Oh, lord. Despite Moi's brilliant save, higito is correct: the core of Harry's wand is a flat-out mistake on my part. This is what I get for relying on my memory instead of checking it out. I think I will follow Moi's suggestion on the wand core, and hope to hell I don't end up rewriting this story...!

And in this chapter, Snape makes his appearance. Warning: he's far less OOC in this story than Petunia, Dudley, and Harry are.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: SORTED

The train station was crowded with people, several of whom stared at Hedwig and Daffy, not to mention their hovering perch. "Must be an advertising thing," Petunia heard a passerby mutter. Mrs. Figg shepherded Petunia, Dudley and Harry, and the owls towards a wall between Platforms Nine and Ten.

Petunia looked at the wall dubiously. It looked so very-solid. Very permanent; surely this was the wrong place? But Mrs. Figg was absolutely certain. Did she ever go to Hogwarts, I wonder? Probably not. But it would be tactless to ask.

Mrs. Figg urged Dudley to take a run at the wall. Dudley tried, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do it, sheering off at the last minute. Speeding up didn't help. Closing his eyes didn't help. Dudley seemed to sense when he was going to hit the wall full force without even looking. He looked at Petunia despairingly and said: "There's got to be some other way."

Harry sighed and said: "Let me try."

Harry went full tilt at the wall and disappeared through it. "Magic," Petunia said to Dudley. "You won't actually hit it, Dudley."

Dudley looked unhappy. "Why didn't Harry have a problem?" he asked

Oh, hell, here comes the sibling rivalry. I hope that I can nip this in the bud. "Because you've taken different lessons from my example, sweetheart. To Harry, I've been a negative one. 'Watch Tante and don't do what she does' is what he lives by. Which is why he can charge full speed at a brick wall. In your case, you've taken me as a positive example. 'Try to find some way around it' is your mantra. I'll tell you something, Dudley: neither of you are right. But neither of you are wrong, either. Sometimes you need to rush the wall, and sometimes you need to outflank it. The trick is knowing which is which. I'm still learning that."

Dudley looked up at her. "I get it."

Petunia kissed him. "That's my good boy. Look after Harry—his tendency to rush the wall every time is going to get him into trouble one day, and probably sooner than later. Sometimes outflanking is the best thing. I love you." Dudley smiled. And then he turned and rushed the wall.

Petunia watched him disappear through it. Where did that come from, I wonder? Well, now I have to put my money where my mouth is.

She glanced at Mrs. Figg, who was looking at her with some interest. "I'll wait here," the older woman said.

Petunia nodded and forced herself to walk into the brick barrier. She steeled herself to hit it—it was a natural reaction, she supposed. But then she was through, and into a crowd of wizards alongside an old fashioned steam engine. She saw Harry and Dudley, both looking excited, chatting animatedly to the Weasley twins. She collected them, and saw them stowed safely in a compartment. She then gave them some spending money, and waved them goodbye from the platform.

Going home to an empty house was a depressing experience. Number Four bore the evidence of a flurry of last-minute packing, and because Petunia had not had time to renovate it yet, it looked tatty and worn. Like me. Oh, this is going to be very difficult. Unable to face being alone on the first night, she invited Mrs. Figg over for dinner.

Though she had never been sorted herself, Petunia felt tolerably certain that she knew where her boys would end up. As she said complacently to Mrs. Figg, Dudley, hardworking and loyal, was a natural Hufflepuff; Harry, lively and impulsive, was an obvious Gryffindor, even setting aside his parents' affiliation to that house. It was therefore a considerable shock to her to learn, via a letter from Dudley, delivered by an apologetic-looking Daffy the next morning, that both boys had been sorted into Slytherin.

Slytherin! With Greasy as their Head of House! And wasn't it a hot-bed of those pureblood-obsessed Nazi wizards? What would be the fate of a Muggleborn like Dudley and a half-blood with Harry's history in such a place? Petunia decided that she was not going to tolerate it for an instant. She demanded, through Mrs. Figg, an interview with Dumbledore. Rather to her surprise, he agreed.

The floo system made Petunia sick, and she was so nervous by the time the interview took place that she insisted that Mrs. Figg accompany her. Dumbledore also took the precaution of a second: her old childhood nemesis, Severus Snape, sat scowling in an armchair in the Headmaster's office. As greasy as ever, Petunia thought, and even less charming.

"I invited Severus, as head of the boys' house, to sit in," Dumbledore said.

"Uninvite him, then," Petunia snapped.

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"No, you're not. I'm afraid that if you don't resort the boys into a house that's not Slytherin, I'll decide to withdraw them from Hogwarts altogether and place them in Beauxbatons, or maybe Salem."

"You won't do that, Mrs. Dursley," Dumbledore said calmly.

"Oh, won't I?" She threw brochures down from both schools. "Why not? Beauxbatons might be difficult, because the lessons are in French; but Salem's are in English, and the school looks very promising to me. Apparently the Americans aren't so intolerant of Muggle-borns, either."

"And what about the wards?"

"Well, as to that, I have only your word for their importance. And you're not always right, are you, Headmaster?"

"I can hardly disagree with that, but I must insist on your children staying here."

"You're thinking of oblivating me, I imagine," Petunia said. "You can stop thinking about it; I told the Mind-Healing team at St. Mungo's where I was going and why. If you don't want yourself denounced in front of the Wizengamot by Marcella Whiteoak for illegal use of magic, control yourself."

Petunia could tell that she had hit a nerve, though Dumbledore suppressed any surprise he felt quickly.

Snape was staring at her. "Charming as ever, I see," he sneered.

"I could reply in kind, Snape."

"You can have your wretched brats resorted with my goodwill, Petunia. I don't want either of them in my house."

"Then we agree for once. I don't want them in your house either."

"And what does that husband of yours think?"

"He's in a very expensive bin, has been for years, thank you for asking. And we're divorced, hallelujah amen."

"I should expect any husband of yours would end up in a loony bin," Snape said, obviously meaning to wound.

The days when Petunia could be made to feel defensive by remarks like that were long gone, however. She gave Snape an icy smile, and said, "Oh, he got what he deserved. Consider yourself warned." She then drew her wand and placed it on her lap. Snape raised his eyebrows. "Are you proposing a duel?" he sneered.

"No," Petunia said, coolly casting the anti-oblivation spell Marcella, Hector and Titus had taught her. The two men obviously recognized it for what it was. Dumbledore was expressionless; Snape angry.

Petunia was trembling with nerves inside, but she was determined not to show it, nor would she allow herself to be bullied. "I want to know how Dudley ended up in Slytherin," she said, steadily. "Isn't that impossible for a Muggleborn wizard?"

Dumbledore said: "Well, it is rare, but not unprecedented. Slytherin is the house of cunning and ambition, and sometimes Muggleborns have those qualities...and frankly, we don't know if your family is a Squib line or not. If it is, and there is certainly some evidence of it, then technically he isn't Muggleborn."

"And Harry. Isn't it dangerous for him to be in Slytherin with all those junior Death Eaters?"

"Well, as to that, it is certainly not desirable, I must agree. But Severus will protect him, won't you, Severus?" Snape nodded curtly.

"Oh, that relieves my mind!" cried Petunia. "Death Eaters killed my mother, my father, and my sister, and you imagine that I'll believe that my children are safe in Slytherin? I'm supposed to be content that Snape will protect them? And who'll protect them from him? He's a Death Eater himself, isn't he? He was tried before the Wizengamot for it, Hector Connelly told me he was. In a word—no. I want them resorted."

"They can't be resorted," Dumbledore said, "once the Sorting Hat makes up its mind, it doesn't change it. But perhaps we should discover how it made up its mind."

That involved summoning the boys to his office. Their eyes widened when they saw Petunia and Mrs. Figg. And Petunia's eyes widened when she noted that Dudley had a cut lip, and Harry an impressive shiner of a black eye. She hugged both of them, and didn't give a damn for embarrassing them in front of Snape, who predictably smirked. Let him smirk, she didn't care. The boys did look rather discomfited, however. "What happened?" Petunia demanded, gesturing toward the lip and eye. Dudley looked at Harry and shrugged.

"First things first, perhaps," Dumbledore said. "Let's see what the boys have to say about their sorting."

Dudley went first. What had the Hat said as it sorted him? He was vague: "I dunno—it started gassing on about a lot of stuff I didn't really understand. Something about me being royalty, I think. I thought that was just like the stuff you say Granda always said, Mum, about being descended from Llewellyn ap Gruffydd."

"The last Welsh Prince of Wales?"

"Yeah-him. So I didn't really pay too much attention."

"Did it mention any other houses to you, Mr. Dursley?" Dumbledore asked him.

"No, just Slytherin. I asked for Gryffyndor, 'cause I thought Harry would go there. But it just sorted me the way it wanted."

When his turn came, Harry admitted that the Hat had offered him a choice.

"It said I could have Gryffyndor or Slytherin. It wanted Slytherin, though, it kept mentioning kings or something like that and said that Slytherin would be suitable. But I chose Slytherin because Dud was there. Didn't want him to have to try to manage without me, or anything." He grinned at his cousin.

"And do you like Slytherin so far?" Petunia asked. The men in the room looked contemptuous, as if liking anything was irrelevant. Petunia ignored them.

"Nope," said Harry.

"He really seems to hate us," said Dudley, indicating Snape. "Especially Harry."

"It is hardly my fault that you and your cousin are miserably spoilt show-offs, Mr. Dursley," Snape said sharply.

"He went for Harry from the very first minute," said Dudley, ignoring Snape. "Harry didn't do anything to deserve it, either. Not anything. We'd have understood it if he had."

Petunia raised her brows and looked at Snape. "Are you taking out your own school days on an eleven-year-old?" she asked in a scathing tone. Snape stood up suddenly, as if he had decided to leave.

"Sit down, Severus," Dumbledore said mildly.

"I'm not going to be insulted-!"

"There's no question of insults. Now, Mr. Dursley, how are you managing with your Slytherin classmates?"

Dudley shrugged. "We've had to fight them off—only three or four times so far, though."

Petunia looked appalled.

"What were they trying to do?"

Dudley shrugged. "They called me a Mudblood."

Dumbledore looked rather worn suddenly. "What did you do?" Petunia asked Dudley, not sure that she wanted to hear the answer.

"I didn't do anything," said Dudley patiently. "Harry hit the bloke who called me it. The first one, I mean. Also the second one; and the third."

"Harry!"

Harry shrugged. "Not to worry, Tante! They hit me right back!"

Dudley laughed. "Well, coz, if they called you a half-blood, I'd have gone right ahead and let them do it."

Harry gave him a sideways glance. "It's not the same thing."

In Petunia's opinion, Harry was right. "How many boys are in the same dormitory with you?" she asked.

The boys exchanged glances. "Five, not including us," Dudley said.

"And have they all tried to hit you?"

"They leave it to the Slytherin upper years, mostly. Most of them come from Death Eater families. They have it in for me, because I'm Muggle-born, and for Harry, because he's the 'Boy Who Lived.'

"Say again?" Petunia said.

"Harry is quite famous in the wizarding world, Mrs. Dursley, as the only known survivor of the killing curse," Dumbledore said. Snape looked disgusted.

"Strange reason for fame," muttered Petunia. "If you won't resort the boys, I'm withdrawing them from this school. I am not joking, nor am I bluffing."

"Well, then; what's your price?" Dumbledore said coolly. If he thought to discompose her, he was disappointed.

"I own a house in Hogsmead—it belonged to my great-aunt—and I need some assistance to get it habitable, and to set up proper wards. Then I want to have the boys visit me there at least once per week during the school term, just to make sure nothing is getting out of hand," Petunia gave Snape a pointed look, "I also need some tutoring myself so I can use magic more easily. Right now it's still pretty difficult. I'm willing to pay for it."

"Do you expect me to tutor you in Potions?" Snape asked.

"Well, why not?" Petunia said. "I said that I'd pay, didn't I? I'd be surprised if you couldn't use the money." Snape showed his yellowing teeth in a grimace, and Petunia wondered, not for the first time, if there were any wizard dentists. The juxtaposition made her want to giggle.

"Well," she said to Dumbledore, "do we have a deal?"