Part Three: Don't Use Your Eyes
Harry paced back and forth as he waited. The trophy room wasn't the most romantic place on Earth, but it was nice enough. It really didn't need to be romantic. After all, they were just doing a school project.
A school project with Gretchen. Well, maybe it was different now. He didn't understand why he felt like that. In his fifth and sixth year a project with Gretchen would have just been a project with Gretchen. Plain, old, ordinary Gretchen.
I'm seventeen, Harry thought to himself, this is my last year at Hogwarts. Why am I still afraid of girls?
"Hi, Harry," Gretchen said as she walked into the Trophy room. She looked really pretty. She was warring a black skirt and a white shirt. She wasn't warring school robes. Suddenly Harry felt silly. He was warring his school robes. Did Gretchen think this was a date? Was it a date? Could you ware school robes on a date?
"Hi Gretchen. Are you ready to start?" Harry asked. Gretchen nodded. "Good. Umm, what should we do first?"
"I don't know," Gretchen said awkwardly. "Harry this isn't a.... you know.... is it?"
"I suppose it's not. Unless you want it to be a.... whatever," Harry answered.
"No. I don't think I'm ready to go on a...you know.... yet. I mean, I really like you Harry, I might even love you, but I think we should just do school work now." Gretchen smiled at him. "You understand, right?"
"Completely," Harry said. "That is, if you understand."
"I understand," Gretchen assured him. "Should we start now?"
"That sounds like a plan." Gretchen and Harry looked at each other awkwardly for a moment. Harry secretly hoped that this wasn't a date. Because if it was, it was the oddest date he had ever been on.
"What do you think it looks like?" Gretchen asked out of the blue.
"What?"
"The river of Nirvana, silly. You know, the think that we're studying," Gretchen said with a smile. "They say that the soul takes form in the river of Nirvana. That it lives there before life and after death."
"So my parents are in the river?" Harry asked.
"With my mum," Gretchen stated
"Do you remember it?" Gretchen looked at Harry oddly. "Don't look at me like that. You just said that the soul lives there before birth."
"Do you remember you birth?" Harry shook his head, no. "Then how do you expect me to remember my life before I was born?"
"Good point," Harry stated. "I suppose that we'll have to do a guided meditation then. Isn't that was Chantal told us to do?"
"Yeah, I guess." Gretchen stood before Harry and took off his glasses. "Close you eyes," She instructed.
"Have you ever done this?" Harry asked as he shut his eyes.
"No. Have you?" Gretchen asked.
"No," Harry admitted. "Are you sure you can do this?"
"Trust me," Gretchen stated. She started humming, the singing slowly. Her voice was nice. It wasn't the most amazing voice in the world, but it was nice. Harry felt soft and warm as he sank into himself, into the darkest corners of his mind.
He drifted as though he were under water. The water was warm, yet he was very chilly. There was something moving him about. Something outside, something above. All the while he looked, using he eyes frantically. There was no light. How could he see when there was no light?
Don't use your eyes, something whispered inside him. Eyes of the body. The heart is of the soul. It was as if reality changed with a single statement. There was light, but Harry had no eyes. He started to panic then everything around him was hot, like anger and fear.
This place was emotion. They were everywhere, surrounding him. Was that was the river was, pure emotion? And how could you draw feeling? Harry needed to go deeper, and with no effort he did.
There was a sensation as if he was being pulled apart. A dividing. There was a hot, harmfully hot, something pulling him on one side, and a warm, gentle thing holding his other side. No matter what the hot side did it could not force the other side to let him go. Deeper, something inside him urged, and so Harry sank even farther.
There was light again. Much light. Almost too much light. "Where am I?" he wondered. The question didn't matter. He knew where he was. He couldn't name it, but he knew it.
"Harry. Harry! Are you all right?" Harry's eyes snapped open. Gretchen was standing in front of him. "Harry?"
"I'm fine," he said. "Did something happen?"
"Nothing, really," Gretchen said. "You shouted 'Where am I?' and I freaked out a bit." Harry nodded, smiling as he did.
"It was nothing," Harry said. "Your turn. You have to go on a guided meditation. So stand there close your eyes, and um, meditate."
"You have to help me, Harry," Gretchen said. "You're my guide."
"Well, what do I do?" Harry asked.
"Whatever you heart tells you." Harry nodded. My hearts a little confused right now, he thought. He muttered to himself. Deeper. Deeper. Deeper. You always had to go deeper.
"Gretchen," Harry said, not looking at her. "I really don't know what to do, so..." But as he looked up Harry saw that Gretchen was beyond his understanding. He waited, watching her for only a few moments, and then she opened her eyes.
"We have to get to work," she said.
"What did you see?"
"The same thing you did," Gretchen said. She took out her wand, muttered something strange, and a small canvas appeared followed by a set of paints. She grabbed a brush and so did Harry and they didn't need to ask each other what to do.
Halloween, for the first time in ever, had been uneventful. There were no mountain trolls or death day parties that year. School was going fine. Harry was passing most of his classes (potions being the exception). Even his personal life was fine. He and Ron were getting along as good as ever. There was no reason to fight. Ron didn't really envy him anymore. Perhaps it had been losing Percy, perhaps not, that had showed him how lucky he was. He had things that Harry could barely imagine having, like a mother.
Yet, even as things were calm, there was a growing tension in the air. It had started at breakfast one morning when Hedwig had delivered Harry a short note.
The Great Hall. Eleven o'clock. Don't tell anyone,
You are excused from classes. Bring Gretchen.
Harry immediately recognized the handwriting as that of the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He tucked the note into his pocket. "What was that, Harry?" Ron asked.
"Nothing important," Harry said.
"Oh, come of Harry, tell us what it is," Hermione demanded lightly. "Please." Harry shot a look at Gretchen. He only hoped she understood.
"It was a love note from a certain someone," he said as he blushed with embarrassment and shame.
"Oh," Hermione said. She turned to Gretchen. "I thought that you were going to wait a while before you sent him the love poem."
"I was," Gretchen said. "But why should I? What's the point in waiting?"
"Well, there is none, Gretchen, but you didn't need to send it yet. You're not going to die tomorrow," Hermione said. "Well, I've got to go. I wasn't able to finish my Essay on Byron the Beheaded." She gave Ron a small kiss. "See ya."
Ron looked down at his plate sourly. "What's wrong?" Gretchen asked.
"She used to kiss me a lot better, like she wanted to. Now it's forced." Then he added in a whisper, "I think she loves someone else."
"Ron," Harry said in a startled tone. "I'm sure that..."
"No, Harry, I'm sure," Ron said. "I saw her kissing Ixion. She really likes him, Harry. He's nice to her." Ron stood up. "Well, there's only one thing to do."
"What?" Harry asked.
"Set her free."
Harry and Gretchen sat in the stairwell. "What time is it?" Gretchen asked.
"Ten forty-five," Harry said as he looked at his wizard watch. "Charms just started."
"Dumbledore said not to worry," Gretchen reminded him. Her words didn't make Harry feel any better. The handwriting on the note had seemed to rushed, like time was running out. Maybe it was. Maybe Voldemort was coming. Maybe Harry would be dead. It's not like you're going to die tomorrow, Hermione had said. Was that true.
"We should get to the great hall," Gretchen said flatly. She was worried to. "I don't want to be late." They marched in a straight line, Harry in front, Gretchen in back, heads hanging low. The great hall was empty when they arrived, none of the tables that had been out during breakfast were there now.
".... I still think that you're making a mistake," Harry heard a muffled voice in the distance say, accompanied by the sound of shows on stone.
"I know what I'm doing Mr. Dumbledore. I've been working with Gretchen for thirteen years," another voice said.
"Oh know." Harry turned to look at Gretchen, who seemed to be making herself as small as possible. "It's Dr. Parkmen." She took a deep breath as the door opened and stood tall. Her shoulders were square and her manor was stern. "Hello, Dr. P."
"Hello, Gretchen," the short, balding man said in a voice reserved for a small child. "How have you been?"
"I'm good right now," Gretchen said, choosing her words carefully.
"So your mother's death doesn't upset you?" the man asked suspiciously.
"I'm good right now," Gretchen repeated. "I was upset then, however."
"I see," Dr. Parkman said. Gretchen smiled.
"Doctors say I see a lot," she whispered to Harry. "They like being mysterious, all knowing forces, you see? They always want you to think that they know something you don't."
"What was that?" Dr. Parkmen asked.
"Nothing," Gretchen said dismissively.
"Are you sure, Miss Locus?" the doctor said in a threatening tone. Both Harry and Dumbledore gave the man a hard look.
"It was private," Gretchen said firmly. Dr. Parkmen nodded and then jotted something down will muttering something Harry couldn't quite here. The patient.... cooperative.... obviously disturbed.
"Come Miss Locus. Your bags are packed, it's time to leave," Dr. Parkmen said cheerily.
"Leave!" Gretchen repeated. "I don't want to leave."
"Miss Locus you haven't been contacting me as ordered, your mother has died, and you decided that instead of going with your foster parents, as ordered, that you would spent the summer in bed with some boy..."
"We were not in bed together!" Gretchen blurted. "I slept on the floor. Even then, how does that constitute an expulsion from Hogwarts?"
"Not an expulsion, just a suspension. You're coming with me and going back to Mungo's for observation. You are obviously disturbed." The fat man smiled. "Now, come Gretchen, or I shall force you to come."
"I am not disturbed," Gretchen insisted. "I'm simply independent. I don't need you, Dr. Parkmen. I'm not fragile. I can handle things on my own."
"You are coming, Gretchen. That's that!"
"Professor..." Gretchen asked tearfully as she looked towards Dumbledore.
"I did my best," was all the old man had to see. Gretchen nodded and turned back to Dr. Parkmen.
"I'll go," Gretchen said solemnly. "Just give me a few minutes to say good bye." The doctor nodded. Gretchen and Harry walked away from the two men. "I'll be back soon. They won't keep me long."
"Of course," Harry said. He had no idea how long she would be away. "I guess..."
"No, Harry, don't say good bye," Gretchen said. "This is not good bye."
"I can't stand not seeing you everyday."
"You'll be able to see me," Gretchen assured him. "Just don't use your eyes." She gave him a brief kiss.
"Miss Locus, come along now," the doctor called.
"Harry, please, I don't want to go." They were holding each other's arms as if someone was trying to pull them apart. And someone was. Two men walked into the room and grabbed Gretchen's arms and started pulling her.
"Let her go!" Harry shouted. He tried to hit one but someone grabbed him, too. Dr. Parkmen.
"Harry!" Gretchen called. Harry struggled to get to her.
"I love you!" He shouted as they neared the door. "I love you!"
"Harry!" Gretchen shouted. "Love...." and then her voice faded away. The men had dragged her out of the door. Dr. Parkmen smiled. He pushed Harry to the side and marched giddily across the floor. He looked like a boy in a candy shop.
Harry stopped him foot on the ground the moment the door closed. Why had he taken Gretchen? Why!
"Calm yourself," Dumbledore ordered. The old man placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Calm down, Harry."
"They took her," he said. "Why did they take her?"
"Because they don't understand her. It is rare to find someone so brave," Dumbledore said.
"If she's brave then why was she so scared?" Harry asked.
"Bravery isn't about not being afraid, it's about facing your fears and over coming them. She's very brave. Harry, you are very brave. Calm down. She'll won't be gone long," Dumbledore said. Harry nodded.
"What if he gets her there," Harry said suddenly. "There isn't as much security at Mungoo's as Hogwarts. Voldemort could get her..."
"He won't," Dumbledore assured him. "They will only keep her for about a week. Actually, less then a week. Gretchen doesn't want to stay at Mungoo's. She won't."
"That's right, she escaped once," Harry said. "She never told me how."
"It's an interesting story," Dumbledore said. "Gretchen is very intelligent, as you know. She guesses that the containment spell around her door guarded against humans, but nothing else. So, in order to get out, she requested books about Animagi and studied it until she could shift easily."
"Really?"
"Yes. She's a cat, I believe."
"No, she's a bird." Dumbledore shrugged.
"Get back to class, Harry."
Harry paced back and forth as he waited. The trophy room wasn't the most romantic place on Earth, but it was nice enough. It really didn't need to be romantic. After all, they were just doing a school project.
A school project with Gretchen. Well, maybe it was different now. He didn't understand why he felt like that. In his fifth and sixth year a project with Gretchen would have just been a project with Gretchen. Plain, old, ordinary Gretchen.
I'm seventeen, Harry thought to himself, this is my last year at Hogwarts. Why am I still afraid of girls?
"Hi, Harry," Gretchen said as she walked into the Trophy room. She looked really pretty. She was warring a black skirt and a white shirt. She wasn't warring school robes. Suddenly Harry felt silly. He was warring his school robes. Did Gretchen think this was a date? Was it a date? Could you ware school robes on a date?
"Hi Gretchen. Are you ready to start?" Harry asked. Gretchen nodded. "Good. Umm, what should we do first?"
"I don't know," Gretchen said awkwardly. "Harry this isn't a.... you know.... is it?"
"I suppose it's not. Unless you want it to be a.... whatever," Harry answered.
"No. I don't think I'm ready to go on a...you know.... yet. I mean, I really like you Harry, I might even love you, but I think we should just do school work now." Gretchen smiled at him. "You understand, right?"
"Completely," Harry said. "That is, if you understand."
"I understand," Gretchen assured him. "Should we start now?"
"That sounds like a plan." Gretchen and Harry looked at each other awkwardly for a moment. Harry secretly hoped that this wasn't a date. Because if it was, it was the oddest date he had ever been on.
"What do you think it looks like?" Gretchen asked out of the blue.
"What?"
"The river of Nirvana, silly. You know, the think that we're studying," Gretchen said with a smile. "They say that the soul takes form in the river of Nirvana. That it lives there before life and after death."
"So my parents are in the river?" Harry asked.
"With my mum," Gretchen stated
"Do you remember it?" Gretchen looked at Harry oddly. "Don't look at me like that. You just said that the soul lives there before birth."
"Do you remember you birth?" Harry shook his head, no. "Then how do you expect me to remember my life before I was born?"
"Good point," Harry stated. "I suppose that we'll have to do a guided meditation then. Isn't that was Chantal told us to do?"
"Yeah, I guess." Gretchen stood before Harry and took off his glasses. "Close you eyes," She instructed.
"Have you ever done this?" Harry asked as he shut his eyes.
"No. Have you?" Gretchen asked.
"No," Harry admitted. "Are you sure you can do this?"
"Trust me," Gretchen stated. She started humming, the singing slowly. Her voice was nice. It wasn't the most amazing voice in the world, but it was nice. Harry felt soft and warm as he sank into himself, into the darkest corners of his mind.
He drifted as though he were under water. The water was warm, yet he was very chilly. There was something moving him about. Something outside, something above. All the while he looked, using he eyes frantically. There was no light. How could he see when there was no light?
Don't use your eyes, something whispered inside him. Eyes of the body. The heart is of the soul. It was as if reality changed with a single statement. There was light, but Harry had no eyes. He started to panic then everything around him was hot, like anger and fear.
This place was emotion. They were everywhere, surrounding him. Was that was the river was, pure emotion? And how could you draw feeling? Harry needed to go deeper, and with no effort he did.
There was a sensation as if he was being pulled apart. A dividing. There was a hot, harmfully hot, something pulling him on one side, and a warm, gentle thing holding his other side. No matter what the hot side did it could not force the other side to let him go. Deeper, something inside him urged, and so Harry sank even farther.
There was light again. Much light. Almost too much light. "Where am I?" he wondered. The question didn't matter. He knew where he was. He couldn't name it, but he knew it.
"Harry. Harry! Are you all right?" Harry's eyes snapped open. Gretchen was standing in front of him. "Harry?"
"I'm fine," he said. "Did something happen?"
"Nothing, really," Gretchen said. "You shouted 'Where am I?' and I freaked out a bit." Harry nodded, smiling as he did.
"It was nothing," Harry said. "Your turn. You have to go on a guided meditation. So stand there close your eyes, and um, meditate."
"You have to help me, Harry," Gretchen said. "You're my guide."
"Well, what do I do?" Harry asked.
"Whatever you heart tells you." Harry nodded. My hearts a little confused right now, he thought. He muttered to himself. Deeper. Deeper. Deeper. You always had to go deeper.
"Gretchen," Harry said, not looking at her. "I really don't know what to do, so..." But as he looked up Harry saw that Gretchen was beyond his understanding. He waited, watching her for only a few moments, and then she opened her eyes.
"We have to get to work," she said.
"What did you see?"
"The same thing you did," Gretchen said. She took out her wand, muttered something strange, and a small canvas appeared followed by a set of paints. She grabbed a brush and so did Harry and they didn't need to ask each other what to do.
Halloween, for the first time in ever, had been uneventful. There were no mountain trolls or death day parties that year. School was going fine. Harry was passing most of his classes (potions being the exception). Even his personal life was fine. He and Ron were getting along as good as ever. There was no reason to fight. Ron didn't really envy him anymore. Perhaps it had been losing Percy, perhaps not, that had showed him how lucky he was. He had things that Harry could barely imagine having, like a mother.
Yet, even as things were calm, there was a growing tension in the air. It had started at breakfast one morning when Hedwig had delivered Harry a short note.
The Great Hall. Eleven o'clock. Don't tell anyone,
You are excused from classes. Bring Gretchen.
Harry immediately recognized the handwriting as that of the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He tucked the note into his pocket. "What was that, Harry?" Ron asked.
"Nothing important," Harry said.
"Oh, come of Harry, tell us what it is," Hermione demanded lightly. "Please." Harry shot a look at Gretchen. He only hoped she understood.
"It was a love note from a certain someone," he said as he blushed with embarrassment and shame.
"Oh," Hermione said. She turned to Gretchen. "I thought that you were going to wait a while before you sent him the love poem."
"I was," Gretchen said. "But why should I? What's the point in waiting?"
"Well, there is none, Gretchen, but you didn't need to send it yet. You're not going to die tomorrow," Hermione said. "Well, I've got to go. I wasn't able to finish my Essay on Byron the Beheaded." She gave Ron a small kiss. "See ya."
Ron looked down at his plate sourly. "What's wrong?" Gretchen asked.
"She used to kiss me a lot better, like she wanted to. Now it's forced." Then he added in a whisper, "I think she loves someone else."
"Ron," Harry said in a startled tone. "I'm sure that..."
"No, Harry, I'm sure," Ron said. "I saw her kissing Ixion. She really likes him, Harry. He's nice to her." Ron stood up. "Well, there's only one thing to do."
"What?" Harry asked.
"Set her free."
Harry and Gretchen sat in the stairwell. "What time is it?" Gretchen asked.
"Ten forty-five," Harry said as he looked at his wizard watch. "Charms just started."
"Dumbledore said not to worry," Gretchen reminded him. Her words didn't make Harry feel any better. The handwriting on the note had seemed to rushed, like time was running out. Maybe it was. Maybe Voldemort was coming. Maybe Harry would be dead. It's not like you're going to die tomorrow, Hermione had said. Was that true.
"We should get to the great hall," Gretchen said flatly. She was worried to. "I don't want to be late." They marched in a straight line, Harry in front, Gretchen in back, heads hanging low. The great hall was empty when they arrived, none of the tables that had been out during breakfast were there now.
".... I still think that you're making a mistake," Harry heard a muffled voice in the distance say, accompanied by the sound of shows on stone.
"I know what I'm doing Mr. Dumbledore. I've been working with Gretchen for thirteen years," another voice said.
"Oh know." Harry turned to look at Gretchen, who seemed to be making herself as small as possible. "It's Dr. Parkmen." She took a deep breath as the door opened and stood tall. Her shoulders were square and her manor was stern. "Hello, Dr. P."
"Hello, Gretchen," the short, balding man said in a voice reserved for a small child. "How have you been?"
"I'm good right now," Gretchen said, choosing her words carefully.
"So your mother's death doesn't upset you?" the man asked suspiciously.
"I'm good right now," Gretchen repeated. "I was upset then, however."
"I see," Dr. Parkman said. Gretchen smiled.
"Doctors say I see a lot," she whispered to Harry. "They like being mysterious, all knowing forces, you see? They always want you to think that they know something you don't."
"What was that?" Dr. Parkmen asked.
"Nothing," Gretchen said dismissively.
"Are you sure, Miss Locus?" the doctor said in a threatening tone. Both Harry and Dumbledore gave the man a hard look.
"It was private," Gretchen said firmly. Dr. Parkmen nodded and then jotted something down will muttering something Harry couldn't quite here. The patient.... cooperative.... obviously disturbed.
"Come Miss Locus. Your bags are packed, it's time to leave," Dr. Parkmen said cheerily.
"Leave!" Gretchen repeated. "I don't want to leave."
"Miss Locus you haven't been contacting me as ordered, your mother has died, and you decided that instead of going with your foster parents, as ordered, that you would spent the summer in bed with some boy..."
"We were not in bed together!" Gretchen blurted. "I slept on the floor. Even then, how does that constitute an expulsion from Hogwarts?"
"Not an expulsion, just a suspension. You're coming with me and going back to Mungo's for observation. You are obviously disturbed." The fat man smiled. "Now, come Gretchen, or I shall force you to come."
"I am not disturbed," Gretchen insisted. "I'm simply independent. I don't need you, Dr. Parkmen. I'm not fragile. I can handle things on my own."
"You are coming, Gretchen. That's that!"
"Professor..." Gretchen asked tearfully as she looked towards Dumbledore.
"I did my best," was all the old man had to see. Gretchen nodded and turned back to Dr. Parkmen.
"I'll go," Gretchen said solemnly. "Just give me a few minutes to say good bye." The doctor nodded. Gretchen and Harry walked away from the two men. "I'll be back soon. They won't keep me long."
"Of course," Harry said. He had no idea how long she would be away. "I guess..."
"No, Harry, don't say good bye," Gretchen said. "This is not good bye."
"I can't stand not seeing you everyday."
"You'll be able to see me," Gretchen assured him. "Just don't use your eyes." She gave him a brief kiss.
"Miss Locus, come along now," the doctor called.
"Harry, please, I don't want to go." They were holding each other's arms as if someone was trying to pull them apart. And someone was. Two men walked into the room and grabbed Gretchen's arms and started pulling her.
"Let her go!" Harry shouted. He tried to hit one but someone grabbed him, too. Dr. Parkmen.
"Harry!" Gretchen called. Harry struggled to get to her.
"I love you!" He shouted as they neared the door. "I love you!"
"Harry!" Gretchen shouted. "Love...." and then her voice faded away. The men had dragged her out of the door. Dr. Parkmen smiled. He pushed Harry to the side and marched giddily across the floor. He looked like a boy in a candy shop.
Harry stopped him foot on the ground the moment the door closed. Why had he taken Gretchen? Why!
"Calm yourself," Dumbledore ordered. The old man placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Calm down, Harry."
"They took her," he said. "Why did they take her?"
"Because they don't understand her. It is rare to find someone so brave," Dumbledore said.
"If she's brave then why was she so scared?" Harry asked.
"Bravery isn't about not being afraid, it's about facing your fears and over coming them. She's very brave. Harry, you are very brave. Calm down. She'll won't be gone long," Dumbledore said. Harry nodded.
"What if he gets her there," Harry said suddenly. "There isn't as much security at Mungoo's as Hogwarts. Voldemort could get her..."
"He won't," Dumbledore assured him. "They will only keep her for about a week. Actually, less then a week. Gretchen doesn't want to stay at Mungoo's. She won't."
"That's right, she escaped once," Harry said. "She never told me how."
"It's an interesting story," Dumbledore said. "Gretchen is very intelligent, as you know. She guesses that the containment spell around her door guarded against humans, but nothing else. So, in order to get out, she requested books about Animagi and studied it until she could shift easily."
"Really?"
"Yes. She's a cat, I believe."
"No, she's a bird." Dumbledore shrugged.
"Get back to class, Harry."