the Gryffindor table, only to find a grumpy, bespectacled face looking back at him. The potions master narrowed his eyes, and Harry looked away quickly.
From the next seat along, Minerva McGonagall leaned in, nudging him sharply.
"You don't have to be quite so formidable with him you know," she told him. "Potter's just a boy. As you were once yourself."
Severus put down his goblet. "Is that so? I for one do not recall ever having the reckless impulsivity necessary to take a vehicle that did not belong to me and fly it out of King's Cross Station for the whole muggle world to see."