"It's time for me to close up the workshop tonight," Figora said, "but I'll be here tomorrow and we can work on the next step of the pieces."
Harry had made a few versions of his staff tip and was pleased with how it turned out. He had pressed a pattern into the surface that reminded him of feathers and it made him smile to think of Hedwig's downy undercoat, but cast in metal and making a clear ringing noise when it struck surfaces. It wasn't exactly balanced, but close enough—Figora thought it would do the job.
Peter's ring was simple and broad, but had a texture of lines that reminded Harry of mountains or waves that ran all the way around the surface. Peter had also liked the texture of feathers that Harry had pressed into his piece.
Gemma's bracelet was harder to form out of wax and she got frustrated as she'd get one section done and then accidentally break another section. She kept trying, though, and in the end decided to keep it, even though it was a lot more free-form than what she hoped for. "F-O-R" space "M-U-M" she explained and then she drew a smiley face into Harry's palm.
"Harry, you can pick up your anagnóstis in the morning—I'll take a look at it tonight and let you know if I think we can make something similar," Figora told him.
They helped Figora clean up and then left the workshop. Harry had learned some new signs in the process as they learned how to talk about the tools they were using.
"Thank you so much, Figora," Harry said as they left. He had learned the signs for thank you, please, and sorry (earlier when he accidentally disconnected a fragile section of Gemma's bracelet).
She did ask me to look at it and the only way I can 'look' at things is with my fingers, he reminded himself.
After her initial dismay, she patted him on the shoulder reassuring him. When he kept apologizing, she took his hand, folded it into a fist, and rubbed it on his chest in a circle.
"Is that the sign for sorry?" he asked and she tapped twice on his back.
They said goodbye to Peter at his dormitory that he shared with Adam, Shannon, and some other older residents that Harry hadn't met yet. Harry was amazed at how much could be communicated just through touch even though he was just learning the language. Peter held Harry's wrist lightly as he attempted the sign that Gemma had just taught him for "see you later!" and laughed—Peter put his hands on Harry's shoulders to feel him laughing.
When they reached Montmorency, Harry did the Reveleo memento and realized that Tony and Arig weren't back yet.
"Gemma, I'm going down to the O&M room to see if Tony and Arig are still flying my broom." Harry tapped Gemma's arm to get her attention. She tapped twice, "okay," then grasped his hand and pulled it to her chest then made the "let's go" sign across his palm, asking "can I go, too?"
"Sure," Harry said and he took her arm again.
Outside the room, they checked the layout—it looked like it was set as it had been in the morning with the gym, but when they went inside, it was vacant.
"Oh, yeah, they said they'd probably be out in the park," Harry said as Gemma wrote a question mark on the back of his hand.
Outside, it was cool and dark. Harry liked that he didn't have to close his eyes against the sun as he had earlier in the day. It smelled like it was going to rain, too. He half expected the grass to be wet as they stepped onto it. Gemma was leading him across the grass. He'd only been on the paths in the park so far—but she must have seen them out in the middle of the field.
He tugged on her arm, asking her to stop and fished his staff out of his pocket so that he could use it on the grass—it was bumpy and he thought the staff might help him avoid falling into a gopher hole that maybe Gemma couldn't see in the dark.
"Is it dark? Can you see?" he asked her.
"No" and then "yes," then took his hand to write, "S-O-M-E" space "L-I-G-H-T" into his hand.
Now he could hear Tony whooping and his voice was traveling up and down as he hurled around the park. Arig was yelling at him from the ground, telling him to do different Quidditch moves. Harry wanted to be the one up on the broom and at the same time he remembered what it felt like to be on the gangplank with the little wooden board beneath his feet and the way it moved with the ship and the water and the feeling of not knowing what was beneath him—of not knowing how high up he was. He must have been grasping tight onto Gemma's arm because she eased her fingers underneath his, trying to loosen his grip.
"Oh, sorry," Harry muttered.
"Harry! Gemma!" Arig shouted to them and Harry could hear the metal of his crutches as he moved toward them, though they were more muffled in the grass than when he was walking on the stone of the corridors in the center.
"Hi, Arig! Sounds like you blokes are having fun," Harry said.
"Oh, you've got a great broom! Thank you so much for letting us ride it. Wow! Are you ready to have a go?" Arig said, a bit breathlessly.
"Naw, I haven't had lessons from Godric yet. He said he'd teach me how to do it," Harry said.
"Oh, come on! You've got to be dying to get on it," Arig cajoled.
"Well, yeah," Harry admitted. "Gemma, do you want to fly?"
Tony came whizzing by so close that Harry's staff told him to duck, so he did, pulling Gemma down with him.
"Watch it, Tony! That was too close!" Arig hooted, "Whoa! How'd you do that?"
"What?" Harry asked as he stood back up tentatively.
"Duck in time and you saved Gemma from getting a foot in the back of the head," Arig said.
"Oh, my staff warned me," Harry said.
It sounded like Tony had dismounted a bit ungracefully. "Sorry about that—I'm still getting the hang of steering with my arms. Your Nimbus 2000 is so swift! I bet it is even faster than the Nimbus 2001 that Graham got from Malfoy!"
Harry managed to keep his grumble, "stupid git," under his breath, but then heard the paper fluttering and felt his face flush.
"Ha! Yeah, he is a bit of a git, isn't he," Tony agreed laughing.
Harry heard a hand slap. "Hey, ow, what was that for?" Tony yelled. "Gemma, stop it already. I'm sorry! I said I was sorry!"
Harry reached out and found a trembling, gesticulating Gemma, "Hey, are you alright?"
"She's brassed off!" Arig said. "She's giving Tony a bloody earbashing for nearly mowing you two down!"
Harry tried to put himself between Gemma and Tony, but it was easy for her to evade him, her hands flying out in all directions. Finally, he resorted to putting his arms around her and holding her in a gentle hug. Her flying hands settled down, though he could tell she was still trying to tell off Tony, but losing her steam. She leaned her head against his shoulder and he could feel her hot tears soaking through the T-shirt. He patted her back awkwardly and pulled back so that she could read the Scribunt loqui message, "We're okay, Gemma. We didn't get hit. He didn't mean it. It was an accident."
He heard her sniffling and tried to accio a handkerchief from his staff, but remembered he'd given it to Mei. Arig had one, though, and gave it to her.
He felt her small hand whack him on the shoulder.
"Hey—what was that for?" he shouted stunned.
She took his hand and wrote "D-O-N'T" space "H-O-L-D" space "M-Y" space "A-R-M-S" space "L-I-K-E" space "P-U-T" space "H-A-N-D" space "O-V-E-R" space "M-O-U-T-H" space "S-I-L-E-N-C-E" space "M-E."
Harry felt the blood drain from his face as he understood her message.
"Oh, Gemma. I'm so sorry. I didn't think. I didn't want to silence you. I was trying to comfort you. But I didn't think about how it would prevent you from talking. I'm sorry," Harry hung his head and signed "I'm sorry" on his chest over and over until Gemma grabbed his hand and then pressed herself against his chest, hugging him.
She stayed close to Harry as she dried her tears then turned to Tony and was signing more gently.
"I get it, it's okay," Tony said, laughing a bit. Harry could feel Gemma stiffen next to him. She didn't like being laughed at. He could hear the defensiveness in Tony's voice when he turned to him, "Here you go, Potter! I want to see you fly!" He pushed the broom up against Harry's knuckles.
"Uh, I dunno. Godric said he'd give me a lesson," Harry said, though he held onto the broom. It felt warm in his hand, almost pulsing with energy. He wanted so badly to hop on it. He gave Gemma a squeeze.
"All right then?" he asked.
She tapped a firm yes on his wrist.
He collapsed his staff and opened the enclosure for his staff in the broom handle and placed his staff inside.
"Whoa—that's brill!" Arig said.
"Wait, why are you putting your staff in your broom?" Tony asked.
"It's supposed to help me navigate," Harry said.
Gemma placed her hand on his arm and Harry took the staff out again. He was really torn. He really wanted to fly. He really didn't want to crash.
"Hey, Harry, how about I fly with you?" Arig offered, "You can put your staff in there, see if it works, and I can make sure you don't go arse over elbow."
Harry paused and then said, "Okay, just for a bit."
Gemma tapped his arm three times, "I understand," and stepped back. He smiled at her, trying to be reassuring. He put his staff back in the broom and mounted it and sat —it hovered over the ground, supporting his weight.
Harry felt the zip of anticipation. He was tempted to just take off but resisted. It took Arig a moment to move next to him, the metal of his crutches clinking. He tapped his right crutch on the ground to collapse it and held on to the broom while he swung his leg over the broom. Harry realized that he must be missing his right leg since he seemed to be leaning to his left before he settled his weight on the broom and collapsing the other crutch, storing it in his pocket. He reached around Harry and grabbed the broom handle in front of him. He was a lot taller than Harry and broader. Harry felt safe.
"Okay, are you ready?" Arig said near his ear. "You do the flying, I'll just make sure we don't hit anything, okay?"
"Yeah," Harry said and pulled up on the broom to soar up. As soon as his feet left the ground, he felt unmoored—like a kite off it's string. He loved the whooshing sensation of flying and at the same time, he was certain that he had left is stomach on the grass as they took off. He took in a deep breath and let it out.
"You okay, Harry?" Arig asked.
"Yeah—great actually," Harry said, inhaling again. "This is awesome." He heard the paper flap against Arig's face and felt him flinch.
"Sorry about that!" he shouted as another one whipped back.
"Bloody papers," Arig muttered.
Harry listened to his staff's navigation—there wasn't anything up here for him to navigate around but it gave a steady stream of numbers—calculating their height as they climbed and it seemed impossible that they were 25 feet above the park already. They were flying over the trees.
Harry let out a whoop and clung to the broom with his knees—he lifted one hand in the air and marveled in the whoosh of wind whipping between his fingers. His hair swirled around his face and he breathed in deeply. He put his hand back on the broom and pulled the broom so that they were headed straight up in a spiraling corkscrew and then turned on a knut and headed back down into a plummeting dive. The broom shook with the intensity of the speed and they both hung on as the force of the descent tried to peel them off the broom.
Arig hooted in delight behind him—his voice pulled out of his lungs and trailing behind them.
Far below Harry could hear Tony shouting and whooping—his delight evident as they neared. Harry listened to the numbers as they approached the ground and pulled up gradually. He was a little unsteady and he realized that it was because he wasn't used to the extra weight of Arig that unbalanced the broom—making it heavier in the back.
As they were nearing the ground, his staff started describing the terrain and the closing distance—it seemed to be coming very quickly. Harry heard an urgent "Harry!" and couldn't understand how Professor McGonagall could be here.
He cast a quick revealing charm and his staff identified Gemma and Tony and also stated that there was a tall witch standing with them.
Harry started with surprise as Arig's foot struck the ground and he stuck out his feet to help with the landing, but his timing was off and they tumbled to the ground in a heap. Harry tried to untangle himself quickly feeling the inevitable spew that was building in his gut. The landing was too sudden. He wished he was still soaring through the air. He pulled himself to his hands and knees and sicked up on the grass in retching heaves and spasms.
"Oh, mate!" Tony yelled. "That was brilliant!"
The footsteps that had been running toward them stopped suddenly, but then Professor McGonagall was vanishing the sick efficiently. Harry laid his head on his arms hoping the world would stop spinning soon. It just made it worse—so he sat up and wiped the sick from his mouth. He flicked out his wand from the holster, saying "Aguamenti" a bit too forcefully so that his whole face was blasted by water. He gulped some of the water, said "Finite," and wiped off his face again. Gemma's hand was on his back, rubbing in small circles. Her hand was trembling.
"Is Arig okay?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, mate. Guess we should talk about the landing next time," Arig said. "But, boy, can you fly!"
Harry smiled weakly.
"Well, Harry. I wish I could say I was surprised… " Professor McGonagall started, but didn't finish.
"What are you doing here, Professor McGonagall?" Harry asked, standing up shakily with Gemma's arm to lean on and taking a step toward her voice. He could hear Arig shaking out his crutches and standing up.
"Well, I came to see you," Professor McGonagall said, brushing off his blunt inquiry.
"Oh," Harry said, feeling unsteady and a bit thick.
"Here's your broom, Harry," Arig said and Harry held out his hand to accept it. He opened the compartment and took out his staff, shook it out and put his broom inside it. He figured that with Professor McGonagall here, flying was done for the night.
"We'll just head back to the dorm, then. See ya, Harry! Goodnight Professor McGonagall!" Tony and Arig called out to him and the professor.
"Goodnight, gentlemen," Professor McGonagall said curtly.
Gemma was still rubbing his back, but stopped when the boys called out to them and waved across his back.
"Bye, Gemma," he said reluctantly.
"Are you feeling well enough to speak with me for a little bit, Harry?" Professor McGonagall said as Gemma's light footsteps ran toward the sound of Arig's crutches moving across the lawn.
"I guess so," Harry said.
"Let's go inside, shall we? Maybe we can find a spot of tea?" Professor McGonagall said and she started to walk across the lawn. Harry followed slowly. His feet felt like they were filled with sand.
Why is she here? Is she going to tell me that I can't go back to Hogwarts?
She paused a moment and he was sure she was staring at him. He felt the heat creeping up his neck.
"Would you like some assistance, Harry?" she asked.
"What? No," he said quickly and then added, "Thanks. I'm fine."
She made a slight snorting noise that made Harry think that she didn't believe him.
They had reached the door of the gym, and Professor McGonagall held it open for Harry. He felt awkward going past her, but moved ahead anyway.
"Healer Jordan said we could get a cup of tea in the dining hall," Professor McGonagall said as she followed him, then moved around him to open the door out to the corridor.
"Sure," Harry said and whispered "Navigant dining hall" to his staff not sure if Professor McGonagall knew the way.
He wondered how late it was… he was suddenly so tired.
He found the panel to the dining hall and opened the doors.
"You seem to be getting around well, considering everything, Harry," Professor McGonagall said.
He grunted in response then tried to cover it up as a cough and said, "thanks."
He couldn't think of anything else to talk about.
He asked his staff to take him to the table he always sat at and found a chair. He waited with his hand on the back of the chair, listening to Professor McGonagall sitting down, then sat down. She conjured tea for them and poured it out. "One lump? Milk?" she asked. "Yes, please," he answered.
"Here's your cup of tea, Harry," she said and the teacup and spoon rattled a bit in the saucer.
He took it wondering why she'd be nervous. Fear gripped his gut as he thought about not being able to return to Hogwarts and he set it carefully on the table, but still managed to spill some in the saucer.
There was a pause, then Professor McGonagall said, "Here's a serviette, Harry."
"Oh, thank you," he said and held out his hand.
He mopped up the spilled tea and then sat back, waiting for Professor McGonagall to begin.
He knew he should take a sip of tea out of politeness, but he couldn't bring himself to yet—his stomach still felt unsettled—though he was sure he had emptied it completely on the grass.
The silence stretched. He could hear Professor McGonagall fiddling with her teacup and serviette.
"Did you… " "I have just… " they started talking at the same time.
"Sorry, Professor," Harry mumbled.
"Harry, I have just arrived at the Center after meeting with your relatives, the Dursleys." Professor McGonagall said the name as if she were talking about dog poo. "And I decided to come to see you directly. I realize this is a surprise."
"Um, yes," Harry said, "Healer Jordan said you were going to talk to them today, but, yeah, I didn't know you'd come to see me afterward."
"Well, neither did I, but I felt some urgency." She paused again and Harry heard her shifting in her seat. He waited, straining to hear clues.
"I felt some urgency to see for myself how you are doing," Professor McGonagall continued.
"I'm doing okay," Harry said, though he was having a hard time sounding convincing.
"Well, I'm sure you've been better."
He shrugged.
He heard her take a sip of her tea, but felt scrutinized and tried to sit up straighter. He wasn't sure what she was looking for.
"Why did you want to see me?" Harry asked.
"Ah, well, yes… "
He fiddled with his teacup, turning the handle this way and that.
"I was concerned about your current condition—with how you're getting on with… "
"My blindness," he supplied.
"Um, yes. That," she said. "Yes, but also… after visiting your Aunt and Uncle, I have some broader concerns."
He stilled. Maybe this wasn't about attending Hogwarts.
"Harry, how have things been with the Dursleys? These past eleven years?"
"Fine," Harry said dully.
"Oh?"
He shrugged.
"Please. I need to know. You can trust me!"
He blinked and wiggled his jaw, realizing that he was clenching his teeth. Uncertainty pooled in his belly.
"I see," she said, her voice had a heat to it that he had rarely heard. He cringed and tried to make himself smaller, but she seemed to have turned her attention away from him. She vanished the tea and smoothed out her skirts as she rose.
"I must be getting on, I trust you know how to find your way back to your dormitory?" she said.
"Yes, Professor?" he said, confused.
"I will come to visit you again. I trust you will not try to kill yourself on a broom again."
"What?" he said, lifting his face to her.
"You can't possibly think that you can fly… in your condition," she said sternly. "I will speak to Healer Jordan. I absolutely forbid it."
"No, Professor McGonagall—it was brilliant. It was so freeing. I've got to be able to fly again. The landing, well, I can work on the landing… but the flying itself… it was the most me I've felt since all this happened! Please don't tell Healer Jordan that I can't fly," Harry pleaded.
"I'm sorry, Harry. You just can't do it. You could have died!" There was a finality in her voice that made him feel as if he were trapped in a tiny metal box.
She left swiftly, her skirts swishing, her shoes making a rapid clipping noise on the stone tiles until he couldn't hear them anymore.
He got up slowly and numbly made his way to his room.
He ignored the greetings from his roommates and climbed right into his bed without bothering to undress except to kick off his trainers. He heard Gemma's footsteps and closed the curtains around his bed before she made it over to his area. He listened as she went back to her bed, the springs squeaking when she sat down on it.
He curled up in a ball under his covers, knees drawn tight against his chest.