"Couldn't we go into the garden?" Neville asked.
"Sure, it's also secure. Let's do that. I'll request that our lunch be sent up and I'll join you in a moment," Healer Jordan agreed. "Neville, you'll keep an eye on your mum—make sure she doesn't nibble on anything dangerous?"
"Yes, Healer Jordan," Neville said.
They all walked through Healer Jordan's office to the Potions garden.
Harry heard Alice gasp.
"Mum?" Neville asked.
"Is she okay?" Harry asked.
"She looks almost happy," Neville said in a hushed voice.
"She likes it?"
"Yeah."
"Here, let's get her settled by the plants. These are safe. I'll transfigure this chair into something more comfortable for her," Mrs. Longbottom said.
Harry heard the rickety wrought iron chair by the fountain scrape against the stone and then settle on the ground close to them, then he heard a pop and a larger sounding piece of furniture hit the ground as if it had jumped. It was no longer wrought iron—the feet that hit the stones sounded wooden. He reached out his hand in the direction of the sound and found the velvety surface punctuated with deep divots with brass tack navels; he imagined an overstuffed chaise lounge. His imagination even supplied a color—a deep and vivid purple.
"Here, Alice dear, sit here. That's right. Let's make sure you're comfortable. Oh, don't pick the plants. Neville, make sure she doesn't kill all their plants. Here's a blanket. Help me tuck in her legs." Neville's Gran fussed around Alice.
Harry heard a pop and guessed it was a conjured blanket.
Harry ran his hands over the back of the velvet chaise until his fingers contacted Alice's wispy hair scattered across the back and he pulled back. He found the stone wall around the garden and sat down on it. He listened to Neville scurrying around at his Gran's instructions as he traced the contour of a leaf between his thumb and index finger—mint of some sort, he decided, more from the sharp fragrance than from the almost heart-shaped leaf.
Healer Jordan returned to the garden and transfigured the small table into a larger one with extra chairs so that they could eat the lunch that popped into existence shortly afterward. The aroma of the grease-soaked, breaded fish wafted by and Harry felt his belly rumble.
"Come, let's eat," Healer Jordan invited.
"Harry, do you want me to restore your normal appearance now?" she offered as Harry stood up and navigated around the chaise to walk toward the table.
"Yes, please. Especially my trainers—these shoes are pinching my toes," he said with relief as she removed the transfigurations on his body and clothes.
"So, Harry Potter is here, after all?" Mrs. Longbottom queried. "Why the ruse?"
"We are trying to keep Harry safe," Healer Jordan said.
"Hrumph. That witch from the Daily Prophet harassed us on Thursday at St. Mungo's, trying to get us to spill the beans on Harry, but she didn't get a single seed from us. No, we're not going to be the hapless fools who plant that vine," Mrs. Longbottom opined.
"Thank you for fending her off. Did you report her to the staff at St. Mungo's?" Healer Jordan asked.
"Yes, I sent howlers to both the Daily Prophet and St. Mungo's," she huffed.
"Good. They need to know that there are others who have taken issue with their behavior. What did she want to know?" Healer Jordan asked.
"She had heard that he had been injured in the dungeons at Hogwarts by the Basilisk and thought he was at St. Mungo's. No doubt she's heard rumors from other students," Mrs. Longbottom said.
"Yes, well. Our residents, as well as patients at St. Mungo's, are protected through the Privacy Act, but the Daily Prophet seems to be keen on violating their rights. They'll face hefty fines, but who knows what the damage could be. Their safety is very seriously threatened. And I know you understand more than most people the threat that Harry, in particular, faces. We are working with the Ministry of Magic, St. Mungo's, and Hogwarts trying to keep him safe, but the Daily Prophet seems to be determined to breach our protections," explained Healer Jordan.
Neville was fumbling with a chair and it made a great rattling noise—which helped Harry locate the one next to him and he settled into it.
"Is it wise to be talking about this in front of the boy?" Mrs. Longbottom asked in a stage whisper as she pulled out one of the chairs at the table across from Harry as if he wouldn't be able to hear her.
Harry's head shot up and he realized that he was trying to see her. Damn. Why would she say that?
Boy. Uncle Vernon calls me Boy.
And did she think that he couldn't handle knowing that Voldemort's followers might try to get him? He'd already faced freaking Voldemort three times now. Sure he suffered serious losses, but he had managed to survive.
"Harry's safer knowing that there's a threat than being kept in the dark, so to speak," Healer Jordan said. "Sorry, Harry."
Harry dropped his head and was too intent on snuffing the embers that were smoldering in his chest to acknowledge the apology.
"I'm right here," he fumed.
"Exactly my point," Mrs. Longbottom sniffed.
"Healer Jordan, did you find anything? When that bug fell out of my collar and you went back? Was there anything there?" Harry asked.
"No, no sign of anyone or anything. I … well, I'm looking into it," she said. "We'd better eat before the fish and chips get cold."
Harry wasn't sure he could eat. His stomach was as tightly clenched as his fists under the table.
He listened as Healer Jordan passed the basket of fish to Neville's Gran and then as Neville filled his plate. There was an expectant pause.
"Neville, let Harry know that you're holding the basket for him," Healer Jordan guided gently.
"Oh, right. Sorry," Neville cringed. "Harry, would you like some fish?"
"Uh, yeah," Harry said as he shook out his fingers and reached toward Neville, finding the offered basket of fish.
"Harry, the tongs are sticking out of the basket at 3 o'clock," Healer Jordan added.
Harry ran his hand around the edge of the basket until he found the tongs, then poked around until he was able to grasp a piece of fish and put it on his plate. He was certain that everyone's eyes were on him and felt his ears growing hot.
"Would you like some fish, Healer Jordan?" Harry asked holding the basket out to her. She took it graciously.
"Harry, here are the chips, the serving spoon is at… er… 2 o'clock?" Neville offered.
"Thanks, Neville," Harry said.
They ate in silence for a little bit and Harry wished he could think of something to talk about, but all he could think about was how trapped he felt… and scrutinized. Why couldn't people leave him alone? He had a sudden memory of the spider-web laced underside of the stairs in his cupboard and how when he was stuck in there, he'd wished that someone (though fervently not the Dursleys) would notice him.
Guess I got what I wished for…
"Healer Jordan, do you have a place where you grow plants that need more shade than this garden? I mean besides the courtyard on the other side of the dining hall?" Neville asked.
"Yes, we do, Neville. We have a greenhouse that is located through the door on the west wall of this garden," Healer Jordan explained and Harry gathered that she was pointing. "We have Shrivelfigs, Devil's Snare (in a warded space, of course), and some other plants that thrive in low light.
He hadn't realized that there was another entrance into the garden and chided himself from resisting the urge to use his staff to describe the space. He had thought the wall was solid, but he hadn't walked on that side of the keyhole garden. He should have explored more thoroughly.
"Maybe after lunch, we can go check it out, Harry?" Neville asked.
"Sure, that'd be fine," Harry said, feeling a little tired and a little sad that he didn't share Neville's enthusiasm. "Did you still want to practice…" he stopped himself in mid-sentence remembering that Neville's Gran didn't want him flying on a broom … "er… playing exploding snap?" he quickly covered his gaff.
"Er, no. Not really," Neville answered confused.
"Right," Harry said, resolving to ask Neville about flying later—when his Gran wasn't there.
"Alice, put that down!" Mrs. Longbottom shouted and sprang up from the table more quickly than Harry would have guessed she was capable of.
Harry started, dropping his fork with a clatter against the plate.
"Augusta, it is perfectly fine for Alice to eat the mint. It won't harm her and we have plenty," Healer Jordan assured.
"... a danger to herself…" Neville's Gran was muttering to herself as she returned to the table and resumed eating again more vigorously than before.
Harry nibbled on a chip and wished that he hadn't been so eager to encourage Neville to invite his Gran to lunch. He was glad when the hour was over and Augusta and Alice were headed back to the Egress with Healer Jordan. He wasn't ready for Neville to go, though. Harry pulled on his arm, holding him back.
"Neville, I was trying to ask you if you wanted to try flying on my broom," Harry asked in a whisper as the wooden door creaked closed behind three witches.
"Maybe another time, Harry. I know I said I wanted to explore that garden, but I should be getting back… helping Gran with mum and dad," Neville said sounding as glum as Harry felt.
"Okay, when can you come again? Hermione's going to visit on Wednesday," Harry provided.
"I'll ask Gran and I'll send you a note… Oh, wait. How would you read it?" Neville asked.
"Remember, I have tools to help me read—my anagnóstis and digitus," Harry reminded him.
"Oh, yeah. Right," Neville said smacking his head.
"And I'm learning how to read braille," Harry said.
oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo
Harry was pacing in the reception area on Sunday morning waiting for the Weasleys (he wasn't sre who was going to show up to transport him to the Burrow) about ten minutes before he expected them to arrive.
Healer Jordan didn't think they should use the Haripreet Batra disguise again, afraid it had been compromised at St. Mungo's—so he was going to travel with the Weasleys under his invisibility cloak and they were going to use side-along apparition. He wasn't too keen on apparating again—but there didn't seem to be another way to travel. Harry had asked if they could open an Egress to the Burrow, but apparently, it wasn't magic that could be easily set up on a whim for a quick day trip.
"Okay, then can I have a bucket, please?"
The Egress opened letting in the sounds of Charing Cross Road momentarily and steps approached him.
"Hello, you must be Harry! Mum asked me to come to get you and take you to the Burrow."
"Er. You sound like a Weasley, but I don't know you, do I?" Harry asked.
"No, but I've heard a lot about you. I'm Charlie, Ron's older brother. I'm visiting for a few days—spend some time with my little sister. Dad had to go into work and mum was busy making a feast for your visit—and no one else can apparate yet, so I said I'd come to get you. Are you ready?" Charlie asked.
"Yeah, I just need to tell Healer Jordan I'm going. She's right through here," Harry said, heading toward the door to Healer Jordan's office behind the reception desk. He knocked on it.
The door opened.
"Healer Jordan? Charlie Weasley is here to take me to the Burrow," Harry said.
"Hi, Charlie. It's good to see you again. Those dragon's keeping you busy?" Healer Jordan asked.
"Hi Healer Jordan, nice to see you as well. Yes, we have a young Norwegian Ridgeback who is keeping us on our toes. She's feisty! I think you met Norberta, Harry?" Charlie said.
"Norberta? I thought…" Harry said as Charlie laughed. "Hagrid's going to be surprised."
"Yeah, I imagine he will be," Charlie agreed.
"Harry, don't forget to put on your invisibility cloak," Healer Jordan reminded him.
"Yeah, I've got it here in my bucket," Harry said swinging the bucket forward.
"What's the bucket for?" Charlie asked.
"Yeah, well. Apparating. I've only done it a few times and every time I do it, I spew. So, I thought I'd be prepared this time," Harry said, feeling his neck get hot.
"Ha! Well, I'll make sure to apparate us to the weedy part of the yard," Charlie said.
"What apparition point are you using—the one over on Cecil Court?" Healer Jordan asked.
"Yeah, that's what mum said to use," Charlie said.
"Okay. Did she also tell you that there's a reporter who's been trying to talk to Harry? It is very important that he's kept safe and that his story isn't made public. I imagine that you've got the training to keep a dragon like Rita Skeeter at bay," Healer Jordan said.
"Yes, don't worry. We'll be quick and I won't let anyone get near him," Charlie said. "Okay, Harry, why don't you put on your cloak. Here, let me hold your bucket while we walk over there."
He tapped Harry's hand with the back of his.
"Oh, you know how to do sighted guide?" Harry said surprised.
"Yeah, you know Godric Burbage, right? He works here. He's a couple of years older than me, but we were at Hogwarts at the same time and he taught me a few things," Charlie explained. "I used to play Quidditch with him. Brilliant on the broom, even after he lost his sight."
"Yeah, he helped me modify my broom," Harry said.
"See you, Healer Jordan," Harry said as they walked away.
"Have fun, Harry!" Healer Jordan said.
"Harry, I think you're going to have to collapse your staff—it keeps showing up under your cloak. I promise I won't let you run into anything, okay?" Charlie said.
"Okay, it's just… Ron…" Harry said.
"I can imagine that Ron isn't the most careful guide. Listen, Godric taught me well. I've got this," Charlie assured him as they stepped through the Egress and into the traffic din and diesel fumes of Charing Cross Road and easily skirted the rubbish bins that Ron had walked Harry into the weekend before.
They walked silently and at a brisk pace on Charing Cross Road, cross three streets. Harry relaxed after the first street crossing—Charlie was a skilled guide.
"We're going to turn left here," Charlie muttered under his breath as he turned onto Cecil Court. "Okay, here's the apparition point."
"You should take your cloak off so that you don't lose it while we're apparating," Charlie advised. "We're safe here. No one can see us."
Harry quickly stuffed the invisibility cloak in his staff and put the staff in his pocket.
"I'm handing you the bucket. You got it?" Charlie asked.
"Yep," Harry said, trying to quell his nerves. He wasn't looking forward to apparating.
"Okay, hold on tight. I'm going to turn toward you," Charlie said and Harry felt the squeezing sensation that he'd felt with Besel and Gemma on Thursday. Saliva flooded his mouth as his feet hit the uneven turf of the Burrow's yard and he staggered forward to his knees and shoved his head into the bucket just in time.
"Well, I guess it is good you know what you need," Charlie said from a few steps back. Harry heard Ron shouting his name from across the yard while he upchucked again into the bucket. So much for breakfast.
Harry muttered "Evanesco vomitus" and then "Aguamenti" as Ron's heavy steps pounded toward him. He sat back on his heels.
"Give him a minute, Ron," Charlie advised. "He's honking."
"Harry? Are you all right?" Ron said, slowing as he approached.
"Er. Yeah. Just apparating … is awful. I wish there was a way to travel by magic that didn't make me sick," Harry said. "Do you have mint in your garden?"
"Mint? Yeah, by the back door. Why?" Ron asked, crouching down in front of him.
"I'd like a leaf or two," Harry staggered to his feet, shook out his staff, and put the clean bucket in his staff's storage. "Navigant mint by the back door."
As he neared it, he realized he would have been able to find it without the navigation charm—the aroma filled the air and he was surprised that he didn't remember it from the last time he had visited the Burrow. He was glad for his staff that had guided him around the garden gnome burrows scattered throughout the yard.
"Your staff is telling you where the holes are?" Ron asked.
"Yeah, it's kind of brilliant that way," Harry said running his hands over the mint and inhaling the fragrance gratefully. He found a leaf and plucked it as he heard Charlie enter the back door.
"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, the back door squeaking again as she bustled out of the kitchen and enveloped him in a hug. He had been expecting it and so wasn't surprised. He leaned into her and hugged her back with the arm that wasn't holding his staff.
"Come on in, dear! Charlie said that apparating doesn't sit well with you. Come have some tea and I'll make you some toast to settle your stomach, okay?"
"Okay, thanks," Harry said, smiling weakly.
"How was your week? Thank you so much for the letters you sent to Ginny. They really have made a difference. Between you and the Mind Healer, she's making progress. And having Charlie here is helping, too," she said, relief evident in her voice.
"My week was pretty good, I guess," Harry said. "So, Ginny's doing okay?"
"Yes, you can see for yourself," Mrs. Weasley said as they entered the kitchen. "Er. Sorry. Ginny, Harry's here. Sit on this bench, Harry, and I'll get your tea."
Harry's knees found the bench (a bit painfully) and he reached for the table, sending a pile of papers (scrolls, he discovered when he bent to pick them up) cascading to the floor. Ron and Ginny rushed to help him pick them up and he stepped out of their way holding the scrolls he'd gathered awkwardly, not sure where to set them down, while embarrassment seeped into his chest.
"Oh, sorry, Harry," Ron muttered taking the scrolls from Harry. "Here, this spot is clear. Sit here." Ron pulled him by his hand to a spot further down the long table and placed it on the table. Harry put his staff away and swung his legs over the bench. Ron sat down next to him, rocking the bench.
"Here's your tea, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, the cup rattling slightly in the saucer as she set it down in front of him.
Harry couldn't hear Ginny anymore and wondered when she had slipped away.
Is she still in the room?
Someone slid something across the table toward him. He reached toward the sound and discovered the milk pitcher—though, in the path, he found an assortment of napkins and silverware as well.
"Thanks, Ginny," Harry said. He carefully poured milk in his tea and tried to set the pitcher down where he'd found it, but must have put it down on a utensil and it started tipping over. Harry caught it as he hadn't let go yet. A little milk sloshed out and over his hands. He felt underneath the pitcher, pushed away the silverware, found a napkin, and wiped up the mess he'd made as best he could. Throughout all of this, Ron and Ginny were making little noises—like they were watching an accident happen in slow motion that they couldn't stop. He imagined the expressions on their faces and grimaced.
"Hey, it's no big deal," Harry said, trying to convince himself. "Just a little spilled milk. Happens all the time, right?"
"Yeah, especially when Ron is around," Charlie chimed in, shoving Ron so that he bumped Harry.
"Hey, watch it, Charlie!" Ron protested and Harry mopped up the tea that had splashed in his saucer and on the table.
Harry felt the table rock and guessed that Charlie had slid next to Ginny on the bench across from them.
"How are you doing, sis? Why do you look so glum?" Charlie chided.
"She always looks like that, especially when Har…" Ron stopped himself.
Harry finished the sentence in his head, "especially when Harry is around."
"Ginny, are you still blaming yourself? Remember, we talked about this. It isn't your fault," Harry said quietly. "Maybe I shouldn't have come…"
He felt defeated. How were they going to get through this? He felt as though he were slogging through thigh-deep mud.
"No, I'm glad you came to visit, Harry. It's just hard to see you … you know … not being able to see," Ginny said.
"Ginny, I know it seems bad, but it's not as hard as you think. You could do it, too, if you had to. Here, I've got an idea," he pulled his staff out of his pocket and summoned his Gryffindor tie. "Tie this around your eyes."
She took it slowly from his hand.
"Got it? Can you see?"
"No."
"Okay, now drink your tea," Harry said.
"Well, of course, I can drink tea," she said a bit indignantly.
"Exactly. Of course, you can," he agreed. "Let's see what else you can do today without vision. I bet you'll be surprised."
"What, the whole day?" Ginny said.
"Well, you can take your blindfold off whenever you want, right?" Harry said, managing not to let any bitterness seep through.
"Okay, I'll try it."
"How about you tell me about what's going on in the kitchen right now," Harry said. "What do you observe?"
"Hmmm. Well, my tea has cooled down. Of course, I know that Charlie's sitting next to me and that you're across the table from me. Ron, are you still there? You're being awfully quiet," Ginny said.
"Yeah, I'm here," Ron said.
"Mum's making your toast—I can smell it. She's also got the dishes going from this morning—I can hear them in the sink. Oh, she's walking over here."
"What are you doing with that tie on your eyes, Ginny?" Mrs. Weasley asked as the plate clattered softly on the table in front of Harry. "Here's your toast, Harry. Do you want any jam? We have plum or cherry jam or a pumpkin spice that is quite tasty."
"Oh, I think I'll just take it plain—until my stomach settles, but thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said.
"Oh, right. That's very sensible, dear," she said patting him on his back.
"Mum, Harry's showing me what it's like to be blind today. I'm not going to be able to do my chores," Ginny said.
"Um, actually, Ginny—being blind didn't get me out of doing my chores. I'll help you, though," Harry said.
"What? Those Dursleys made you do chores when you couldn't see?" Ron exclaimed.
"Sure, I did my normal chores like cooking meals, washing dishes, cleaning the bathrooms, dusting, sweeping, hoovering, washing windows, mowing the lawn…"
Ron cut him off with his sputtering, "What? Weren't you supposed to be resting? That's what Madam Pomfrey said—she said you went home a month early to recover."
"What? These muggles that you live with put you to work when you were supposed to be recovering?" Charlie exclaimed.
"Well, I did get to sleep a bit more than they usually let me," Harry admitted.
"Harry, is that true? Did they really make you do all those things? They didn't let you rest like Madam Pomfrey ordered?" Mrs. Weasley asked—her voice at once sharp and disbelieving.
Harry didn't know what to say. They were all really quiet. He rubbed the spot where he'd burned his hand making sausages. Then to stop fidgeting, he tucked his hands under his legs and lowered his chin.
"Harry…" Mrs. Weasley had approached him and he flinched when she put her hand on his back and started rubbing in circles. "Harry, I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you, dear."
"I know," he said softly, his throat constricting.
"Oh, dear," she sniffed. "Well. I think it is great that you're going to show Ginny how to do her chores and get around without being able to see. It'll be a good challenge. Maybe she'll learn to appreciate what she has," Mrs. Weasley said taking on a forced cheerfulness that didn't fool Harry, but he was grateful to her for trying.
She squeezed his shoulders and planted a kiss on the top of his head, then went back to stirring a wet and sticky dough in a big bowl at the counter while muttering softly to herself.
"What are your chores, Ginny?" Harry asked.
"Well, folding laundry and feeding the hens and gathering eggs," Ginny listed.
"Oh, well, I just learned how to gather eggs this week—we visited a farm and I learned how to milk a goat, too," Harry said as he nibbled on his toast.
"Milk a goat?!" Ron exclaimed, "Why on earth …" but he was drowned out by a large explosion that shook the whole house and made plaster crumble from the ceiling like rain.