Dumbledore seemed weary when the sorting was over, noticably slumping.
When dinner appeared, he and several other professors disappeared into the Reception Chamber. Harry could only imagine how the conversation went, especially if Aunt Petunia was already in said Reception Chamber. Luckily, Harry and his Aunt had already decided not to say anything about his... unique circumstances.
"They'll question you eventually, you know," Harry had advised her before term started, eating apple slices together in the hospital wing with his Aunt and a silent Dudley, who was slowly recovering in a potion-induced healing coma. The color was coming back to his face and the bruises were fading from black to green.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Petunia whispered, wiping down Dudley's face with a warm, wet washcloth. She liked to keep him looking clean, with a washed face, side-parted hair, and fresh clothes daily. Routinely she would then read to him and exercise his limps with small stretches.
Harry looked at her seriously, his usual energetic and lax personality dimming as his eyes turned sharp.
"You do," he reminded her firmly, a small change making it obvious Harry was speaking, not the polyjuice body.
Petunia didn't look up, or acknowledge that she had heard Harry say anything. After several moments, she sighed deeply and pulled back. Staring down at the simple cotton washcloth in her hands, she fidgeted with it, twisting and tugging on it as she thought. Setting it into the washbin on the bedside table, she watched the runes activate on the bowl, cleaning, heating itself and steaming before she began quietly speaking.
"I don't," She repeated insistently, her voice growing stronger as she spoke. "I don't know magic, so I don't know what is normal and what isn't; Lily was exceptional, how am I to know what is unusual? I know only a few simple things and I am content with that."
She raised her chin up, looking fiery and stubborn. "I know that you are my sister's son, my nephew; I know that you don't like meat unless it's seafood, and your favorite dessert is treacle tart. I know that you love to make people laugh, but you don't like practical jokes."
Harry smiled sheepishly at this, unable to deny the words and feeling warmth blossom.
"I also know," Petunia said gently, looking across the hospital bed at the eleven year old that she had raised, her nephew. "That you are exceptionally kind, loving, protective, and passive; you do not actively seek trouble or danger, though both find you."
Harry scoffed at that, making a small sound with his tongue against his teeth, an exhalation and a denial.
"It's true," Petunia argued, knowing why, or rather, 'what' he was denying. "You have tried to take care of all of us, everyone, even... even Vernon." Her voice trailed off, pinched with fresh pain, but she continued. "You are a kind boy, Harry, and that is all I care to know."
Harry felt like a heavy weight had just settled on his shoulders as powerful guilt set in, whispering it's toxic song. Swallowing hard, he glanced to the side.
"Would... would you like to actually... know?"
His voice was quiet then, but his words were clear and heavy as the question hung between them. Anticipation and suspense were building, hanging on the silence. After several long stretches of time, Petunia had shook her head.
"I know what I need to, for now," Petunia said with a hint of finality, the same way she always stood her ground. "When I think you're ready, or if it becomes important--" She had shook her head again, dismissing the whole thing and brushing it away from her like a pesky pest. "--Let's just worry about it when the time comes."
Harry had pulled up and crossed his legs in the hospital chair, silent, leaning forward till his upper torso was on the hospital bed, arms folded beneath his chin and concealing his mouth and lower face from view. He had simply stared at Dudley's lashes against his smooth, slightly pudgy cheek.
"Alright," he agreed quietly, still staring at Dudley's quiet form. "Just... try and remember one thing."
Petunia looked up curiously, eyes alight so the pale green looked almost golden in the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the window.
"Don't ever look Albus Dumbledore directly in the eye for more than two seconds, but try to make it inconspicuous, not too obvious. Dumbledore pays a lot of attention to body language and psychological clues. Oh!" He slapped his fist down onto his open palm, making an "aha!" noise as the fingers of his fist opened up to the shape of an askew peace sign, plus thumb; it was a bit like a mockery of the 'scissors' from the game 'Rock, Paper, Scissors'. "That goes for Snape, too. Doubly important with him, that man trusts no one. He has two masters but answers to none but the shadow of his best friend's ghost."
Petunia hadn't said anything further, staring at Harry with such intensity that he was certain she would say something. But she had simply nodded, and that was good enough for Harry.
But now, with Dumbledore questioning the staff, sorting hat, and his Aunt, Harry could only try his best not to worry.
Tucking into his food with gusto, Harry plated himself with: four different types of potatoes, one hot crisscross bread roll, one scoop of pan-fried garlic sauteed green beans, one scoop of oven-roasted garden vegetables, three fried tomato slices, two scoops of yellow coconut curry and rice, and finally an apple (which he pocketed for later, slipping it into his robes). In the end Harry resorted to using some of his bread plate for space, quickly running out of room on his golden dinner center plate.
"Is that all you're eating?" Came the voice of a fellow small, new Ravenclaw by the name of Su Li. "I actually think there might still be more room by your napkin."
She pointed at his plate, pretty, dark and almond-shaped, up-turned and slanted eyes scanning his food choices with slightly raised eyebrows and lips. "Are you a vegetarian?"
Harry regarded the girl with some curiosity. Despite his repeated lives at Hogwarts, he wasn't often a Ravenclaw, and he rarely had much of a chance to encounter her outside of the fifth year D.A. meetings, so this was completely new territory. Deciding to just roll with it, he smiled brightly in response.
"I am," he agreed.
"But I do eat some meat," he corrected her gently, holding up a single index finger. "Mostly fish, though. After all, even fish eat smaller fish, and I really know a lot about fish. So it doesn't actually bother me as much."
Su Li tilted her head, leaning across the table to better hear him over the noise of the other students talking.
Those around them were pretending not to listen, but were watching the interaction between the two with great interest. After all, Harry Potter was a known celebrity and had just caused a large scene with his unheard-of and strange-not-sorted-sorting.
However, thus far, no other students had been brave enough to talk to him, besides Su Li. The twins didn't count, as they were having a bit of a family discussion at the Gryffindor table, with Percy and Ron both questioning them about their exchanged greeting between Weasley twins Fred and George-- and The Harry Potter. It actually didn't look like it was going well, what with the angry gesticulating and raised voices.
Harry personally wondered whether some of the student isolation was from the 'notice-me-not' charm on his jewelry, or whether he was actually intimidating. Could it be both? Or maybe his appearance?
He glanced down at his black robes, his silver blue tie (it would now change depending on which House he was staying in or which table he sat at), and the large four-square Hogwarts crest where his sorted House shield was supposed to be. Was it really that different?
"I'm Su Li," the other eleven year old smiled, offering a small and feminine, doll-like hand. "Everyone knows who you are."
"No," Harry huffed, shaking his head from side to side. "They know about the Legend of the Amazing Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter."
His tone was flat and showed his obvious distaste for the long-winded title the Wizarding World had bestowed upon him. Well, it wasn't much better than being: Undesirable Number One, Fate's Bitch, or Master of Death.
Most of his titles were atrocious, if he was perfectly honest.
Su Li flushed lightly pink in embarrassment, mostly on her ears and high on her cheekbones.
Breaking the tense mood that had started to build with his flat dismissal, Harry continued.
"But then, there's also crazy stories in which I travel the world, visiting children like the Tooth Fairy and taking them on adventures like Peter Pan. Bullocks, the whole bit really."
He hadn't thought most of the adventures he had shared with children would become so widespread, but word of mouth traveled fast. The Quibbler had also begun to include some of the more recent antics, compiling lists of stories and trying to place them in order. Harry had always liked the Quibbler.
Su Li smiled shyly at his joke, looking relieved.
"Are any of the stories about you actually true?" She asked instead.
Harry paused, considering his answer slowly as he chewed, then swallowed. "Well yes, but also a resounding no; and definitely not always the ones you think." He cupped a hand over his mouth, whispering, and quite aware of the audience around them listening. "I have never actually been to Mexico, or the state of Georgia, sadly, but there was that time in the bakery in France. That was the best! I highly, highly recommend their pastries and the whole country is lovely."
Harry heaved a wistful sigh, thinking about the cream-filled pastries covered in chocolate drizzle. For some reason, he could never remember their name. He secretly thought it would drive him mad.
The pretty little Chinese Ravenclaw began to laugh, nearly choking at the end, so she quickly drank down some of her pumpkin juice. Clearing her throat, she dried her streaming eyes with the backs of her hands, still grinning wide.
"Well," she said with her wide smile, laughter catching in her voice. "I can see why the sorting hat went off-- you're absolutely mad, Potter!"
Harry grinned back, laughing with her. "As a hatter!" He confided. "But I honestly don't know what set him off."
They ate and talked, Harry mixing small bites of each dish on his fork, layers of flavor and food shoveled into his mouth together. It was all going to the same place anyway, right? Su did not agree, judging by her facial expression.
Dinner foods disappeared, only to be replaced with pudding. Various pans of pies, cakes, pastries, crumbles, and tarts. Great bowls of gelatin, ice cream, sorbets, and dried fruits. All of this in great, mountain-size portions, wafting enticing smells through steam and fragrance. Feasts were very important to Hogwarts students, after all.
The staff returned, and Dumbledore gave his usual first-year-in-Potterverse speech, dismissing the Hall and watching four separate lines form, streaming out of the Great Hall in four lines of color.
Harry waved to the Ravenclaws, promising to hurry back, but heading off at a jog to the Reception Chamber. He was scheduled to catch up with his Aunt, after all.
Superstitiously, Harry fixed his clothes; straightening, tucking, and adjusting before reaching up, smoothing down his hair with his fingertips. Walking towards the door with confidence, Harry stepped inside, pushing the door in and open. Smiling as wide as his lips would stretch, he called out to his Aunt.
"Aunt Petunia! Lovely weather we're having, isn't it? I highly recommend those tarts."