Harry was chasing a bell-charmed snitch through a dense fog when he realized that he wasn't on a broom at all—but in his bed and the morning alarm was ringing.

Another dream.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes, then swung his legs out of bed, fumbling groggily around the desktop by his bed to find his staff. He shook it out and headed over to the panel on the wall to shut off the alarm before Mei emerged from the depths of her tank.

He remembered that she'd cut herself in her attempt to reach him last night—that she jumped out of the tank and onto the floor. He imagined that she hated looking like a fish out of water in front of all their roommates—and yet that hadn't stopped her.

"Merlin, that's cold," he yelped when he stepped in a residual puddle of water that had escaped notice when Healer Jordan was drying the floor.

"Oh, good, you're turning off the bells—thank you, Harry," Mei said.

"Hey, no problem," Harry said as he found the panel and turned them off.

"Thank you, Mei, for helping me last night. I'm sorry I caused so much commotion," Harry said. "Your cut is all healed, right?"

"Yeah—it was just a scratch. I suppose it'll be my turn next to have an ear-splitting nightmare—though none of you will hear it because I'll be out at sea when it happens," Mei said.

"Oh, really? Where do you sleep?" Harry asked, nearing the tank.

"Just kidding. I have hammock here," Mei said and she grabbed his hand (he suppressed a momentary panic remembering when she'd dragged him into her tank) and brought it to a wet net that was finely knotted and stretched over the side of her tank. "My very own water bed."

"I guess my Uncle Vernon had one when he was a kid—that's why his back gives him trouble now."

"Oh, well, even if I weren't Jiāorén I'd think this is the best way to sleep—though I imagine I'd want the water to be a bit warmer. As it is, it is just perfect for me. It's one of the good things about this whole situation."

"Sleeping is good," Harry said. "What'd you do this weekend?"

"My family spent the weekend at our ancestral home on the ocean—on that island that … I almost took you to—er, you know, when you fell into my tank."

"When you pulled me into your tank?"

"Details. It was nice. They had to apparate to get there—but I was able to just swim through the Egress."

"Will you have a similar set up once you're at Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"Healer Jordan is working with them on it—they are, well, reluctant—but I think they'll come around. I'm pretty sure I'll have to continue my lessons with Hǎi rén anyway—so they'll need to Egress so that I can travel back and forth for those."

"How are those lessons going?"

There was a long silence. Harry's brows drew together as he tried to figure it out.

"Er, sorry. I shrugged. You can't see that. I dunno. I thought I'd be out of that stupid muggle wheelchair by now and getting around magically and you know, being able to try my wand again."

"So, slow going? How is Jiāorén magic different from wixen magic?"

"It's not that so much as I'm kind of an anomaly. Usually, you're either wixen or Jiāorén and I'm both. Hǎi rén says that it has to do with me… that I need to commit to being one or the other—that I can't be both. But I can't seem to decide, I guess."

"Really? I thought that you wanted your feet back?"

"Yeah, some days. But I can't imagine not being able to fly through the water. I can't imagine giving that up."

"Oh, yeah—I bet that'd be hard to give up. But you said you can't live with the other Jiāorén."

"I know. That's why I'm stuck. Neither here nor there," Mei said.

"But if you could choose, you'd be able to return to your life as a witch or go out to sea and live with the Jiāorén?"

"Yeah. Sounds simple, doesn't it."

"Not really," Harry sighed. If he'd been given that choice between being a muggle and being wizard he would have given up the muggle part of his life in a heartbeat. He had nothing tying him to that aspect of his life.

"And I'm not really a witch either, more wixen that witch," Mei said.

"What?"

"Nevermind," Mei said. "It's just that people expect black or white, but have no room for gray."

"Gray? Black or White?"

"Forget it. Forget I said it," Mei said, her tail slapping the water and sending a spray of water in Harry's face.

"Hey—it's okay to talk about things, Mei. I know it seems scary sometimes… Mei?"

He waited for a bit, his head cocked to the side listening. He ran his fingers along the side of the tank, trying to find Mei's arm, which he'd been sure was draped over the edge earlier.

"She left, mate," Arig said emerging from the toilet. "She's not there anymore."

"Oh, yeah—I knew that," Harry shrugged, feeling his ears get warm. "Right."

He turned away from the tank and paused—not sure what he wanted to do. Finally, he headed toward the toilet. He would be meeting his new instructor today.

oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo

"Hey, Gemma, I want to ask Peter about how he uses his staff, can you help me?" Harry asked as they were finishing up breakfast. Peter was sitting on Gemma's other side.

She tapped "sure," on his hand, and then drew a question mark.

"I want to know what it is like for him. Hmmm. I mean I was flying this weekend and I started to really be able to understand the vibrations from my staff better than before—and it was like feeling the shapes of everything around me. I wondered if it was like that for Peter. But I don't know the signs. Do you?"

She was tapping his hand like she understood and like she was thinking about it. He wished that he could write braille better so that he could write a note to Peter, but then he remembered that Peter was still learning braille like he was.

That probably won't work.

"Gemma, how does Peter read stuff? Does he have an anagnóstis that translated text into a morse code that he can feel?" Harry asked.

"M-O-R-S-E" space "C-O-D-E-?" Gemma asked.

"It's an old fashioned muggle system of communication that used dashes and dots—it was transmitted over wires—I guess with electricity or magnets or both, I'm not sure—and it used a small metal hammer that struck a metal plate—it would have vibrated in addition to making a sound, so I think someone who was deafblind would be able to understand it," Harry said.

"S-A-Y" space "A-G-A-I-N" space "G-E-T" space "P-A-P-E-R" space "U-S-E" space "D-I-G-I-T-U-S" space "B-R-A-I-L-L-E."

"I thought he was just learning braille like me," Harry questioned.

"Yes," Gemma tapped and then signed "good" on the back of his hand.

"He can read braille?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Gemma said.

So Harry spoke his question again and Gemma grabbed the paper and Harry used his digitus to translate it into braille for Peter.

Harry hit his head with the heel of his hand.

"I could have just used my Quick Quotes Quill! I forgot about it."

Gemma had passed the note on to Peter and after a bit, Harry heard Peter getting up from the table and walking toward him, using the backs of the chairs as a guide and his staff. When Peter's staff tapped against his chair leg, Harry could feel a bit of the tremor as the vibration pass up the chair leg. As Peter settled into the empty chair on the other side of him, Harry reached out his hand so that Peter could talk to him. They waved across each other's hands.

Peter started signing into Harry's hand—excited to share information—but Harry couldn't keep up. He didn't know enough of the signs yet. He kept having to ask Peter to slow down or to repeat the signs. Pretty soon Gemma was tapping on Harry's other hand and signing for him to get his notebook, pencil, and anagnóstis out of his staff so that she could translate. He signed "Sorry" on Peter's hand and then got the tools out for Gemma. He felt frustrated that he couldn't just talk with Peter directly and he sensed the Peter felt the same way.

"Peter is so excited to tell you about how to use the vibration features of the staff. I don't even know half the signs he's using to tell you about it. I've asked him to write it down for you and he's pulled out his slate and stylus and is working on writing it down. You can read it with your digitus. He's frustrated that he can't just tell you. Maybe he can show you? Like if you give him your staff and he sets it up like his?" Gemma wrote.

Harry could hear the stylus sliding over the metal slate and punching the holes in the parchment as Peter wrote much more quickly than Harry was able to write with the stylus and slate. Harry heard Peter unclamp the slate and slide the parchment over to him.

Harry used his anagnóstis to read it. Peter's hands fluttered over his for a moment as he was trying to discern what Harry was doing. He wrote a question mark on the back of Harry's hand.

Harry signed, "Sorry, me, slow, read, braille," and felt pretty skilled with that sentence in protactile signing. He let Peter feel his anagnóstis and wondered if it had magic that Peter could use.

Peter returned it to Harry and Harry used it to read the braille note:

"Harry, Thanks for asking about how I use my staff. The haptic signals that vibrate through the staff allow me to move independently through the world because I can feel it—the texture, how solid something is, if it is stationary or moving. It is amazing. I'm glad you've discovered how to use your staff that way, too. Every day I learn how to use it a little more effectively and feel more confident that I can return to my life as it was before I lost my sight. I also wanted to tell you that I'm glad to have met you and Gemma because you two take the trouble to talk to me and that has made a world of difference."

Harry reached over and scratched Peter's back—like he had an itch—it was a way to agree enthusiastically with something someone had said in protactile. It would be so awful to be so cut off from people. He felt a pang of sadness for Peter and then realized that he was doing exactly what he hated when people did it to him—when they first realized that he couldn't see and pitied him—imagining how horrible it would be to not be able to see. Yeah, he wouldn't wish for it, but it was manageable. There were worse things. There were worse things that had actually happened to him…

Being left on the doorstep of Number 4 Privet Drive.

He squeezed his eyes closed and tried to calm his breathing. He wouldn't do that to Peter. He would try to bridge the divide and be a friend… but he wouldn't let pity influence how he treated him. It was a worthless emotion.

Gemma tapped his arm, making the time sign and Harry realized that they needed to get to the O&M room for their core strengthening class with Ms. Midgeon. He passed the message on to Peter and asked if they could meet later to talk more about how to use the haptic signals, then they all got up to walk over to the class.

oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo

Harry had stayed late in braille with Madam Flamel going over a bit of text that was giving him trouble and was now rushing to get to his class with his new defense teacher on time. He was walking quickly through the library feeling a little harried—his fingertips raw from running over the tiny raised dots over and over again trying to make sense of them. He cocked his head from side to side trying to stretch out the tight muscles in his neck. He was making progress and it was still really slow going. He was going to have to spend more of his free time practicing braille if he was going to be able to read it once he was back at Hogwarts. Of course, he didn't need to read braille to attend Hogwarts—he had the anagnóstis but listening to something read aloud actually took longer than reading—so if he could read braille, he'd be able to complete his work more quickly (if he could learn to read braille quickly).

I wonder if I can speed up the anagnóstis—if I can make it read to me faster?

It was worth trying though sometimes the author's voices were annoying and distracting and that might be even worse sped up.

He was so deep in his thoughts as he walked through the library, that he was surprised when his staff tinged against something wooden in front of him. He stopped short, surprised.

"You seem lost in thought, Harry," Besel said from behind the desk that he'd just tapped.

"Oh, sorry, Besel. I was just thinking about how much more I have to learn so that I can read braille before terms begin in September," Harry said, feeling the heat rising in his cheeks.

"It does take time to learn, and you'll get the hang of it," Besel said. "Besides, you have tools that you can use while you're learning."

"Yeah. I guess so," Harry said. "Thanks. I've got to go so that I'm not late."

"No worries. I'll see you tomorrow for Practical Life," Besel said.

"See you tomorrow," Harry said as he turned and headed toward the corridor.

He slowed as he approached the O&M room and muttered, "Navigant map by the door," so that he could check to see what the layout of the room would be before he entered. He ran his fingers over the tactile map and listened to the description being spoken into his aftí and was surprised to find that it was a map of Hogwarts, specifically the second floor.

He hesitated. He wasn't sure he was ready to go back to Hogwarts just yet. He was standing there, his fingers tracing the second-floor corridor remembering his racing heart as he and Ron had tried to convince Professor Lockhart that they knew where to find Ginny, when he heard the nearby door open.

"Oh, there you are!" a voice greeted him. "Mr. Potter, I'm Professor Lupin."

Harry turned to the voice, his hand still held up in the air. He brought it down and stuck it out—expecting that Professor Lupin wanted to shake hands. Professor Lupin grasped his hand tightly and shook it firmly, surprising Harry.

"Oh, hello, Professor Lupin. I'm sorry I'm late. I was just checking to see what the layout of the room was before I went inside," Harry explained hastily.

"No worries at all. Well, are you ready? Let's get started, why don't we?" Professor Lupin said, lightly placing his hand on Harry's elbow as if to direct him.

Harry paused.

"Sorry sir, but do you know how to do sighted guide?" Harry asked.

"Oh, right, yes. Healer Jordan showed me," he said as he tapped the back of Harry's hand, allowing Harry to grasp his arm just above the elbow. Harry found that Professor Lupin was taller than Professor McGonagall, but not by much and about as thin—gauging by the bony arm he was grasping. The fabric of his cloak felt thin—almost threadbare and Harry was pretty sure he'd brushed against a patch—but thought it would be rude or weird, probably both, to investigate with his fingers, so he resisted. His voice had a raspy quality to it—like he didn't use it much. "I'm afraid, though, that I'm really new to this, so you'll have to forgive me and let me know when I do it wrong."

"Me, too," Harry said with a wry smile.

"So right. Well, here's the door," Professor Lupin said.

"Why are we going to Hogwarts, sir?" Harry asked as they passed through the door.

"Well, I thought you might want to get used to walking the corridors there now—so that when it is teeming with students, it is easier," Professor Lupin said as they went through the door and the pull of the Egress tugged on Harry's navel.

Harry was hit with the familiar odor of Hogwarts—a dusty, musty, swampy smell underlying the wax of countless candles with a smokey backdrop of smoldering fires overlaid with pungent potion vapors. It was a distinctive aroma—he'd never visited anywhere else that smelled quite like Hogwarts. He would have known he was there in an instant even if he hadn't felt the map. The air was cool, too, and a bit stagnant—but without the usual smell of sweaty teenagers that infused it during the school year—especially when Quidditch matches were in full force.

His staff hit the stone floor and the sound echoed around the corridor and down the deep hallway. He could hear the wind outside whistling through cracks in the stones and though it was mid-July, the castle felt as cold and clammy as it did in the middle of winter. Without the echoes of student voices and footsteps ringing off the walls, the place was desolate and eerie. He wouldn't have been surprised to hear the fleshy flapping of bat wings, disturbed by their echoing footsteps down the corridor.

He guessed that there was a suit of armor close by—he could hear it shifting slightly and took a minute to pay attention to how the suit of armor felt different in the vibration than a human body would—though it was the same shape. It was empty.

A murmuring across the hall on the wall made him wonder about the portraits—were they all watching him now?

Are they infested with nargles?

He wondered if the Center had considered the possibility that the portraits in the various institutions could be spies who were gathering information on the residents and a shiver ran down his spine quick as a mouse. He'd never really thought about that before.

He wanted to ask Professor Lupin, but didn't know him and didn't know if was the sort of impertinent question that would get him in trouble—so he kept the worry to himself and resolved to ask Healer Jordan or Besel when he saw them next.

"Okay, Harry, we're going to turn left and walk down the corridor about twenty feet or so until we reach my office door which is on the right. We'll start there—for this lesson, it is just the two of us, but we might have other lessons later with more students depending on the need," Professor Lupin explained.

A cold breeze erupted in front of Harry, making him pull up short.

"Mr. Harry Potter! And Professor Lupin! The portraits said you'd arrived! Welcome back to Hogwarts!"

"Sir Nicholas!" Harry exclaimed. "Thank you… "

"Greetings Sir Nicholas. Yes, we're here to conduct some lessons. I realize that the summer inhabitants of the castle are always eager for entertainment, but I need to remind you that our lessons are private. Also, I know Professor Dumbledore has reminded all the portraits about the need to protect the privacy of Hogwarts students and faculty, no matter how boring that is!"

"Well! I say! Can't a fellow Gryffindor be excited to greet two of his house without getting a lecture about privacy nonsense!" Sir Nicholas huffed as he floated away down the corridor from them.

"Bye, Sir Nicholas!" Harry called after him and heard a muttered response.

"Don't mind him. He lives for gossip. Er. Well. Dies for it. I don't know. Here we go."

The door creaked as they passed through it—the dense wood under Harry's fingertips felt well oiled and dented and he wondered how long it had served as a door. He could also feel a slight pulse of magic in the door.

"Sir, are there magical protections on this door?" Harry asked.

"Sure—all the thresholds within the castle are protected by wards and other enchantments for security measures," Professor Lupin answered. "Why?"

"Well, this was the first time I could feel it," Harry said thoughtfully.

"Maybe you're paying closer attention to what you feel these days?" Professor Lupin offered.

"Yeah, that could be," Harry said. "This is your office, then?"

"Yes, very good. It is arranged differently than the previous Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had it, though," Professor Lupin said. "Er…"

"I used my staff to get an idea of the layout, sir, so I'm set," Harry explained hurriedly before Professor Lupin launched into an explanation.

"Great—that's a handy feature," Professor Lupin said. "So, let's get started—here's a chair for you to sit in as we discuss what we're going to do and I'll just sit over here—at my desk."

Harry settled into the chair which turned out to be a rather comfortable wing back chair with fussy doilies protecting the armrests—something that Harry would find from Mrs. Figg's sitting room—but he sank into it gratefully. He ran his fingers over the lacy pattern on the doily, not sure what to expect from this professor who seemed a bit unnerved.

Is it the blindness or the "Famous Harry Potter" crap?

Whatever it was, he wished he had a spell that would make it go away. A smile played across his lips as he imagined casting an Evanesco to take care of it.

Professor Lupin seemed to be getting something out of his desk—papers or scrolls by the sound of it. Harry was really curious about the nature of their classes. So far, he had mentioned getting used to walking around Hogwarts—but that sounded more like a basic Orientation and Mobility lesson where he'd just be navigating with his staff. Not really Defense. And it didn't seem as though Professor Lupin had the training to conduct O&M classes.

"So, Harry, I'm curious. What do you think we'll be working on during these lessons?" Professor Lupin asked as he rolled out a scroll.

"Well, Healer Jordan said we'd be working on special Defense lessons—because of my … well, my history and my blindness. New vulnerabilities and all that," Harry said.

"Right, we're going to make sure you can defend yourself," Professor Lupin said. "And I understand you've already met with Voldemort twice … well, three times really… and come away… well, not unscathed, but better than he fared at any rate."

"Yeah, I guess so," Harry shrugged wanting to fold into himself.

Not unscathed. That's for sure…

"It's not that I did anything. I was just lucky… I guess."

"Right. Lucky. Well, we want to improve your odds so that next time, well, you have more than luck on your side," Professor Lupin said.

"Next time?" Harry said softly.

"The threat still exists, if not from Voldemort himself, then from his… followers," Professor Lupin uttered the words as if they were barbed and piercing his tongue.

"So, how do I defend myself then?" Harry swallowed. This conversation wasn't instilling him with a lot of confidence.

"Well, let's start with basic defensive spells and work up from there. I've heard from your instructor Ms. Midgeon that you have a pretty impressive protection spell, even if it is unusual in its appearance." Professor Lupin seemed to be a bit amused by this and let the parchment snap back into a scroll.

"She said that the last time I cast it, she couldn't see it… and she said that sometimes it could be useful to have a visible spell… though I can't really think of when that would be useful."

"Well, while you think about how a visible protection spell could be useful, let's move to the center of the room. I'm not sure I've known of another wizard who could cast it visibly. It may be that you've stumbled upon a new iteration of the magic," Professor Lupin said.

"Well, I have been doing a lot of stumbling lately…" Harry said wryly.

"Ha. I bet you have. Okay, I've warded that portion of the room off so that we could practice some of the spells," the Professor said as he slid his chair back.

Harry stood up and shook out his staff and followed the sounds of Professor Lupin's steps to the center of the room. He could feel the hair on his arms and the back of his neck standing on end and he wondered if that was in response to the wards that Professor Lupin said he'd put up.

"Okay, Harry—we're going to start working on casting protective spells in a setting when you know something is going to happen to eventually working in the element of surprise. I know your staff has the ability to cast a protective charm when there is an imminent threat—so would it be better if you set it on the desk collapsed and use your wand for these spells?" Professor Lupin asked.

"It still works when it is near me—I dropped it when I got hit by a cyclist crossing Charing Cross Road and it cast a protection charm that saved me from being run over by a lorry," Harry said.

"It sounds like your staff is a pretty impressive magical tool—I'm interested in learning more about it," Professor Lupin said.

"Yeah, it is pretty cool," Harry said.

*Bang!* Just like in the Burrow, Harry was crouching down under his protective spell before he knew what was happening. He wasn't sure if he'd thought enough to make it transparent or not. It was so instinctive.

"Forgive me, Lupin, I heard voices and thought there was an intruder. Professor Dumbledore failed to inform me that you'd be occupying these offices in the summer." Harry was jolted by the sound of Professor Snape's voice, distorted though it was through the barrier of his shield. And, from the sound of it, it seemed he had about as much regard for Professor Lupin as he had for Harry—perhaps even less. Harry felt some of his uncertainty about Professor Lupin fall away.

"Harry—it's okay—it's just Professor Snape," Professor Lupin said. "You can end your charm."

Harry hesitated. He felt a little safer around Snape with his bubble of protection around him, but he murmured "Finite" and felt the draft from the open door to the corridor move against his face.

"It is quite understandable, Professor Snape. Castle security is serious business. I believe you know Mr. Potter? Professor McGonagall encouraged me to use my Hogwarts classroom space and office for our lessons this summer so that Harry would have a chance to acclimate before he returns in the fall and she arranged for the Egress to be connected to the Perenelle Flamel Adaptation Center while she is acting Head Master in Professor Dumbledore's absence. It was my understanding that she was informing the staff, but no harm done," Professor Lupin explained.

"Oh, so the boy's injuries are not so grievous to prevent him from returning? I had heard otherwise," Professor Snape said.

Harry felt the back of his neck growing warm as he was sure that Snape was now raking him over with his sharp black eyes. His stomach knotted at the suggestion that he might be too damaged to return to Hogwarts. He felt the heaviness of Professor McGonagall's declaration that he couldn't fly seeping into his limbs again. He was taking shallow breaths, trying to calm himself.

"Was that a rainbow-colored shield charm, Potter?" Professor Snape sneered. "I can see why you merit special lessons."

Harry clenched his jaw and felt the heat spread to the front of his neck and his chest as he fought the desire to lash back.

"We have a limited time here, Professor, so please excuse us as we return to our lessons," Professor Lupin said in a dismissive tone.

"Certainly. It's obvious you have your work cut out for you," the professor said as he swept from the room.

Harry was pretty sure that he heard Professor Lupin mutter "git" under his breath before he turned back to Harry to resume their lesson.