Keeping his eyes fixated on a desk across the room, he fidgeted with the strap on his satchel. "A few years ago, my father came home from work one late evening and asked me go to the tea room. He got us some drinks and sat down... You see, this isn’t easy for me, but I feel I can tell you this. I don’t know why, Granger. Anyway. My father - he told us that he was leaving work, but he had forgotten some important work files. So, he went back. He overheard Weasley’s dad talking to a friend about their family’s hatred for us for what we do. It grew, and now they believe anyone sorted into Slytherin should just - be killed..."