The next morning, Harry groaned as the alarm bells invaded his sleep and punctured his dreams.
"Gah. Monday, already… " he grumbled to himself as he tried to drag his aching limbs out of bed. He had a moment of dread as he realized that his time at the Center was nearing the end and he'd have to return to Privet Drive soon.
Too soon.
But I'll see Little Friend again. It's been 21 suns since I left him at Privet Drive. That means 12 more to go.
He stretched and winced—his arm was sore and he wondered if rubbing essence of dittany on it after his shower would help.
He muttered the slipper spell (sending a silent thanks to Neville for teaching him the charm) and sighed in relief as his feet were enveloped in the soft wooly slippers and padded over to the panel by the door to silence the alarm.
After he was showered and dressed, Harry ran his fingers over his schedule for the day at his desk. Though he was still slow, he was able to read the braille without having to get out his reader. It was nice to just pick up something and read it without a huge production of pulling out tools. He looked forward to the day when he could read quickly.
Harry Potter's schedule
Monday 19 July, 1993
7 am Breakfast
8 am Flexibility and balance with Ms. Midgeon in the O&M room
10 am Session with Besel and Lieutenant James Holman aboard the HMS Eden via the Mont Blanc Egress
11 am Navigating with your staff with Mr. Burbage in the O&M room
12 pm Lunch
2 pm Braille with Madam Flamel in the Library
4 pm Defense with Professor Remus Lupin in the O&M room
6 pm Dinner
7 pm Visit with the Flamels in their quarters
Of course, it helped that the schedule was familiar and every day was nearly the same. He had begun to recognize the patterns. He did stumble a bit over the Lieutenant's name and the name of the ship. It had been a long time since he'd had a session with the magically painted memory of the blind muggle adventurer from the 1800s.
Something about visiting Lieutenant Holman was niggling at him. He ran his fingers over his name again and again and then finally he realized what it was. Traveling into the painting used the same kind of magic that had nearly trapped Gemma in that dank tomb in Aminah's book. He had to be pulled into that painting, just like the portal into the book. He felt the hair rise on the back of his neck as he remembered how he'd been sucked into Tom Riddle's diary.
Are all these things connected? Are they made the same way? Is it dark magic?
He'd be able to talk to Besel about it. She'd listen.
Maybe if I show up a little early?
He could hear Gemma starting to wake up and picked up his schedule to put in his staff when his fingers brushed against another piece of parchment on his desk. It was a thick letter sealed in an envelope.
Was this delivered during the night?
He found the flap and broke the wax seal and pulled the parchment out. Running his fingers over it, he could tell that someone had written on it with thick ink. He pulled out his anagnóstis and was surprised to hear Oliver Wood's voice… which he almost didn't recognize because he sounded like he had a terrible head cold or was delivering an emotional speech to the team after a devastating loss. He skimmed down to the end of the page to confirm that it was indeed Oliver who'd written him the letter.
"Dear Harry,
I read the paper this weekend. I can't tell you how crushed I am by this news. Blind! Are you really blind? It can't be. How did this happen? I thought Madam Pomfrey and St. Mungo's were going to get you sorted out. Why did this happen? What have you done to fix it?
And why didn't you tell me? How is it that I had to learn that the best seeker Gryffindor has ever had can no longer play from the Daily Prophet? Do you understand how crushing this is? I understand that you probably have other things on your mind, but would it have been too hard to jot me a note? Okay, maybe that is too hard for you now. I'm sorry. I imagine lots of things are nearly impossible now. I mean, how do you eat?! Get dressed? Find things? I am really sorry for you. I am. It's a real tragedy.
But I'm going to St. Mungo's tomorrow to find out what I can about healing you. This is just too important. The future of the Gryffindor glory hangs in the balance and I will not stop until I find a cure. I promise you. You will see again if it is the last thing I do.
Your friend and Captain,
Oliver Wood
Harry's shoulders sagged as he listened to Oliver's emotions as they ranged from disbelief to sadness to anger to pity to betrayal in a space of a couple of short paragraphs, though at the end he sounded vaguely hopeful and determined. He sighed.
Harry laid down his anagnóstis when he heard Gemma padding toward him and turned, signing good morning to her. She returned his greeting into his outstretched hands and asked what the fancy letter was.
"Oh, is it fancy?"
"Yes, very!" she replied.
"Just Wood ranting. I wonder if I should slip over to St. Mungo's… naw. That'd be a bad idea."
"Wood?"
"Oliver Wood, Gryffindor Quidditch captain. He just read the Daily Prophet and is heading to St. Mungo's to find a cure for me."
"Oh, wow."
"Yeah. You ready for breakfast?" Harry said as he stowed the letter in his staff.
oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo
Harry found that he was the first student dressed and ready for flexibility and balance later that morning—his revealing charm indicated that no one else was in the room. He padded to his favorite spot in the room, rolled out his mat and sank into child's pose—kneeling with knees spread wide, toes touching, forehead resting on his mat, and arms stretched out in front of him as he waited for the rest of the class to filter in. The dittany had helped his shoulder, but it still ached. He breathed deeply into his belly and felt his breath stretch out his lower back.
The old gym around him settled and creaked. He could hear the squeals of children running around outside filtering through the thin windows. He listened as someone approached using a staff. He guessed it was Aminah as Fitz had a much heavier step. He heard her mutter the revealing charm.
"Harry?"
"Over here," Harry responded without lifting his head.
Aminah laid out her mat near Harry's and Harry sat back on his heels.
"You okay?" he asked her as she settled onto her mat.
"Yeah. Just tired. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, same. Have they found your dad yet?"
"No, mum said she'd let me know as soon as she hears."
"Did you meet with the Aurors yesterday?"
"No. Mum's worried that they… well, that they can't be trusted."
"What, really?"
"Yeah, this Bill bloke… I guess he's also an Auror but in America."
"Oh, and she thinks the Aurors here would… what? Not believe you?"
"Yeah, something like that. She's nervous. So, she's only asking people she trusts to help us find him."
Gemma's skipping feet danced across the room and she set up her mat on the other side of Harry. Harry jumped when her mat smacked down next to him.
"Sorry, was that loud?" she signed into his hands.
"A bit," Harry laughed, lifting his face up toward her.
"Is that Gemma?" Aminah asked. "I wish I could understand her better. How do you do it?"
"I dunno. We just figure it out as we go—it helps that she can read what I'm saying. There's still a lot that I don't understand. I'm still learning."
Gemma trailed her hand across Harry's shoulder as she walked over to Aminah and sat down between them so that she could talk to both of them.
"I can teach you, too, Aminah," Gemma offered, signing under both Harry's hands and Aminah's—their hands tented over hers and rising and falling as she made the motions. Harry said what he thought Gemma was saying in case Aminah couldn't follow.
"Yes, please. It was a terrible feeling yesterday when I knew that you were trying to tell me something and I couldn't understand you. I'm sorry I haven't been trying very hard to learn. I just feel so overwhelmed sometimes. There is so much to learn and it was one more thing. But what happened yesterday… I don't want that to happen again." A little sob escaped with Aminah's words.
Gemma's hands went from under their hands and pulled Aminah into a hug. Harry had trailed after them until he understood and then patted Aminah's shoulder while she heaved with sobs into Gemma's embrace.
oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo
Harry changed quickly after class with the hope of talking to Besel a little before they went down to the deck of the HMS Eden for their session with the Lieutenant.
"Oh, Harry, you're here early!" Besel said in way of a greeting.
"Sorry! I just wanted to talk to you before we went down to the ship."
"Of course, do you want to take a little walk with me and tell me what is on your mind?"
"Sure, that's fine."
"Let's cross the Egress and we can start walking down to the ship."
"Oh, on that path?" Harry said, stopping.
"Yes," Besel said as the air that propelled her levitating chair made a different noise as it passed from the tile in the corridor to the rock-strewn path of the Mont Blanc room. Harry heard her turn toward him.
"Are you worried about the path, Harry?" Besel asked.
"Maybe it won't be so bad this time?" Harry tried to reason.
"So bad?"
"The first time I walked down it—I fell a lot. I got bruises and cut my hand."
"Was that at the beginning of training?"
"Yeah. I guess I've probably learned a lot since then," Harry said uncertainly, as he crossed the Egress and closed his eyes tight against the bright sunlight. He drew in a deep breath of the fresh mountain air, tasting a bit of pine on the tip of his tongue.
"I imagine you have. Do you want to hold onto the back of my chair or navigate on your own?"
"I'll try walking behind you with my staff, if that's okay."
"Of course. What's on your mind, Harry?" Besel said as she started down the path. Harry could hear the spray of sand stirred up by her chair pinging against his trousers.
He started following her, his staff held more parallel to his body as if he were walking in an indoor space since he was so close to her chair.
"I wanted to ask you about the magic that was in Aminah's book last night. Is it the same kind of magic that was used to make the painting that we're going through now to meet with the Lieutenant?"
Harry's foot slid off a rock and his words were jarred.
"That's a good question, Harry. I imagine you've also made a connection to the magic used to make the diary that ensnared Ginny Weasley?" Besel asked as she made her way through the classroom space, and the noise of her chair bounced off the forms of the benches as she passed them. Harry marveled that he could discern the difference.
"Yes," Harry whispered. "Is it the same?"
"No, the painting magic is different. I'm certain. Though I think that the book magic and the diary magic could be closely related—likely very dark magic… but Madam Flamel and Sir Nicolas are still looking at it. I haven't heard."
"How is the painting magic different?" Harry asked as he slid a little as the path slanted down toward the lake, leaving the plateau where the benches sat.
"While it is controversial, it doesn't use dark magic. I believe the reason why the Ministry of Magic tried to destroy all Beryl Comstock's paintings was because of her work with muggles. I don't think it had anything to do with dark magic."
Harry listened as the birds in the trees that bordered the zig-zagging path down to the lake started calling in alarm as they neared. He heard some of them take flight. A few small insects made buzzing noises as they hopped into the grasses near his feet.
"Oh, okay. Well, I guess that makes me feel better. It's just that we had to be pulled through it… me and Aminah… so I thought that maybe it was similar to the book, where it didn't work on me and Aminah because we are blind."
"Yes, well, that's dark magic. Remember, you were able to travel into the pensieve without a visual connection. It doesn't possess your mind."
"Right, that's right," Harry breathed. "So the painting is different? We won't get trapped in it?"
"No, we'd never enter it if it posed a danger," Besel assured.
"Okay, well, that makes me feel better. Thanks," Harry said as he slid a little on loose gravel, and leaned a little on his staff to regain his footing.
"Oi. This is a lot easier," Harry noted as he made his way down the path following the sound of Besel's chair. He could already hear the water lapping on the side of the boat. It felt like it had just taken them moments to make their way down to the ship, not the lifetime it had taken the first time.
As the path leveled out and it sounded as if they were nearing the ship, Besel said, "You mentioned that you had a hard time with the gangplank last time, Harry. How do you feel about going up it today?"
"I think I can do it. Though I could always fly up to the deck on my broom."
Harry waved his hand in front of his face trying to disperse a cloud of tiny flying gnats that seemed determined to fly up his nose when he breathed. He sputtered and spit them out of his mouth.
"That you could! Do you want to?" Besel's voice seemed to be rising in the air as she spoke.
"Are you changing your chair to a standing position?" Harry asked. "Like Mei's?"
"No, I'm just going up the gangplank and trying to get out of this cloud of bugs."
"I think I'll try the gangplank and see what it is like this time," Harry said as his silvertip struck the wood of the gangplank.
Harry used his staff to feel the width of the plank and then stepped onto it. It shifted with his weight, but it wasn't as unnerving this time because he knew about the cushioning charms that would prevent him from falling off. Holding his staff in the middle to accommodate the steep slope of the plank, he walked up it keeping pace with Besel's chair. He heard the change in sounds as she reached the top and was no longer hovering over the plank.
"You're nearly at the top, Harry—just a couple more feet. There's a railing that you can hold onto with your left hand, just about at waist level."
Harry reached for it and then used his staff to determine how far down to the deck before he hopped down.
"That was so much easier!"
"Good! I'm glad. Okay, let's see. I think the portrait is back here, through this corridor and in the captain's quarters," Besel said as she turned away from Harry. "You might need to duck a little."
Harry put his arm across the top of his head as Godric had taught him and found the low-hung ceiling to the corridor and followed Besel inside—the air under her chair stirred up dust that made him sneeze.
"Gezunteheit!"
The creaking noises of the ship were louder in the smaller space and Harry felt that the gentle rocking of the ship was more pronounced in the tight space. He was sent from side to side in the corridor, knocking his shoulders and elbows on the walls as the ship swayed.
"The door jamb is low here, too," Besel warned.
Harry closed his eyes as he entered the captain's quarters to guard against the bright sunlight as it streamed in through a panel of windows that curved around the room. He remembered the description of the room from when he'd been here before, getting his cuts tended to by Adam. It was only a few weeks ago, but it felt like a lifetime.
"Here, Harry—the portrait is over here. Are you ready to go through?"
"Sure, I guess so." Despite Besel's explanation, he still felt some trepidation at the thought of traveling through the magical painting. He chided himself.
I passed through the Egress to the Mont Blanc lake easily enough, why is this any different?
"Here, hold my hand while I go through and I'll pull you through," Besel instructed as she grasped his hand. Harry collapsed his staff and stored it in his pocket.
Harry was pulled close to the wall as Besel traveled through and then his feet left the floor and he felt like he was a balloon on a tether in danger of floating away into an unknown space until all of the sudden his feet were sucked back down to the floor as if a magnetic switch had been thrown. He bent his knees to absorb the shock of landing and managed not to stumble.
When he drew in a breath, he was surprised to find that it was thick with salt and water, and much colder than it had been in the Alps. There was a damp chill that instantly penetrated his skin down to his bones. Also, the ship was rolling and lurching alarmingly. It was all Harry could do to remain standing. He bent his knees so that he could move with the ship and cast his hands around him, trying to find something to hold on to.
"Here, Harry, hold onto the window here," Besel said, taking his outstretched hand and guiding it to the wood framing the window.
"Oh, wow. It is cold here. And dark. Is it night?" Harry asked—he was right up against the windows, but couldn't detect any light.
"No, I think it's just really stormy. Let's find the Lieutenant and find out what's going on. Do you happen to have a jacket in your staff? You might want to put it on. I've got a jumper in my chair storage that going to put on." Besel said as she rummaged around.
Harry summoned his jumper from his staff and pulled it on over his head—lurching as he let go of the window.
"I think it is going to be pretty wet on deck, so I'll cast a charm to keep us dry and warm, okay? Impervius!"
Harry felt the tingle as the spell touched the surface of his body and ran through his clothes all the way to his toes and he felt warmer immediately.
A voice erupted nearby, making Harry jump.
"Healer Geller, I need to talk to you right away!" Healer Jordan said. "It is urgent."
"Hi, Healer Jordan," Harry said, turning toward the sound of her voice. His brows knitted together as he tried to figure out where she was… he couldn't hear her shoes on the wood planks of the ship or the usual rustle of her robes. Had she been in the room already? Or did she just come through the painting?
"Oh, it was her Patronus. She just sent me a message. She's not actually here. I know that's confusing when you can't see the Patronus—I'm on my way!—But, Harry, I have to go. Do you want to go back with me and do this later, or do you want to stay on the ship and meet with the Lieutenant without me?" Besel asked.
"Uh, I'd really like to talk to the Lieutenant. Is that okay?"
"Of course. Let me just show you how to return to our time through the portrait so that you can return when you're ready."
"Our time?"
"Yes, we're doing a bit of time traveling when we go through this painting."
"We're not just going into the painting, we're actually traveling back in time?"
"Well, it is a memory, but it is also that time—don't worry, you can't change the timeline. Also, there are protections so that you can't just wander off and get lost in time and space."
"I guess that's a relief! Though wouldn't it be nice to exist in a time when Voldemort wasn't even born yet."
"Ha, yes. I imagine that'd be appealing. But yeah, you can't stay here long. A couple of hours or days is fine, but longer and it could take a toll on your health."
"Oh, really?"
"Indeed. Let's not test it. You can use your staff to send me or Healer Jordan a message if you need help. Don't forget that."
"Yeah, I know."
"Right, let me show you how to get back now."
Harry followed the sound of her chair back to the portrait they'd just come through, leaning heavily on the wall as the ship continued to pitch about on the rough sea. Besel took his hand and laid it flat on the canvas of the painting. It moved up and down with the swell of the waves.
"Okay, now start running your hand around the center of the painting until you feel an indentation. Feel that? Don't press too hard, else you'll be pulled through, but that's the spot. You have to think about when you want to be while you're pressing through—no distractions."
"Is it the same for sighted people?"
"We can go through by looking intently and close-up."
"Can you get accidentally pulled in?"
"Certainly, if you're not careful. I can explain it in more detail later, but for now, I need to get to Healer Jordan—it sounded urgent. You're certain you'll be fine here?"
"Uh, yeah. You know for sure that Lieutenant Holman is on the ship?"
"Yes, the memory is tied to him. He's here. Okay, I'm going to go back now. Just come back if you can't find him or you've had enough of these rough seas. Bye," she said and her voice was eclipsed as she went through the painting.
"Bye," Harry said to the space where she'd been.
He was tempted to just forget it and follow her, but part of him did want to talk with Lieutenant Holman and he really did like being on the ship, even as it was pitching around back and forth kind of wildly, making the furniture squeal as it slid back and forth on the floor.
Harry shook out his staff and asked it to take him to the Lieutenant. But of course, he hadn't known the charm when he'd first met the Lieutenant, so his staff had no idea what he meant. So he asked it to lead him to the deck and then followed the directions, thankful for the aftí in his ear that made it possible to hear the directions even though the storm outside had seemed to have picked up in ferocity since Besel had left. As he clung to the door frame on his way out into the corridor, when water washed over his trainers (but did not soak them, thanks to the Impervious charm Besel had cast), he thought about just tossing in the towel and turning back.
Why did we come through the painting at this particular moment? What happens if I get washed overboard? Will Healer Jordan show up in the middle of the ocean to rescue me?
Harry started laughing and couldn't stop for a moment. Then he continued down the corridor, bouncing from wall to wall like a pin-ball until he emerged on the deck and was hit with a wave of water that about sent him back down the corridor, except that he managed to cling to the door jamb. He almost lost his staff, though. He clung to it, driving the point into the floorboards and bracing his body against the next dousing.
He could hear men's voices shouting over the wind, the complaining wood of the ship, groaning ropes, and the sloshing water that ran in torrents on the deck. He was pretty sure that he shouldn't venture out onto the deck. He had no idea where to go or what to hang onto. The ship pitched from side to side so dramatically, that he felt that they were perpendicular to the ocean at times.
Harry decided that he'd be better off just going back to the present and coming back another time to have a nice leisurely talk with the Lieutenant.
Right now isn't a good time.
Light seared across his field of vision and Harry let go of the door crashing onto the deck and rolling against a pile of rope.
Lightning!
His staff tumbled from his grasp, clattering as it fell away from him. Before he was even drawing breath, he was calling it back to his hand and it snapped into his outstretched hand. Though it stung, he was relieved and started climbing back to his feet.
"Young master, that was a lucky break! It should have been swept out to sea instead of into your hand. What are you doing out here on the deck? Get thee below before you're taken over the side along with your walking stick," someone with a rough voice said as they hauled him to his feet and pushed him back in the direction he'd come from.
Harry stumbled, reaching out with his staff and his hand, trying to get his bearings and keep upright.
"Do you know where I can find Lieutenant Holman?" he called out to the man who'd helped him.
"Oh! You're one of them, are you? Stowed away so that you could pay a visit to the Lieutenant? The nutter was up in the rigging—says that it is like flying! He'll fly himself right into the arms of Davy Jones! But he comes this way now. Ahoy, Lieutenant! Here's one of your strange young masters, come outta the woodwork to pay you a visit o'er a cuppa!"
"Ahoy! I'm on my way!" the Lieutenant called from above. "Isn't this glorious?"
Harry's harrumph was swallowed by the wind as he found a railing to cling to as the ship rolled and canted and he was doused by buckets of water. He collapsed his staff and stowed it safely in his pocket, afraid he'd drop it again and not be able to summon it.
Overhead the rigging creaked with the weight of the Lieutenant and then floorboards shook beneath Harry's feet when he dropped down onto the deck.
"Lieutenant, I'm over here," Harry called out.
"Right you are, Mr. Potter," he said as he joined Harry at the railing as if it were a calm day on the sea instead of a raging storm. "A bit earlier than I expected. I apologize that I wasn't in the captain's quarters awaiting your arrival. And the lady? Missus Geller? Does she await us there?"
"She had to return to the Center—she received an urgent message."
"Ah, that is unfortunate. She is a gentle soul. And wise. I value her counsel. How right that others do as well. But still, I was looking forward to some time in her company. But you are here! Let us return to the captain's quarters. He has so generously given us the use of his space and invited us to eat his biscuits! It's this way—hold on to the railing and take my arm."
Harry found the crook of the Lieutenant's elbow. The wool of his uniform was soaked through but seemed to radiate a slight warmth along with a musty and smokey odor. The Lieutenant walked confidently across the deck though with a slight limp. The haphazard motion of the ship seemed less erratic with his hand on the Lieutenant's sturdy arm.
As they settled into chairs that continued to shift and slide with the rocking ship, the Lieutenant noted that the storm was starting to abate, "I predict that we'll feel the sun on our faces before this visit is over! So, Mr. Potter! You seem to be getting around much more confidently than when I first met you some weeks ago!"
The Lieutenant had placed a tin on the table and invited Harry to have a biscuit. Harry nibbled on one, curious about biscuits from the 1800s. He found it was tasty, but not as sweet as he was used to.
"Yes, sir. I've been learning a lot at the Center. I've even been flying on my broo-" Harry trailed off, suddenly unsure if he could talk about flying on brooms with the muggle.
"Your broom? I've heard that this is a mode of transportation for your kind. Ha! I'd like to see that! No! What I'd give to try it!"
"I imagine it is like climbing the rigging! It is wonderful! Though Professor McGonagall has said that I'm to be banned from flying."
"For certain! Indeed! You can't imagine how many times people have tried to pull me down! Done more harm to me than any fall would render, yet they think they are saving me! And why does this Professor want to keep you from flying? Is he afraid you'll get hurt?"
"Yes, I think so. It scares her."
"Well, I certainly understand the frustration I hear in your voice. She holds authority over you?"
"She's my head of house, while I'm at school. She says that I can't play Quidditch. That's our sport, on brooms."
"And you're able to play? Despite not being able to see?"
"Yes, we can put bells on the balls and other brooms, so that I can hear where everyone is. It is hard, but still, I can do it. She was watching me and still, she banned me."
"Well, that is challenging. You are young, so you have to abide by the rules set down by your head of house. What of your parents? Can they not advocate for you?"
"They are dead, sir."
"Oh, I am sorry. That is onerous. Are you a ward of the school, then?"
"No, I live with my aunt and uncle, but they don't want to know anything about the magical world."
"Ah, so you have no one who can advocate for you… except for, perhaps, yourself?"
"Well, there's Godric. He's also blind. He said that he went through something similar when he was at Hogwarts. He said he'd help me."
"Well, there you go! An ally! An ally can make all the difference in the world. I've found that I had to escape the drawing rooms and streets of London and the like. People made assumptions about what I could and could not do. Their prejudices fenced me in. They didn't want to see me poking around with my stick—felt more comfortable with me closed in a stuffy room with nothing to do. I'm freer out here on the sea where everything has a place and everyone is also holding onto the railing. The sailors forget I can't see! We are equal here; my abilities are what they notice, not my deficits. But I had to fight to get away from the restraints. You'll have to do it, too. If it is important for you to play this Quid-ditch game, then you'll have to fight for it at every turn. Gather your allies around you. Stand your ground."
"It is important. It is when I feel free—when I am myself."
"Then you will find a way. I'm certain."