"Hagrid said to say hello," Harry told Hermione when he found her in the courtyard—where they agreed to meet to share the pastries.
"You saw Hagrid?"
"Yeah, I got quite the tour of Hogwarts today on the back of a gargoyle," Harry said as he settled next to Hermione on the bench. The feeling of flying was lingering in the back of his throat like a melted caramel.
"A gargoyle? Like the one guarding Dumbledore's office… where was it?"
"It was on a tower—a small one that I don't think I've ever seen before. I never really noticed gargoyles on the outside of Hogwarts… have you?" Harry asked and when Hermione said no, he went on. "But they have to be there, don't they? Hagrid knew it by name. Juren."
"Gosh. And it gave you a tour?"
"Yeah, a flying tour. It was strange—not like riding broom—more solid—kind of like being on a carousel ride."
"Oh, that sounds kind of lovely."
"Yeah, it was good. The Grey Lady was the one who told me about the gargoyle. I wouldn't have even known it was there."
"The Grey Lady of Ravenclaw? She talked to you? I thought she didn't talk to anyone."
"She was pretty talkative today," Harry said. He thought he heard footsteps on the stairs from the Owlery and turned toward the sound.
"Tony's here," Hermione said in a whisper near Harry's ear.
"Hi, Tony," Harry greeted, budging over so that there would be room for him on the bench.
"It's okay—I'll sit here on the grass," Tony said.
Harry had summoned the pastries from his staff and was holding the crushed box in his lap.
"Oi, I saw your friend… the round-faced one who went flying with us…"
"Neville?" both Harry and Hermione supplied.
"Right, Neville. Couldn't remember his name. Anyway, he was sitting with Gemma inside the Braidwood room—they were signing—I think Gemma was teaching him," Tony said.
"Oh, that's good. He wanted to learn," Harry said and deliberately speaking over Hermione's surprised, "What? Why?"
"I invited them both to join us—but they said that they wanted to keep working instead," Tony said.
"Oh, well, that's fine. I'm glad you invited them," Harry said.
He opened the box and held it out to Hermione and felt the box get lighter and unbalanced as she took a pastry.
"Tony, do you want me to get yours out for you?" Hermione asked. The box tipped precariously as she reached in for another pastry and Harry used his other hand to steady it.
"Um, would you please? I'm still working on my fine motor skills as Ms. Midgeon says," Tony said, trying to laugh. "Thanks."
Harry placed the box in his lap and then gingerly felt around the edge of the box to discern where the remaining pastries were. His fingers sank into cream and he pulled them out, tempted to lick off the cream, then decided he just had to go for it, so plunged back in, getting the sticky goo all over his fingers until he was able to find the more solid pastry underneath the topping. He sniffed it, reveling in the faint spicy aroma and getting cream on his nose as Hermione dissolved into fits of giggles.
"Oi!" Harry protested, trying to lick the cream off his nose with his tongue.
"You just looked so surprised!" Hermione managed to gasp. "And Tony's got some on his nose, too!"
Harry scooped a bit of the cream off his pastry and flung it in the direction of Hermione's voice and it landed with a satisfying plop.
"Oh! For heaven's sake, Harry! Are you two?"
Tony started laughing, "How did you manage to get a direct hit? No wonder Mei thought you were faking it."
"Ha! I just listened for the sound of her voice—and I'm sitting right here—not that hard," Harry said as he licked the cream off his fingers. He regretted flinging it as it was delicious—the creamy texture perfectly balanced with the cinnamon and nutmeg spice—when a dollop landed on his forehead and slid into his eyebrow. He thought it was bird poop at first until Hermione giggled.
"Oi! Who's the two-year-old now!" Harry said as he took off his glasses and wiped the cream off his face, licking his fingers to clean them.
Their giggling shifted to delighted moans as they bit into their pastries—the buttery pumpkin with just enough sugar to take the edge off of the bitter spices.
It was quiet for a bit. As he cleaned up his sticky hands and face, Harry was listening to a flock of little birds in the tree that were hopping around and chittering at each other… beyond that—he could hear the horns and rumble of muggle traffic—the grinding of construction and rattling of the trains. Filtered through the fragrances of the herbs in the garden was the underlayer of London's aromas—petrol and hot pavement, sewage, and baked goods. It seemed a stark contrast to the smells and sounds that had been all around him at Hogwarts—the vast openness—no sounds of muggle technologies at all, the fresh clean air of the Scottish moorland mixed with the dank lake odors and the decomposing rot of the Forbidden Forest. It was so jarring to travel between them by crossing a threshold with just the pull on his navel to indicate the distance he had traveled.
He reached behind him to find the herbs that grew at the base of the tree and brushed his hands over the soft and spiny plants. He plucked a thin lavender leaf, crushed it under his fingernail, and brought it to his nose, inhaling the pungent fragrance.
"That smells good," Hermione commented and he picked a stem for her.
oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo
The Egress door had just closed behind Hermione and her parents, eclipsing the sounds and smells of Charing Cross Road completely, when Harry heard Healer Jordan's clipped footsteps enter the reception area. He took a moment and tried to grab a hold of his sense of loss and tuck it away before he turned toward her.
"Harry, I was looking for you. Do you have a moment?" Healer Jordan said. "Could you come to my office for a quick chat?"
"Er, sure," Harry said, his heart skipped a beat as he took Healer Jordan's elbow.
She guided him to the chair by her desk and he waited expectantly while she sat down.
"I have an update for you about your… er the Dursleys," Healer Jordan said.
Harry tried to calm his flittering heart.
"I've been working with them in the hope of convincing them to come to the family visiting this weekend, but they are refusing to attend."
Healer Jordan seemed perturbed. Harry was not surprised (on either account). He raised his eyebrows and shrugged.
"I'm very sorry about that Harry as I feel that family support would help with your adaptation to your blindness, but considering… everything… it might be for the best. As much as I would like to be able to remove you from their … house… Professor Dumbledore has convinced me that to do so could expose you to real danger. We have reached a compromise and while the Dursleys are not being as cooperative as we would like, they are going to permit a magical guardian to stay with you at all times while you are at Privet Drive. You need only to stay there for one more week this summer to strengthen the blood bond wards… your time there this summer before you came to the Center has already counted toward that bond. I'll let you know who the guardian will be as soon as we have made the arrangements. After that week is over, you'll return to the Center for more specialized training and preparation for your year at Hogwarts," Healer Jordan said.
Harry breathed out the breath he had been holding. He supposed it could be worse news…
The Dursleys actually coming to Family Visiting…
Having to stay five weeks at Privet Drive instead of just one…
He wondered who would be appointed his guardian and he wondered how that would work.
"Er, I don't think it'll work to have a magical guardian at Privet Drive… my Aunt and Uncle have a hard enough time with me…" Harry said. "I mean, where will they stay?"
"I assure you that we'll make sure it works… if not we'll come up with another solution. What we will not do is leave you alone in their custody ever again," Healer Jordan said with a finality that made Harry's heart expand in a way that he'd rarely felt and he blinked his eyes rapidly to try to rid them of the pricking.
"Oh," was all he was able to utter.
"We'll make sure that the guardian is someone who can respect muggle culture as well as advocate for you."
"I'm sorry I'm so much trouble," Harry said, slipping his hands under his knees.
Healer Jordan had hopped up from her seat and was around the desk before Harry really realized what was happening. She was kneeling in front of him, her hands on the arms of his chair, her breath warm on his face… a hint of coffee on it.
"Harry, listen to me," she said fiercely. "You are not trouble. You have a right to be treated with respect. You have a right to be cared for and protected. You are worthy of love. Do you hear me?"
He nodded.
"Can you say it out loud?"
He shrugged.
"Please try."
"Ye..yes, I… I… hear you?" he managed to squeeze out.
"That's a good start. I'm going to say it again and I'd like you to think about what I'm saying and if it feels right, to try repeating it to yourself… Harry, you are not trouble. You have a right to be treated with respect. You have a right to be cared for and protected. You are worthy of love."
He nodded again as tears splashed onto his knees.
Healer Jordan summoned a handkerchief and offered it to Harry—she sat in the chair next to him while he wiped his eyes and blew his nose.
They sat in silence for what felt like a long time as so many thoughts swirled through Harry's mind. A sudden, sharp knock on the door made Harry jump. Healer Jordan went to the door to answer it.
"Oh, hello Professor Lupin. What can I help you with?" Healer Jordan greeted.
Harry hurriedly turned his face away from the door, hoping the professor couldn't see him or that he'd been crying.
"I need your advice about a student… I was hoping to talk to you privately about the matter?" Professor Lupin said. "Is this a bad time?"
"Er. No, but I was just wrapping up with a student. If you could just wait outside for a few moments, I'll come to get you when I'm ready."
"All right. Thank you," Professor Lupin said and Healer Jordan shut the door softly.
Harry stood up and shook out his staff.
"Healer Jordan, could I leave through the Herb Garden?" Harry asked.
"Certainly, I'll guide you to the door. You don't have to leave—if you need more time, you can take it, Harry. Here or in the treehouse," Healer Jordan offered.
"No, it's okay. I'll go. I need to work on my braille."
"All right. And thank you, Harry."
"What do you mean… Thank you? I haven't done anything. You … you are doing so much for me. What have I done…?" Harry was perplexed.
"Harry. You have been willing to receive… you have been open to learning how to do new things… you have been willing to do the big work. Thank you for all of that," Healer Jordan said as she took up his hand and clasped it with her own.
Harry had a feeling that if anyone else had said these things to him he would have brushed them off as insincere at best and manipulative at worst, but there was something about Healer Jordan that made him feel so safe. So he tried to accept it, though it was hard. He thought that maybe the best he could do was accept it temporarily and then give it to someone who was actually deserving of it… Gemma. He'd give it to Gemma. Maybe she could accept it.
He closed the gate to the garden after he'd said good-bye to Healer Jordan and started across the stone path. He slowed when he heard little sounds near the center of the garden.
"Oi, Harry!" Neville greeted. "I'm here with Gemma. She's teaching me sign language. Can I show you what I've learned? She taught me a couple of protactile signs, too."
"Neville—you're still here?" Harry said. "Hi, Gemma."
"I came back after dinner. Did you have a good visit with Hermione?"
"Yeah. It was good. And I saved one of Tony's pastries for you and Gemma. Do you want it now? It's really delicious."
Harry heard Gemma approaching him and knew by the cautious way she touched his offered hand that she'd seen that he'd been crying.
Of course, she noticed.
He couldn't help but wipe at his eyes again, under his glasses.
"It's okay—just talking with Healer Jordan about some stuff," he said softly, hoping that Neville couldn't hear and knowing that he couldn't read the slip of paper from that distance.
She squeezed his arm in response and guided him to the bench where they were sitting. He was starting to pull the box out of his staff for them, when Neville touched his arm. Harry put down his staff and held his hands in the air, waiting for Neville to place his hands under his own to sign.
"Er, oh," Neville said and then his pudgy hands were under Harry's making tentative movements that Harry finally figured out was the greeting, "hello," repeated several times.
Harry smiled at Neville as Gemma made a smiling/laughing sign on his arm.
Harry signed back, "Hello," and fingerspelled Neville, then Neville took his hands and showed him his name in BSL. Neville's hands were moist and his fingers fumbled around so much that Harry was confused, but Neville was clearly so determined—he wanted this badly.
Harry imagined that his tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on how to move his hands to teach Harry the sign. On his other side, he could feel Gemma ghosting the sign—as if she were coaching Neville through the movements. Harry repeated it slowly a few times until it felt comfortable.
"It feels like a tree, Neville."
Neville signed "yes" enthusiastically and Harry felt the warmth of a smile in his touch.
"Have you learned signs that you want to try with your mum?"
His "yes" was more hesitant and Harry wondered what he'd sign to his own mum if she were the one trapped in a body that seemed disconnected from the world around it.
"Neville, what are you doing this weekend? Would you like to come to the Center? We're having family visiting… and I was wondering… I'd like it if you could come…" Harry stammered through the request.
"You want me to come to your family visiting?" Neville asked.
"Yeah. Only if you'd want to…"
"Yes, I'd like that, Harry. Thank you."
For the second time that evening, Harry felt as though he were being thanked for something that he didn't deserve.
oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo
Harry's feet took him to the Monte Blanc room before he realized that's where he wanted to be. He knew he should be heading back to the dormitory to work on his braille—he needed to work on memorizing the list of contractions—there were so many that he still didn't even recognize. But what use would it be to graze his fingers over the braille while his mind was flying over the lake on his broom?
I won't remember anything anyway.
He checked the room's layout and pulled his broom out of his staff, then fitted the staff into his broom and took off from the threshold.
The sun was setting, but still bright—so he closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath of mountain air, grinning to himself. Riding his broom felt a little incongruous after his ride on the back of Juren earlier that day—like drinking pumpkin juice right after brushing his teeth.
He climbed up into the air so that his feet were trailing over the tops of the trees on the mountainside. The birds flew up around him in small bursts if he flew too close to their roosts—so he pulled on his broom handle and edged a little higher. He followed the vibrations that told him where the trees were down to the shoreline of the lake where he could hear the insects and frogs calling to each other. The musty decay of water plants and algae-rich mud rose off the surface of the lake and mingled with the crisp air from the mountainside.
Harry pressed his chest against the handle of his broom and zoomed just above the surface of the lake. He liked the way the wind picked up droplets of water to make a mist that coated his face. Around him, the sounds traveled so far until they bounced off the rocks fringing the lake and back to him in a continual feedback loop that made him feel as though he were a speck in a vast space.
He rode along the surface of the water with no direction in mind—just enjoying being able to zip along with his hair and clothes whipping behind him and not worrying about stumbling over something in his path or trying to figure out if someone was talking to him or someone else in the room or if he had dribbled food down his front. He didn't have to think hard about where he was or remember exactly where he'd set down something. He could wiggle and zig-zag and he wouldn't step off a curb unexpectedly.
He circled around the island and then headed out to the other side of the lake that he hadn't explored much yet. When he was nearing the far shore, he started curving back along the shoreline and in the distance, he could feel a faint vibration that felt a little out of place. As he flew closer to it, it became more clear as a shape in the water—something above and below the surface. He slowed down as he approached it… it was moving—bobbing up and down with the water—more in the water than out of the water.
"Oi, Harry!" Mei called to him. "You can tell I'm here?"
"Mei! I couldn't figure out what you were," Harry said.
"Yeah, me neither," they stated.
Harry laughted appreciatively and hovered right in front of them.
"Do you want to try flying? I have Arig's extra broom in my staff. I could pull it out for you."
"Oh, do you really? I'd like that. I was feeling a little jealous watching you zoom around. I followed for a bit, but then I just sat here in the water and watched. You sure can fly."
"I need to get my staff out of my broom—so let's go over to that island."
"I'll race you!"
Harry was doused in lakewater as Mei dove below the surface of the water and started zooming toward the shimmering island ahead.
He followed just behind Mei—fascinated by the way his vibrating staff communicated their form under the water as he flew above. It was beautiful.
Mei was laughing as their form burst from the water near the shore, clearly delighted at arriving first. Harry jumped off his broom and waved his arms back and forth trying to regain his balance while his feet slid in the mud. He could feel water seeping into his trainers.
Mei laughed harder as they flopped next to him on the shore.
Harry took his staff out of his broom handle and summoned Arig's broom.
"How am I going to mount the thing?" Mei asked after he handed it to them, their laughter dying down.
"Hmmm. Hadn't thought of that," Harry said as he put his staff back into his broom—he was holding his broom up in the air, trying to keep the bristles out of the mud. "What if I levitate you? Remember that night with Tony? Arig taught me the spell… Moblicorpus." Harry had flicked out his wand and moved it through the air until it touched Mei's shoulder.
"Oi! Okay. Steady now, up higher. That's right okay, I'm going to put the broom under me—it means I'm going to move my arm—on three… one, two, THREE!" Mei let out a shriek as they wobbled toward the water and then a whoop that faded away as they sped across the lake.
Harry hopped on his broom and chased after them, also gleefully shouting—his voice trailing behind him and echoing off the surrounding mountains.