Harry was glad that Healer Jordan had allowed him to walk in silence from the workshop to her office—he didn't feel like talking. He was listening intently to the new sound of his staff as they made their way through the corridor. The stone in the corridor sounded different from the stone in the workshop. He supposed it was the shape of the corridor. The tone of the new tip reminded him of how Hermione had described the corridor on his first day—like they were deep underwater.
He could hear when they reached the doors to the dining hall before they passed through them and listened to the way the tinging of his staff bounced off all the furniture in the dining hall as well as the high ceiling. He wondered if he was also hearing the difference of being in a room with large windows versus the corridor which didn't have any windows. He remembered that the dining hall looked out over the courtyard by the owlery. He thought about visiting Hedwig, but decided he'd go after he rested. He was just so tired.
Healer Jordan led Harry to a little room at the back of her office that he hadn't noticed before—it was near the one he'd been in before when he was recovering from his face plant.
They stood in the threshold while she explained a bit about the room.
"Harry, this is a little tree house. Here's the ladder you'll climb to reach a small wooden deck with railings that is about six feet up in a tree."
She placed his hand on a rough ladder rung that felt like it had been made out of tree branches.
"There are some chairs against the railings—that might be a nice place to sit and drink your potion—you can also request a tea service with sandwiches by tapping the table three times and telling it what you'd like. Straight ahead of you, about two yards from the ladder, you'll find a little door and you'll likely need to duck to get through it without hitting your head. Inside is very cozy, with most of the space being taken up by a large bed with lots of pillows and blankets. Directly across the room from the door and right up against the bed, is a large window that doesn't have any glass—it has a frame, so you can't fall out while you sleep, but it is open to the forest surrounding the tree house. The tree house is protected from the elements—so you won't get rained on. It is warded in a way that alerts me and others at the Center if you're experiencing any kind of distress. There is a wind chime that will sound when it is time for you to get ready to go to your next class," Healer Jordan said.
"How high up is the ladder?" Harry asked.
"It's actually a short ladder, so just four rungs until you reach the deck. You can't climb down to the forest floor on the ladder, it just comes back to this room. The tree house is also protected like the gangplank on the ship to keep people from falling off."
"Okay, thanks."
Harry collapsed his cane and put it and the potion in his trouser pockets and then grasped the rungs of the ladder and climbed up onto the deck. He was glad to find that the ladder sides extended all the way up to railing height, so he still had something to hold onto before he stepped from the ladder onto the deck.
He stood for a moment breathing in the cool forest air—it smelled pungent like it had rained recently. A soothing breeze lifted the hair on his forehead and the back of his neck.
He shook out his staff and listened to the silver tip on the wooden planks of the deck. It was a really different sound than the stone of the Center. He used his staff to find the chair and small table by the railing and sat down to drink the potion. It was still warm and was as delicious as it had been earlier. He sat for a little bit listening to the sounds of the forest. It was alive with chirping birds and the scurrying of small animals—squirrels he guessed. He wondered if he'd be able to hear the rustling of a snake from up here… and if he was in a forest that had snakes.
He wondered where this tree house was, have I traveled out of England again?
The air had a different quality… damp, but in a different way than an English summer. He left the potion bottle on the table and went back to the ladder so that he could find the door to the tree house.
He reached out to the door—it was made of roughly hewn planks and found a large wooden handle that was also made from a tree branch. He reached up to see how high the door went, then pulled the door open and ducked so he wouldn't hit his head as he was going through. When he got through he reached above his head to see if he was clear and could stand up. The ceiling rose higher than his hand, it was just the door that was low.
He kept his hand on the wall by his head and explored the space inside with his staff—the silver tip didn't ring very clearly—muffled by the close space. It was just one yard in that he found the edge of the bed and a sweep of his cane told him that there wasn't much room except what was taken up by the low bed. It was just one yard on either side of the door and then one to the bed. There was a small rickety table made from tree branches and small planks of wood by the bed to the left of the door.
He collapsed his staff and put it on the table with his glasses and nearly knocked over a little vase of sticks. Why would someone put sticks in a vase? He felt them and little round buds came off on his fingers. Oh, lavender stems. He kicked off his trainers, tore off his socks and stuffed them in his shoes, then crouched by the table to line them up.
He crawled onto the bed, wriggling his toes, and explored it—the bedding smelled freshly clean and released a hint of lavender. He found mounds of pillows and blankets in a circle like a nest that it went from wall to wall and all the way to the window on the other side of the room.
He found the softest, fluffiest pillows, and punched them into shape to put under his head and then laid down so that his whole body was stretched out next to the window. He pulled some blankets over himself so that he was warm, but could still feel the breeze on his face, smell the forest breathing around him, and listen to the birds. He thought about his cupboard—noticing some similarities, but he felt safer here even with the sounds of forest stretching out before him.
He knew that on the other side of the door Healer Jordan was working in her office—even though it felt like the Center was hundreds of miles away. He drifted to sleep—the potion warm in his belly and pushing away the sad fog that seemed to be following him everywhere, even to this heavenly place.
oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo
Harry was flying his broom around the Quidditch pitch with Ron, Fred, and George Weasley. Their laughter was rising and falling with them as they swooped around the pitch; their bright red and gold Quidditch robes billowing out behind them as they flew. The stands were empty, except for Hermione hunched over a huge tome on her lap and a stack of buttered toast next to her on the bench. In the distance, Hogwarts climbed into the clouds and the sun was casting a rosy hue on the stone and glittering golden off the window panes. The Forbidden Forest was a mass of black green tangles that fringed the grounds. The clouds and the castle were reflected on the smooth surface of the lake, a perfect mirror image. The chiming noise was coming from the snitch that Harry had spotted and was racing after… the sun reflected off its gold surface, nearly blinding him with its brilliance… as he neared it, his hand outstretched, brushing the wiry wings as it flitted just out of his reach.
Suddenly, he lurched, the broom no longer underneath him and he was falling through the air. He twisted in a desperate attempt to grab his broom, but the earth was rushing to meet him. The ringing became more persistent and shrill until… he gasped and sat up—his heart ran thundering past him.
His outstretched hand was empty and the scene before him had evaporated. A fog settled around him—dim and thick. He sucked in a deep breath and sank back into the nest of blankets and pillows, bringing his knees up to his chest.
He didn't ever remember such a vivid dream. The colors were so brilliant and clear and then to be returned to this existence with no color so abruptly—it was as if someone had tied steely threads around his heart and cinched hard.
Harry felt the tree house shift and the sound of the deck creaking under the weight of someone's footsteps. The door to the tree house opened.
"Harry? Are you okay?" Healer Jordan said.
"I'm okay—it was just a dream."
It was an odd sensation… to have someone notice when he had a nightmare. He wondered if he had cried out. It wasn't really a nightmare until the last moment.
Waking up was the nightmare.
"Oh, okay. Would you like something to eat? Maybe some tea?"
"No, thanks," Harry said. "Well, maybe some tea would be all right."
He sat up after a bit, rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair.
Healer Jordan had gone back out to the deck.
Harry scooted over to the edge of the bed where he had left his staff, glasses, socks, and trainers. He took his time putting on his trainers and glasses, then stood up and shook out his staff. He felt like he was walking through molasses. He had just woken up, but he was ready to go back to bed.
He opened the door and ducked through with his hand on the frame.
He heard the clinking of china. "There's a chair about a yard to your right," Healer Jordan said from a seated position to his left.
His staff struck the chair and he felt for the back of it and sat down.
"You have a little bit of time before it's time to head out to the O&M room."
Even though the tea smelled inviting, he wasn't sure he had the energy to pour a cup of tea. He sat back and hung his head.
"Would you like me to pour you a cup of tea?"
Harry shrugged.
He heard her pouring a cup of tea and then adding sugar and milk.
"Here you go."
"Thanks," he muttered.
She's observant, he noted as he took a sip and appreciated the warmth and the tangy contrasted with the sweet and milky.
A squirrel had scrabbled up a nearby tree and was chattering at them. Harry thought about asking his staff to give him a description of the squirrel, but then was too tired to manage.
Does it really matter if it is a grey or red squirrel?
He heard Healer Jordan's own teacup against the saucer.
"Professor McGonagall is going to visit after you talk with Healer Geller this afternoon. If you feel up to joining us, come by my office when you're done. It is fine either way," Healer Jordan told him.
"Okay," Harry said. He remembered Ron's note.
"Er, my friend Ron Weasley and his family said they are going to visit tomorrow. Is that okay? There are… " he paused trying to figure out how many would be visiting.
"A gaggle of them!" Healer Jordan finished for him, laughing. "I'm very familiar with the Weasley family—the twins are always over at my nephew Lee's house during the holidays. Those three together can make a lot of mischief!"
"Oh, you're Lee Jordan's aunt?" Harry said, turning his face toward her.
"Yes, he's my younger brother's son," she said, still laughing at some remembered prank. "Well, that will certainly brighten things up around here. We should secure our toilet seats! I better warn Godric." She stood up and vanished the tea service with a little pop.
Harry stood up, too. He wondered why he didn't feel more rested after his long nap.
He supposed he better get going to meet up with Gemma at the O&M room.
oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo
Gemma's light footsteps greeted Harry as he approached the O&M room, her hand landed gently on his forearm.
"Hiya, Gemma," he said, trying to smile.
She waved across the back of his hand.
"What are you going to do while I'm learning how to navigate? Isn't this going to be boring for you?" he asked her.
She took up his hand to write "I-T-S" space "O-K-A-Y" space "I'L-L" space "H-E-L-P" space "G-O-D-R-I-C" space "T-A-L-K" space "T-O" space "P-E-T-E-R."
"Oh. Doesn't the Center have someone who translates for Peter?" Harry wondered.
She tapped yes, "B-U-S-Y."
"Is Peter here?" Harry asked.
She dragged two fingers across his palm and they walked over to him.
"Can't Godric use that spell that Healer Jordan uses so that we can hear you? Wouldn't it work for Peter, too?" Harry asked.
"No," she tapped on his arm, then she told Peter what they were talking about. They were standing together close and Harry had a hand on Peter's arm and the other on Gemma. He could feel them signing to each other. He vaguely wished that he knew what they were saying, but was really too tired to try to follow the conversation.
Why is all this so hard?
"Hey, you three. Are you all coming in?" Godric asked.
Harry jerked, surprised that he hadn't heard Godric approaching and it caused Gemma and Peter to pause. Harry made the walking sign on Peter's arm and said, "Gemma, we need to go to class." Peter gently patted Harry's forearm in response.
"Sorry, Godric," Harry apologized, "we lost track of time," and he willed himself to move toward the O&M room.
"Godric," Harry said as he approached him, "How does Healer Jordan cast that spell so that we can hear Gemma speak? And can it work for Peter, too? Is it something that I could learn how to cast so that the three of us can talk?"
"Good questions, Harry. Let's head to our spot for class today and then we can talk about that," Godric responded.
He led them through the gymnasium where Harry could hear Ms. Midgeon leading another stretching class—yoga as she called it.
Whatever that is. Something strange that she learned in India.
He thought about what Ron would say if he saw them doing yoga and winced. He imagined that they looked pretty funny all upside down and twisted—trying not to fall over.
But it does feel pretty good.
Godric was leading them outside and Harry realized he wasn't paying very close attention when his staff warned him of the door closing on him and then the door smacked against the silver tip of his staff. He held out his arm to catch the door, and then walked through and held it for Gemma and Peter. It was cool out—he felt like he had walked into a cloud and touched his face to see if it was wet.
Godric was walking a ways down a path he hadn't been on before—this one turned left to go around the front of the gym.
Harry listened to the sound of his staff made on the gravel path and the reverberating as the tinging bounced off the tall building on their left as they walked by it.
He could tell that the path had extended beyond the building—not only by the change of the enshrouding air as it moved around the building, but also by the sound his staff made. He was pretty sure that there was a hedgerow coming up—an aroma of decomposing leaves reached his nose and the rustling of leaves and branches gave away the location.
As they neared, he reached out a hand to confirm the hedgerow and was rewarded with the scratchy grasp of the twigs and leaves across his palm.
They walked on in silence for a while until the sound of the gravel under their feet changed and they were on a spongy turf that reminded Harry of the football field by his Primary.
"Okay, we're here," Godric said.
Harry poked around a bit with his staff to try to figure out where here was, but he didn't do the charm to make his staff give him descriptions.
"Harry, could you come join us?" Godric invited.
"Sure," Harry said as he moved toward Godric's voice. Gemma put her hand on his arm and drew him closer. They were standing in a small circle. Harry put a hand on each of Gemma and Peter and guessed that Godric was across from him doing the same.
"Harry asked if I could cast the spell that Healer Jordan uses so that we can hear you, Gemma, when you're signing and if that would work for Peter as well," Godric explained.
Gemma signed this to Peter.
"It would make it a lot easier if I knew how to cast that spell, but I haven't mastered it yet, though I'm working on it. It involves runes and is pretty advanced," Godric said and then paused while Gemma translated for Peter.
"Thanks for translating for us, Gemma. I appreciate it. I'm also working on learning protactile BSL, but I don't know much yet. Harry, I understand you're learning it, too?" Godric said.
"Yeah," Harry agreed. He felt guilty for not putting more effort into it, though.
"So, Harry, I hear that you flew on your broom on Wednesday with Arig," Godric stated. "How did it go?"
"Well, it was actually pretty brilliant. I loved it. It was just like being on a broom before. The landing was hard, though, and I spewed. And then Professor McGonagall said that she forbade me from flying," Harry said.
"Well, Healer Jordan said she'd talk to Professor McGonagall—she did something similar with me. She can be a bit overprotective sometimes. I don't know if it is any consolation, but she does it out of concern," Godric paused while Gemma signed this to Peter.
"Gemma tells me that Peter also wants to try flying again," Godric said answering Harry's unasked question.
Harry took his hand out of the circle to scratch enthusiastically across Peter's back. Peter responded with joyful hand motions and Harry beamed.
"Gemma, will you tell Peter that he should absolutely try it? It is amazing," Harry said.
Gemma tapped him twice and he could feel her translating his words for Peter.
"Running in wide open spaces is similar to flying, so I thought we could work on that today," Godric said.
"Really?" Harry asked.
"Yep, really," Godric said with a chuckle as Peter patted their arms enthusiastically and made a strangled sound that Harry guessed was a laugh.
Though the fog seemed thicker around them, Harry felt as if the rain cloud that had been threatening to engulf him had dissipated a bit. He took in a big breath.
Godric went on to explain that they were going to work on speed walking around the football pitch and then work toward running. They would hold their staves in their collapsed forms and the charm would be set up to vibrate in their hand to give them direction, rather than use the descriptive commands as with practice, they could be interpreted more quickly and give them more time to react to the direction.
Godric led them over to the edge of the pitch and had them feel with their feet the edge of the pitch—where the football field met with the less tended grass of the park. They could discern the difference with their feet. He asked them to walk around the pitch with one foot on the football pitch and the other on the park grass. Gemma was to stay close to Peter, but allow him to experience it on his own—only guiding him if he strayed from the line between the pitch and the grass. They were to walk around it as quickly as they could manage without breaking into a run.
They met up after they went around the whole pitch. Harry's breathing was labored, but it felt good to walk through space without wondering if he was going to run into something—just as he had when he was flying. His staff had warned him if he was getting too close to Godric who was leading the way.
The next time they jogged and though it was a little harder to go in a straight line, it didn't require too many course corrections to get back on the line between the pitch and the park.
The third time around they ran. Godric let Harry go in front of him this time. Harry loved the burn in his calves and thighs, the way his lungs seared with each breath. He wanted to keep going, but a stitch in his side brought him to his knees and he rolled out of the way of Godric who was following him. Godric stopped, "You okay, Harry?" he asked panting.
"Yeah, I'm great, actually," Harry said, gulping in great breaths. This pain feels good.
"You're getting the hang of it," Godric said.
"Yeah," Harry agreed. He was feeling more confident about moving through space faster and listening to the vibrating cues from his staff for when to turn.
Gemma and Peter came up next to them, breathing hard.
"Let's walk the rest of the way and we'll call it a day, okay?" Godric said.
The moisture in the air had become more tangible as they were running and now it was actually drizzling. Droplets were running from Harry's hair and down his neck, soaking into his T-shirt. The football pitch had become more fragrant with the rain and he breathed in the earthy aroma.
"Hey, Godric, I thought this place wasn't real. Can't you just turn off the rain?" Harry asked.
"It's real, Harry."
"Why aren't there any muggles around then?"
"Muggle-repelling charms. Suddenly no one wants to use the football pitch or the park while we're using it. The gym is ours, though. Muggles don't know it is there," Godric explained.
"So, it's a real place—we could keep walking and end up somewhere in the middle of England?" Harry asked.
"Yep."
"So that letter I posted, it really went out via muggle post?"
"Yes, thanks for posting it, by the way," Godric said.
"No problem."
They were back in the gym and headed to their changing rooms to dry off.
oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo
Harry was feeling a bit more energetic than he'd felt in a while and decided to visit Hedwig before he went to his meeting with Besel. Peter and Gemma were off for more BSL.
"Back again, are you?" the portrait barked at him as he entered the owlery.
"Er, yes?"
"Well, your owl was beginning to wonder," the portrait said and Harry felt a tinge of guilt.
He went over to the perch and clicked his tongue, trying to get Hedwig's attention. She seemed to be ignoring him. He waited for a bit, clicking, and then, feeling harassed by the portrait that couldn't seem to leave him alone—Who does this guy think he is?—he decided to go over to the window to listen to the sounds of the city in the rain. The odors from the city were completely different in the rain, too. Wet concrete and asphalt predominated, but he was amazed at how much vegetation he could smell. Finally, Hedwig decided that she'd punished him enough and he heard the battering of her wings as she descended and landed heavily on the perch.
He went over to her, slipping a bit on some droppings. He wondered if he could shoot water out of his staff's tip like his wand and clear a path on the floor.
It'd just make a bigger mess—wet droppings, eew.
"Hiya, Hedwig," he said nuzzling into her feathers. She wasn't feeling very forgiving and turned her back to him.
"Sorry, girl," he said. "I was having a rough time."
The truth of it was heavy in his voice.
She turned back to him and nibbled at his fingers. He found the crust he'd saved for her in his pocket and offered it up.
His stomach rumbled. He really had only had the potions today and had done a fair amount of exerting himself.
I actually am starting to feel like eating something.
He smoothed her feathers for a while longer, enjoying their silkiness and her musky, piney scent.