"Sure, Professor," Harry said as he walked toward her voice. He soon realized that she was up the bank from him, though.

"Harry, do you want me to guide you up to where Professor McGonagall is?" Neville asked with a tremor in his voice.

"Thanks, Neville. That would be great," Harry responded with relief and accepting Neville's offered arm. It was a little tricky making it up the bank and by the time he made it up, Harry was pretty sure that his trousers were streaked with mud.

"Hi, Professor," Harry said when was near enough that he could smell her distinctive odor of Earl Grey tea with a faint feral undertone—he guessed that was the cat in her. Neville scrambled back down the bank to return to Gemma and Peter.

"Mr. Potter. You sent me a letter and I was sitting down to respond when I saw you out here, so I thought I'd come down and talk to you in person instead."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, leaning on his staff until it sank into the soft earth.

"Yes, well. You asked about your electives for your third year. As you were sent home early and weren't present at the end of term to select your own electives, I took the liberty of signing you up for Divination and Care of Magical Creatures—the same as Mr. Weasley. I thought you might like to be in the same classes. I sent you an owl, did you not receive it?"

"Er. Well, no. I didn't," Harry said, chewing his lip.

"Is something the matter, Mr. Potter?"

"Well, er. Yes. I had a chance to meet Professor Trelawney… and I'm not sure that Divination… well… isn't it a lot of staring into crystal balls and at tea leaves? That really isn't going to work… isn't there something else I could take?"

"Sure. There's still room in Arthimancy or Ancients Runes…"

"I'll take Ancient Runes, please."

"Well, if you're sure. It will be a rigorous course, though. But Hermione is also taking it, so I imagine with her assistance… and well, you're right—it probably is better suited. Divination does rely on a lot of visuals… and the Runes are carved into stone typically—so you could feel them. Yes, I think that would be a better fit… "

"Thank you, Professor."

"…and if not, you could always drop it… you might struggle to keep up with your coursework as it is."

"Er… Isn't that why I'm at the Center? … Professor?… so that I can keep up at Hogwarts when the term starts? I'm learning all sorts of things… "

"You're absolutely right. How dim of me," she said absentmindedly. "And on another matter. Mr. Potter, I was observing you while you and your friends were playing Quidditch. I almost put a stop to it, but Pomona, er, Professor Sprout suggested that a pick-up game wouldn't do any harm… and Hagrid was with you. I don't know how you were following the snitch… But then you crashed into Mr. Montague at an alarming speed and were falling. I don't know how you managed to summon your broom… but by Morgana's cauldron… that was terrifying. Surely you must understand why playing Quidditch is out of the question. You really shouldn't be flying at all."

"But Professor! I've fallen in Quidditch before… it has… almost nothing to do with the fact that I can't see. And it's not just me who wants to play… there's Tony, Mei, and Gemma, too. It's no more dangerous for us to play than other players!"

"No, you're not only a danger to yourself, but to others as well. That's my final word. Please don't broach the topic again," Professor McGonagall said with a finality that was emphasized by her robes sweeping over the heather and her firm footsteps treading over the marshy landscape.

Harry clenched his jaw to keep from screaming at her retreating back. He turned abruptly and tripped over a shrub, his feet getting tangled in the thorny branches and falling heavily on his outstretched arms. He kicked at the offending bush until he heard his trousers rip and then laid back panting on the ground while Neville called out and then came scrambling up the bank to help him untangle from the bush.

"Blimey, Harry—what happened?"

"Arrgg. It's just. It just not fair. Professor McGonagall saw me fall and says that I can't play Quidditch."

"It's not fair. It really isn't. And does she get to decide? I mean, isn't it up to the captains?"

Gemma was suddenly there, moving his hands so that they were over hers, "Did she see you fly? You _! catch _? Did she see? Did she see you _ broom? _ spell? You falling!"

"I didn't catch all that, Gemma," Harry sighed.

"She was asking if Professor McGonagall saw you fly—she thought you were amazing—the way you caught the snitch and then summoned your broom. Yeah, and nonverbally, to boot," Neville said.

Harry rolled to his knees to get up and then just curled into a ball. He grabbed at the tufts of grass under his hands and pulled on them, yanking them out of the earth. He wanted to pound the earth, but thought it would upset Gemma and Neville, so let go of the grass clutched in his hands and wiped his hands on his torn trousers.

"Here are your glasses, Harry," Neville said, tapping them against his hand.

"Oh, I didn't even know they had fallen off."

He put them back on, pushing them up his nose.

"Are you going to repair your trousers?"

Harry sighed and then felt around the knees until he found the tears and his scraped skin underneath then flicked out his wand. He thought about the trousers he was wearing, trying to remember the color.

"These are my tan ones?"

"Yeah—they've faded to parchment color, though, in most places."

"Reparo," Harry said dully.

"That's pretty close. You can hardly tell that you fixed them."

"Great," Harry said as he felt the sand that had weighed him down earlier when Professor McGonagall had first declared that he couldn't fly trickling into his limbs. He shook his head trying to dislodge the thoughts. There had to be another way. He felt like he had run headlong into a wall and was groping around trying to find the door.

Someone was approaching them… no, a couple of people. Harry cocked his head, listening. He heard Godric's staff. Harry grimaced thinking that Graham was probably with him.

He realized that he must have dropped his staff when he fell and started feeling around over the muddy earth, heather, tufts of grass, and thorny bushes trying to find it when he heard Gemma jump up and pad over the soft ground, stop, then head back in his direction. He wasn't sure why it irritated him that she did that, but he tried to suppress the feeling as he knew it wasn't fair. She was just trying to help. He tried rubbing the mud off his hands on the grass nearby, but wasn't sure if he got it all off.

She put her hands under his—asking him what was wrong after she laid the staff by his leg.

"I hate being so bloody helpless," Harry muttered as he took his hands off hers to hug his knees to his chest. The paper was trapped between his cheek and his knees and she eased it away and then patted him on the shoulder, then busied herself with picking leaves and twigs out of his hair.

Neville was making small noises as he moved in the grasses near him and Harry guessed that he was uncomfortable.

Harry got to his feet—he was pretty sure that Godric was trying to find him and he didn't want to get whacked in the head with the staff, though he guessed that Godric was using a navigational charm and would know exactly where he was. He tried brushing off the dirt, but realized that it was mostly mud.

"I'm a mess, aren't I?"

"A bit," Neville agreed. "Can't you do a cleaning charm?"

Harry touched his wand to his trousers and tried, "Scourgify."

"That worked. Now do it to the back of your trousers and your shirt."

"Harry?" Godric called—still a ways off. The echo off the castle wall must have amplified the sounds.

"Over here, Godric," Harry responded as he directed the scourgify charm to his hands.

"Did you fall again?" Graham snorted.

Harry did his best to level a glare in Graham's direction, but wasn't sure if it was effective.

"Graham," Godric said in a quelling voice. "Are you all right, Harry?"

"Yeah—just, you know, tripped over a bush."

Graham made a noise like he was trying to stifle a laugh.

"Graham and I have been talking, Harry, at length about what happened while you were flying to cause the crash. And we'd like to hear your perspective if that's all right. I believe there is a bench around here that we can sit on," Godric said and then there was the sound of feet scuffling, "Hey—please don't do that!"

"What?! I was just showing you where the bench was!" Graham said indignantly.

"There are other ways to do that besides pulling me along. Please ask before you touch me," Godric said with a hint of steel in his voice.

"Sorry," Graham said, though it didn't sound as if he really was.

Godric made a point of stating to his staff that he wanted directions to the bench and Graham followed, with Harry trailing behind Graham.

Harry listened to Neville and Gemma's scrabbling steps as they made their way back down to the lakeshore where the others were still talking with Mei and the merpeople and wished he could go with them. He found the bench with his staff—wood sounding against wood—listened to where Godric and Graham were sitting down, and slid onto the bench.

He sat on Graham's hand.

"Hey, watch it!"

"Sorry."

"This is what I'm talking about. If you can't even sit on a bench without sitting on me, how can you play Quidditch?"

Harry felt like hopping back up and running away, but he resisted the urge and sat back down, grateful that Graham had moved his hand.

"Graham, listen. We've talked about this. At length. You said earlier that you understood. Has that changed now that you're talking face to face with Harry?" Godric seemed like he was losing his patience.

"No, sir. I'm sorry."

"Okay, then. Thank you," Godric said and then let out a heavy breath. "Right, we're here to talk to Harry about his perceptions of the events on the Quidditch pitch. Harry, could you please tell us what happened?"

"Well, I was chasing the snitch. I could hear that Tahmina and Terry had joined me on the pitch because they had the bells that you charmed on our brooms earlier. Tahmina put them on once she was up there—when I asked her to, though. I could also feel things moving around through the vibrations in my broom—but I thought I was just understanding Terry's shape wrong—he felt like the wrong shape. He just had one bell sound, but his vibration wasn't right. I'm still learning how to interpret the vibrations, you know."

"Right, continue," Godric encouraged.

"So, I heard the snitch and sped after it. Terry was going for it, too. His shape stayed the same—I didn't know another person was there. Graham must have been ghosting Terry really closely. Anyway—I caught it and then that's when I noticed that Terry's shape was elongating… and I realized too late that there was another person—and I crashed into them and fell off my broom. Graham, are you okay? I really slammed into you."

Harry heard Graham rubbing his shirt—probably where the broom had struck him in the chest.

"Well, yeah. Godric fixed my broken collarbone. It's still a little sore, though."

"I'm sorry I crashed into you, Graham." It was hard for Harry to say this as he really didn't feel it was his fault… but he had hurt him, even if unintentionally.

"Well, you should be! You have no business flying if you can't see where you're going."

Harry sucked in his breath.

"Graham, we've been over this. You knew what you were getting into when you chose to fly with us."

"Yeah."

"Harry, this was your first time attempting to play Quidditch since you lost your sight in May, correct?"

"Yes, I've flown before, but this was the first time I played Quidditch."

"Right—so you're still learning how to follow the snitch as well as the other players, right?"

"Yes. That's right."

"Graham, I believe you had something to say to Harry?"

"Ugh. Yeah. I'm sorry you ran into me."

"Er."

"Graham?"

"I'm sorry that I didn't charm my broom to make noise so that you'd know I was there," Graham muttered.

"Okay, er. Thanks?"

"Can I go now?" Graham asked.

"Yes—thank you," Godric said as Graham rushed off, his hurried footsteps taking him back toward the castle.

After a while of sitting in silence together, Godric and Harry started to speak at the same time.

"You first," Harry said.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I was hoping for a more sincere apology."

"No worries. I'm used to it. I have a feeling I'm going to get a lot of the same from the rest of the Slytherin team… if I'm allowed anywhere near the Quidditch pitch again. Professor McGonagall has made it pretty clear that she's going to do everything she can to keep me off my broom…" Harry said as his throat started to close.

"I know. It's bloody frustrating. I went through the same thing when I returned to Hogwarts blind… I thought the battles I fought had made a difference and I'm sorry that you're going to have to fight them again. I think it is time to take it to a higher authority… though that probably means a longer, harder battle… and our game tonight may not have helped. I should have thought about that. I'm sorry, Harry."

"You couldn't have known that Graham was going to…"

"Be a prat?" Godric interrupted, laughing wryly.

"Ha—yeah." Harry's laugh lost steam midway through.

"But you're not alone on this… and it's not just for playing Quidditch—but for the whole of your education, and later, when you're wanting to make a living. Some disabled wixen choose to leave the magical world and make their way in the muggle world—though, for many, that's not an option. While muggles seem to do a better job with accepting differences, they don't have magic and so everything is harder. No staves that can guide you, no summoning charms to find things you've lost, no essence of dittany or Episkey spells to mend torn skin when you run into things… and you will because there are no shield charms to spring up around you when you run into something… you can't just walk away from the magical world, and take some of it with you… the Ministry tracks that sort of thing."

"Really? That seems really creepy."

"Yeah. If you live among muggles, then your magic stands out like a beacon."

"But we were in the middle of muggle London doing magic and no one noticed."

"Near the Center and Diagon Alley you can get away with it because the line between the worlds is fuzzy… too many wixen coming and going for the Ministry to track down the magic signatures."

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that. Really? They trace it?"

"Yes, though a fat lot of good it does. Hrumph. I'm sounding as jaded as my mum," Godric said, standing up and shaking out his staff. "As I said, you're not alone. We'll be doing what we can to make sure and the other students at the Center are getting a fair chance to pursue your education and your interests."

Harry stood up, too.

"Thank you, Godric." He felt some of the weighty sand trickle from his fingertips as he shook out his staff and followed Godric down to the lakeside where Mei and the merpeople seemed to be doing something—though Harry couldn't figure out what.

Harry asked his staff to take him to Neville once he was down the bank and he touched his friend on the arm to get his attention.

"What's going on, Neville?"

"Oh, Harry! Mei and the merpeople are demonstrating their water magic—showing us the differences between Jiāorén magic and merpeople magic. Did you know that they don't call themselves merpeople? That's just what we call them because we can't even come close to pronouncing their name for their people with our vocal cords? But they taught Gemma the sign and some others as well. Gemma can speak with them more easily than Hagrid can—and she's interpreting for us."

"Oh, that's brilliant."

"Yeah—she's brilliant," Neville said with a hushed voice.

"Even more than Aminah?" Harry whispered.

"Uh—what do you mean!?"

"You know…" Harry nudged Neville in the ribs with his elbow and smiled toward this friend.

"Er… well, I… er…" Neville stammered. "Aminah's… very kind… and pretty… but she's a lot older than me."

"I'm sorry, Neville—it's hard not to take the mickey out of you… you make it so easy." Harry confessed and instantly felt ashamed as he realized that he was taunting Neville as everyone else did. "I'm sorry," Harry said with more sincerity this time. "That doesn't make it right."

"It's true, though." Neville sounded dejected.

"Yeah, but just because I can't see someone stick out their foot to trip me, doesn't mean that they should do it. Gah—I'm just as bad as Graham."

"Harry, you're not. Come on—you've got to see what the merpeople are doing." Neville pulled him closer to the lapping water at the lake's edge.

"Er. Sure," Harry said as his trainers sank into mud—he could feel the cold seeping into them. "How are you seeing it, Neville? Isn't it pretty dark now?"

The sun had set and Harry couldn't detect any light, not even the moon.

"Yeah—we're in the shadow of the castle so it is really dark but Mei kind of glows and their light is enough to see by."

"Mei glows?"

"Not all the time, but right now they are glowing. It is some of their Jiāorén magic, I guess. The merpeople have their own version, but it isn't their entire bodies—just in their hands."

They stood by the edge of the lake for a while longer while Neville described the scene to Harry and Gemma translated the merpeople's signs. Neville described the lyrical movements of Mei and the merpeople as they moved through the water—made visible even when they were beneath the surface of the water because of their lights. Neville spoke Gemma's translation aloud so that Godric and Harry could hear it while Peter had his hands over Gemma's. Everyone else seemed utterly captivated as they stood at the edge of the gently lapping water.

Mei emerged from the water when the exchange came to an end and the merpeople disappeared into the dark depths of the lake. Neville told Harry about the bobbing lights gradually getting smaller until they disappeared.

Mei opted to fly on a broom rather than enlarge their levitating chair and the rest of them walked back to the great doors to return to the Center. Harry was tempted to join Mei on his broom, but then changed his mind when he thought of Professor McGonagall watching him from high in the castle. He trudged alongside Neville trying to ignore the sand that was accumulating in his chest cavity.

oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo

After Harry had said good-bye to Neville and was walking back to the dormitory, he heard someone running behind him and then slow to match his pace.

"Harry!" Tony wheezed.

"You okay, Tony?" Harry said, turning his face up toward the tall boy.

"Yeah—just saying good-bye to my family. I just… well, I wanted to apologize—again—about my prat of a brother."

"Hey—it's okay. I get it. You're not him. He's not you."

"Right, but still. You'd think that after what I've been through he'd have more empathy for you."

"Sure, but I don't think it really works that way, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. But still. I'm sorry. I don't think he realizes that by making it hard for you to play Quidditch, he's also making it hard for me."

"Probably not. But I'm sure you told him."

"Yeah—I did. Not that he's listening."

Tony was slowing down and Harry realized that they must be close to their door. He hadn't been paying attention. He would have just kept walking.

Tony put a cool hand on Harry's arm to gently guide him toward the door while reaching around him to open it. "Here, we've arrived. The door is over here."

Tony held the door while Harry's silver-tipped staff tinged on the doorframe as he walked through. Harry was starting to tell Tony to have a good night when he realized that something was off in the room. He stopped suddenly as he tried to figure out what it was and Tony ran into him.

"Oi! What's wrong?" Tony asked.

"I don't know. I heard something strange," Harry tried to explain, as he turned his head from side to side trying to figure out where the noise came from.

"Aminah? Are you all right?" Tony said, pushing around Harry in a hurry.

Harry put his hand out to keep from slamming into the wall, then stumbled after Tony to Aminah's area in the room.

"What is it? What's wrong?"