Walking back to the dining hall with the Weasleys, Harry realized how hungry and tired he felt. He hadn't been this hungry in a while.

I suppose it is from all the jumping around in the ocean.

He was thankful for the magic at the door that removed all the stray sand from their bodies and dried their clothes. Hermione was especially appreciative of it as it emptied copious amounts of sand from her hair. Harry was standing right behind her and felt the sting of it as it was blown off her body. He felt a lot more comfortable than he had after his trunks had been transformed back to his trousers and baggy t-shirt. They were soggy and sand-filled—his pants were especially uncomfortable—until he walked over the threshold.

In the corridor they were greeted by the delicious aroma of curry and cardamom.

"Ugh, Indian food," Percy whined.

"Hush, Percy," Molly admonished.

Everyone else seemed excited and the twins and Lee raced toward the dining hall, nearly running into Mei, who must have just left the Montmorency room.

"Hey, you lot, watch where you're going," Mei exclaimed as their trainers skidded on the stone floors, but she didn't sound that put out. Harry wondered how long it took her to swim all the way back to the portal that took her back to the room.

"I thought you were going to transform back into a human?" Ron blurted out.

Harry reached out, trying to grab Ron before he dug himself in deeper and caught his shirt.

"I am human, you twit," Mei said.

"Right," Ron said as shrugged his shirt out of Harry's grasp.

"Ron," Harry said with exasperation and stopping in the middle of the corridor.

"What?" Ron asked, turning to face him.

"Come on, can't you think before you open your mouth?" Harry hissed as the others passed them.

"What? Not you, too, Harry!" Ron whigned. "Why's everyone ganging up on me?"

"Seriously?" Harry questioned, "Can't you see how hurtful questioning someone's humanity might be?"

"But what does she expect? She's part fish!" Ron exclaimed.

"I imagine she expects to be treated respectfully! She still has feelings!"

"I didn't say she didn't," Ron said.

"You're kind of implying that she doesn't by the way you're talking to her. Don't you get it, Ron? It hurts to have people constantly talking about you, defining you by one part of who you are, seeing only that aspect of you—like it is the only thing about you."

"Well, it is kind of hard to ignore," Ron said.

"You don't have to ignore it, just don't say anything," Harry managed to grind out through clenched teeth.

"Like don't talk? Ever? Fine!" Ron stormed off leaving Harry sputtering.

I didn't mean don't ever talk… just think about it first! he seethed silently in the corridor as the sound of Ron's feet slapped on the stone until they were absorbed into the sounds of the dining hall. The weight of it was seeping into his limbs again and he felt as though he were walking through muck again.

Harry couldn't stand the chatter of his staff, so quieted it so that all he had to do was listen to the silver tip ting against the stone and slowly made his way to the dining hall. He hoped that Ron cleared off for a while so that he wouldn't have to talk to him for a bit. He didn't know if he could face him again and that thought made his gut clench.

"Hey, Harry," Hermione said from just inside the dining hall entryway. "We've saved a seat for you at our table."

"Oh, thanks… er, is Ron there?"

"No, he ran through. I'm not sure where he went."

"Good," Harry said, though it hurt to say it.

Hermione put her hand on Harry's arm and sighed, "Yeah."

He slipped his hand under her arm and followed it to her upper arm and fell in step as she led him to the table.

"We have three tables, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are sitting at the far one with Mr. and Mrs. Boot, and Mr. and Mrs. Lee. Gemma and her brother are sitting with Ginny, Percy, and me—there's a seat for you, too. Fred, George, Lee, Mei, and her brother, Bing, are at the third table. There's room there for Ron if he comes back." Hermione explained as they walked over to the table.

"Are there other families here?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, a few, not many," Hermione said. "I imagine most folks went home for the weekend."

"Yeah," Harry sighed, and for a moment he was aware of how relieved he was that he could stay here and didn't have to go to the Dursleys over the weekend.

Harry heard a chair scrape against the stone floor of the dining hall and light footsteps that he recognized as Gemma's approaching them.

"Hi, Gemma," Hermione greeted. "She's excited to introduce you to her family, Harry. She wants you to meet her father and then her brother. She says that you already met her mother."

"Sure, Gemma, let's meet them," Harry said, turning to Hermione. "Thanks for telling me what Gemma is saying. Come meet Gemma's folks, okay?"

"Okay," Hermione said and she led Harry, following Gemma's footsteps.

Hermione interpreted again, "Harry, this is Gemma's father, Webster Boot."

Harry stuck out his hand and waited for Mr. Boot to grasp it, "Hi, Mr. Boot, it's nice to meet you."

"Harry Potter, I've heard a lot about you!" Mr. Boot boomed. "It's so good to meet you. Gemma thinks the world of you, and that's all that I need!"

"It's nice to meet you, too, sir," Harry said as his hand was being pumped up and down vigorously.

"This is my friend, Hermione Granger," Harry turned to Hermione.

"Are you a resident here, too, Hermione?" Mr. Boot said. "Another one of Gemma's roommates?"

Harry could hear in Mr. Boot's voice that he was pumping Hermione's arm as enthusiastically as he had shaken his own.

"No, sir, I'm just a friend of Harry's… I'm visiting today," Hermione said in a rush.

"Oh, right," Mr. Boot responded. "Well, it's good to meet you, too. So, Harry, it sounds like you've been put through the wringer—I was so sorry to hear it. After all, you've already been through… Well, no one said life was fair. Look at our sweet Gemma," he sighed heavily.

"Er," Harry said.

"Well, of course, you can't look at her, but you know what I mean. Seems like you two have figured out how to communicate very well despite the obstacles… she—not able to hear or speak, you—not able to see and yet you get along. There's the hope for humanity, if you ask me. Of course, I know what challenges are like… a squib like me born into one of the most powerful wizarding families in Ireland. That wasn't easy—being a huge disappointment to my family and unable to do magic for myself. But then I met Clodagh and I'm blessed that she loves me the way I am. Sure, her family wasn't too happy, but they came around in the end. Of course, we were so thankful that both our children had magic, but of course, now with Gemma… well, we'll see how it all turns out. Maybe she'll be able to do nonverbal spells, but if not, she'll be in good company with her dear old pop. But that's neither here nor there. What Gemma? Oh yes, I imagine you want to have some lunch. Sounds like you were having a ball on the beach," he said as he patted Harry on the shoulder heavily.

Harry's gut seized up again as his thoughts lingered on the possibility of not being able to do magic and he had flashes of the scurrying beetle on his desk as he tried to turn it into a button and waiting for his sleeping draught to change to the right shade of purple…

"Hi, Harry, dear," Mrs. Boot greeted. "It's good to see you again. Gemma has written the most amazing letters about her first week at training and all she's learned and of course, you figured prominently in them!"

"It's nice to meet you, sir," Harry said to Mr. Boot, and turning to Mrs. Boot, "Good to see you again, Mrs. Boot."

"Right, dear!" Mrs. Boot said, then returned to her conversation with Mrs. Lee.

Gemma, Hermione, and Harry walked over their table and found their seats—Harry found himself between Gemma and Hermione.

Before he sat down, he was greeted, "Hiya, Harry. I'm Terry, Gemma's brother. I've seen you at Hogwarts, of course."

"Hi Terry," Harry said. He had a vague feeling he'd met Terry before, but couldn't remember what he looked like. "Do you know Hermione Granger? We're both in Gryffindor. We'll be third years in September."

"Yes, actually, Ravenclaw was pretty put out that you were sorted into Gryffindor!" Terry exclaimed as he turned to Hermione.

"Oh, well, the sorting hat was deliberating quite a bit between the two houses," Hermione confessed. Harry could tell that she was pleased by the tone of her voice—it was a little higher than normal.

"Harry, I'm really glad you're here with Gemma. Well, not glad that you were blinded by that Basilisk, of course. That was terrible, but glad that if you had to be here, it was with Gemma. We've all been really worried about her and it's been a relief to know that she's made some really good friends and right off the bat," Terry said.

"Well, she's been a really good friend to me," Harry said. Gemma's hand scratched across his back—her happy sign. "She's helped me get through some really rough days. I don't know what I would have done without her, actually."

"Yeah, she's like that. I'm sure my mom told you. She's always going on about it," Terry said.

Harry nodded in agreement.

"Harry, are you ready to eat? It looks like our table already went through the line, shall we get our food," Hermione urged.

"Yes, I'm starving and it smells heavenly," he said.

oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo

Though he struggled with the rice until he figured out how to stick it to the aloo saag and scoop it up with the naan bread, Harry had eaten until even Mrs. Weasley was satisfied. She had come over to their table to check on Ginny and tell the twins off for their antics with the floating trays. Harry was so full that he felt as though he had a Quaffle lodged in his gut. He was thinking about napping in the treehouse with a cool breeze tickling his neck. The fantasy had another appealing aspect… it would be far away from Ron.

Ron had come back in about halfway through the meal, banging his chair around and slamming down his dishes at a table by himself. It didn't take long for the boys to descend on him.

"Hey, Ron, here comes my Aunt Medea!" said Lee.

"She's going to help you extract your foot from your mouth," said George.

"But I doubt if she can do anything about your other condition," said Fred.

"You might just have to stay here for some training," said Lee.

"And learn how to adapt to your life-changing event," said George.

"You know, the one where your head is irrevocably lodged up your bum," said Fred.

Harry couldn't help but snort—though he tried to pass it off as a cough. He felt a little guilty.

Harry turned to listen—trying to discern if Healer Jordan was really approaching them—he couldn't hear her. He expected that Ron would storm off again, but he must have been pretty hungry because all Harry could hear was Ron shoveling food into his mouth and his usual meal time noises of grunting and masticating. He could imagine the glower Ron was directing toward his brothers. He almost felt sorry for Ron.

"Hey, Harry, can you show us the workshop where you made the tip for your staff?" Fred asked as he approached Harry's table.

"Sure, it's right around the corner," Harry said as he stood up and shook out his staff.

Gemma pushed back her chair and hopped up. She waved across his forearm.

"Oh, are you leaving now?" Harry asked her.

"Yes," she tapped.

"You'll be back tomorrow night?" he asked.

"Yes," she responded.

"Have fun with your family, okay?" he said.

"Okay," she tapped and she gave him a quick hug around his middle, wisps of her hair brushing his chin. He waved across her back.

"Bye, Harry—it was good to see you again," Terry said.

"Yeah, see ya," Harry said as a chorus of Weasleys joined him in saying goodbye to the Boot family.

Gemma waved across his arm again and then was walking away with Terry.

"So, that workshop?" George said.

"Right, it's this way," Harry said as he muttered, "Navigant workshop," to his staff.

"Where are you all going?" Percy asked.

"Fred, George, and Lee wanted to see the workshop where I made the silver tip on my staff," Harry answered. "Do you all want to come, too? Mei and Bing? Hermione, Ginny?" Harry asked, then added reluctantly, "Ron?"

"No, thank you. I'm going to have some tea and biscuits," said Percy.

"I was going to show Ginny the library," Hermione said, "we'll meet you over at the workshop, okay?"

Ron grunted and Harry took it as a no.

"Harry, we're actually leaving, too," said Bing. "We'll see you later."

"Have a good visit with your family, Mei," Harry said.

"Yeah, I will," Mei said as she moved closer to Harry. He was surprised when she grabbed his hand and pulled him down close, putting her hand on his shoulder so that she could whisper in his ear, "Hey, I heard you laying into your friend Ron for what he said to me. Thank you."

She let go of him and he straightened up a bit, "Er, I'm sorry he's being such a git. He's not usually like this. I don't know what's got into him," he said quietly.

"Well, I don't know if he's worth the trouble," she said.

"He'll come around," Harry said.

"Good luck with that! Hey, come on, Bing, let's go!" she said, pivoting away from Harry.

"I can't wait to get home. I'm looking forward to some good food. I can't believe that my mum made us eat here for lunch," Mei said. "They even ruined the rice. Stinking saffron!" There was another chorus of goodbyes as they left.

Harry smiled; he thought the saffron rice was delicious.

Hermione and Ginny's footsteps were headed east through the dining hall, making Harry wonder if there was another way to get to the library. He thought that they'd be walking with them through the main corridor. I'll have to explore that later.

"So, do you think the workshop will be open today?" Lee asked as they headed out of the dining hall.

"Oh, I don't know. It seems like the Healers are always here. I don't know when they take breaks," Harry said.

"Yeah, my aunt says that it is really long hours while the Center is in training, but then they have time off in-between sessions," Lee said.

"Oh, okay, that makes sense," Harry said as he turned toward the entryway. "Here it is."

The odors filtering out through the door smelled like burnt wood and wood shavings. He wondered what Figora was working on. The sounds of his silver-tipped staff tinged off the stone floor and bounced back off the walls in a pleasing way, giving him a sense of the space. He walked up to the workbench that he had worked at earlier with Peter and Gemma and found the edge of the grooved wood with his hand.

"Harry! How are you?" Figora greeted from the far side of the workshop, her footsteps approaching the group. "How'd it go on your broom? Did you try it out?"

He leaned into the table.

"Yeah—it was… so amazing. Thank you. I can't wait to up again," he said.

"Hey, Harry," Fred slapped him on the shoulder. "You didn't tell us you tried out your broom!"

"What? How'd you do that?" Lee asked, settling onto a stool at the bench.

"Did you crash?" George asked, concerned.

"Oh, well, yes and that was kind of a disaster," Harry said. "Because it was right in front of Professor McGonagall."

"What, you flew?" Ron said from the doorway. He had followed them, apparently. "Are you nutters?"

"It was so great… so much better than I thought it would be—Arig flew my broom and I rode with him," Harry said, remembering the sensation.

"Then what happened? And who's Arig?" asked George.

"It was great until we were landing and then I tripped us up and we hit the ground hard and Professor McGonagall said that she forbade me from flying again." There was a long silence.

"It is the one thing that I am good at," he said in barely a whisper.

"Hey, mate, that's… well, blimey. That's the pits," George said.

"Harry, don't give up on it yet," Figora said, "Godric went through something similar with Professor McGonagall and they figured out how to make it work."

"Yeah?" Harry said as a little bubble of hope grew in his gut. "He flew at Hogwarts?"

"Well, there's no way you'll be on the Quidditch team, though," Ron said bluntly and the little bubble burst. "I mean, there's no such thing as a blind seeker. Hey, Ow!" Ron shouted as it sounded like he had been smacked across the back of his head.

"Thanks, Ron, for stating the obvious. That's helpful," Harry said through his teeth. "I just want to fly again, that's all."

"Sorry," Ron muttered.

Fred breathed out heavily.

"Has anyone told Oliver yet?" Lee said.

"Yeah, no," George said. "That's not going to go well, is it?… Well, why don't you show us around the workshop, Harry? This place looks amazing! What kinds of things do you make here?"

His last question was directed at Figora and she was happy to show them the different workstations and explain the various projects that residents worked on—both for adapting tools to suit their specific needs as well as just the therapeutic outlet of working with their hands (or by whatever means they had). The twins and Lee were excitedly bouncing from one station to the next asking questions about how the tools and materials worked. Figora was just as excited as they were. Harry hung back, finding it hard to muster any kind of enthusiasm. Ron seemed to be shadowing him.

Ginny and Hermione showed up a bit later with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Percy and they got caught up in the twins' excitement. Arthur was especially intrigued with the liberal attitude the Center had for adapting muggle technologies with magic and not just wixen magic, but also goblin magic.

Harry made a feeble excuse about needing to go to the toilet and went out into the corridor and was irritated to hear that Ron had followed him. He pretended he hadn't heard and asked his staff to direct him to the loo and then went and sat in a stall for a while, hoping that Ron would leave him alone.

When he was pretty sure he was alone, he cast the revealing charm to be sure and then exited the toilet and then cast the navigation spell asking for the courtyard and learned that there was a way through the dining hall. He had to open the big doors to the dining hall using the panel. He felt bad for sneaking away from everyone when they had made a special trip to see him, but he needed to be alone. He'd go back in a bit and maybe they wouldn't even notice that he'd been missing.

From the dining hall, the door to the courtyard went out to a balcony. Harry squeezed his staff to get a description and learned that the balcony was made from the same smooth white stones that made the ribs in the interior of the dining hall and went all around the courtyard, looking down onto it. They weren't as high up as the owlery. Harry could hear the branches from the tree brushed against the railing. He sucked in a deep breath—the odors of the city were intermingled here with the herb garden in the courtyard. He found the stairs down to the courtyard and was perplexed to find that it was a longer staircase from the balcony than from the owlery.

This place is wacky.

He thought he heard some whispering and wondered if there were other people in the courtyard, so cast the revealing charm again, but no one was there.

Are there ghosts here? Would the revealing charm show them? Maybe there are other levels to the courtyard?

He found the bench and sat down, running his hands over the fragrant herbs—the rosemary—was the other one sage? He was trying to remember from when he and Besel had been planting their little herb garden during his mind healing session.

He laid down on his stomach on the bench and broke off small leaves from the herbs to crush and bring up to his nose while listening to the birds hop around and twitter in the tree above him, hoping that they wouldn't crap on him. He heard something and lifted his head in the direction of the sound and then someone coughed as if they were trying to let him know that they were there.

He sat up, "hello?" he asked.

"Hiya, Harry," Ron said in a low voice, his feet dragging on the gravel. "Can I sit with you?"

Harry felt anger flash cross his chest and then his shoulders sagged. He didn't know if he was up to talking to Ron just then, but he forced a gruff "sure," from his throat.

Ron walked slowly over to the bench and sat down heavily next to him.

They sat in a tense silence for a bit. Harry was taking shallow breaths.

"Har… Harry… " Ron started. "Mate. It's just not bloody fair. You have the worst luck… except that really, you should have died down there. We all should have died. And so maybe you have brilliant luck. I don't know. I mean that was like the third time you face You-Know-Who and you didn't die. So, is that good luck or bad luck? I don't know what it is. But it kills me that it happened to you… you know the whole venom in the eyes thing. I mean, you're my best mate. And you're the one who is bloody brilliant at Quidditch. And Ginny's my sister, so it should have been me, but if it had been me, I would have died for sure and then mum and dad would have two dead kids… I mean they'd be gutted if they lost Ginny, their only girl; they've got loads of boys… so it's good you saved her… but still, it just isn't fair. And I'm sorry that I'm such a git and I keep saying stupid stuff. I'll… I'll try not to be such a prat. It just comes out before… well, before I think about it. I don't know if I can stop it. But I'll try, okay?"

"Yeah? Trying is good. That's all you can do, right?… And I don't know, either," Harry said, "if it is good luck or bad luck. Maybe luck has nothing to do with it. Maybe it just is."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "I don't know how you do it, though, walking around in the dark all the time. It would scare the bejeezus out of me."

"Well, it's not really dark. Sometimes it is light—like so bright it hurts. But really it's just nothing—except that it's not nothing either. The sounds and smells and feel of things start to make pictures," Harry tried to explain. "Well, not pictures like I saw them before, but something different. It's not dark. It's not the same as being in a room and seeing everything and then suddenly the lights go out and you can't see anything. It's just a different way of seeing."

"So it's not scary?" Ron asked.

"I don't know. I guess I hadn't really thought of it like that. When I was up on the broom, it was like it didn't matter anymore—I could fly without worrying about anything—it was actually better than before in some ways," Harry said.

"Yeah, I don't know if I would have had the guts to even get on a broom without being able to see where I was going," Ron said.

"I don't think it was guts. It was just wanting to try to do things that I like to do… that make me happy," Harry sighed.

"Maybe we can talk to Professor McGonagall and get her to understand," Ron said. "I mean, how is it any more dangerous than sending firsties into the Forbidden Forest to track dying unicorns?"

"Yeah," said Harry smiling weakly in Ron's direction and he let out a breath.