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Taylor91: A hidden disability is more common than one would think. Personal experience speaking on that one. Hope your O&M instructor went easy on you!

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Thanks to Mikee for excellent proofreading work again. Good thing you're not charging me by the comma.

Harry Potter and the Blind Seer of Durmstrang

Chapter 10

Harry tore up the hill, away from the silent cemetery. He kept his cane, but did not use it as he ran through the grey twilight, instinctively now making for the castle, as if he had a homing beacon fixed on it. With one hand guarding his face from clawing branches and the other clutching a stitch in his side, Harry pounded onward.

The castle wall loomed before him and Harry stopped, hands on his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He leaned his back against the comforting solidity of the stone wall. Once his breathing had slowed, he followed the wall until he found the gate and Professor O'Carolan, who waited for him.

"Harry! There you are. I was beginning to wonder if I ought to send a search party," the professor joked.

"I did make it back, didn't I?" said Harry in surprise. "I guess I quit thinking about it."

"You're just in time for dinner," said Professor O'Carolan, speaking the password that made the enchanted door appear.

"Good," said Harry, keeping his voice as level as he could. "I'm starving." In order to find a conveniently innocent subject, Harry asked, "Does Durmstrang have a Quidditch tournament?"

"We do indeed!" said Professor O'Carolan proudly. "You've perhaps heard of Viktor Krum, who played this year on the Bulgarian team at the World Cup?"

"Yeah," said Harry shortly.

"We will miss him this year while he is at Hogwarts," continued the professor, "but we have plenty of fine players still. I'll have to show you the stadium one of these days."

"Mmmm," agreed Harry, wondering if he would be allowed to play. Since watching Quidditch no longer held much appeal for him, he wanted to play if he could. They reached the Hogwarts common room and Professor O'Carolan bade him adieu.

It was only later, after Harry sat ensconced in an armchair before the fire in the common room, that he realized he had dropped the silk scarf in the old graveyard. He would have to go back to retrieve it, or O'Carolan might begin asking questions. The trouble was, he didn't know the word needed to get back into the castle. If he went out there tonight, he'd be trapped.

He'd simply have to wait.

That night, Harry dreamed again of the ancient graveyard. This time, he dreamed he was frozen, lying in place on top of a low, flat slab of stone, the letters of a name rough under the back of his head. He could see the sky with his dream-eyes, littered with stars between the irregular treetop. He heard breathing come close to him and someone stood over him holding a long, cruel knife.

Again, he heard a voice, indistinct but commanding, and heard again the cruel laugh, full of evil pleasure. He tried to move, to roll off the stone slab, but he was turned to ice on the cold, hard block. He awoke with a terrified gasp and lay trembling in his bed. For a long time, he could not find sleep again.

The next day, Harry had knitting class again with Professor Morrigana. The tiny hag had passed out metal knitting needles to each student on the previous class, along with skeins of yarn. She had tried to demonstrate the technique of casting on, but the utter disinterest of the class hampered her efforts. Today seemed to be going no better.

Harry pulled out his needles and the yarn, which had no color or definition, and half-heartedly tried to locate the end. He was distracted in his endeavor by Natalia slipping into the chair next to him. As the scent of the jasmine that she wore washed over him, Harry gave up entirely on his yarn and concentrated on breathing.

After class, during which Harry never did get his ball of yarn untangled, Natalia pulled him aside in the hallway.

"Natalia," he said, savoring the syllables on his tongue.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked in surprise.

"Are you kidding?" Harry said in reply. "I'd know you anywhere."

"You're too sweet," she said coyly, flipping her silvery hair back over her shoulder.

Harry cast about in his mind for something to say. His mouth felt suddenly dry. "Would you like to go for a walk with me?" he asked.

"Right now?" she asked.

"Well, yeah," Harry said.

"Sure," she agreed, and Harry's heart soared. "Where to?"

Harry hadn't thought about this. "Wherever you want," he said with a smile.

"Out in the sunshine, then," she said decisively. "This school, it's much too dark, don't you think?"

"Err, yeah," Harry lied. Although his eyes still ached from yesterday, he would have walked into the sun itself, had Natalia expressed a preference for doing so. She took his arm delicately, and Harry felt his insides clench at her touch. He straightened his back, wishing he could fold up his cane and hide it somewhere. He hadn't felt self-conscious about using it for a long time, but now, with this gorgeous girl on his arm, the cane somehow didn't mesh with the image he wanted to portray. Still, he figured it was better to use it than to trip down the stairs with her watching.

"Where are you from?" he asked to fill the silence.

"From Ukraine," she said in a rich, accented voice.

"Oh," said Harry, feeling stupid.

"My family is there still," she said, allowing a note of unutterably sweet sadness creep into her voice. "I miss them."

"Are they a wizarding family?" Harry asked.

She stopped, and turned to face him. "Of course! I am a Veela and I have the purest blood of any witch in this school." Her words had a chillingly cold edge.

"I-I-I'm sorry," stammered Harry. "Of course I should have known."

This seemed to mollify her and she took his arm again. They reached the front door; this time, Harry half-closed his eyes in anticipation of the searing light.

They walked slowly through the fall sunshine. Harry asked about her family in the Ukraine and discovered she had three younger sisters, too young yet for school. He also found that she had been dancing since she was a tiny child, under the best tutors her parents could find.

Natalia asked few questions about Harry's family; he assumed she knew the Boy-Who-Lived story. He didn't want to talk, just to listen to her honey-sweet voice, so he continued asking her questions to get her to talk. Her touch sent shivers up and down his arm.

All too soon, the lunch hour ended, and they returned to the castle. Luckily for Harry, Natalia knew the castle password, and Harry listened, trying to catch it. He thought he finally heard the word correctly.

Harry's stomach rumbled as he made his way to the Arithmancy classroom. He settled himself into a seat, waiting for Professor Carrow to begin.

"The number thirteen," she intoned, "has powerful qualities and many uses."

Harry found his mind wandering back over the stolen hour he had spent with Natalia. The memory of her hair brushing the back of his hand made him shiver.

All day, Harry stayed happily wrapped in a dazed daydream. He floated through Astronomy class without even noticing the subject of the lesson. He wondered where Natalia's dormitory was and whether he could find it to visit her. He wondered, too, whether such visits were permitted here.

At dinner, he did not speak to anyone, but remained wrapped in his thoughts. Once, Luna tried to ask him a question, but he hardly heard her and answered in a monosyllable. As darkness crept into the sky, Harry decided he would try to find the graveyard again and retrieve the scarf. Now that it was dark, he'd be able to see better, and he knew he needed to find it soon.

He slipped up to his dorm and pulled his Invisibility Cloak out of the depths of his trunk. Putting it on, he slipped quietly through the common room, careful to keep his cane hidden. Once out in the corridor, he breathed a sigh of relief and walked faster. He didn't notice the door quietly open and the tapestry pushed aside behind him.

Without meeting anyone, he reached the main front doors of the castle. By now, the route seemed more familiar and as he stepped out into the chilly air; he took only a minute to get his bearings before setting off down the hill, as close as he could guess to the direction in which the old graveyard lay.

The daylight had faded faster than he expected and he was soon in almost total darkness as he entered the pine wood. He slowed his pace, holding up a hand to ward off branches that seemed constantly to find him and strike him across the face. A chill wind had picked up, rocking the tops off the trees with a rustling and creaking above him. He looked up and could see the paler sky between the shivering treetops.

Harry went on and on through the trackless woods. He had begun to feel as though he'd chosen a haystack in which to look for a needle. The air grew colder and darker, and he could find no trace whatsoever of the old graveyard.

He pushed the hood of the Invisibility Cloak back, peering through the dark wood in every direction. Then he shrugged the whole thing off and stuffed it into his pocket. He couldn't risk tearing it; he'd worn it far too long in the tangle of brush as it was. He began again in another direction, cutting his way across the slope of the hill rather than continuing downward.

He came across what seemed to be a path, running down the hill, and he decided to follow it, hoping it would lead him to his destination. All at once, without warning, arms grabbed him from behind. Harry's arms were pinned to his sides and his captor wrenched his cane roughly from his hand.

Harry struggled and shouted; when he did this a hand was clamped over his mouth. A hand that was missing its first finger.

Harry's eyes widened, and he struggled harder.

"There, there," a low voice said in his ear. "So nice to find you out here. So handy. I didn't even have to come looking for you." Wormtail, for Harry knew it was he, chuckled gleefully.

Harry tried to bite the hand over his mouth, but was rewarded only with a firmer grip. He kicked at Wormtail's shin and this time, he connected.

"Ouch!" the man cried and involuntarily loosened his grip. Harry broke free and began to run, but without his cane, he tripped over a tree root, stumbling to his knees.

"Petrificus Totalus!" The curse hit Harry squarely in the back. As if in slow motion, he saw the ground rise to meet his face, and he lay, unmoving, his face buried in the spicy scent of pine needles.

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