Harry couldn't resist. He vanished the stack of Daily Prophets in the wooden box as he was leaving the dining hall—it was just as easy to vanish as his vomit and it left a nice peppermint scent in its wake.

He did keep the copy he'd read—tucked away safely in his staff. He wasn't sure why—but he thought that there might be more clues in the story that would help him uncover how Rita Skeeter had traveled around the Center undetected. He really wanted to get her and hand her over to Healer Jordan.

As he'd been scanning the headlines, his anagnóstis had run over the corner where the price of the newspaper was printed and it struck him that Rita Skeeter and the others at the aptly named Daily Prophet were making money off of one of the worst moments of his life… and that they most likely had before when his parents had been murdered. He felt a little bit of vindication when he made the newspaper disappear into nothingness. He only wished that he could vanish them all over Britain.

Harry walked swiftly to the O&M room panel where he selected a beach—he hoped that it was the same one they had visited earlier in the week with Mei for the ritual. The warm salty air blasted him as the Egress opened, tearing away some of the sticky miasma that had settled on his skin as he read the newspaper. He closed his eyelids tight anticipating the burning sun and when he didn't sense the sun on his skin, he opened them tentatively. He breathed in the air and realized that it had to be night—the sun had set. The Egress had a familiar scent—he was pretty sure he was on the South Sea Island of Mei's ritual.

He could see a bright orb-like light that had to be the moon—high in the sky, but it was a slightly different shape than it had been on Wednesday. He stared at it for a while—most of the time he couldn't see the shape of light even when it was coming in a window—why could he see the shape of the moon? It was a strange feeling to realize that he could tell the shape of something that he couldn't feel with his hands. His fingertips tingled with the desire to reach out and feel it.

Harry pulled his Nimbus out of his staff, snapped his staff in place, and took off toward the sound of the surf—startling a flock of birds that had been nesting among the grasses. They didn't have the shrill whistle of gulls, but called in a loud chirping, trilling alarm. The birds flew up around him in a chaotic burst of wings and squawks that prompted a shield charm to erupt around him. He winced as he heard a couple of them bounce off of the shield as he steadied his broom and then leaned low to race out to the expanse of the ocean before him. As he neared the beach, he heard scuttling sounds and imagined crabs scrabbling to get out of his path, no doubt thinking that he was some large predator coming to snap them up.

The air cooled down the sweat that had begun to coat his body as his agitation had grown. It felt good as it coursed through his hair. He could feel the spray of the water as he passed over the crashing waves. The sounds of the disturbed birds grew distant as he left the shore far behind and followed the contours of the water as it undulated like a heaving meadow. Every once in a while, he heard a fish that had jumped out of the water splash back against the surface.

He leaned against the handle, his feet tucked up on the twigs, and raced over the surface of the water, soaking in the saltwater spray as droplets rose from the churning waves below him. Harry felt the distance grow between him and the piercing words that had been driven into the surface of his skin and being. The effect of them began to peel away, ripped off by the wind with the ink floating away in the water. The words fell through the surface and sank like stones to the ocean floor, far below.

It seemed like he had been flying forever—he'd never just flown straight for such a long time. He wondered how long he could fly before he came up against something—a ship, an island, another continent. Would he reach the edge of the wards protected by the Egress? If he did, how would he know?

As he had this thought, he felt the vibrations change in his staff—he was approaching something really big in the water—it wasn't an island or a boat. In fact, it didn't feel like anything he'd ever felt before through the vibrations. It was large and smooth and seemed to be just beneath the surface of the water. He sat up a little, slowing and dropping his feet to the stirrups on his Nimbus and concentrating on the mass that was growing larger as he approached it.

He stopped right before it and realized that it was slowly moving with the water—the waves lapping up against it and then there was a blast of air and water and he was soaked through.

It's a whale!

Harry leaned carefully against his broom—wanting to hover and not make it bolt forward in a burst of speed. He reached his hand down and maneuvered his broom so that it was just over the whale's back until his fingers brushed over the surface of tight, silky smooth skin. The beast twitched and sunk under the surface of the water—but didn't move away. After a little bit it moved back up until it came in contact with Harry's hand again. It was almost as if it was touching Harry back.

Harry smiled.

"Hiya, big mate," Harry said.

The whale blew another spout of water out of its blowhole.

"I believe she's female, actually," Mei said.

Harry about fell off his broom.

"Merlin, Mei! Where did you come from?"

"I've been out here for a while, actually. I've been swimming with this beauty—she's really gentle. I had a feeling you were going to come out here… and here you are."

"You knew I was coming out here? I didn't even know I was coming out here."

"Well, when I felt you cross the Egress, I was in my tank. I just had a feeling that you were going to fly this way. And then there you were. Healer Jordan told us about the article in the Daily Prophet. It's the most rotten thing. Rubbish, really. I thought you might want to talk about it."

"Er. Thanks, Mei. I don't know. I don't think so. I was trying to fly away from it, actually."

"Yeah. That's what I did when they wrote about me. I swam away, at any rate. Well, want some company?"

Harry shrugged. He didn't mind it—it was just that he had been trying to be alone for a bit. But maybe it would be okay to hang out with Mei for a while … and the whale.

"Don't whales usually hang out with pods?"

"Well, yeah. She's not far from her pod. She's a guard. She's telling them all about us. But she knows we're okay. The pod is over there. They are nervous here—even though they need the warmer waters for their babies—they are hunted. Also, the muggles dump all sorts of stuff in the water—this is one of the cleaner places—I think because it is so remote, but still the stuff that they throw in the water comes here on the waves. It's so awful. I don't get how they have so much to throw away. It doesn't break down. It just stays. And the sea animals—they get stuck in it and it doesn't break. It's worse than metal—because it is flexible."

"What do you mean?"

"You know. You live with muggles. They make things out of it—what's it called? I guess when my mum was a kid there wasn't much, but now it is everywhere. You know—you've got it on your shoes," Mei said as they reached up and grabbed his shoe.

"This stuff, here." They were tugging on his shoe, tapping on the sole.

"Rubber?" Harry asked.

"Doesn't rubber come from trees? I think the stuff that muggles use isn't from trees. I think they make it from potions… but really nasty potions."

"Are you talking about plastic?"

"Yeah, that's it. Don't they make absolutely everything out of plas-tick? I heard it is why they are getting so sick and dying."

"Oh, I hadn't heard that."

"Well, they are killing the ocean, that's for sure. I vanish the plas-tick whenever I find it. Whole coral reefs are dying from their waste—I swam through some sludge once that was being emptied into the ocean from a huge ship—ugh—it took a lot of Jiāorén magic to get it off. Hǎi rén was so mad… at first, I thought they were mad at me, but then I realized that they were mad at the muggles who were ruining the ocean. Most of them don't even live in the ocean or near it—they don't even see what they are doing to it. It's horrific."

"Maybe that's why they don't think about what's happening when they dump their waste into it? Where do things go when they are vanished?" Harry asked, thinking about the newspapers he just disappeared.

"I think McGonagall said that they go to non-being, nothingness."

"I thought that there was no away."

"Maybe they are returned to their essence?"

"Is that what happens to the plastic when you vanish it?"

"You know, I don't know. I hope so. I hope it isn't just landing in some other remote part of the world causing problems over there. That would be terrible."

"You seem different."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Like almost happy."

"Yeah. I kind of am. Happy."

"I'm glad."

"Me, too. Though I shouldn't be happy when there is all this bad stuff happening. Like the article about you, like the plastic killing the sea turtles, like the coral reefs dying from the poisons in the water."

"But you said you were doing something about it. I don't know. It seems like it is really hard to do things when you're depressed… it takes so much more effort just to move… might as well take the happiness you have and do something with it."

"True. You know, you're smarter than you look."

"Er. Thanks?"

"You know I'm just having a laugh."

"Right. I know. Everyone's going to be taking the piss out of me… once they read the paper. You know what's barmy? That article. Though I guess, it could have been worse. They could have published it while I was at school. At least this way, I'm at the Center. I can fly out to the ocean and get away from everyone. At school… well, it would have been a nightmare."

"You sound like a freaking adult, Harry!" Mei hooted and it sounded like they were flopping around in the ocean, tail smacking against the water in glee.

"Hey, you were the one talking about saving the sea turtles from the evil plastic!"

The whale blew water high into the air and it rained down on Harry.

They laughed for a bit and then it was just quiet. The gentle lapping of the waves against the whale's body was interrupted by the air erupting out of her blowhole at regular intervals.

Harry spun around on his broom, so that his shoulders and head were supported by the twigs, his hands resting lightly on the stirrups to steady him, his spine aligned along the broom handle, and his feet crossed on the handle at his ankle. The broom hovered over the whale rocking back and forth, mirroring the sound of the waves. He couldn't take his eyes off the moon.

"Are you looking at the moon?" Mei asked.

"Yeah. It is really the only light that I can see that doesn't hurt and has some kind of shape. It's really weird. It seems like it is a lot bigger than I remember the moon ever being. It takes up the whole sky."

"Well, it's not that big—but the light kind has rings that radiate off it. I bet that's what makes it look bigger. So, are you going to stay out here all day?"

"I wish I could, but Neville's coming for family visiting and I should be there when he arrives."

"My family's coming, too. They haven't seen my new chair yet."

"Right, or the new happy Mei!"

"Oi. Careful or I'll run over your toes."

"Won't hurt in your new chair."

"Ha."

The whale spurted a blast of air and water right under Harry. He yelped and toppled off his broom, barely managing to hang onto it—one hand on a stirrup, the other on the handle, his legs thudding against the whale and getting soaked—his trainers filling with water. He scrambled against the slippery side of the whale and then managed to pull himself back onto his broom.

Mei was beside themselves with laughter, gurgling as they slid under the water and then sputtering as they surfaced. Their arms slapped gleefully against the whale's broad back. The whale blew out another burst of water in protest and then slapped the water with her enormous tail, sending a wave of water over Harry. He was soaking.

"I guess I better head back and dry off," Harry said.

"I can take you back through the Egress if you want. We're not that far from where we were… that day I pulled you out here. Remember?"

"How could I forget? I don't know—that was pretty terrifying."

"You could avoid the crowds of visitors… they were starting to show up when I came out here."

"Oh, well, in that case… yes, please."

"Well, you'd better hop down then. Here, come this way. She won't mind if you sit on her back and put your broom in your staff. She barely minded just now when you were kicking her."

Mei guided his foot to the back of the whale and he slid off his broom onto the slick back of the whale. It took a moment for him to find his balance and he steadied himself with the help of his broom in the air. It was more steady than the little boats they took in first year across the lake to Hogwarts, but much more slippery. He popped his staff out from the broom handle and stored the broom in the staff, and the staff in his pocket (along with his glasses—he didn't want to lose them again)—sealing his pocket with the locking charm—a little trick Godric had taught him in class one day.

He sat down on the back of the whale and found that she was surprisingly warm under his legs—which had cooled down after getting soaked and then airing out in the cool evening breeze. He was starting to shiver.

"Come on. I hope you remember that drying charm." Mei grabbed his wrist and Harry took a deep breath as they pulled him into the water. He let his body slide against the whale's and in that moment it felt as if he were being embraced. He patted the whale's back gratefully as he was pulled away and down into the depths of the ocean.

They surfaced in their room just moments later—the trip didn't seem nearly as long as it had the first time. Harry had felt the magical pull of the Egress on his navel when they passed through it.

"Thanks, Mei," Harry said as he clamored out of the tank. The jitteriness that coursed through him after reading the article had been left behind in the ocean. He felt more steady as his feet touched the ground.

"No worries, Harry."

He shook out his wand to perform the drying spell and was relieved as he was enveloped in warmth.

Gemma came hurrying across the room in stocking feet and started signing so rapidly under his cupped hands that he removed his hands, signing "wait!" and ask her to start again.

"Sorry. I know I was going too fast. I'll slow down," she replied.

"It's okay."

"Healer Jordan told us about the article… but all the copies of the paper were gone. So I haven't read it. Is it horrid?"

Harry grimaced.

"I vanished them," he confessed and she shook with laughter. Then he pulled the one he saved from his staff and handed it to her. "I saved one. You can read it… but yeah, it's horrid."

She shook out the paper as they made their way to Harry's area and she crawled up on his bed and smoothed out the paper to read it. He heard her take in a sharp breath and imagined it was because of the headline.

"I'm going to go take a shower to wash the saltwater off, okay?"

She tapped absently on his arm as she turned the page and then more insistently.

"What is it?"

"Get your digitus out. There's an image here that you have to see."

Harry sucked in a breath—steeling himself for another emotional blow. He pulled it out and Gemma guided his hand to the place on the parchment. He drew it across—her fingers guiding him since there wasn't a photo edge for him to follow.

He started trying to decipher the forms. He caught on pretty quickly that he was looking at a group of people standing together. The location was hot and dusty. Behind them was a huge stone building—completely coated in sand. Sand was blowing around them in the air, too—pelting them like little darts. One of the people had a little animal perched on their shoulder.

"It's Ron and Scabbers! It's the Weasleys in Egypt!" His delight at seeing them was as much from relief that it wasn't another picture of him as it was from seeing his friends.

"They look like they're having a good time. Even Ginny's almost smiling," he said as his fingers traced the contours of her face. She had her arm around a Weasley that Harry hadn't met before.

"This must be Bill."

Bill's arm was swung protectively around Ginny. He was wearing a strange mishmash of layers of clothing that put Harry in mind of a pirate or a rock star. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail and he had a long tooth hanging from one earlobe. Ginny would look up at Bill every once in a while and Bill would pull her closer.

"It's good they use their winnings to visit Bill—it looks like Ginny really needed some time with her big brother," Harry noted.

Gemma agreed with him. He restored the image to its flat dimensions and went into the toilet to take a shower while Gemma read the article about the Chamber of Secrets. He wondered if the Weasleys would try to keep Ginny from knowing about the article.

oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo

Harry ran his fingers through his damp hair as he waited with Gemma in the reception area for her family and for Neville and his Gran. They were expected at about the same time. It had taken a while for Gemma to calm down after reading the article. Harry found it kind of amusing that she was more brassed off about it than he was.

He turned as he heard someone enter the reception area from the corridor—their staff tapping rhythmically as they neared.

"I think Peter's here," Harry informed Gemma who was still signing emphatically to herself with her back to the corridor door.

She hopped over to Peter and Harry listened as Peter's tapping slowed then resumed and they joined him and stood in a circle so that they could talk together.

"Harry—I read the paper—Gordon shared it with me. I'm so sorry, mate. That's the pits," Peter signed.

Harry shrugged in response. There wasn't much he could do about it—but it was nice that his friends understood how awful it was. Tony had been especially vehement in his anger—no doubt fueled a bit by some lingering guilt at his mother's role in bringing Rita Skeeter into the Center.

And then the Egress to Charing Cross road opened and the smells and sounds of London's traffic and shops—mostly petrol and baking bread—flooded the room, followed quickly by the smell of pepper-up and the dinging of the lift from St. Mungo's Egress. The serene reception area was taken over by the clamoring of voices and footsteps and bodies pressed against Harry—accidentally jostling him as they surrounded Gemma and Peter with their embraces.

"Hiya, Harry," Neville greeted and Harry was relieved to have an excuse to step aside with his friend.

Augusta Longbottom's greeting was warm—for her—and quick. She thrust a parchment into his hand.

"I brought you a copy of today's Daily Prophet in case you haven't seen it yet."

"Uh, thank you. I read it already," Harry said, trying to give it back to her.

"Well, good. Er—how? Did you read it with a translating charm?"

"Yes, I have a tool that helps me read print material," Harry explained and was relieved when she finally took the paper back. He really didn't want two copies of it.

"I'm really sorry about it, Harry," Neville said quietly. "Gran already sent four howlers to the Daily Prophet and to that Skeeter witch."

"It's appalling, really. I sent howlers to the Ministry of Magic as well—everyone knows that they dictate what goes in the paper and the fact that they let that story run… well, it is child endangerment. It really is. I've demanded a retraction immediately."

"Can they do that?"

"Yes—they have in the past and they had better do it now. In fact, I'm surprised that it is still here. It's too bad that Arthur Weasly is out of the country at the moment—I think he'd be able to assist me. And Albus Dumbledore. What a time to be poking about in Albania of all places."

"Why is Professor Dumbledore in Albania?"

"Ah, well, the official story is that he's on holiday in Greece—visiting ancient magical sites and the like… some nonsense about the omphalos of the world… but Bertha Jorkins tells me that he's actually roaming around the countryside in Albania. Sometimes I think he's a bit unhinged. He's mad to travel around Albania—right unstable, it is, even the muggles are dangerous. Don't you worry, Harry. We'll get this sorted out," Mrs. Longbottom declared as she squeezed his shoulder with her bony fingers and then let him go.

Tears pricked at the corners of Harry's eyes and he blinked them away—hoping that his opaque lenses blocked them from view.

"Well, what's on for today? I'm looking forward to a nice cup of tea," Mrs. Longbottom said, her starched robes swishing crisply as she led them toward the corridor.

Neville tapped Harry's hand for sighted guide and he leaned over and whispered in Harry's ear as they followed his Gran, "she's a force to be reckoned with, believe me. They'll be sorry they ever ran the story."

If that's true, then why did they run it in the first place? thought Harry. She and Healer Jordan have been on their case for weeks.

Harry could hear Gemma and Peter's families following behind them. It was funny to hear Peter's family calling him Petro. There was a familiar female voice among them that Harry was certain he recognized, but it wasn't from the Center. She mentioned something about being at Wiseacre's and checking on their supply of telescopes and it clicked… Professor Sinistra. He turned his head to listen more carefully.

"Ivan, isn't that Harry Potter?" she said in a low voice.

Harry turned his head back quickly, feeling the heat rising in his neck.

"Yes, mum—remember, Petro told you he was here, too."

"Right. I can't believe I forgot… you know he was in my astronomy class."

"Mum, everyone's in your astronomy class. And I think he heard you."

"Harry—it's me, Professor Sinistra," she said in a louder voice.

Harry pulled on Neville's arm and stopped, letting the tromping of boots flow around them in the corridor.

"Hi, Professor," Harry said. He held out his hand and she grabbed it in a firm shake and then he found Peter's hand, which had migrated down to where their hands joined.

He signed under Peter's cupped hands, "Professor Sinistra's your mum?"

Peter laughed and confirmed what Harry had just figured out.

"Oh, you've learned BSL already?" Professor Sinistra exclaimed.

"I'm still learning—Peter and Gemma have been teaching me," Harry said.

"Petro. I hate that he goes by Peter—it's so common," Professor Sinistra sighed.

"Sometimes it is nice to just be normal," Harry said—he tried to translate for Peter as he was responding to Professor Sinitra, but got a bit mixed up and had to repeat it all for Peter.

Once Peter understood the gist of the conversation, his laughter was a loud bark that startled Harry. And then he laughed harder when he felt Harry jump.

Neville had squeezed in next to Harry.

"Neville is here, too, Peter," Harry signed and drew Neville's hand under Peter's so they could talk. Neville's movements were slow and jerky as he concentrated on the motions.

"Neville—are you also a resident at the Center?" Professor Sinistra asked, sounding shocked.

"Um, no, Ma'am. I'm just visiting today."

"Oh, are you cousins, then?"

"No, just friends."

"Well, it's very good of you to come. And you're learning how to sign, too?"

"Yes, Gemma's been teaching me."

"Oh, Gemma. I've heard so much about her. Where is she?"

"I think she's gone on to the dining hall with her family," Harry said, cocking his head to one side to listen. He was fairly certain that he could hear Gemma's mum's voice echoing out of the dining hall entry ahead.

More people had entered the corridor behind them. It was going to be a busy day at the Center. Harry heard his name mentioned more than once and tried to swallow his embarrassment. He had a growing sense of dread. He wanted to slip off again—disappear into an Egress with his broom and avoid all the questions and whispers.

Of course, the story had to come out on a day when the Center was teeming with visitors. He tried to remind himself that it was still better than having to endure it at Hogwarts. At least the families of residents were likely to be more empathetic to what he was going through.

Both Tony and Mei told him that they had been the subjects of similar stories that seemed to glorify their tragedies without any sense of compassion. Neither of them had been on the front page, but still—it made him feel better to know that they had made it through the ordeal.

The group had started walking again. Neville's Gran had circled back around to find them once she noticed that they weren't behind her anymore and was engaged in an animated discussion with Professor Sinistra about an exhibit they had both seen that summer in the Museo Galileo in Italy. Harry, eager to forget about the Daily Prophet, had allowed himself to get swept along by their conversation. He was surprised at first that it seemed that they had both visited a muggle museum, but then it was clear that there was a wixen entrance and a much more magical option. He had to admit to himself that he was a teeny bit interested in a magical museum.

Maybe I'll mention it to Hermione when she gets back.

When they entered the dining hall, Harry felt like something was different.

"Neville, have they cleared away the tables and chairs?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"It just sounds different—I don't hear the chairs moving around—it sounds like people are standing and walking around more easily—like they aren't walking around tables."

"Harry Potter!" Someone exclaimed loudly as they rushed toward him. "So you really did slay the Basilisk? You've got to tell me all about it!"

Harry shrunk back, but the person had caught up his hand and was pumping it up and down vigorously. He had no idea who it was, only that they had terrible onion breath and sweaty palms.