Snape stared at Potter as the boy was sat under the sorting hat. He scowled ignoring the glances from his colleagues. He wanted to hate the Potter boy, he really did. But something was off. Whether it was the boys alarming thinness or short stature he was uncertain. Something in his mind was ringing alarm bells that he could not for the life of him cease. He glanced at Dumbledore who, as per usual, seemed more than pleased with the events of the day. Severus was not foolish enough to believe that innocent old man act for a moment. He saw the glint in the old coots eyes when he looked at the boy like a game was afoot. And the professor felt an unexpected dread bloom in his gut that he couldn’t dispel. The headmasters calculated gaze upon the Potter boy irked him more than he himself could comprehend. He shouldn’t care. He doesn’t, it was impossible. Unfortunately the feeling persisted.