Harry took a seat and her question made him blush. "No, I don't bake bread," he said, pulling out a sandwich that he had, indeed, made himself. "I almost never eat in the cafeteria. But I'm a dismal cook, if that's what you're wondering." He pulled a bottle of root beer out of the bag as well.
He nodded at the stack of files, hoping to change the subject. "Someone's buried in paperwork. Are those..." He leaned in a little, tilting his head to read the top of one. "...transcripts from the war trials?" Harry had attended more of those than he really cared to remember, and testified at a few. He liked to think all that was in the past now, but yet every time it came up, he felt drawn in to it all over again.