"You mean like for potions ingredients?" Harry asked, rolling the fine strand between his index finger and thumb.
"Well, can you think of some other uses for unicorn hair now that you've used the locating spell on it?" Professor Lupin asked.
"Well, you could use it to find things… can you locate potions or other things that use unicorn hair? Like the way Aminah's wand also sang when the spell was cast? It wasn't so loud, though. Was that because her core hadn't been exposed to moonlight for as long? These strands that we just found… will they keep singing like this or does the moonlight fade after time?" Harry wondered.
Harry heard Aminah approaching from behind Professor Lupin, her progress noisy because of all the leaves and sticks underfoot.
"Those are all really good questions, Harry. You're on the right track… let's head… Oh, hold on, Ami…nah… stop!" Professor Lupin yelped and stumbled, landing heavily on the ground at Harry's feet.
"Professor? Are you okay?" Harry asked, reaching for him as the professor thudded against his legs.
"What's going on?" Aminah cried out.
"Wait—don't let the unicorn hair touch me!" Professor Lupin said forcibly, scrambling on the ground.
Harry drew his hand back—the strand of hair still held between his fingers.
"Wait… why?" Aminah asked.
"Are you allergic to unicorn hair?" Harry asked as he transferred the hair carefully to his hand that was holding his staff and then bent down again to help Professor Lupin stand up. Harry was surprised to find that Professor Lupin was trembling.
"Yeah, it's something like that," Professor Lupin said as he stood up—moving a few feet away from them.
"What happened, sir?" Harry asked, his brows knitted together.
"I didn't think this through… please forgive me," the professor said, his breath labored. "I should have told you that I can't touch the unicorn hair."
"Why not?" asked Aminah. "You're not a werewolf, are you?"
"What?" Harry exclaimed.
"Er. Yes. I am. I should have taken Healer Jordan's advice and told you from the beginning… Of course, she was right," Professor Lupin said with an edge in his voice.
"Lycanthropes can't touch unicorn hair… and vice versa… it's the light/dark dichotomy… Professor Kettleburn said that it was part of Nicholas' Flamel's theory… we studied it last year in Care of Magical Creatures… that was right before… I was injured," Aminah said.
"Yes, exactly. Spot on, Aminah."
"So are you also working with Arig?" Harry asked.
"Yes—of course, you know about Arig's condition," Professor Lupin muttered.
"Gah. I hate that word. 'Condition.' It sounds like we all have the plague or something," Aminah moaned. "But why didn't you want to tell us?"
"Well, yes. I can see why you think of it as an odious word… though the 'Condition' that plagues me … and believe me—it is like a plague… well, maybe what I truly suffer from is other people's fear and misconceptions. That is the true 'Condition' and it hounds me wherever I go and in everything I do. The Center is an unusual place… I wish… well, it is neither here nor there. But at any rate, it is just recently that it has been able to provide a safe haven for Lycanthropes where we can learn how to adapt to this rather dramatic change in our bodies with very little of the typical loathing and prejudice. Arig is truly lucky… as far as werewolves go… and even though he lost a limb in the process, I admit that I do harbor some envy for his situation… to not have to hide the true nature of the tragedy of what happened to him from the people he is closest to… that is a gift that few Lycanthropes can enjoy," Professor Lupin said.
Harry couldn't keep his horror from flashing across his face at Professor Lupin's confession that he envied Arig. He tried to get his revulsion under control, but he could tell by the way the professor paused and tried to backpedal a bit that he was reacting to what he'd seen in Harry's expression.
For a moment, Harry remembered what it was like to read a person's expression and ached for when he could glean important clues from the way a person's skin color changed, mouth compressed, or eyes lit up. He had honed these skills living with the Dursleys… Uncle Vernon was the easiest—everything he thought was mapped on his face in bright blotchy colors, but even just a twitch of the corner of Aunt Petunia's mouth would tell Harry if he was going to be able to get away with something or, more likely not, and with Dudley he could gauge just how far he could push his cousin with his verbal taunts by the way his eyes would widen as if the pressure behind them was intensifying and usually was able to stop just in time. He found that he could read most people's faces pretty accurately and was more attuned in school than his classmates to when a teacher was going to lose it.
But somehow, during the last couple of months, he had been transferring that skill to auditory cues… he could tell when people were facing him when they were talking and when they looked away, he interpreted the little pauses and stumblings people made when they were talking much the same way he read a face in the past … though he was still sussing out when someone was pausing because of something they were seeing was distracting them or if it was something that they were thinking about.
Harry shook his head to bring himself back to the present.
"You all right, there, Harry?" Professor Lupin inquired, taking a step closer to Harry. "I know it is a lot to take in. I had planned to tell you in a more … well, dignified manner, not by tripping over my own feet to avoid getting burned."
"What happens when you're touched by unicorn hair?" Harry asked.
"It burns me—even a single strand is like being touched with a red hot poker—a very small one, mind you, but it is still very painful. You'd avoid it, too, if you'd ever felt it." Professor Lupin said, attempting to laugh, but falling short.
"Oh, aren't there clothes with strands of unicorn hair woven into them?" Aminah asked.
"Fortunately, I'm too poor to ever come in contact with them," Professor Lupin said sardonically.
"Who would wear unicorn hair clothes?" Harry asked.
"People who are really afraid of werewolves," Aminah said.
"And very wealthy," said Professor Lupin.
"Sounds itchy."
"So do you also have to avoid potions that are made with unicorn hair and horns?"
"Yeah—I actually carry this vial of antivenom that I have to take immediately if I've ingested something with even trace amounts of unicorn horn powder or a fragment of a unicorn hair," Professor Lupin said and Harry heard Professor Lupin rustling around in his robes. "Arig has one, too. I think he carries his in his crutches."
"Are there other potion ingredients that you have to be careful to avoid?"
"Well, silver of course, and phoenix feathers and tears—but it depends… actually, I'm not exactly sure… but I've been cautious around them because they are closely aligned to unicorns—as you noted earlier, Harry…"
Harry sucked in a breath and touched his face where he'd been cut earlier.
Could it be?
"What is it? Harry?" Aminah asked.
"Nothing."
"Right—that cut on your face… do you want me to… oh, I was going to offer to heal that cut on your face—but you've already taken care of it. How did you do that?"
"Oh, I don't know. It just got better," Harry said, feeling his face heat up as he remembered the tears streaming down his face. The tingling sensation… he had felt it before. He turned away from Professor Lupin, but he couldn't help but run his fingers over the smooth skin on his cheek that had been swollen and tender when they had entered the clearing.
"Just spontaneously?"
"Yeah," Harry said. "So, what's next? Are we hunting for more unicorn hairs?"
"Er, no. But… er… so you two are really okay with the fact that your professor is a werewolf?"
"Um, yeah?" Harry and Aminah answered almost simultaneously.
"Well, all right," Professor Lupin's voice broke. "Right, right. Let's head back to the castle. Aminah, will you lead the way?"
"Sure. Navigant Hogwarts entrance."
Harry listened to Aminah's footsteps as she found the trail through the forest—her staff rustling through the leaves and sticks and hung back a bit.
"Professor… does being a werewolf… does it have anything to do with why you didn't come to visit me after my parents died?"
"Well, it definitely played a part… but I… er, this is a conversation for another time… let's catch up with Aminah. We don't want her to get too far ahead of us."
"But we'll talk later, right?" Harry said, starting down the path.
"Yes, I promise. I owe you that at the very least."
"When can we talk about it?"
"Would tonight after dinner work?"
"Oh, well, I was going to go with Gemma to visit Neville's mum…"
"Neville? Neville Longbottom? Are you visiting Alice? I thought that she and Frank were…"
"Neville's been learning some sign language—he's hoping that he'll be able to communicate with his mum," Harry said, the memory of Neville's excitement warm in his gut.
"Does he?" There was something in the quality of his voice that made Harry think that he didn't think the attempt would work… and the warmth Harry had been feeling turned into a flash of anger. He bit back words and lashed out at the undergrowth with his staff, whacking the branches and tree trunks on either side of his path until his staff got hung up on something and he stumbled.
"Watch it there, Harry!" Professor Lupin called out from behind him.
Harry righted himself and stomped a little less ferociously along the trail.
"Well, if tonight doesn't work, how about sometime this weekend? I'll be here for family visiting… oh, but you'll be busy with your family… never mind."
"They aren't coming," Harry said.
"What?"
"They aren't coming," Harry repeated a little louder.
"Oh, I see. Well, then how about tomorrow after lunch, then?"
"Okay."
"It's set then. I'll find you in the dining hall at the end of lunch tomorrow."
oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo
Harry noticed that Aminah was uncharacteristically jittery as they approached the dining hall for dinner—he could tell by the way she was tapping her staff… usually, she had an even, measured tap. Now it sounded like someone had sped up a metronome.
"You all right, Aminah?" Harry panted as he tried to keep up with her.
"Oh, I just want to see Gemma—she's going to help me… comparing the letter I just got from my father with one from before all this happened."
"Oh, right. I forgot," Harry said.
"It's okay. What were you and Professor Lupin talking about? I thought you were going to leave me to walk alone through the forest."
"Oh, well. I just had some more questions for him… you know… about his allergy…" Harry said.
"Ha, right. Kinda wild, isn't it? Before coming here, I would have been bleeding unnerved by what he told us… but here… here it's just the way things are… "
"Yeah," Harry said, turning his face toward the sound of Gemma's feet running across the stone floor toward them and giving her a smile. "Here comes Gemma."
"Oh, good!"
Gemma greeted them both with her usual ebullience. Harry couldn't help but laugh—had she been able to vocalize, her voice would have echoed off the corridor walls, but even so, her exuberance expanded to fill the space. He knew that her face had to be as animated as her hands as she signed in his hand, telling him about her day. He did his best to translate for Aminah. It helped that the Scribunt loqui papers fluttered by his lips so that Gemma could tell when he was getting it right or not and correct him.
"Gemma's excited to help you with your father's letter, Aminah—she wants you to sit next to her during dinner, though, because after dinner she's visiting Neville's mother at St. Mungo's. She wants to know if you have a… a… glass of water? No, wait, if you can transform a glass into a magnifying glass… Is that right, Gemma?"
Gemma signed vigorously under Harry's hands in agreement.
"Hmm. I don't think I can… maybe Arig can? Or we can ask someone else… maybe Adam?"
"Oh, she sees Shannon coming—she's asking her… yep, Shannon can do it."
"Hi, Aminah—hi Harry," Shannon greeted them as she approached. "Why do you need a magnifying glass? I thought you both were basically totals."
"Totals?"
"Totally blind?"
"It's not for us… Gemma's going to help me with a project," Aminah said. "And I can see some shapes… I'm not a total. Harry pretty much is, though."
"Oh, okay—that makes more sense."
"Hey, I can tell when there is light—and sometimes where it is coming from," Harry explained.
Gemma pulled on Harry's arm—urging him to start walking to the dining hall—they had been hovering right outside the entry way and the aromas wafting out had been making his stomach rumble.
"Oh, I think we're having kabobs tonight! I hope they have tahini and pita, too," Aminah said.
"Whatever it is, it smells heavenly," Harry agreed.
oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo
Harry was chasing the last piece of kabob with his pita bread—trying to soak up the tangy tahini sauce as well as the cucumber and yogurt salad—he loved how the flavors mingled—the spice from the meat cooled by the creamy sauce—when Aminah uttered a choked cry.
Harry leaned over toward where Aminah and Gemma had been working on the letter, "What did you find?"
"Gemma thinks that there is something weird about the letter—there are words that are really shaky—like maybe my dad was fighting something while he was writing," Aminah said.
"You mean like someone was making him write it? Like at gunpoint?"
"Gun-point? Is that that muggle killing thing? I thought they weren't sharp. No, more like he was being Imperius'd."
"What's that?"
"A dark spell used to control other people… make them do things that they wouldn't do on their own. You can be sent to Azkaban for using it."
"Like mind-control?"
"Yeah. I've got to show this to Healer Jordan. Gemma, can you come with me and show her what you found?" Aminah asked, turning toward Gemma.
Their chairs scraped the floor as they got up and their footsteps retreated until they were swallowed by the noises of the other residents.
Sitting there listening to them disappear, Harry realized that he needed to ask Healer Jordan if he had to wear a disguise to travel to St. Mungo's. He hurriedly finished his pumpkin juice, but misjudged where his plate was as he set the goblet down and it fell over on the table with a reverberating clunk. In his attempt to catch it, he knocked over another goblet. Tony cried out and scrambled to his feet, trying to avoid the splashing liquid. Harry felt around the table, righted the goblets, and mopped up the sticky juice with his napkin.
"Nice work, Harry—you're about as graceful as I am."
"That's why we get the special training, right?"
"Ha! I guess so."
A little later, Harry paced in the corridor outside Healer Jordan's office door, waiting for Gemma and Aminah to emerge. He heard a tapping staff approaching him down the corridor and stopped and listened carefully. He was pretty sure it was Godric… but he supposed it could have been Fitz, too, though usually by this time of day, Fitz had gone home. There was a faint citrus smell, too, that was getting stronger as the footsteps drew closer.
"Hiya, Harry," Godric said. "You waiting to talk to Healer Jordan?"
"Yeah."
"Anything I can help you with?" Godric offered, stopping near Harry.
"I'm going to go visit my friend Neville and his mum at St. Mungo's—I think Healer Jordan wants me to be disguised or something… because of that reporter…"
"Oh, yeah that kneazle's hairball—that's probably something Healer Jordan has to do… though I heard you have a pretty awesome invisibility cloak—you could just wear that, right?"
"Sure—yeah—that'd work. Ha! Now that everyone is invisible to me, including myself, I keep forgetting about it."
"Sometimes I think it would be nice to not be seen… though from what Adam says, that all the time is pretty lonely."
"It's kind of amazing how sighted people really are blind to their other senses, isn't it… I mean, I was, before I lost it. Before, if Ron was wearing my cloak, I really had no idea where he was… but now, he wouldn't be able to sneak up on me… I'm certain I'd be able to track him."
"I wonder if our sight was restored, if we'd hang onto that ability or if we'd lose it again?" Godric postulated.
"It was overwhelming to see again in the memory I visited… I think it would take a while to get used to it again."
"Yeah—but I suppose it is neither here nor there… it is what it is."
"It is what it is?"
"I'm just talking in circles… I apologize. And I was on my way to deliver these Spanish lemons to the kitchen—they were waiting for them for the treacle tart."
"Oh, I love treacle tart… is that for the gathering tomorrow?"
"Yes—Septima is going to be relieved."
The lemony scent faded as Godric continued down the corridor and Harry imagined that the crate of lemons was bobbing along behind him like a square balloon, tethered by his magic.
Even though he was so full from the kabobs, the thought of treacle tart flooded his mouth.
Finally, Harry could hear the voices from inside Healer Jordan's office drawing near the door and Gemma and Aminah came out… the air carried a scent of stress… a mixture of sweat and tears.
"Everything all right?" Harry asked.
"Oh, Harry," Aminah jumped. "Yeah—Healer Jordan is going to look into it. She agrees that it looks suspicious.'
"Oh, good. I mean… well, you know. Good that she's looking into it."
Gemma was urging Harry to start walking toward the reception area—she kept signing "time" on his arm.
"We've got to go, Aminah—you'll be all right?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm going to go to bed. I'm tired. I hope talking to Mrs. Longbottom goes well. Gemma told me a little about it. I'll see you both tomorrow—my mum… oh, I've got to send her an owl… okay, well, bye." Aminah hurried away as Gemma pulled more forcibly on Harry's arm.
"Neville will understand, Gemma. It'll be okay."
Gemma didn't answer and Harry guessed that she hadn't seen the paper that fluttered by and got caught in his collar as they hustled down the hall. He fished it out where it fluttered against his neck and released it into the air… with a mental image of papers trailing behind him like ticker tape after a parade has passed.
Neville was waiting in the reception and his gasp of relief when they passed through the door, made Harry regret that he hadn't taken a moment to go to the reception area to tell Neville that Gemma was busy. He felt his face grow hot.
"Sorry, Neville—Gemma was helping Aminah with something," Harry tried to explain.
"It's okay. I was late, too. I was wu..wu..worried that you'd come and le..le..lefft already," Neville tripped over his words as they came out in a rush.
"I'm going to put on my invisibility cloak, okay? You told Healer Jordan that we were going, right, Gemma?" Harry asked, turning toward Gemma who he could tell was signing to Neville at the same time. No wonder Neville was flustered.
She tapped "yes" firmly on his arm as he summoned the cloak from his staff and swung it around his shoulders a bit awkwardly, getting it caught up on his staff. Gemma and Neville both helped him get it on all the way and then they shuffled around for a bit, figuring out how they'd walk. Harry had to cancel the Scribunt loqui charm so that the papers wouldn't give him away and so he held onto Gemma's arm lightly so that they could at least communicate slightly through touch while they were traveling. Finally, they passed through the Egress and Harry coughed a little as the unique odors of St. Mungo's overwhelmed him. Gemma shook her arm at him—no doubt worried that he was making noises she couldn't hear.
Harry got jostled into a corner in the lift and Neville stepped on his toes a bit painfully, but finally, they were passing through the doors of the Longbottom's ward and through the curtains that separated Alice from the rest of the residents.
Gemma tugged at the invisibility cloak and signed that he should reestablish the Scribunt loqui charm. He pulled off the cloak and stuffed it back into his staff, then muttered the spell—listening as the papers fluttered comfortingly by his mouth. It had felt weird when he spoke and they weren't there… not that he'd said much while they were walking… he had been listening so hard for the sounds of that meddlesome reporter… with her sickeningly sweet perfume and spurious camaraderie. He released a deep breath when it seemed that they had made it without incident.
"Mum?" Neville was speaking quietly a few feet away from where Gemma and Harry were standing… it sounded like his back was to them and that he was bending down. "Mum, I brought some friends… this is Gemma and Harry."
Gemma tapped Harry's hand and he found the bend in her arm and they moved forward a little toward Neville.
"I've been learning some things, Mum. I wanted to see if maybe … maybe it would help us talk. See, Gemma's like you, Mum—she doesn't have a voice… but she can still talk… well, that doesn't make sense, but see how she speaks with her hands? That's called British Sign Language. It's something muggles use if they can't hear … and some of them use it if they can't make sounds. Oh, I'm not making any sense. I'm sorry, mum. I wanted to explain this to you. I even practiced… " Neville trailed off.
Harry stepped toward his friend, guessing where he was by the sound of his voice and his heaving breaths. He placed a hand on Neville's back wondering if Gemma could see what Neville was saying or if the papers were facing the wrong direction.
"It's okay, Neville. Let's try it, okay? Gemma, do you want to come closer?"
Gemma stepped around Harry and Neville and Harry heard the springs of the bed give slightly as she settled on it, next to Mrs. Longbottom. He could hear the gentle whispering of skin brushing against skin and imagined that Gemma was coaching Neville through one of the signs that they had practiced.
"Mum, this means 'love.' I. Love. You." Neville paused as he signed each word for his mum.
Neville repeated it again and again and each time his voice sounded a little defeated. Harry wanted to squeeze in and place his hands over his friends so he could feel what was going on—to glean why Neville felt like it wasn't working.
"Maybe try something that's not so big… love… it's so big. Maybe she needs something smaller to hold onto?" Harry suggested.
"Like what?"
"Like something she likes to do? Like fold paper or take a walk or visit the herb garden?"
"Gemma, what's a sign for plants?"
Harry heard Gemma signing and then listened as Neville explained the sign to his mum, making it over and over again on her arm.
Harry swayed a bit on his feet as he waited, leaning against his staff. He stifled a yawn. He was so tired. It had been such a long day. But then Neville made a small gasp.
"Gemma, did you see that? Yes… mum… that's it. Yes, herbs. Oh, I wish I could transfigure things… I'd turn this teacup into a Mimbulus mimbletonia right now."
"A what?"
"It's a plant that I like. Oh well."
"Did she sign?"
"Kind of. Right, Gemma?"
The bed squeaked as Gemma stood up and she stepped over to Harry and signed on his arm that, yes, Alice had made a small sign… it was a start.
"That's really good… right?" Neville seemed to be trying to convince himself. Harry could tell by his voice that he had been hoping for more…
"Neville, your mum hasn't communicated anything for a long time… right? So this is really a breakthrough, isn't it?"
"Yeah, I guess you're right… I was … well, I thought it might be more… but you're right. This is good. I should be happy."
"It's just the beginning," Harry assured his friend… patting him on the shoulder.