Author's Note: If you read the story way back, you may already know that I deleted a chapter and changed the third chapter. I intend to add a new chapter (which should be up), taking the story in a different direction. I hope everything works out.


Chapter 3: Bad to worse?

"I can't breath," Harry whimpered. It was odd how despite the vast emptiness was before his sightless eyes, Harry felt as if everything were closing in on him.

"It's all right," said Dumbledore reassuringly, "We'll see what we can do."

Despite the combined effort of all of the professors, nothing could be done. Finally, Harry explained what happened to him during the night. It became quite clear that there was a very powerful force at work.

"You are certain that you are no better?" asked Professor Snape suspiciously. The professors had tried the last spells and potions on their list.

Harry shook his head sadly. There was nothing more that could be to be done. After a silent moment, Dumbledore spoke.

"If the being that you told us about is indeed responsible for your blindness, and hopefully if they are true to their word, then you will be blind for the next three months. For the time being, that is all that we can hope for."

Harry gulped. All that we could hope for? The reality of the situation was finally beginning to sink in. Never in his life had Harry felt as helpless and alone as he did when the professors had gone into the hall. They were discussing what should be done with him.

He heard footsteps shuffle into the room and turned instinctively towards the sound. "What's going to happen me?" He asked nervously, "You aren't sending me home…are you?"

Silence. That couldn't be good. "No, please! Y-You can't send me home, not like this!"

There was not telling what the Dursleys would do to Harry in his current state. They could do an awful lot of damage to him during those three months, maybe even kill him! Harry played out countless scenarios in his mind of the terrible things that would be done to him and he didn't think he could stomach any of it.

"Please don't send me back to them," Harry begged, tears beginning to spill down his cheeks,

"There's no telling what they'll do to me. I can't possibly defend myself like this."

Still there was silence. Finally, there was a sigh. "He is right," said Professor McGonagall at last. "The people are dreadful already and there is no telling what they might do to him over a three month period. He certainly won't be adequately protected, not in this condition."

"He'll miss out on a good chunk of the school year." Dumbledore mused; meanwhile Harry's heart sank over not being able to play quidditch.

"Is there truly nothing you can do for the boy?" McGonagall asked sympathetically. Harry could practically hear Dumbledore shaking his head.

"But," he said. "There may be something I can do about his arrangements for the time being."

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Still, elsewhere, in a distant realm, not one, but two forms sat. The second observed the first in a disapproving, yet submissive, manner.

"There, it has been done," the first being said. It sounded rather pleased with itself. When the second spoke, it was with a distinctly female voice.

"Obviously," it replied, expressing a mild contempt. The first form's confidence faltered only momentarily.

"You…don't agree with the result? Tell me, how have I done wrong?"

"Well," the second being said slowly, "You've made the poor child blind. I seriously doubt that blindness was what he wanted."

"But he agreed to the offer."

"But that's not what he wanted and you know it. Why did you use his wish to make him unhappy?"

The first form grumbled to itself for a moment or two.

"Because the whole point was to make him unhappy. You see, the problem with mortals is that they wish for things, things that they don't need or really want, all the while ignoring what good things they have. The whole point of this process is for the boy to realize what good a good thing he already has without this selfish wish of his, and to appreciate it. This will work out rather beautifully, don't you think?

"No," the second figure said rather coldly, "He's only a boy. Few mortals ever grow to understand so much. You are expecting too much at this poor child's expense. You will be disappointed."

"I don't think so."

"Well, I do."

Well I think it doesn't matter what you think," the first form said dismissively, "You've only been a wish-weaver for three centuries. Now pay attention, and you might learn something."

The younger wish-weaver wanted to express feelings of the superior needing to learn a few things, but it wisely held its peace and continued to watch the spectacle below.


End of chapter three! There should be a new chapter up. I hope you like it, and I hope I can update this story more regularly. Ciao!

BP