"It's okay, just try it again. We can repair the table later. This time try slashing your wand through the air instead of just pointing to one spot—you're going to have to use the clues you have for your opponent's location. Rather than a specific location where you direct your spell, you're going to think of an area and keep that general area in your mind as you cast the spell. Now, from the top," Professor Lupin directed.

Harry listened intently to Professor Lupin's footsteps and the subtle swishing of his robes. He could hear Aminah scuff her feet on the stone floor beside him, and beyond the Professor, he could hear the grindylow in the tank sliding its nails against the glass. A stale warm breeze from the corridor was blowing in from the open door to the office to the right of the Professor.

Harry stepped forward and in one quick motion made a slashing zed motion while he thought the incantation… Rictusempra!

This time Professor Lupin burst into laughter and Harry knew his spell had hit its mark.

"Well done, well done!" Professor Lupin hooted as his wand clattered to the floor. There was a mad scrambling sound coming from the grindylow tank.

Harry used the same motion to end the charm and the screeching noise behind the Professor stopped, too.

"Did I hit the grindylow?"

"It appears so," Professor Lupin confirmed taking gulps of air and falling loudly into the armchair by his desk. "I don't think he liked it."

"What did you do, Harry—how did you hit him with the spell this time?" Aminah asked.

Harry explained how he figured out where Professor Lupin was and then imagined the space around him. "I guess I included the grindylow in that space and I should have thought of the space just before the sound of the grindylow… though I'm going to have to practice some more, because I keep thinking of the grindylow whenever I'm imagining the area."

Harry closed his eyes as he concentrated and it was as if he could taste the space in the room with his mouth. It was an odd sensation.

"Okay, Aminah—I'm ready for you to try again," Professor Lupin said as he walked toward the center of the room. Harry moved over to the side, behind Aminah so that she'd have room to work. He could tell that Professor Lupin was trying to be quiet, but he could still hear him moving.

"Engorgio!" Aminah shouted.

There was a whooshing sound as if all the air was being sucked from the room—Harry could feel it whipping past him along with sounds of the furniture moving across the stone floor in a cacophonous squeal and ripping.

"Oi! What's happening?" Harry and Aminah yelled simultaneously. "Professor, are you okay?"

There was a pained moan from near the ceiling.

"Aminah, end the charm!" Harry shouted.

"Fi… fi… finite incantatem!

The air started moving back past them, the furniture squealed again making Harry clutch his ears and there was a large thud ending in an "oomph!"

Harry rushed forward, swinging his staff before him and Aminah was right behind him.

"Well done, Aminah. Very well done," Professor Lupin said wearily from the floor. "I dare say, I should have blocked that one. Just didn't think it would be quite so forceful."

"Oh, Professor. I'm so sorry!" Aminah said.

"Not to worry! You performed perfectly. Nicely executed spell," Professor Lupin said as he struggled to get to his feet. He cast some repairing charms on his clothes and the furniture.

"Hmmm. I rather liked that wall hanging larger—I think I'll restore it to it's engorged size," he said thoughtfully, his back to his two pupils who were still hovering near him unsure of what to do. "Indeed—that is an improvement! Don't you think? Er… well, I suppose not. Sorry."

Harry let out a breathy sigh and heard Aminah do the same.

There was a tapping in the hallway and then a knock on the door, "Excuse me, Professor Lupin?" Godric said.

"Oh, yes, Godric. What can I do for you?" Professor Lupin walked over to him quickly.

"I have a message for Aminah and she'll need to be excused from the rest of the lesson," Godric said.

Aminah drew in a sharp breath and then started walking toward the door.

"No problem, we were wrapping up our lesson anyway. I hope everything is okay," Professor Lupin said.

Harry could hear Aminah speaking quietly to Godric, then he was pretty sure that they had left. Professor Lupin seemed to be fiddling with some papers at his desk now.

Harry was still standing in the middle of the room, his staff in hand. When he realized that he was alone with Professor Lupin, the images from his digitus sprang to life again in the memory of his fingers… four rough-housing boys running through the frame of the photograph, jumping on each other, wrestling, tumbling, and shoving.

Harry summoned the album from his staff and walked deliberately over to the desk where he could hear parchment moving.

"Uh, Professor Lupin? Sir?" Harry asked quietly.

"Oh, Harry! You're still here!"

Harry knitted his brows together.

"I just got distracted and thought you left, too. Forgive me. What is it? What do you have there?"

"This is a photo album that I found in my vault. I found some photos of… you… with my dad," Harry said as he held out the album and tightened his grip in an attempt to stop it from trembling, but it seemed to make it worse. He was about to take it back, put it in his staff again when Professor Lupin took it and eased it from Harry's hand.

"How did you look at the photos? Did someone describe them to you?" Professor Lupin said, his voice soft and slow, like he was talking to a lost child.

"I have a tool… a digitus… it translates the flat images into three-dimensional forms that I can feel," Harry explained, pushing aside his annoyance, and summoning the digitus from his staff.

He held it out to the professor.

"Will you show me how it works?" Professor Lupin said as he put the album on the desk between them and opened it up, the pages rustling and scraping by each other.

The professor made a barely audible gasp, whispering "I remember that day!"

Harry wondered what the page showed, but he swallowed the question and slid his hands along the surface of the table until he found the album, then felt the page to figure out which way it was facing and where the side of the photograph was. His neck grew hot as he felt the oppressive silence and imagined the professor holding his breath as he watched him using his fingertips to see.

He placed the digitus on the side of the image and drew it across… not sure which image it was, if it was one he'd recognize right away or one he'd have to puzzle over for a while before he understood what was going on.

"Oh, well, that's brilliant," Professor Lupin said.

Harry felt the image and discovered that it was one with his father and his four friends—they were squeezed through a window of the Hogwarts Express. He kept one hand on the figures and the other went down to glance over the braille of the caption.

It read: "Year 6, Peter, Sirius, James, and Remus."

They jostled each other as they were pinned together in the window frame and when their mouths weren't moving as they talked, big grins stretched across their faces.

"It seems like you knew my dad well," Harry said as he felt a sharp ache start to gather momentum as it swirled in his gut and rose to his throat.

"Yeah. I did," Professor Lupin said.

"What happened?" Harry managed to ask, though it felt as though air could barely pass through his windpipes.

"Ah, what happened…" Professor Lupin sat down heavily in his chair and when he talked again it was as if he held his hand over his mouth. "Yes. Blimey. Harry. Your dad, your mum—they were so happy. So in love. And it didn't seem to matter that there was a war. That You-Know-Who was gaining so much power and so many people were following him… and they married and had you, and then… well, you can't imagine how joyful they were… you were the embodiment of their love, you were everything to them… especially because they had both lost their parents… and James didn't have any siblings, and your mum's sister… well, they weren't close… Oh. I'm sorry. That's probably painful to hear."

"No, it's fine. I knew that," Harry managed to say.

"Of course you did. Well. You know what happened… with You-Know-Who…"

Anger burst through in a hot wave that forced his strangled voice out, "I know that he murdered them and that he tried to kill me, too. But what I mean is … where did you go? Where did these other friends go? Peter and Sirius? Why didn't I know about any of you until I found this album?"

Harry listened hard… he couldn't hear anything… he couldn't hear Professor Lupin breathing or shifting or anything. All he could hear was his own heart raging and his shallow breath rasping as he struggled to gather air.

The grindylow in the tank behind the desk made more noise gurgling and scratching against the glass than the man sitting two feet away from him. Harry was tempted to reach out, to grope through the air to see if he was still there.

When he finally did speak, Harry had to strain to hear him, his voice was so low.

"It's a good question, Harry. Yes, where was I? Where were James and Lily's friends when you needed us?"

Harry waited, trying to convince his heart to stop its erratic thumping that was drowning out everything except the blood pounding through his temple.

"I confess… I didn't expect this question so soon and I'm not prepared… I don't know how to give you an answer. All I can say is that, yes, I should have been there for you and I wasn't and there is really no excuse. I'm sorry."

Harry felt as if he had been plowed down by a lorry… he had played this scene through his head a few times and this was not one of the possible responses that he'd imagined. He thought that maybe Professor Lupin had been grievously injured during the attack, too, and spent all this time recuperating and just was released from St. Mungo's or perhaps he had been recovering from amnesia in Australia or America or even the Isle of Wight… someplace too remote to manage a visit or to send an owl. A hundred other scenarios had gone through his head, but none of them as weak as this one.

"That's it? You're sorry?"

Anger rolled off of him in waves and he had to get out of there before something exploded. Before he exploded.

He snatched up the digitus and the album, the three-dimensional forms of his father and his friends preventing him from closing it all the way. He clutched it to his chest and turned on his heel, forcefully tapping his way through the door and down the corridor—hitting everything in his way as hard as he could with his staff.

"Harry… wait. Please…" Professor Lupin's fragile voice followed him, but Harry didn't stop. His feet slapped the stone floor as he hurled himself down the corridor and instead of traveling through the Egress, he kept going—letting his stomping feet carry him along the corridor until his tip rang against stone—a wall, he thought. But when he reached out to press his hand against it, he fell forward onto stairs, one knee cracking against a sharp edge.

He turned and sat on the stair and rubbed his knee until the pain had dulled to an ache. His breath came in hard rasps that tore at his throat. He steadied himself, then found the album that he'd dropped and opened it to the form of his father and his friends.

Some friends.

He ran his digitus (still clutched in his fist) over the image as hot tears squeezed from his eyes so that he could close the album, then put both the album and the digitus in his staff.

More deliberately, Harry stood and turned. He placed his right hand on the cold stone wall of the castle and used his staff to find the next step on the narrow side of the staircase, and made his way up the dizzying spiral of stairs, wincing as his bruised knee bent.

There were no tapestries or portraits on this staircase (at least as far as his hand could find) though he did encounter a few cobwebs—some with his hand and some that he walked through, sputtering.

He didn't recognize this staircase. He had no mental image of where it led. And he didn't care. He just wanted to get far away… as far away as he could get.

The air grew hotter and thinner as he climbed and the stairs smaller and more uneven—as if the maker thought that this staircase would be so infrequently used that no one would ever travel this way.

The staircase kept going on and on. Every once in awhile he'd come across a narrow window, but with no glass and the hot July air whistled through the opening bringing the fecund aroma of the Forbidden forest sometimes and at other times the dank odor of the lake—so that Harry was getting a sense of west and south as he spiraled up the tower.

The staircase was dark except for the slices of sunlight that split his head open unexpectedly. After the second time, he just kept his eyes closed.

When his staff thunked against wood instead of the familiar ting of stone, he realized he'd reached the top. When he stepped up into the small space—he could tell that there were a lot of windows because the light was so bright even with his eyes closed. Tentatively, swinging his staff into the space at the top of the staircase he explored and discovered a very small room with a ceiling that was just above his head by inches.

Ron would have had to duck in here.

The room had one small desk with a chair next to a window. Harry wiped the sweat that was running down his face with his T-shirt as he sat on the rickety chair. The small room was sweltering even as the breeze blew through the room. He made a fountain from his wand and drank water and then sprayed it on his face and in his hair to cool down.

His anger had ebbed as he climbed the stairs. His legs felt rubbery and his hand raw from running it over the stone wall for so long. He leaned back in the chair and let his head rest against the cool stone wall. The air from the window had begun to cool him down now that his head was wet from water and not just sweat.

As his heart returned to a more peaceful cadence and his chest stopped heaving quite so much, he heard a whistling that seemed to be growing louder as it neared. He braced himself, expecting to hear footsteps soon, but none came. Instead, he was pierced with a cold wind that passed through him.

A ghost?

"Hello?" Harry asked.

"Young sir, pray tell, how come you by these quarters? Did you forget to travel home? Your peers are not here. The school is closed until after the harvest… or perhaps you lost your way—you are blind, are you not?" The voice was soft and silvery, but it echoed in his head as if it were an empty shell.

"Yes, but no, I didn't lose my way. I mean, I don't know where I am, but I came here to think. I don't recognize your voice… I don't think I've spoken to you before. I'm Harry…"

"Harry… just Harry?"

"Yes, just Harry…"

"Just Harry, I'm known as the Grey Lady. I've seen you before… you weren't always blind."

"Oh, yes, I remember you. The ghost of Ravenclaw tower."

"Yes," she said, her voice etched with despair. "I seek solace up here. It is rare to find someone in this forgotten tower. Most can't find it. But you have… rare … qualities."

"No… I don't think so. I just stumbled on it. Literally."

"No, you don't just stumble on this tower, the castle permits access and shows the way. You must have been deemed worthy and in need of what it offers," the Grey Lady corrected.

Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck and arms rise, even though he was still wet from sweat and the water he'd doused himself with.

"What does it offer?" he asked slowly.

"Perspective," she answered passing close to him—he felt a coldness across his forehead as if she'd touched his brow. "I suppose for you it is more metaphorical."

He shivered as her chilling fingers traced his jaw, then went down to his shoulder and trailed off and he was pretty certain from the way the room seemed to get warmer, that she'd passed through the wall.

"Grey Lady?" he asked.

Her voice answered him from outside the window, "Yes, Just Harry?"

"Is there a balcony to this room?"

"Of sorts. There is a gargoyle—don't worry—she's a friend. She'll let you sit upon her back. Most want to ponder the view. Crawl out the window," the Grey Lady advised.

Harry went to move the desk, but found that though it felt like wood, it was as heavy as stone. He climbed on top of it and then felt the window casing. The stones were rough and uneven and covered with a gritty grout caught up in cobwebs. He sneezed a few times as he tried to clear the dust.

He hoped that the spiders were long gone as they must have been large given the size of the webs. Harry felt along the window until he found the ledge then traced the form of the gargoyle that emerged out of the tower just below the window sill.

"Hello, Gargoyle," he said, wondering if he was mad to even consider climbing out on to the beast.

The rock beneath his hands rumbled… no, purred… in response and all of his misgivings left him. He could feel the cool breeze that the wind was lifting off the lake and he knew that the view must be spectacular because he could hear forever… it was even more vast than the distance he could feel over the lake at Mount Blanc.

How is that even possible?

"Is it okay if I climb onto your back?" Harry asked.

The purring deepened and Harry stretched his hands in front of him, looking for something to hold onto. First, the stone was smooth and rounded, then about two feet out it became textured, a series of rivulets and it started arching up. He followed the curlicues of stone tendrils and found symmetrical pyramids.

He was about to grasp them as handholds as he slid his legs onto the torso and then paused.

"Are these your ears?" he asked.

The gargoyle rumbled deeply.

"May I hold them?" Harry asked.

The purring stopped abruptly and Harry moved his hands down, away from the ears.

"Try a little higher. I think she'll let you hold onto her horns if you're gentle," the Grey Lady said from his right.

He wondered what gentle meant to a stone gargoyle and if the Grey Lady was standing on another gargoyle or simply floating in the air. The thought of how high up he must be made his heart speed up and he took in a deep breath as he traced one hand over the top of gargoyle's head until he found a horn that fit nicely in his hand and held onto it while he eased out onto the back of the beast. He grasped the other horn and sighed as the gargoyle's purring ratcheted up and he felt as if he might be vibrated right off. He clung on with his thighs and resisted the urge to flatten his body against the length of the stone statue.

Suddenly, he felt something pushing against his knees and calves—something emerging from the sides of the Gargoyle that made a terrible grinding noise—stone moving against stone.

"Oh, she likes you! She has a treat for you. I told you that the castle thinks you're worthy! Hang on."

Harry brought his knees up higher and felt something smooth extend below his legs as the Gargoyle leaned forward and down. His grip on the horns tightened until he couldn't feel his fingers anymore. His grip with his knees felt precarious with less space to hold onto.

And then they were soaring… the enormous stone statue had sprouted wings and was gliding through the air as though it was made of feathers and not marble.

The Gray Lady seemed to hover right behind them, following them as they plummeted toward the earth—she narrated the path, describing the wings of the school and towers that they were flying by and then they were skimming over the surface of the lake.

"Ah, the giant squid is waving its tentacles at you," she said, clearly delighted. "Bye, Just Harry! I'm returning to my tower."

Droplets of water splattered across his face, confirming the visual.

"Wait—how do I get back?" Harry called after her, but she didn't answer.

Harry was certain that they were no longer over the water—the sounds had changed.

"Wha' yer doin', Harry?" a deep voice called from far below.

"Is that you, Hagrid?" Harry shouted in delight.

Hagrid whooped in response.

The Gargoyle swiveled her head and then started to speed toward Hagrid's voice and then they landed on earth that gave way under the immense statue. The Gargoyle started nuzzling Hagrid's belly, her head turning back and forth beneath Harry's hands and her purring even louder than before.

Harry slid off the back of the Gargoyle and was engulfed in a giant hug, his face buried deep in the steel wool of Hagrid's beard laced with his unique aroma of smoke mixed with something gamey.

"Harry! Yer here at Hogwarts!" Hagrid said as he patted Harry on the back.

Harry extricated his face from Hagrid's beard.

"Yeah, I was having lessons with Professor Lupin," Harry explained.

"Flyin' on the back of Juren part of your lessons, then?" Hagrid asked as the Gargoyle continued to purr and rub against Hagrid like a gigantic cat.

"Her name is Juren?" Harry asked.

"Yes, she's a good guardian, yes she is!" Hagrid said, kneeling down on the grass to scratch the beast vigorously—it sounded like he was rubbing rocks together.

"I suppose I should go back to the Center, before Hermione sends out a search party. We're supposed to be meeting before dinner," Harry said.

"I'll walk you up… the Egress is on the second floor, by the Professor's office?"

Juren's footsteps were heavy on the earth—shaking Harry as she strode next to him. He reached his hand out and up to touch her back, grazing her folded wings as he found her shoulders and she rumbled in response.

"Thank you for the flight, Juren," Harry said and he realized that the burning anger was all gone—probably floating in the ether above the lake somewhere.

She turned her large head and laid it on his shoulder for a moment—it was heavy and warm and then she bounded off.

"There she goes!" Hagrid said as her footsteps were no longer audible on the grass. "What a beauty!"

"You need a hand, Harry?" Hagrid asked as Harry shook out his staff.

"Can I hold onto your sleeve?" Harry asked.

"Sure, there you go," Hagrid said. "So, what's Hermione doing at the Center?"

"She's in the library, of course, doing research."

"Ron been to visit yeh, too?"

"Yeah, all the Weasleys—it was a madhouse! And Neville, too."

"That's good, that's good," Hagrid said, his large feet sounding on the gravel walkway to the entrance.

"What have you been doing this summer, Hagrid?" Harry asked.

"Oh, I've been busy. Real busy. Summat big. Nuttin' I can speak of, but come start of term, you'll see!" Hagrid said as he opened the great door to the main entrance, the wood groaning and the hinges squealing as they always did.

"Oh?" Harry asked, breathing in Hogwarts' aroma and feeling the cool, damp air from the dungeons brush against his skin.

"Nope. I can't tell yeh. Yer hafta wait jus' like everyone else!" Hagrid said with a smile in his voice. "But I suppose I could … well, I'll jus' wait."

"What?"

"Nuttin'," Hagrid said as he started up the stairs to the second floor. "So, yer getting around well with that stick."

"Yeah, it's my staff. It is really handy. It has lots of magical features that make it easier to get around."

"So, yer learning lots at that Center?"

"Yeah, lots of spells that I didn't know and other things…" Harry thought of things he'd learned so far that weren't so tangible… navigating emotions and friendships, mucking through sadness and frustration and anger.

He was pretty certain that they were walking by Professor Lupin's door now—the corridor had a familiar smell. Harry was quiet.

Maybe I wasn't quite fair to Professor Lupin…

He thought about going in to talk to him, but the thought made him really tired. And Hermione couldn't stay long. He'd talk to the professor tomorrow.

"Here yeh are, Harry! T'was good to see you. Yeh know, with this Egress, you can pop over to visit me anytime you want," Hagrid said, patting him on the back.

Harry put his hand on the wall to keep from falling over.

"I will. I'll come to see you, Hagrid," Harry promised as he walked across the threshold and back into the Center.

"Give Hedwig a nuzzle from me!" Hagrid said as the Egress closed.