As Harry and Ginny headed back to the kitchen, Harry tried out the vibration setting on his staff to see if he could navigate through the house the same way as he had flying around the orchard. The hallway was definitely doable—he could discern the walls, floor, and ceiling and even gathered that there was a fair assortment of pictures on the walls—family photographs from what he remembered.
"Harry, I can kind of feel the vibrations through your body—I can't really make sense of them, but maybe with more practice…" Ginny said.
"Really? That's kind of cool. I want to talk to Peter more about this—I think it is what he uses," Harry said.
"Who's Peter?"
"He's also a resident at the Center—he's in another dormitory room. He was already hard of hearing and then he was in a Potions accident and lost his sight. Erumpent powder, I think," Harry said.
"Oh, wow. Both deaf and blind? How do you talk to him?" Ginny gasped. "That sounds really lonely."
"We use a form of sign language where you touch to talk—it's called Protactile. That's how Gemma and I talk, too," Harry explained and he paused, putting the staff in the crook of his arm where it continued to give him information about his surrounding, including the fact that Ginny had raised her arm to move her hair. He touched the back of Ginny's hand that was on his arm. "This means walking or going, depending on the context."
"Wow, you're really learning a lot, aren't you?"
"Yeah. I guess I am," he said, taking up his staff again.
They were back in the kitchen and it was definitely more challenging to interpret all the haptic messages he was getting from his staff—but he was able to navigate to the kitchen table where he found spots for both of them. He realized that he was using his four remaining senses more fully than he ever had before—it wasn't just interpreting the messages from his staff. He was listening to the sounds of the Weasleys moving around the room and their voices, the sounds of the various magical objects working—the knitting in the sitting room, the pots washing in the sink, the ticking of the ever-present clock, the crackling of the fire—coupled with the smells of food cooking mingled with the gentle smoke from the fireplace. He could even tell where things were piled high on the table and where it was more open—avoiding sending a landslide of scrolls to the ground again—the vibrations were definitely better than the constant stream of words now that he was getting the hang of interpreting them.
Ginny settled next to Luna who had moved on to Erklings with Fred and George. Charlie had joined in on the discussion, too.
"Oh, those are in Romania, too—they have to ward homes and schoolyards against them," Charlie said.
Harry felt Ginny shudder next to him.
"What are Erklings?" Harry asked.
"Nasty elf-like creatures that eat children—though I always thought that parents made up those stories to keep children from wandering off," Ron said with a mouth full of food from Harry's right.
"Ronald Bilius Weasley! We do not start eating before our guests have been served!" Mrs. Weasley hissed from across the room.
Harry heard Ron swallow quickly.
"Sorry, mum," he muttered.
Harry started to get up, but Ginny pulled him back down. "Where are you going?" she whispered.
"I was going to help out," Harry whispered back.
"It's all ready—we just need mum to sit down so that we can start. The only way that'll happen is if everyone is at the table waiting," Ginny explained. "Hey, how do you eat without seeing? Sorry, that's a stupid question."
"Hey—it's okay. It's mostly the same. I mean, you don't always know what stuff is, right? If someone else made it and put it on your plate—so you have to figure that out, but if you can get it on a fork or spoon, you'll be okay. Sometimes it is a little tricky. We use the face of a clock to describe where things are—like your pumpkin pasties are at noon and your bangers and mash are at 6 o'clock," Harry said.
"Ew," Ginny said.
"Well, you know. Just examples," Harry said.
"So, does your staff help you find things on your plate?" Fred asked.
"No, though I suppose I could use it like that—it usually describes bigger things—but I could probably ask it to help me find things on my plate. I haven't really tried that yet," Harry said.
"You should charm your glasses with that Navigant charm so that when you're, you know, looking at things, it could tell you where they are," George said. "Or your fork… Navigant pickled beets. Or better yet, have your fork summon bites of food onto it. Accio peas."
"Ha! That's a good idea. How do you put a charm like that in an object?" Harry asked. "Is it like what your dad did with the Ford Anglia?" Harry asked.
"That infernal car!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed as she set yet another clattering platter of food on the table. He was pretty sure it was roasted asparagus.
"Oh, sorry," Harry cringed.
"Oh, Harry, dear, don't you worry. I just… well, I told Arthur that a world of trouble would come crashing down on us if ever word got about that monstrosity… and then there it was zooming across the pages of the Daily Prophet. You know, we still get howlers about it?" she sighed as she settled into her chair at the head of the table. "Well, what are you waiting for? Let's eat! Percy, dear, please pass the Steak and Kidney pie to Luna. Careful, the pot is hot."
"Fred, if we put that charm on my glasses, then I could use just the silver tip on my staff or the vibrations on my staff. But when I say Navigant—how would my glasses know that I'm talking about them or my staff, for that matter? That could get confusing," Harry mused.
"You should ask Godric—I think he's already figured out a lot of this stuff," Charlie suggested.
"Yeah, I will. Hey, Fred and George, you guys like to make things—I need a wallet for my muggle money that I could use in front of muggles, but that maybe could help me keep track of the money—so that I know what I'm grabbing. Do you have any ideas—like how I could make something like that?" Harry asked as held the hot dish of Steak and Kidney pie for Ginny as she scooped some out on her plate.
"You mean like how the maps at the Center spoke to you in your aftí when you ran your hands over them? Isn't that just a simple translation charm?" Fred said.
"I dunno, I guess?" Harry shrugged. "Do you know how to cast translation charms?"
"We use translation charms for Dragon texts a lot—they are often written in languages that aren't spoken anymore. I might be able to help you with that—if you have a wallet you want to modify. You'd probably want to add some pockets to it, right?" Charlie said.
"Well, actually—I don't have a wallet. I just have a bag that I keep my wixen money in…" but he was cut off.
"Oooh! Wixen! I love that term. Have you been reading Sapience by Matilda Millicent?" Luna asked. "She survived being drained by vampires, you know."
"No, but maybe Hermione has—she taught me that term," Harry said as he attempted to grab some asparagus with tongs and transfer them to his plate. He finally felt some flopping between in the grip of the tongs and carefully lowered them onto his plate. He passed the bowl on to Ron and held it in the air for a long time waiting for Ron to take it.
"She's very clever," Luna stated. Harry kept hearing an odd little noise when Luna moved that he couldn't quite figure out—a subtle dull tapping. It did help him locate her in the room, though.
"Ron, would you like some asparagus?" Harry asked.
"Ew—no," Ron said. "I hate asparagus."
"Can you take the bowl, though? I don't know where to set it."
"Oh, yeah. Sorry, mate," Ron muttered.
Harry knew he should also hate asparagus, but he actually liked the spears… maybe it was because Dudley loathed them and Harry always got generous helpings of them and they were never stolen off his plate. Usually, he liked to spear it and eat it from the tip to the base, but he didn't want to embarrass himself in front of everyone. Even with sight, it was challenging to catch the floppy tip between his lips. Once he was able to spear one of Mrs. Weasley's with his fork and knife and cut it into smaller pieces, he was in heaven—so buttery and just the right amount of tart.
"Oh, Harry, I'm so glad you like my asparagus!" Mrs. Weasley said. "I've been working on this crop for years now—and this is the latest in the season we've been able to enjoy it. Ronny doesn't care for it, though."
"Just leaves more for the rest of us, Mum!" George said.
"Is it really the last of the season?" Ginny said.
"Yes, I saved it for Harry's visit," Mrs. Weasley said.
"Oh, how do you cook it? Mine is always a little too soft and I like how yours are just the right amount of firm, but still melt in your mouth," Harry said.
"Oh, you cook asparagus, too?" Mrs. Weasley said while Ron groaned loudly.
"Erm, yes. My Aunt Petunia insists that asparagus needs to be steamed, but I think you roasted yours, right?"
"Hmmm," Mrs. Weasley said at the mention of his Aunt.
"Oh, for the love of Merlin!" Ron exclaimed.
"Shush, Ron. Yes, I roasted them with olive oil, salt, pepper, and parmesan cheese. Just 15 minutes in the oven. The trick, though, is to sprinkle them with lemon juice right before you serve them," Mrs. Weasley said.
"I'll have to try that…" Harry stopped mid-thought.
"Harry, you're not trading cooking tips with our mum, are you?" Fred chortled.
"How old are you, really?" George joined in.
"At least 40!" Fred said. "But well disguised in the knobbly-kneed body of a 12-year-old."
Harry's neck grew warm and his ears began to tingle.
Knobbly-kneed.
"I, for one, appreciate that Harry is interested in cooking," Mrs. Weasley said coming to his defense, but managing to make it worse. "But I'm really concerned that your family expected you to do all that work when you needed to be resting—and how did you do it? You hadn't even had the training yet for learning how to get along without… without your sight."
"I just figured it out, didn't I. Not much choice," he said, trying to make himself smaller on the bench.
"You could have told them no!" said Ron. "That's what I would have said."
"Right, you would have, Ron. Do you even remember the size of his uncle? All he'd have to do is sit on you to squash any kind of rebellion," said Fred.
"Yeah, I'm sure Harry has done whatever he can—after all, he's the mighty midget who slew the thousand-year-old Basilisk," said George.
"Oh, did you kill Salazar Slytherin's serpent then," Luna asked. "That's what all the portraits were saying, but I wasn't sure if they had been misled by the nargles."
"What?" Harry asked, distracted.
"Well, being able to cook for yourself is a marketable skill, isn't it? I'll tell the rest of you lot that I appreciate mum's cooking more and more as I am on my own," Charlie said and clambered off the bench where he was sitting and, by the sound of it, had walked over to Mrs. Weasley and planted a loud kiss on her cheek.
"Aw. Sweet Charlie, dear. I'm so glad you came home—even for a short visit. It is so good to have you here," Mrs. Weasley said, sounding tearful as she patted his shoulder.
"Well, as I'm sure you know nargles are quite mischievous and there was a large infestation at Hogwarts in the mistletoe and I suspect that they may have been responsible for quite a bit of misinformation spread by the portraits…" Luna said sedately.
"And mum and Harry, I could also write to the Ministry or whoever needs to hear that Harry's situation with his muggles sounds bad," Charlie said, sitting back down. "I mean, I'm just hearing bits and pieces, but why have you been with them so long?"
Harry gulped. He really didn't want to talk about this with everyone. He tried to shrink even more into the bench, curling inward.
"No one, as far as I can tell, has embarked on a thorough cleansing and eradication of the nargles from the portraits," Luna continued. "When I spoke to Mr. Filch about it, he was quite rude."
"How do you eradicate nargles, Luna?" Harry said, feigning interest.
"Well, they are hard to eradicate—so that might be why Mr. Filch was so cross. I wear my butterbeer cork necklace at all times to keep them at bay." Luna was eager to explain.
"Are you sure it is working," Ron snorted.
"Well, yes, Ron. I am," Luna said leaning forward to speak to Ron. "You can tell by the color of my fingernails. They'd have a tinge of green, wouldn't they, if I were under their influence."
Harry rubbed his thumb across his fingernails wondering what color they were.
Ignoring Ron's continued noises of disbelief, Luna continued, "Eradication from magical paintings requires acromantula venom suspended in a boggart slough solution. Not a very stable potion, of course."
"So, where do you get your boggart slough solution from, Luna?" Fred asked.
"Hush now, we're not going to discuss the trade of illegal substances at this table," Mrs. Weasley said a bit fiercely. "Fred and George, if I so as much find a drop of boggart slough in your room—you will be… well, rueing the day, that's for sure. You haven't even healed from the explosion this morning! Your eyebrows are quite pink still—I'm sure they are still tender."
"Mum, may I be excused, please?" Percy asked over the twins' grumbling.
"Oh, Percy, don't you want to have conversation with your family?" Mrs. Weasley said, sounding hurt.
"No, I think I've had enough for now. I'd really like to be on my own," Percy said a bit stiffly.
"But Charlie isn't home often and we have guests. I want you to try for a little longer, then you may go."
"Fine," Percy harrumphed and sat back down heavily on the bench.
"I made lemon custard tarts for dessert, Percy—I know you love them," Mrs. Weasley chirped as she got up to fetch the platter.
"Oh, all right," Percy said sounding a bit mollified when the platter was set down on the table.
"Harry, after we clean up, let's go up to my room. I have some… oh," Ron said.
"What is it, Ron?" Harry asked.
"It's just… well, I wanted to show you… well, Charlie picked up the latest issue of Seeker Weekly—I want to show it to you… but I really didn't think that one through, did I? Sorry, mate," Ron said.
"Hey, it's okay, Ron. I have a digitus now. It transfigures flat images into three-dimensional ones that I can feel," Harry said. "We could show Ginny, too."
"Ugh," Ron said under his breath.
"It's okay, Harry. I'll hang out with Luna. Is that okay, Luna? Can you stay for a while?" Ginny said.
"Oh, yes, that would be lovely. Father's been quite busy with the latest issue of the Quibbler, even the gernumblies seem to have grown weary of my company," Luna said.
"You kids go on and play with your friends. Fred and George are going to help me do the dishes today," Mrs. Weasley said to a chorus of groans.
"Thanks, mum!" Ron and Ginny exclaimed.
"Hey—where's your gratitude for us?" George and Fred asked in unison.
"Thanks for blowing up the house!" Ron said cheerfully and it sounded like he got whacked in the back of the head.
oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo
As Harry sank into his pillow that night listening to the sounds of water lapping against the sides of Mei's tank, he let his mind wash over the day with the Weasleys. He sighed remembering how Ron had spoken to Luna.
True, Luna was a bit odd, but there was something about her that grew on him, even after she'd forced his hand down the gnome hole. He rubbed his bandaged index finger remembering.
The twins had a hard time containing their glee at the information she gave them about the garden gnomes… and later he heard them asking her again about where to get boggart slough from.
Ginny is definitely doing better.
He was relieved. She had spent the day blindfolded and seemed to get happier and be more herself as the day progressed—well, until it was time for him to go. But he understood. He had a hard time leaving, too. Even though he had a new defense teacher he'd be meeting in the morning.
That actually made him nervous. What was he supposed to be learning how to defend himself against now? His gut seized remembering his first visit to the Forbidden Forest at night and his encounter with the floating cloak covering the miasma of Lord Voldemort that had fed on the dying unicorn.
Maybe it was better not to be able to see those things?
He shuddered and flipped over to his side, pulling his covers around himself more securely.
oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo
Harry was running down a dark stone corridor, up ahead flickering green lights were casting eerie shadows. The walls were oozing a black liquid muck that was collecting along the edges, creeping out into the corridor. Behind him, something enormous was after him—suffocating the air out of the corridor.
He kept looking over his shoulder, trying to see what it was, but it was always just outside of his field of vision. He just knew that he had to stay ahead of it, but the harder he ran, the slower he seemed to go.
Up ahead the flickering green lights were getting brighter, but he could also see a red form on the floor that filled him with dread.
A black shadow was hovering over the form and then the shadow had a huge mouth and it bent to swallow up … Ginny.
Harry screamed as if he could drive it away with his voice. He reached out, trying to grab Ginny before she was consumed, but then he felt the monster behind him and it was everywhere.
It swooped down, trying to pierce his eyes with its razor-sharp beak. He covered his eyes with his arm.
Underneath his collar he could feel the pincer grasp of an insect as it clung to his shirt, then scurried down his back. He flinched trying to shake it off.
He was on his broom now, zooming through underbrush and low hanging branches.
A potato-headed creature latched on to his toe, biting and suckling his blood. Others like it pursued him on miniature brooms as they flew through a forest of asparagus.
And then suddenly a serpent was grabbing him, shaking him, pulling him to the ground, it was slimy and scaly, and he was wet, covered in muck and still screaming…
"Harry, Harry! Would you just wake up?! Dammit!"
He yelled again, "It's trying to get my eyes! I can't see! I can't see." He recoiled from the scaly body of the snake, screaming again, and holding his arm over his eyes.
"Harry, there's no snake! Mei, he thinks your tail is a snake. Move your tail out of his reach," Tony was shouting.
Tony. Mei. Harry stilled. His throat hurt. He was wet with sweat and seawater. He reached out trying to get his bearings and found that he was halfway on the floor, his sheets wrapped around his legs still up on the bed.
"I still can't see," he said dully, resting his cheek on the floor.
"Yeah, that's the part of the nightmare you don't wake up from," Arig said.
Harry sobbed and hiccuped trying to stop the sobs. Then he kicked angrily at the sheets trying to untangle his feet, then flopped to the floor.
"Arggh!"
"Hey, watch it, Potter, you're going to crush my fins," Mei exclaimed.
"Settle down, would you?" Tony's voice was coming from the end of the bed.
"Is Harry okay?" Aminah's sleepy voice came from the far corner of the room.
"Yeah, he just had a nightmare. Obviously," Mei griped. "Geez. Is this going to happen every time we return from a weekend? Maybe you can get your own room? Or you can share with Gemma, she'll sleep through it… no wait, here she comes. Great. It was probably the lights. Now we're all up. Well, we can have a party," Mei said slapping her tail on the ground.
Harry recoiled at the sound, still trying to get his feet out of the sheets.
"Settle down, it's just my tail," Mei groused.
"Sorry," Harry shivered. He listened as Gemma made her way to his side, her feet slapping in water. She must have grabbed a towel on her way because she draped on over his shoulders.
"Thanks, Gemma."
"Harry—are you okay?" Healer Jordan asked.
"Oh, when did you get here?" Harry asked.
"Just now. The wards alerted me to a disturbance. Was it just a nightmare?" she asked.
"Yeah, I guess so. It seemed so real," Harry said.
"Okay, I'm going to cast a drying charm on you," she said and he felt his pajamas heat up and the puddle of water he was sitting in dry up.
"Thanks, Mei. Oh wait, you have a cut on your fin. Do you want me to heal it?" Healer Jordan said.
"Um, yeah. I guess I didn't clear the tank," Mei said as Healer Jordan started chanting.
"You jumped out of your tank for me?" Harry said.
"Hey, you were being murdered. What else could I do?"
"Thanks, Mei," Harry said quietly.
"Anything for the Boy-Who-Lived, ya' know?" Mei teased as she flopped back to her area of the room.
"Great," Harry sighed. Gemma was rubbing circles on his back.
"I'm heading back to bed," Arig announced as the sound of his crutches moved across the room.
"Yeah, me, too. Glad you're okay, Potter," Tony said.
"Harry, I think this restorative potion might help you sleep a little better," Healer Jordan said as she pressed a vial into his palm.
Harry felt the top and found no cork, so he drank it. Soon, he felt very sleepy.
"Gemma, I'm really tired. I'm going to go back to sleep, okay?" Harry said.
She tapped "okay" on his arm—she had been straightening his sheets from what he could gather from the sounds and she pulled his hand over to his bed.
"Thank you for sorting them out," he said and she made the "welcome" sign on his hand.
"Harry, if you need anything else, let me know, okay? You know how to summon me, right?" Healer Jordan asked.
Harry nodded. "Thank you."
As he drew his covers up to his chin and nestled down into his pillow, he realized how many people had sprung from sleep to make sure he was okay. He was surrounded by friends. True friends. He waved across Gemma's hand in response to her wave goodbye and let sleep take him.