Gemma pushed Harry's hand to the next photo on the page and he ran the digitus over it with his other hand following closely behind to capture the figures blooming from the photograph. Gemma's arm snuck around his shoulders and now she was pulling him against her. She was trembling.

"What is it, Gemma?" Harry asked. She pushed his hand back to the image, the tremor in her hand more apparent.

Three figures in this one—one in a loose nappy who kept wiggling out of the grasp of the two and running in and out of the frame. It was clear the two were trying to create a more muggle-style traditional family portrait, but the miniature figure kept gleefully bolting whenever he got a chance.

Harry laughed as the game of chasing and catching kept going in different iterations until he was feeling the figure of his mom as she was getting up from the sofa to chase after little Harry once again and noticed that she did it in a really awkward way, grasping the back of the sofa, pushing her hips up first and leading with her belly and rubbing it as if it ached. He felt her torso and it was distended and large and when he ran his fingers over it, something inside her belly moved—it jolted him and he took his hand away quickly. He tentatively touched it again as if he didn't quite believe what he had discovered.

His dad had scooped up little Harry and the three… the four of them… hugged with Harry hanging in delight between James and Lily. They sat on the couch and a clearly worn out little Harry laid across Lily's belly hugging it, his mouth moving as if he were chattering.

"I had a sister or a brother?" Harry muttered. He felt an ache blossom in his chest as though he needed to cry but the pain was so hot that all the tears had left his body in a vapor.

Gemma was rubbing a big sorry circle on his back, over and over again.

"Why hasn't anyone ever told me?" he said numbly.

Gemma tapped his clavicle for "you" then wrote "L-O-S-T" space "S-O" space "M-U-C-H" space "A-L-R-E-A-D-Y" space "D-I-D-N'T" space "W-A-N-T" space "T-O" space "M-A-K-E" space "I-T" space "W-O-R-S-E" space "O-R" space "D-I-D-N'T" space "K-N-O-W" in his palm.

"Yeah," he breathed. He felt so tired. He ended the 3-D version of the image and closed the book and stored everything back in his staff feeling strangely mechanical and organized, and scooted off the window ledge.

Gemma frantically grabbed his hand, her index finger pushed so hard into his chest that he was sure he'd have an index-finger-sized bruise. "YOU" space "G-O-I-N-G" space "D-A-R-K" space "A-G-A-I-N?"

"What?" he asked. "Oh, well, I don't know. I'm just so tired. I just want to go to bed… I don't think so, Gemma… I'm sad… I'm really sad… And mad, too… And I don't know… I'm just sick of being me… Why didn't I just die with them? Why didn't they let me die with them?" The question was ripped out of him, tearing his throat as it left his body and he dropped to the floor, curled in a ball by her bed, feeling numb. Gemma curled her body over his and cried silently—the tears he wasn't able to shed.

After a while, she stopped shaking and she was rubbing a sorry circle on his back and then began to spell out words. It took him a while to realize it. Slowly his breathing steadied and he started to focus on what she was writing. She seemed to be saying the same phrases over and over… it was starting to etch fissures in his back.

"Y-O-U" space "A-R-E" space "H-E-R-E" space "T-H-E-Y" space "B-E-Y-O-N-D" space "V-E-I-L" space "N-O-T" space "S-O" space "F-A-R." space "P-A-R-T" space "O-F" space "Y-O-U."

He uncurled and took deep shuddering breaths. All those years shut up in his cupboard. He'd been so good at locking away the pain. He hated feeling so much. It was so much easier when the feelings were tamped down and buried.

Now that the shock was wearing off, he was aware that his other roommates were being very quiet. He recoiled and then remembered that he wasn't the only one to have embarrassing outbursts of uncontrolled emotion. Maybe they were just giving him and Gemma some space—maybe they weren't judging him. He took in another deep breath and lifted his chin in Gemma's direction.

"What do you mean, 'beyond the veil'?" he asked slowly.

She made the writing sign on his hand. It took effort, but he sat up and leaned against his bed and summoned the writing tools out of his staff.

He rolled the hem of his T-shirt between his thumb and index finger as he listened to the pencil scratch across the paper—the soft cotton fabric curling and unfurling soothingly.

Gemma nudged his hand with her notebook, "You know, the veil of death—my Gran passed through it. She's on the other side now. I still dream of her a lot and wake up and it was like I was visiting with her. She's right there. Not far from me. Still loving me. Still part of me. Close by. When I was sick, my mom said that I was delirious—but I swear—Gran was with me the whole time. There were times when I wanted to pass through the veil and be with her, but she said it wasn't my time yet. I had things to do on this side. It was hard coming back. But I'm glad I did. I would have never met you if I had crossed over then."

He nodded in acknowledgment, remembering the Mirror of Erised and his family … it was like they were just on the other side of that glass. And they seemed so happy to see him. Like the family in his album… so happy together.

"I'm glad you didn't cross over, Gemma," Harry said, the words feeling leaden. He searched for her hand and finding it, squeezed it.

"You two okay over there?" Mei said from the end of Gemma's area.

"Yeah, we're okay, Mei," Harry said.

"No one is shutting down and disappearing under their covers for a few days?" Mei asked.

"I don't think so... " Harry answered, letting out a deep breath. Gemma wrote a question mark on his hand. Mei was too far away for Gemma to be able to read her papers.

Harry repeated what Mei had asked for Gemma as he listened to Mei's wheels move back to her part of the room.

"What time are you going home tomorrow?" Harry asked Gemma.

"Mum's coming to get me early because we have a wedding to go to," Gemma wrote. "Her cousin's daughter, I think. I'm kind of nervous. It is the biggest family event I'll have been to since I got sick."

"Will anyone else there sign or will they all have the Scribunt loqui charm?" Harry asked.

"Some will use the charm, but most won't. My mum will pester them, though, and that's almost worse. I mean it's okay if they don't—it's too hard to follow what people are saying when a lot of people are talking. And I bet it'll all be boring stuff anyway. And a lot of people don't talk to us because my dad's a squib. Mum's really close to this cousin—that's why she got invited. Most of the time the family kind of ignores us… like my mum died instead of got married," Gemma wrote as she scooted closer to Harry and pulled his arm around her so that he could read what she'd already written while she wrote more.

"I'm glad Terry will be there. He was going to go on a camping trip with some friends, but decided to move the trip to during the week so that he could spend some time with me. Stewart is going to be there. We're cousins."

"Stewart?" Harry asked, then remembered. "The one who reminds you of Ron?"

"Yeah, Mum says he's coming. She's asked me to give him another chance. I'm going to try. I'm not sure. What he said to me last time really hurt. I'm worried about seeing him again. About what he might say," she said and leaned against Harry more. He could tell that she was running her fingers over the scars on her face. He brought his right hand up, followed it to her face as she traced the scars.

"Did he say something about your scars?" Harry asked.

Gemma nodded against his hand.

She wrote again, "It's silly, really, to care what I look like. But I think some people are scared to get to know me because of them."

"Well, maybe they aren't worth knowing," Harry tried to console, but he knew it didn't really take away the pain of being rejected. He hated the attention he got because of his scar—but it was different. He really liked it when he was transfigured as Haripreet with no scar.

"Could you transfigure your face to look like what it used to look like?" Harry asked. "Healer Jordan did that for me when I went to Diagon Alley. I mean, she changed what I looked like so that people wouldn't recognize me. She smoothed over my scar."

He ran his fingers over his scar, which made it tingle, so he stopped.

"Yeah, my mum can do that for me. She might do it for the wedding. But sometimes that just makes it harder. It's like lying about who I really am," Gemma said.

"People do it all the time, though, right?" Harry said. "If it makes the wedding a little easier for you, why is that so bad?"

Gemma shrugged against him.

"Well, I hope that you have a fun time at the wedding and eat lots of cake," Harry said.

He'd never been to a wedding before, but when the Dursleys went to weddings, Dudley always talked about the cake. Harry was usually stuck with Mrs. Figg looking at her albums of cat photos. He smiled. Hanging out with Mrs. Figg was usually better than being locked in his cupboard, so he had to work hard at not appearing to like it too much, least the Dursleys cotton on and deny him that outing as well. She was always kind to him, even if her house did reek of cat pee.

Gemma yawned and rubbed her eyes.

"Yeah, let's go to bed. It's late," Harry said.

Gemma nodded and handed him the notebook and pencil. He put everything away and staggered to his feet. Gemma hugged him, waved goodbye against his back, as he shook out his staff to head to the toilet to get ready for bed. Neville had said he'd show up around 10 am—so Harry could sleep in tomorrow. He was looking forward to that.

oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo

"Hiya, Neville," Harry greeted when Neville's ungainly steps sounded in the reception area as he entered through the Egress from St. Mungo's.

"Hiya, Harry," Neville answered—his voice both eager and nervous.

"Were you visiting at St. Mungo's again?" Harry asked.

"Uh, yeah. We visit a lot," Neville said. "Me and Gran."

"Who… ?" Harry paused, was it rude to ask? "Sorry, I shouldn't ask."

"No, it's okay. I visit me mum and dad," Neville said.

"Oh. Wow. Are they okay?" Harry said.

"Well, no. Not really," Neville said. "They've been in there since I was a baby."

"Oh, Merlin. I'm sorry, Neville. I didn't know," Harry said, swinging his staff and stepping closer to his friend. "Are they getting better?"

"No, and Gran says that they won't ever get better. They don't really know—their bodies are there, but their minds are pretty much gone. So that's… But yeah," Neville said. "Oh, I brought you something."

There was a pause and Harry cocked his head to the side, trying to hear better and at the same time, burning with so many questions that he wanted to ask Neville—who was essentially as much of an orphan as he was.

All this time and he didn't know. He had never asked why Neville lived with his Gran. Then he realized that Neville must be holding something out to him. He felt heat rising in his neck. "Oh, are you … ?" he held out his hand and found something papery.

"Oh, sorry, Harry. I forgot you can't see… Here," Neville said at the same time and his sweaty hands grasped Harry's and turned it up so that he could place a small package in it.

Harry put his staff in the crook of his arm so that he could use both hands to examine the little package. He felt around the edges. He cocked his head to the other side as he puzzled it out.

"What is it, Neville?" Harry asked.

"Oh, it's a package of Chocolate Frogs," Neville said, sounding embarrassed. "You like them, right?"

"Wow, thank you! Yes, I do like them," Harry said. "You'll have to help me open it so that the frog doesn't get away."

"Oh, I didn't think of that. Sorry, Harry," Neville said. "Oh, and the card… I'm an idiot."

"Hey, no. It's great. Thank you. And have a special tool that turns images into forms that I can feel, so I'll be able to look at the card, too," Harry said, trying to soothe his friend. "I'll show you when we open it. Okay?"

"Sure… so, what is this place?" Neville asked as Harry tucked the card into his staff. "It's so beautiful and peaceful… like being underwater."

"Oh, well, yeah, everyone says so. It's the Perenelle Flamel Adaptation Center—I guess it is a place to learn how to get used to… well, being blind for me, but for other people, it is getting used to other big changes in their lives," Harry explained.

"Oh, so… there's really no magic that can make you see again?" Neville asked.

"No, I'm really just lucky to be alive. They say I just have to get used to being blind. Adapt. And all that. So I'm trying," Harry said, though he felt a flash of anger burn through his chest—a momentary feeling of the injustice of it. He took a deep breath trying to tamp it down. It wasn't Neville's fault. "What do you want to do today?"

"I dunno… you said we could play exploding snap," Neville said.

"Sure, here. I'll show you around and then we can maybe go to the courtyard and play there. Do you want to see this place? It is kind of cool. There are lots of Egresses to neat places—not just St. Mungo's. I learned how to milk goats and there's a park where we can fly brooms, and a beach—last weekend all the Weasley's visited and we went swimming in the Caribbean," Harry said and he turned and started walking toward the door to the corridor.

"You learned how to milk goats?" Neville asked, his steps clattering behind Harry's as he rushed to keep up.

"Yeah, and hey, there's a garden, too. Do you want to see it?" Harry asked.

"Sure," Neville said. "So you can still fly a broom?"

"Yeah, I thought it might be hard, but it was actually even better than before," Harry admitted, slowing as he used his staff to find the doorknob and open the door to the corridor. He held the door until he felt Neville push against it and then walked through.

"Maybe you could help me…" Neville laughed.

"Did you bring a broom?" Harry asked.

"No, I don't have a broom. Gran thinks I'm going to smash my skull and end up in a bed next to my parents," Neville said glumly.

"Well, maybe we could go to the park and you could practice on mine for a bit," Harry said.

"Wow, the light in here is really weird. All shifting and moving. Like being underwater, but different from the reception area. Darker. It's pretty eerie," Neville said.

"Yeah, that's what Hermione said. It is just a nice rest from the bright light in the library and the dining hall for me," Harry said.

"Oh yeah? Wait—what? I thought you couldn't see," Neville asked.

"I can see really bright light, but it just hurts my eyes, so I close them when I'm someplace bright," Harry explained. They were quiet for a bit while Harry thought about how he should make a leaflet to hand out so that he wouldn't have to keep answering the same questions over and over again.

"So, on the right is the owlery and in a few paces on the left will be the door to Healer Jordan's office (did you know she's Lee Jordan's Aunt?)," Harry said, feeling like a tour guide in a museum.

"Seriously? No idea," Neville said.

"She runs the Center. Lee came with the Weasley's last weekend," Harry said.

"Did they play any jokes on you?" Neville asked.

"Er. Well, yeah. They changed my T-shirt… I didn't know they did it," Harry said. "They weren't … well, I don't think they meant to be mean, really."

"Yeah," Neville said. "It's probably funnier when you're not the butt of the joke."

"Yeah," Harry remembered Neville being gullible enough to take things from Fred or George and then later have them explode or turn to slime in his hands. Most first years learned pretty quickly to be wary of the twins and Lee.

I wonder why Neville still takes things from them.

"Through here is the dining hall. Pretty good food. Even better than Hogwarts, really," Harry said, as he used the panel to open the doors.

"You get around here really well… is it hard? Does that staff talk to you? Sometimes it seems like you're listening to something I can't hear," Neville asked.

"Oh, yeah. It's pretty brilliant, actually. It does a lot of stuff. Even protected me from getting hit by a lorry," Harry said. "It casts a shield charm. But yeah, I can just ask it to guide me to where I want to go and it'll tell me how to get there. It speaks through this little metal ring I wear on my ear."

"That's cool, Harry. Wow, this place is so light… it's like being inside of a lily," Neville said in awe.

"Do you think you can stay for lunch, Neville? The menu said that we'd be having fish and chips," Harry asked.

"Mmm. Yeah, that'll be all right. I can just zip back to St. Mungo's and ask Gran. She's sitting with mum and dad," Neville said.

"Would she want to come, too? We can have visitors for meals," Harry asked.

"We can ask her—she might like that. The food at St. Mungo's isn't that great," Neville said. "Pretty bland."

"Okay, over there is the courtyard with a bit of a garden and through these doors are the classrooms," Harry said pointing first to the windows that overlooked the courtyard and then in the direction of the doors.

Neville ran over to the windows overlooking the courtyard.

"Oh, let's go down there, Harry. It looks really nice. I think I see some Aconite. Let's go look," Neville said as Harry walked over to him.

"Sure, the door's over here," Harry said, but Neville was already opening it and headed down the steps. Harry swung his staff in an arc, trying to figure out if the door was still open or if it was closing and nearly got it stuck in the closing door. He yelped and pulled it out quickly—wondering if his staff would snap in half. Neville had clattered back up the steps from the courtyard and pushed the door open again.

"Sorry, mate. I should have held the door for you," Neville said as he gasped for air. Harry could imagine how red his face was—not just from embarrassment, but also from running up and down the stairs.

"It's okay. I just had a run in with a couple of doors already, so I'm careful," Harry said, touching his forehead where he'd had the bruise.

"Did you want to hold my arm? You know, like you were doing with that girl—Gem-ma—at St. Mungo's?" Neville asked.

"I could teach you how to do sighted guide, if you like. It is kind of handy for walking together," Harry offered. "Though Ron thought people would think we were… you know… gay. He didn't want to do it, but he got over it."

"Oh, well. I don't care. Besides, no one is here. Why don't you show me how," Neville invited.

Harry gave him a quick lesson and then took Neville's arm and they went down to the courtyard.

"It is Aconite!" Neville exclaimed as they walked on the stone path toward the bench under the tree.

It was pleasantly cool out and a light breeze was making the leaves on the tree shiver. Harry drew in a deep breath of the fragrant plants growing in the courtyard—all their aromas intermingling so that it just smelled fecund.

"It's poisonous, you know. But it also has healing properties. It's used in a lot of potions… it's called Wolfsbane as well as Monkshood," Neville explained as they stood under the tree.

"Didn't Snape mention those the first day of Potions?" Harry asked, letting go of Neville's arm and reaching forward with his staff to find the bench. He sat down and started passing his hands over the herbs to stir their fragrances.

"Yeah, it was a trick question, wasn't it? They are the same plant—with different names," Neville said. "Don't touch it, Harry—it'll make your fingers numb."

"Oh, how will I know which one it is? Does it smell?" Harry asked. "I like coming here and smelling the herbs. There are some that I know from the garden at Privet Drive."

Harry couldn't imagine admitting this to Ron, but with Neville, he wasn't worried. Neville liked plants.

"I guess you'll know when you touch it and your fingers go numb! It doesn't have a smell," Neville said. "It is mostly contained in this garden—you'd have to reach way over the lavender and other herbs to find it. I think you'll be okay," Neville said and Harry could tell that he'd crushed a rosemary leaf between his fingers because the sharp aroma was suddenly present.

They played Exploding Snap on the bench for a while. It took them a bit to figure out how to play so that they each had an equal advantage. First they tried with just braille, but Neville struggled to tell the cards apart, then the spoken version, but Harry had the advantage there, then they set it up so that they showed the picture and spoke in Harry's aftí simultaneously when his hand was hovering over the deck and they were more equally matched and soon they were laughing so hard they nearly fell off the bench.

They took a break to eat the chocolate frog—Neville was poised to catch it as soon as Harry opened the package.

"Oh! It's Beaumont Marjoribanks! He's my favorite!" Neville said. "Here, do you want to look at it with your thing—what's it called?"

Harry summoned his digitus from his staff and pulled it across the card, "it's a digitus."

"Merlin's beard, that's cool!" Neville exclaimed as Harry felt the image of a wizard in a tall pointy hat and velveteen robes trimmed with stiff metallic threads, but covered in dirt and holding a leafy plant in a pot. He felt the braille, too.

"It's going to take me forever to figure out this braille—I think it is grade two—I bet I can change my digitus to write in grade one—but, yeah, can you read it to me?" Harry said and restored the image to two dimensions.

"Oh, sure, it says: A pioneer of Herbology and collector of many rare and magical flowers, Beaumont Marjoribanks is said to have discovered Gillyweed," Neville read from the card.

"What's Gillyweed?" Harry asked.

"Oh, well, it's this really cool aquatic plant that if you eat it, you grow gills and flippers and can breathe underwater," Neville said.

"What- permanently?" Harry exclaimed.

"Oh, no, it wears off after about an hour or so, I think. But it is useful for underwater exploration—you can swim faster and see underwater… er, well, I don't know how it would affect your vision," Neville said.

"I imagine if it could cure my blindness, someone would have mentioned it by now. I'll have to try that the next time Mei drags me out to the ocean. Where do you get it?" Harry asked.

"Oh, I don't think it is native—I think you get it in the Mediterranean. I think you'd have to owl order it. I think Snape has it in his potion stores, though," Neville replied.

"Hmm. I wonder if Mei could go get some?" Harry thought.

"Who is Mei?" Neville asked.

"Oh, she's one of my roommates here. Mei Lee? She was at Hogwarts," Harry said.

"That Ravenclaw who turned into a mermaid?" Neville said.

"Um, yeah. I don't know how I missed that, but I didn't know until I was here," Harry said.

"Well, I imagine that being thought of as the Heir of Slytherin meant that not a lot of people were gossiping with you—rather they were talking about you," Neville mumbled.

"Yeah, I guess so," Harry said. "She doesn't like to be called a mermaid. She's part Jiāorén."

"What's that?"

"Well, I guess it is a Chinese mermaid, but they are different than European or even African mermaids. Or are they merpeople? I dunno. Anyway—they have their own magic. I suppose I should read up on it," Harry said. "Mei's learning how to manage both her magics—the Jiāorén and the wixen magic."

"Wixen?"

"You know, witch and wizard. Wixen. It's a lot easier to say," Harry said.

"Yeah, it is. Wixen," Neville said. "Cool."

"Want to go ask your Gran about lunch? I could go with you," Harry said.

"Sure, yeah. Let's go do that," Neville said, jumping up.

"I should tell Healer Jordan, though, if I'm leaving the Center," he said as they mounted the stairs. "I guess there was a reporter at St. Mungo's who was trying to talk to me and it is a violation of some privacy act."

"Oh, yeah! Gran was madder than a nest of Red Caps! It was that Skeeter witch who works for the Prophet. She asked me all sorts of questions about you after you left but I didn't tell her anything. And wow, did Gran tell her where to stick her quill! I've never seen her so cross." Neville was shaking with the memory.

"Thank you for not telling her anything. Every time I leave the Center I have to disguise myself," Harry said.

"You weren't disguised the other night," Neville said, perplexed.

"Yeah, well, we didn't plan on leaving—we were locked out of one of our Egresses and had to return through a secure entrance. Besel rescued us. Someone tried to break into the Center. They were really worried that someone seemed to be waiting for us at St. Mungo's," Harry explained.

"Yeah, that's weird. She has been hanging out at St. Mungo's a lot, looking like she was waiting for something," Neville said.

"Hey, we should probably tell that to Healer Jordan," Harry said, they were through the dining hall now and nearing her office. "Her office should be on the right in just a little bit, let's knock on her door."

"This one?" Neville asked.

"Is it the next door on the right to the reception area?" Harry asked.

"I dunno—all the doors look the same to me," Neville said.

"Navigant Healer Jordan's office," Harry said and his staff confirmed that they were in front of it. "Yep, this is it."

"Hey, I could use something like that. I'm always getting lost," Neville said a bit glumly.

"I think you can cast the spell with your wand, Neville," Harry said.

"Really?"

"Yeah, we could try it," Harry said as he knocked on Healer Jordan's door.

He heard footsteps approaching the door.

"Oh, hello, Harry. How are you doing today?" Healer Jordan greeted.

"Hi, Healer Jordan. I'm fine. Thanks. How are you doing?" Harry said.

"Just fine. What can I do for you?"

"This is my friend, Neville Longbottom. His grandmother is visiting St. Mungo's this morning and I was wondering if I could go with him over there to ask her if she wanted to join us for lunch. Is that okay? Oh, and also he said that the reporter that was trying to talk to me on Thursday has been hanging out a lot there lately," Harry said in a rush.

"Oh, well. Here, come on in and let's figure this out," Healer Jordan said. "It's nice to meet you, Neville. I'm Healer Jordan."

Neville mumbled a response and they made their way into her office and settled into the chairs by her desk.

"Well, Harry, if you're going to go over there, we definitely need to disguise your appearance. It might be easier if Neville just goes and talks to his Gran on his own. I'm concerned, though, to learn that Ms. Skeeter has been lurking at St. Mungo's. Maybe I should go with both of you?" Healer Jordan said. "Yes, let's do that."