Chapter 13: Sorting Things Out

Upon Dumbledore's contact with the wand and bird, both auras flared around uncontrollably, causing Harry's and Dumbledore's eyes to flutter shut. Harry was looking out from his wand and he was out of control. He was all magic, and all of that magic was bare for Dumbledore to see. He could feel Dumbledore trying to understand Harry and what was happening. Harry had no choice but to entrust the secret of his magic to the other wizard in the room. Then, Harry was Fawkes, out of control. He was wild and his vision was in bright colors, and he was showing Dumbledore's aura this part of himself. He was showing him this blinding emotion, laying it out for the foreign presence to see, and he felt enraptured awe push back.

Harry jerked back to reality and snapped his eyes open. He reeled in his auras and threw up occlumency barriers almost audibly. –No, that was his wand falling from Dumbledore's hand and clattering to the floor. His eyes were wide and staring at Harry. Harry summoned his wand to him, looking at Dumbledore fearfully.

"That," said Dumbledore, a look of sheer excitement spreading on his face, "was extraordinary!" He stood up and stepped towards Harry. Harry stood up and backed away, his hands in front of him. He'd never seen Dumbledore like this before, and in the context, it scared him.

"I understand! We all have auras—our souls— and you—"

Harry threw his arms over his face protectively. "I didn't mean to—"

"—have—"

"No no no"

"—multiple—"

"Albus, please!"

"—auras!" said Dumbledore, backing Harry towards a wall, blue eyes twinkling. "This is intriguing! This is different from anything I've ever encountered, or even imagined. How many more auras do you have? What do they do? However did you get them?"

"Albus, don't! I can't!" said Harry, frantically.

"Oh, Harry, Harry," said Dumbledore gleefully, "I'll be able to answer the questions myself now that I know what I'm looking for…And if I become stumped once more, it seems Fawkes is willing to help me."

"Fawkes, you bloody traitor," Harry hissed to Fawkes.

"You don't have to hide from me, Harry" said Dumbledore seriously. "But it will be so much more interesting if you try," he said, ignoring Harry's panic. He reached out and touched Harry's cheek. Harry felt a tingle run down his spine and backed up to the wall before his body's aura could connect with Dumbledore's.

"You can't understand," said Harry bitterly. It was the worst thing he could have possibly said, because Dumbledore misinterpreted it. Whereas Harry meant "it would monumentally turn my life on its end if anyone understood who and what I am," Dumbledore heard "you are incapable of understanding," and therefore took it as a challenge.

"We shall see, Harry. And thank you for teaching me these new tricks." Just then, Harry felt Dumbledore's aura stretch and meet his. Dumbledore was really too intelligent for Harry's comfort; he had learned to manipulate his aura from Harry's example.

Harry jumped at the sensation, and let himself fall straight through the wall and several floors, away from Dumbledore's probing aura. When he allowed himself to land, he was in a corridor on the second floor. He stalked off moodily to office, distantly adding protective spells to his quarters.

The castle below Harry's office erupted in noise. The great hall reverberated with juvenile chattering and the slapping of shoes on the stone floors. Harry cast a silencing spell on his office walls to block out the noise, but he knew he had to go to the feast. He drummed his fingers on his desk for a few more minutes and begrudgingly made his way downstairs to the feast. He regretted his procrastination the moment he entered the hall and looked at the staff table. All of the professors were already in place and the only seat left was next to Dumbledore. Harry contemplated turning around and going back to his office, but Wister saw him and waved him over. Harry groaned and shielded himself mentally and physically. No one would even be able to touch him.

"Albus and I saved you a seat, Harry," grinned Wister.

"Thanks," said Harry, thinly masking his chagrin.

"I'm excited to see the sorting process," said Wister.

"Yeah, it's interesting," said Harry.

"What's interesting, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, turning himself to face Harry.

"The…Concept of using a live hat to sort the students," said Harry. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, but Harry was saved further explanation by the doors opening and the first years filing in lead by Minerva. She placed a stool in front of the hall, and on it, the sorting hat. The great hall fell silent, and all eyes were on the hat as a rip near the brim opened like a mouth and the hat began to sing:

Hello and welcome back you all,
To start our year anew.
It's lovely to be in the hall
Although I can't see you.
And once again the task is mine
To sort you to your dorm.
I think of no better time
To explain each house's norm.
In Gryffindor
As customs go
They brave out more
No fear they'll know.
For Ravenclaw
Who's intellect
That's seen with awe
I will select.
In Hufflepuff
Are workers true.
When going's tough
They stick it through.
In Slytherin
The cunning are
To meet their ends
They will go far.
And now it's time
To pick and choose
Who in your line
Will fill what shoes
So try me on
I cannot bite
Don't be withdrawn;
I'm always right!

The hall burst into applause and cheers, and the hat bowed to each of the four tables and was still once more. Harry saw the line of first years relax a little.

"When I call your name, please sit on the stool and try on the hat. After you are sorted you may join your house table," said Minerva so that the whole hall could hear. "Black, Andromeda!"

Harry looked closer and could almost recognize for himself that it was Tonks's mother. Andromeda fixed a confident look on her face and marched over to the stool. She placed it on head, and a moment later, it cried "Slytherin!"

"Diggory, Amos" joined the Hufflepuff table, and Molly Weasley's red haired, twin brothers "Prewett, Gideon" and "Prewett, Fabian" joined Gryffindor. Later, the muggle born "Tonks, Ted," the future spouse of Andromeda, went to sit beside Amos Diggory in Hufflepuff. Harry also recognized "Trelawney, Sybil" who, even as an eleven year old, had massively thick glasses which fell off her face as she scurried off to the Ravenclaw table. Towards the end of the sorting Harry's eyes were drawn to a girl in the line who had been previously hidden from his view. She was immensely short, even for her age, and wore a horribly pink cardigan under her black Hogwarts robes that was even out of place in the fifties. Harry knew who she was before her name was called. "Umbridge, Delores" was sorted into Slytherin.

When the sorting was done, everyone cheered and Minerva put the stool and hat away. Dumbledore stood up and raised his hands to silence the hall.

"Another year has started," he boomed, "and I would like say several words to you, but the only ones you could possibly hear now over the rumbling of your stomachs are 'bon appétit.'" Dumbledore sat down, and the tables filled themselves miraculously with piles of food. Harry smiled in spite of himself. It had been years since he'd been to a Hogwarts feast. He helped himself to everything.

"Whatever has caused you to smile so radiantly?" asked Dumbledore from beside Harry. Harry hadn't noticed that he was being watched. His smile vanished.

"Haven't you had enough questions answered for today?" he asked, exasperated.

"For today," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "Do try the potatoes, Harry; they're magnificent." Harry glared at his plate and unconsciously made the potatoes vanish. Dumbledore chuckled and turned back to his plate.

Between paranoid glances at Dumbledore, Harry examined the house tables. He didn't recognize most of the students. He suspected he wouldn't even recognize most the ones he knew because they were around thirty years younger than he'd ever seen them. He thought he recognized some future death eaters at the Slytherin table, and he noticed a surly looking teenager at the Gryffindor table that had a scruffy mane of hair that looked a lot like that of Rufus Scrimgeour. He resolved to peruse the Marauder's Map later to both find people he knew, and eerily appear to know everyone's names. He decided that scary but nonthreatening omnipotence was a good way to win respect and obedience from his students.

As the feast wore on, Harry became caught up in an undesired conversation with Wister about broomstick models. Harry was lucky he'd read so many Quidditch books; he had detailed knowledge of when each broomstick was invented and didn't have to worry about talking about brooms that didn't exist. Despite Harry's affection for the topic of Quidditch, he was put off by Wister's over flirtation.

"Though I like the Swiftstick for everyday flight, I find it doesn't get me up fast enough. The Oakshaft still does the job when I need endurance, but nothing gets me off my feet like the Cleansweep 4, though I did get swept away by the Shooting Star propaganda," Wister said, gazing at Harry.

Harry had to draw on his body aura to quell the blood flow that was turning his face red. Wister took a sip out of his goblet.

"Did you enjoy that, Harry?" asked Dumbledore from behind Harry. Harry turned and looked at Dumbledore, horrified.

"Excuse me?"

"The sorting. Did you enjoy it?"

"Oh," said Harry. Dumbledore raised his eyebrow. "Er, yes. I enjoyed the sorting," said Harry.

"What house do you suppose you would have been in?" asked Dumbledore.

"Gryffindor," said Harry, automatically. At this point, he was willing to answer Dumbledore's questions if it meant not listening to Wister talk about how firm he liked his broom shafts.

"And why is that, Harry? Why would you be a Gryffindor?"

Harry thought for a moment, and looked straight at Dumbledore.

"A wise man once told me that it is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities, and the sorting hat knows that."

Dumbledore contemplated Harry's face for a moment.

"He told you the sorting hat respects people's choices? I didn't know you'd heard of the sorting hat."

"No!" said Harry quickly, "That part was me." He took a sip of pumpkin juice, trying to look casual.

"Regardless, that sounds like a very eloquent and wise man indeed. I admit, I value both traits highly and strive to embody them," he said wistfully. Harry choked on his pumpkin juice trying not to laugh. Dumbledore saw and came out of his wistful gaze looking hurt.

"Albus, you are ...wise, eloquent and noble, and I am pretty sure you'll only be more like that," said Harry seriously, "but, it would be especially wise, eloquent, and noble of you to stop snooping."

"Harry, wisdom comes with age, and as you said yourself, I only look five minutes older than you. As such, I cannot yet be expected to choose the wisest and most mature directions."

"We are who we choose to be?" said Harry weakly.

"And thus I choose the braver and more interesting action; defying wisdom. As a Gryffindor and headmaster, I all I can ask for is to be brave and interesting."

Harry fell silent. Dumbledore was brave, interesting, and a very good arguer.

"We'll see how brave and interesting you are in the duel tomorrow," muttered Harry, before realizing that shit-talking probably wasn't his best tactic.

"Indeed you are a Gryffindor," said Dumbledore. "I think we should change the rules of the duel."

"Albus, it's my class."

"Oh, I know, but you'll agree that we should do all of our magic visibly?"

Harry nodded grudgingly.

"That means no types of legilimency, Albus," said Harry.

"That means no types of occlumency, Harry," said Albus.

"Well, we'll see about that," muttered Harry.

"I'm sure you are familiar with the Dueler's Charm?"

"Sorry. All of my duels have been of the non-recreational verity."

"It binds the duelers to an agreement and the charm indicates if either violates the agreement. It's quite standard, really."

"Oh," said Harry, weakly. Before Harry could think of an argument, the last of the desserts vanished from the plates.

"Sorry, Harry," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling, "Headmaster duties." He stood up and tapped on his glass with his spoon. "I trust you all enjoyed the feast. I have a few start of term notices to announce. I will remind you that the forest is off limits to all students. Mr. Ogg would like me to remind you that magic is not to be used in the corridors. Also, we have two new members of our staff this year. I would like to introduce you to Professor Bloom, who will be teaching Herbology," Wister winked at Harry, stood up and took a bow. The hall erupted in cheers. "And the lovely, mysterious and talented Professor Crockett, who is our new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher." From his sitting position, Harry looked sideways up at Dumbledore incredulously before forcing a smile, standing and waving at the students. "Professor Crockett has arranged a special Defense against the Dark Arts demonstration for tomorrow afternoon which will take the place of your classes." Dumbledore tried to put his hand on Harry's shoulder, but Harry's magic made the long fingers slide off without so much as grazing Harry's robes.

Dumbledore looked sideways at Harry.

Harry bit back a smirk.