Diospyros

Harry Potter was certainly a very unique figure for those around him.

In elementary school, he was certainly a child who stood out from the rest. He always had long hair, which made him stand out among boys, and a lack of expressiveness that set him apart from girls. Professor Jaqueline certainly considered him unique, probably having been the first to see how he not only could, but also wanted to be apart from all other things. Literally all.

— I still don't understand how he's so different from his brother — Mrs. Mayer, the librarian, said once in the staff room during break. – I never saw him running or shouting at the other children. He doesn't even do anything strange in the library, even when I'm not around.

— I think he's very shy – Mrs. Heard, history teacher, commented while eating a bagel. – I once commented about him being able to skip grades and you know what he said?

— What?

— “No, thank you”. And when I asked why, he said, “I don’t think it’s significant”. Seriously, he doesn't even look like he's being a child properly.

Lily and James Potter were the second ones to realize this. They always had a vague feeling that they were missing something with their son, which ended up causing the whole howler incident to have a rebound effect on them much worse than it usually does to other parents who end up doing the same stupid thing.

— You dumb, airheaded idiot! – Lily certainly looked wild as she threw things at James, a few weeks after that horrible morning and repeatedly without receiving any letter back from Harry.

— Lilian, please calm down – The desperation was certainly palpable in James's voice.

— It's your fault he doesn't want to talk to us! Stupid!

And a horrible atmosphere fell over them until they finally had that one-sidedly awkward conversation on Christmas.

— Hmm... he's really mature, isn't he? – James really tried to lighten the mood.

— James, don’t try — Lilian sighed. She really wanted a drink.

This was a mixed reaction for many who dealt with Harry; Professor McGonagall certainly wouldn't say no to a shot of firewhisky while correcting his essays. There were a lot of details that didn't seem possible to notice as just an eleven-year-old boy, but it also didn't seem like a directed inquiry like Ms. Granger's.

— He's a genius – It was the only thing she could think of to express what she wanted to say. – I've never seen anyone be so natural at Transfiguration like that.

— Ah, so it’s not just in Charms – Prof. Flitwick, lively fellow that he was, energetically stirred his cup of tea on top of a pile of cushions. – If he wasn't so honest about what he thinks, I could certainly think that he trained in spells outside of Hogwarts.

— He certainly didn't look too tilted in flight, though – Madam Hooch commented. – Although it didn't look too bad either.

— How is he doing in your class, Quirinus?

— U-Um... P-Potter does r-r--really w-well, e-even although he seems r-r-r-really bo-bo-bore-ed...

Quirinus couldn't tell how Harry was really doing, if he was honest. The boy certainly expressed himself a lot, but he didn't have any kind of intense or common reaction. It was as if he didn't just know, it was as if he wasn't impressed by anything. Fortunately, his master didn't ask him to keep an eye on the boy.

Unfortunately for Snape, he had to keep an eye on Harry. Not just because he was the head of Slytherin (not that that meant much to him anyway), but because Lily had asked him to.

— Sev, please take care of him – Her half-traumatized, half-desperate expression certainly overwhelmed him. – Please don't let anything bad happen to my baby, please...

— I'll take care – It was a very uniform answer, but Lily knew that he would really take care of Harry. The problem was that Harry didn't know that.

Snape would certainly rather deal with him than Adrien; however, he would rather deal with Hagrid's infernal Cerberus than both of them. And there was no denying his reasons for that.

Adrien was his own little bomb in more ways than one, not only a threat to his own safety, but to the safety of others as well. Lilian knew this well enough to be shy about asking him about her Gryffindor son. Severus tried, really tried, to answer her gently on this subject. Unfortunately, she didn't seem to agree with his "Risk to public safety," and would get up immediately – only to return after a while, with a resigned expression.

Now, Harry Potter was a different matter; diametrically opposed, he would say. He was an almost exact image of his brother, but with long hair and green eyes. His most striking feature, however, was his apparent lack of nerves.

It wasn't a lack in the sense of impatience; it was in the sense that he simply didn't react to anything. Not anger, not fear, not disgust, and not excitement. Nothing. Maybe, and just maybe, the only thing that got him to react was playing with his cat, an ugly, half-Kneazle  one, who was walking behind him most of the time. Even this cat was strange, having been seen face to face with Mrs. Norris in an exchange of meows. That, unfortunately, didn't stop him from creating problems either.

Kettleburn had certainly spoken highly of the boy who had suggested a dragon for his Care of Magical Creatures class. Since Kettleburn had not found out about Hagrid's dragon before, he was unaware (honestly, half the staff knew about it). If it wasn't enough, his cold attitude also caused indirect disturbances around. Harry certainly hadn't noticed the dismissive comments or the prank attempts they had made on him. Which would have been kind of funny, if Potter hadn't been so much more intelligent than his classmates.

He had caught Potter more than once trying to experiment with Potions alongside his seemingly only friend Morag MacDougal, who was, thankfully, much more persuadable about trying not to blow himself up than Potter was. As if that weren't enough, his tendency to stick close to a baby dragon, which, while not very aggressive, was still a dragon. And then there was the incident where he had launched himself headfirst into a damned mountain troll that, despite not being an adult (contrary to what Minerva had announced), was still seven meters tall.

He didn't think twice about running away from the castle once the summer holidays began, back in Cokeworth. Dumbledore certainly tried to make him stay, almost receiving a curse for such audacity.

Albus didn't understand Harry very well either; he was an exceptional boy, in fact, having fought Quirinus alone in the Forbidden Forest over a unicorn. Firenze didn't tell him anything more than that, however, nor did he give him any kind of opinion. He wasn't so far removed from centaur ways as to meddle in human ideas, after all.

The paintings didn't tell him anything very special about the boy either; he comes and goes from the Great Hall very early, eats very little of what's on offer, reads much more than he could, walks much less than he should, and is much more stoic than he should be¹. The term "cold-blooded" would fit him perfectly, although it was admittedly hot.

Hagrid was certainly grateful for the help he had given him with Norbert – who Albus still didn’t know how to explain to Hagrid was Norberta –, as was Minerva, who still seemed quite grateful for his having countered the jinx on Adrien’s broom – though how she knew it had been Harry was a mystery to Albus.

And then there was the case of the Philosopher's Stone. Albus would be lying if he hadn’t thought the worst when he heard that Harry had gone down the dungeon with Adrien, Ron and Hermione. Seeing the disintegrated door in Flitwick’s trap certainly hadn’t raised his expectations. In the end, he had no shame in admitting he was wrong when he saw the twins on the floor, Harry holding Adrien and Adrien holding Quirrell, who looked like a very inflated bubble.

He supposed he had been overthinking things.