Hear With My Eyes, Speak With my Hands

Chapter 3

Diagnosis and Classes

"Well Mr. Potter, you're done, you can put your robe back on." Madam Pomfrey said while gathering up her supplies.

'What are the results?' Harry wrote on a pad of paper.

"Well... I don't have the ability to give you your hearing back... And to be honest, I don't know if it can be undone. You're going to have to see a specialist. I'm sure Dumbledore will be able to get you a Medi Witch or Wizard who will be able to more advanced and better tests." Harry's face fell and the witch put a hand on her shoulder, "Oh don't let it get you down Mr. Potter, I'm sure that it's not as bad as it seems..."

Harry nodded reluctantly. Did this mean he wouldn't be allowed to go? He bit back the taste of bile that was rising up his throat.

"Well, I see no reason for you to hold up here, I'm sure Dumbledore will be able to work out something by morning, Professor McGonagall is waiting right outside the door."

Harry slid off the bed and pattered off toward the door feeling remarkably sleepy he turned the brass handle and stepped into the cool corridor facing his head of house. "Well it's getting late, Mr. Potter, and you have a busy day tomorrow, so follow me and I'll lead you to your common room and dormitory."

"I can't believe it took us until the sorting to realize he was deaf!" Ron said in exasperation, Hermione was sitting nearby him (much to his annoyance) while he was talking to Fred and George, all three were seated on a group of comfy chairs. "I just assumed he was sick or something and couldn't talk at the time and I didn't want to ask-" 'Because I was already gaping over the fact he was THE Harry Potter, as it was.' Ron thought to himself.

"Don't be so hard on yourself Ron, you said so yourself just a few minutes ago that he was very quiet on the train and mainly let you talk." Fred said in a comforting manner.

"I assumed the same thing, besides, when I asked him if he was sick he just gave me this look and- - and I dropped the subject, I had thought he thought that my question was a bit too personal." Hermione admitted remembering distinctly how those green eyes had held hers, as if weighing and measuring her, she had almost felt bad about asking him what she had.

"But I still feel like an idiot!" Ron bemoaned miserably.

"If it helps any, you often look like one too," George added cheerfully.

Just as Ron was about to throw a retort at him, the common room door opened and Harry came in.

Harry felt a bit awkward being left on his own but (under order from McGonagall) the children who were still up and about in the common room didn't seem to be bothering him, Hermione and Ron went up to him anxious looks on their faces.

"Harry- - can you- - you know what were saying right?" Ron asked a bit hesitantly.

Harry shrugged and nodded and Ron looked a bit relieved. 'To a point.' He wrote on his pad of paper. 'Speak clearly and slowly and usually I can read lips if they're words I know.'

"Oh." Ron said after reading the paper with Hermione. "Well," he looked up to Harry. "It's late, what you say we head up to bed go get shut eye and face a confusing day of school tomorrow?"

Harry grinned and nodded waved goodnight to Hermione and climbed up the stairs with Ron. Ron opened a door off to the left and they walked down a hall. Soon enough they reached a door on the far right and Ron opened this one as well and let Harry walk in first. The room was circular and in the middle was a heater of sorts that Harry realized had to be fed coals to keep going, but there was no sign of a bag of coals anywhere, or a place for the fuel for that matter.

Five beds were placed headboard against the wall in a circle of sorts and three of them already held occupants. Harry's bed was near a window; Ron's bed was beside his. It seemed so big. Ron went over to his bed and began going through the wardrobe for a pair of pajamas while Harry went to his to do the same. A bed… all for him? The very fact felt alien to him but he welcomed such a truth with open arms. The door opened and in came a short slightly chubby boy with sandy brown hair and a shy demeanor. It was Neville, behind him two other boys came in and shut the door behind them.

"You- - You're Harry?" Neville asked, his head partially lowered. Harry paused still looking at him and nodded. "N-nice to meet you… I'm N- Neville."

"I'm Seamus Finnigan." Seamus said. Harry raised an eyebrow, the name inside his mind seemed a bit more… harder to understand. Pulling out his pad he wrote, Can you write that one down for me?

Seamus Finnigan.

Ah, there it was. He handed the pad to the other boy.

Dean Thomas.

'Nice to meet you both… I'm really tired… so don't mind me if I don't try and write at you too much.'

Both boys read the pad and nodded, then Neville glanced down and looked up, "Alright, night Harry."

For a few minutes all the sound in the room consisted of was drawers opening and closing, feet shuffling, leaving the room to brush their teeth, coming back in, moving covers about… And than silence was allowed to settle as they found comfortable positions on the bed. (Not that Harry heard any of this mind you.) Harry was asleep in minutes.

That night Harry had one of the most bizarre dreams he'd ever known. In it he was wearing Professor Quirrell's purple turban that kept speaking to him, whispering that he should transfer back to Slytherin immediately, because it was his destiny. No matter how many times Harry told the turban he was fine being in Gryffindor it would get heavier with each protest. When he had tried to yank it off in desperation it had tightened painfully - - and there was Malfoy, laughing at him as he struggled with it… Then Malfoy turned into Quirrell himself, whose laugh became high and cold— There was a burst of green light and suddenly Harry woke up, sweating and shaking badly from the nightmare.

What had caused that?! His mind flew over the main parts of what he could remember and then, after deciding whether or not to roll over and go back to sleep or not, turned towards his bedside table, grabbed the pad and paper and turned on the small lamp beside him. Harry was later glad that he had written it down, because after he'd finished writing up the last thing he could remember, it was then he realized he was forgetting the dream as quickly as it had come. With a yawn he put the pad back down, flicked off the light, and went back to sleep to gain what little sleep he had left.

The next morning after breakfast while searching for their class, Ronald Weasley was grateful that Harry was deaf. Hearing all those people talking about Harry as if he wasn't even there was a bit annoying. But Harry didn't need to have hearing to see the children who lingered in the halls and outside of the classroom just to catch a glimpse at him. And he could tell Harry found it rather awkward.

Harry meanwhile was busy trying to ignore the gawkers yet remember where his classes were and what facts he was told about the castle. There were one hundred and forty-two staircases total at Hogwarts. And they came in all shapes and sizes. So vastly different ranging from solidly safe to rickety dangerous that Harry found the idea itself fascinating. How had they been built? And how had students NOT been injured from some of the more dangerous areas? Some even led to different area's depending on the day of the weak, others had trick steps, Harry desperately hoped that no one had ever died because of the magical stairs. And the doors… The doors were mind boggling. Some had to be tickled, others needed passwords, polite requests… A few weren't even doors!

The people in the paintings weren't good to use as landmarks either, simply because the people in them liked to move around to visit other portraits. And Harry was willing to swear on a stack of bibles that the coats of armor's could walk. The ghosts didn't help, either. No matter how often it happened, it was always a rather nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. The Gryffindor Ghost, Nearly Headless Nick was only too happy to give advice. Other ghosts, like the poltergeist Peeves caused an awful lot of trouble. And asking the Baron for help… well, Harry had yet to work up his Gryffindor courage for such a task.

The only thing that seemed to top Peeve's in the 'last things/people you want to run into while lost' list was Argus Filch, the caretaker of the school. That very morning Ron and Harry had been trying to get through a door they thought would get them to first period but were caught by Filch. It turned out that door had been the one leading to the third floor corridor, and no matter how Ron tried to explain (Harry didn't even TRY to write out anything to the man) that they were lost, Filch wouldn't listen or believe them. He was absolutely set in his belief that they were trying to get in on purpose that both were sure they would have ended up in a LOT of trouble had it not been from a wonderful rescue by one Professor Quirrell who had been passing by just at that moment. Harry was more than grateful, the idea of being chained to the dungeon wall had not been an appeasing thought. Even he had been able to understand the threat that Filch had given them.

After that Harry made doubly sure to be careful of what he did, especially when he knew Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, was about. She had a habit of chasing off to her master just to make student lives miserable.

Classes themselves were a whole new ballgame for Harry. Magic wasn't as simple as they Muggles made it out to be… Or how Harry had thought it might be. Studying, writing papers, understanding concepts ideas, the correct wrist and wand movements, all had to be perfected and understood. Sometimes even your INTENTIONS could get in the way of performing a spell!

Maybe a Muggle orphanage wouldn't be so bad. No. A little extra work was nothing.

History of Magic had been easy but everyone looked as if they were about to keel over from boredom any minute, even Hermione, who'd been helping him the best she could, looked ready to faint from sleepiness. He supposed not hearing the teacher was what kept him awake. Professor Binns who taught the class was a ghost and facially seemed plain. And as Harry watched the ghost's lips, HE began to waiver. The man spoke slowly… and it seemed deaf or not, whatever was getting the class, would get him as well. So he stared straight at the chalkboard and scribbled down the notes as fast as he could, while the other children did the same (though some had a few ink splotches on their noses from having their head slip down onto their still damp paper).

Transfiguration had been a very big shock for Harry, McGonagall had spoken clearly and well and off to the side Harry could see a sheet of parchment lying on her desk, a quill zooming across the paper as she spoke. And than she changed her desk into a pig. Harry had gasped aloud, but he hadn't been the only one. Harry couldn't wait to get started but had been rather disappointed when he realized they would have to take down notes (that left his head spinning) and then was given a match. McGonagall pulled him over to the side and began speaking to him clearly, telling him to stop her if he needed something explained.

It turned out that the sheet of paper was charmed, the quill had been writing down what she had been saying. She set him about to reading it and afterwards began helping him with the wand and hand movements. The words… for the life of him he couldn't get the words out. She patted his shoulder and said he'd done just fine and that they'd work on it more later.

Charms had been similar, Professor Flitwick had the same quill zooming across a parchment and then made the class take notes. Afterwards he went up to Harry gave him the paper and began teaching the hand movements. But once again the spell couldn't be performed… Flitwick sighed, "I'll need more time to teach you one on one for you to continue Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded sadly but didn't let it show as much as possible.

By the end of the second day, Harry wondered when Dumbledore would talk to him again. So far he'd been unable to cast magic, and the only things he could do were write notes and work in Herbology and Astronomy. Was the headmaster trying to see how things would turn out? Was he being tested? Were things still being decided?

Beyond anything he hoped dearly they would let him stay, despite all the trouble and extra work it took, Harry was more than willing to go through with it if it meant he could stay in this whole new world he'd been introduced to. After dinner that night Harry confronted his head of house in her office with his inquiries.

'Why haven't I been told whether or not I can stay?' he wrote down.

"Dumbledore is right now working with all your Professor's to try and develop a way so that you can cast and learn magic as easily as possible… and right now we haven't had a lot of time to plan, but he's coming up with many good ideas, as well as the others… We are doing our best so that you can stay. Headmaster Dumbledore will speak to you on Sunday about the matter… for now, just keep doing your best in your classes." She answered honestly after backtracking a few times to make sure he'd caught all that she'd said.

The next day the interesting class Harry had was Defense Against the Dark Arts, which turned out to be a big disappointment. For one, Harry could barely catch what Quirrell was saying half the time and ended up relying on Hermione's notes. For another his classroom smelled strongly of garlic. Harry, the several times he'd had to be near Quirrell so that Quirrell could speak to him one on one developed a headache after prolonged nearness. Harry was sure it was because of the funny smell from the turban… although he couldn't figure why he'd get such a headache from the smell of garlic and his professor's turban. When he told the Weasley twins about it they insisted that there was garlic stuffed in the turban as well and suggested that maybe Harry was allergic to garlic. The week passed quickly and soon enough it was Friday morning….

Author Notes: Sorry if it's annoying that I practically inserted from the book but I did my best. It felt weird to try and cut it out. Sooo... do forgive me. Hope you didn't die of boredom while reading this chapter.