Harry was pretty sure it was the best Shepherd's pie he had ever tasted. The mincemeat and mash had more flavoring than Aunt Petunia used in her recipe and they had included generous helpings of small cooked vegetables that were firm, not soggy. It was both comforting and surprisingly flavorful.

Though he was in the habit of woofing down his food as fast as he could, he tried to go slowly and savor it. He was glad he took a small scoop because it didn't take long before he felt full. He used his knife to help corner his peas and get them on his spoon and worked on keeping the spoon level as he moved it to his mouth. Most of the time, there were peas on the spoon—if only a few. A couple times he was surprised to put his mouth around an empty spoon and hoped that no one had noticed. Everyone at the table seemed to be focused their own meals.

He was pretty sure it was Tony across the table from them. He was quiet though, giving short, almost angry responses to the man sitting next to Harry who was asking him about his food.

Then he hissed angrily, "Dad! It's dripping down my chin. Wipe my chin off, would you? Hurry up!" and Harry was certain that it was Tony. With a jolt, it occurred to Harry that Tony's dad must be feeding him. No wonder he didn't want to eat in front of everyone. He wondered why his dad would be feeding him. When Harry had spoken to Tony earlier, it sounded like Tony was getting around just fine on his two feet, no sounds of crutches and he was standing, not sitting in a wheelchair like Mei.

It dawned on him that he had paused mid-bite and that if Tony was watching him, he'd know that Harry had been listening, so he quickly took the bite and continued eating. His challenges suddenly didn't seem so hard. If Tony needed help eating, then he probably needed help doing other more private things and the thought of relying on other people for those things was mortifying.

Not that that gives him an excuse for being a blood-status snot, though, Harry grumbled.

Harry noticed that Gemma had stopped making noises next to him—her fork was no longer scraping against the plate. He put down his knife and fork and wiped his mouth on his napkin. He was thirsty but hadn't noticed any beverages when they went through the buffet line and hadn't thought to ask.

"Gemma?" he asked, uncertain if she would see the paper slip.

She tapped his hand twice that he had resting on the table between them.

"Is there water or something to drink on the table?"

She tapped his hand twice again and then she was reaching across him. She grabbed his hand a bit roughly and turned his palm up. It took him a moment to understand her frustration when she wrote into his hand, "C-A-N-'T" space "R-E-A-C-H" space "Y-O-U" space "A-S-K".

Harry listened for a moment to see if this was a good time to interrupt Tony and his dad.

When would be a good time? he wondered.

It seemed as though they might be done eating, too. So Harry turned toward Mr. Montague and cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, Mr. Montague?" he tried politely.

"Yes?" was his impatient reply.

"Could you please pass me the water?" Harry asked.

"Sure," he said.

Harry waited patiently.

Then Tony interjected, "Dad, he's blind. You have to tell him that you're holding it in front of him."

Harry felt his face grow hot and reached forward tentatively as Mr. Montague mumbled, "Oh, sorry. It's here."

Harry's hands found a pitcher of water and he put his hands around it, but it was slippery with condensed water and it dropped suddenly in his hands as Mr. Montague let go. Cold water splashed all over his front and lap and the pitcher shattered on the floor as Harry scooted his chair back quickly and yelped.

"Oh, sorry, son, I thought you had it," Mr. Montague seemed genuinely apologetic, which caught Harry off guard. He'd been expecting something of a Lucius Malfoy.

Mrs. Boot and Mrs. Montague (Harry pieced together that Mrs. Boot had been deep in conversation with Mrs. Montague during the whole meal) came rushing over by the sound of it. Several people were pressing napkins onto Harry's lap, which he found rather alarming, and he shouted in desperation, "Stop! Can't someone perform a drying charm?"

Mrs. Boot stopped and exclaimed, "Oh, my! I was just trying to help," to which Harry responded with an exasperated, "Sorry, it was just rather, well… uncomfortable… " He didn't know what else to say.

Mr. Montague said, "Calidum siccum" and Harry felt instant relief and warmth. He realized that Gemma's hand was on his shoulder—she released it.

"Thank you, Mr. Montague," Harry said, relieved. He heard someone cast a repairing charm on the shattered pitcher and place it back on the table.

"I'm so sorry about that… " Mr. Montague began, but then paused awkwardly and Harry realized that Mr. Montague didn't know his name.

"I'm Harry Potter," he said as he stuck out his hand, which Mr. Montague took after a moment and shook heartily. He was a bigger man than he was expecting from his gentle voice. He heard Mrs. Boot and Mrs. Montague return to their conversation and sit back down in their seats.

"You mean… the Harry Potter?" he asked. Behind him, Tony was groaning.

Harry blushed again.

"Er. I guess so," he said reluctantly. He was surprised that someone with a Slytherin son would ask with so much awe in his voice and he felt uncomfortable.

Maybe they are from different houses?

He cast around for another topic.

"Water. Is there any more water? I am awfully thirsty."

"Sure, but this time I won't dump it in your lap," Mr. Montague said with a laugh. "Aguamenti!" There was the satisfying sound of the glass filling magically with water. Harry followed the sound with his fingers and wrapped them around the glass. He drank nearly half the glass in one gulp and set down the glass.

"May I ask you why there's a slip of paper that writes out your words by your mouth as you speak?"

"Sure, that's so Gemma can understand what I'm saying," Harry said. He reached for Gemma and found her hand.

He turned to her and said, "Gemma, this is Mr. Montague, Tony's dad. Do you know Tony?"

She tapped twice on his arm. "Mr. Montague, this is Gemma Boot," he said, turning to Mr. Montague. He could feel Mr. Montague reaching across him and Gemma reaching to shake his hand.

He felt very adult making these introductions. He had the fleeting thought that his Aunt Petunia would be proud. And then remembered what she was really like.

She's never proud of me, he thought.

There was an uncomfortable silence, then Mr. Montague asked, "What's the spell you use to make your words show up while you speak?"

"Oh, it's 'Scribunt loqui,'" Harry explained and Mr. Montague cast it. Harry guessed he was successful right off that bat because he could hear the paper fluttering.

"Tony, do you want to try it?" Mr. Montague asked.

"Dad, you know I can't!" Tony said.

"Oh, true! And that's why you're here, right? So that you can learn how to cast spells again."

Tony's chair screeched and then clattered loudly on the floor as he stormed off.

"Sorry about that," Mr. Montague muttered and then Harry gathered that he had also left the table, most likely running after Tony.

Mrs. Montague stopped talking with Mrs. Boot to ask, "What's going on?"

Harry figured he was the only one who could answer, so he attempted, "I guess Tony was upset and he left and Mr. Montague went after him?"

He felt like it was a poor explanation, but he heard her get up, too, explaining to Mrs. Boot that she'd better go and see if there was anything she could do.

Harry gulped some more water. Gemma took his hand and wrote, "W-A-N-T" space "B-I-S-C-U-I-T-S?"

Harry perked up, "Yes!" His enthusiasm must have made the paper flutter more because he felt it flap against his lips and he laughed.

She tugged at his hand and he stood up, shaking out his staff and finding her arm. He could feel her hands moving as she signed.

"Okay, dear. Bring me back a couple shortbreads, would you?" Gemma's mum asked.

Gemma led Harry in the direction where the buffet table was located, but Harry couldn't smell the food anymore, so he suspected that it had been cleared while they ate.

He could hear Mei's voice as they approached the area, decrying the lack of custard creams from the selection.

He sighed and hung back a little. Gemma tugged her arm, urging him on.

She reached for something and then pressed a plate into his hand, which he dutifully held, collapsing his staff first and tucking it in his pocket. He could feel her placing some biscuits on it and he tried to hold it steady, knowing from experience that they could slide off a plate very easily. He wondered what kind she was picking out and was tempted to feel them, but thought that might gross out Gemma so he waited patiently.

"Bing, get that Florentine for me —I can't reach it," Mei said.

"Oh, hi, Harry. It's me, Bing," Bing said.

"Hi Bing. This is my friend, Gemma Boot," Harry said, introducing Bing to Gemma. He could feel Gemma reaching to shake Bing's hand.

"Bing!" Mei demanded.

"Mei, have you met Harry Potter and Gemma Boot?" Bing asked. Harry felt as though he were in a film featuring a dull dinner party and fully expected Bing to blow a mouthful of smoke at him. It was weirdly formal.

"Well, we're roommates aren't we?" she said.

"Yeah, I suppose."

"Gemma, is there tea, too?" Harry asked. He felt as though he had caught a whiff of it as they crossed the room. She tapped twice on his arm in response, but maybe Bing didn't catch that, because he answered, "Yes, there's tea at the tables."

"Okay, thanks," answered Harry.

"What's that paper by your mouth?" Bing asked.

"That's the Scribunt loqui charm so that Gemma can understand what I'm saying," Harry explained.

"Why… ?" Bing started to ask and then stopped himself.

"She's deaf, you dofus," Mei interjected, "Obviously she had spattergroit. Look at her face. She's not still contagious, is she?"

Harry stepped forward trying to shield Gemma from Mei's words. "Why are you so mean?" he blurted out and then was shocked when Mei burst into tears.

Oh great.