Gemma suggested that Harry shower and change clothes before he went to dinner at the Flamel's—teasing him by making the sign for stinky (waving her hand in front of his nose so that he could feel the air move on his face). His face warmed at the suggestion, but he laughed. It had been an eventful day and he didn't need to stick his nose under his armpit to know that Gemma was simply stating the truth.

In his wardrobe, he found that his nice pair of trousers and a dress shirt that he'd bought when he went shopping with Hermione and her dad had been laundered. He decided that it wouldn't hurt to also wear his school robes even though he hadn't been wearing them all summer because they were warm and a little harder to manage with his staff—one more thing to get caught up as he was trying to get around.

When he was out of the shower, he tried to get his hair to behave, much to Gemma's amusement. She snatched the comb out of his hand, pulled his desk chair over so she could stand on it, and tried to help him by dragging the tines across his scalp and patting his hair into place. She put her hands on his shoulders and turned him this way and that. She finally gave up and tousled his hair in frustration until it was its usual mop of unruly hair.

"It's all right, Gemma. Everyone always gives up on my hair. It has a mind of its own."

He grinned at her and caught her hands as she made the sign for laughing.

The door to the dormitory opened and Harry turned toward it, listening. He heard Aminah's staff.

"All right, Aminah? Did you get an owl?"

"Yeah," she said as she walked over to Harry's area, tapped with her staff until it came in contact with the bed and she sat down with a heavy sigh.

"What did your mum say?" Harry asked, sitting down next to her.

Gemma hopped down from the chair and pulled it so close that their knees were touching allowing her to reach them both to sign under their outstretched hands.

"Just that it seemed like they might have had a lead and were closing in on finding my dad and maybe even the monster who is controlling him, but then all the Aurors were called off the case to go chase that Sirius Black."

"Oh," Harry said as a weight settled in his gut. "Merlin's beard. I'm sorry, Aminah."

Gemma responded to Aminah, too, her hands moving through the signs slowly so that Aminah could follow. Harry's hands hovered over theirs and he could tell that Gemma had echoed his sentiments.

"Thanks, Gemma. Yeah, I know. It's just hard to wait. I'm just so worried about my dad. What if something… happens to him and I never get a chance to tell him that I know he didn't do it? What if…" Aminah lowered her chin to her chest and her hands to her lap.

Gemma's hands had followed Aminah's for a bit, but then hovered in the air hesitating. Harry held his hands over Gemma's wanting to help, but not knowing what to do. Then Gemma was pulling Harry's arm across Aminah's back as she hopped into the bed and threw her thin arms around both of them. The sudden movement made Harry lurch against Aminah as he lost his balance, then struggled to regain it. He rubbed his head where it had been struck by Gemma's elbow. But a sniffle from Aminah brought his focus back and he patted Aminah's back awkwardly while she heaved with sobs. Sympathetic tears pricked at his eyes.

Harry summoned a handkerchief from his staff and followed Aminah's arm from her shoulder to her hand that was covering her face. He pressed the soft cloth against her wet cheek. She took it and blew her nose and wiped her tears.

"Thanks, Gemma, Harry. You're good friends."

Gemma tapped his wrist where he'd wear a watch if he had one and he suddently remembered.

"Oh! I've got to go. I'm going to be late. I'm sorry Aminah. I'm having dinner with the Flamel's tonight."

"Oh, yeah. That's right. I hope that goes well," Aminah sniffed.

Harry hurriedly shook out his staff and started for the door when he realized he hadn't put his shoes on yet. Laughing he explained to Aminah what he'd done and was relieved to hear her laugh in response. He was using his staff to locate them when Gemma hopped across the floor, grabbed his trainers and put them in front of his feet, nudging them against his toes.

"Thanks, Gemma!" he said as he shoved his feet into them, laced them up, and then rushed out the door and along the corridor toward the dining hall, hoping that Madam Flamel was a little late, too.

"Oh, there you are, Harry! I thought you'd forgotten," Madam Flamel greeted him as he approached the dining hall.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Madam," Harry said, trying to catch his breath.

"Not to worry, dear. You look very nice."

"Er. Thank you," Harry said pulling at the collar of his school robes.

"Would you like me to guide you?"

"Sure, where are we going?" he asked as he took her arm. Her arm was soft and covered in a silky fabric that made rustling noises when she moved. She smelled like rosewater and lavender with a hint of powder. She started walking down the corridor at an ambling pace, tilting from side to side as she walked. Her walking stick punctuated her steps.

"Well, as you know we've sealed all the Egresses as a security measure… but one. We will go to our chateau outside of Paris. It is heavily warded and Healer Jordan is sure we'll be safe."

Harry cringed. All this talk about safety. It made him feel penned in… as if he was locked in his cupboard with Uncle Vernon raging on the other side of the flimsy door. He wished they'd stop talking about it.

"Now, my Nicolas is eager to meet you. He has, of course, heard a lot about you… from Albus. Of course, there is the business with the stone and how you prevented it from falling into Riddle's hands," Madam Flamel said as they walked down the corridor, past the dormitories. Harry realized he hadn't been past his dormitory door and didn't know what was down here.

"And certainly, he's very curious about the Basilisk venom and the Phoenix tears," Madam Flamel continued.

"Uh-huh," Harry said, though his attention was on his surroundings. It seemed like the corridor was growing narrower and darker and then suddenly opened up to a larger space. The stone underfoot changed to gravel and then to springy grass and there was a light breeze, bringing a cool, verdant aroma and the sound of rustling leaves. In the distance, Harry heard a rooster call.

"Are we outside?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yes, dear, I'm sorry. I should have told you that we've passed through the Egress. We are now in Giverny, France. Here we are at our cottage door. There's a step up here."

The stones under Harry's feet sloped toward the center as if worn down by feet over many generations. Madam Flamel reached forward, a door creaked and they walked into a warmly lit space that was filled with a savory aroma of roasted vegetables and baking bread. Harry blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light… but it wasn't too bright.

"Harry!" a raspy voice greeted him from nearby and he was being clapped on his shoulder by someone who wasn't too much taller than him.

"Sir Nicolas, it's nice to meet you, sir," Harry said and let go of Madam Flamel's arm so that he could offer his hand. Sir Nicolas grasped it and pumped it up and down enthusiastically, then took Harry by the shoulders, kissing him on both cheeks and drawing him into a tight hug. All the while, Madam Flamel was making a fuss about the way he was manhandling Harry to which Sir Nicolas shushed, "he's fine, he's fine!" When he finally released Harry, he put an arm around Harry's shoulders and guided him into the room.

"It smells delicious in here."

"Come in, come in. We're so glad that you can join us for dinner. I've been wanting to talk to you for a very long time. Albus speaks so highly of you! And well, of course, I'm so sorry about the loss of your sight. What a tragedy. Ah, but Perenelle is pursing her lips at me. Of course, there are far worse things than losing one's sight. You are adapting very well, she tells me. Taking it all in stride."

As Sir Nicolas steered Harry around the room in a circuitous route, Harry's hand brushed against the upholstery of a chair and his knee grazed a low table; he got the impression that the room was packed with furniture. Sir Nicolas pushed him onto a sofa and plopped down next to him, still insisting to his wife's protests that Harry was fine and that he didn't need to be mollycoddled. Harry had to suppress a laugh. It was clear who had actually spent time working with blind students and who hadn't in this household.

"You two talk while I go finish getting dinner ready, all right?" Madam Flamel said. "Can I get you something to drink, Harry? Pumpkin juice? Tea?"

"Oh," Harry said as he stood up. "Pumpkin juice would be great, thank you. I can help you," Harry said, standing up while pulling his staff out of his pocket and shaking it out.

Sir Nicolas pulled on his arm, dragging him back down on the couch.

"Oh, no, Perenelle doesn't want any help in the kitchen. Sit right here and let me see that staff of yours. From what Perenelle has told me, it has some very handy features." Harry sat back down heavily on the couch, bouncing a little.

He handed his staff to Sir Nicolas who took it and was running his hands over the smooth wood surface and tapping the silver tip on the carpeted floor. It made Harry a little nervous to hand his staff over.

Sir Nicolas hopped up and seemed to be trying out the staff. His aftí spoke in his ear warning him of obstacles in the room as Sir Nicolas crashed into furniture and sent things crashing to the floor.

"Nicolas! Ah, ma Freya! Qu'est-ce qui se passe là bas?"

"Mais rien du tout, ma chère." Sir Nicolas said his voice strained because he was bending over and picking papers and books off the floor.

"Sir Nicolas, do you want to use my aftí so you can hear the directions from the staff?" Harry took the little metal clip from his ear and held it out on his palm.

"Oui! Certainly. What is this? An aftí? So I put it here on my ear? Like this?"

Harry shrugged, unsure.

"Ah, yes, I can hear it. This is a magnificent magical tool. How handy it must be for you. What else does it do?"

"It is handy. I was using a muggle cane earlier today and yeah, this is much better. It can do a lot of things. It has undetectable, extendable storage and does protective charms and can tell time. It is like my wand… except better because I can find my way with it." Harry held out his hand for his staff, hoping that Sir Nicolas was done examining it.

"Oh, you must feel adrift without it," Sir Nicolas said, stepping over to Harry and putting the staff in his hand and then tipping the aftí into Harry's palm.

"Yes, thanks," Harry said, securing the aftí on his ear.

"So, Perenelle tells me that your tears have healing qualities, this is true?" Sir Nicolas said, settling back on the couch.

"I guess so." Harry reached forward with his staff and found the couch and sat down.

"And this is from being healed by Fawkes?"

"I don't know. I guess so?"

"Certainly others have been healed by the Phoenix and yet this is not something that I've ever heard of. What does Albus think?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders and made a grimace.

"You haven't told Albus?"

"I haven't seen Albus since May…"

"Ah, that's right. He's off pursuing… eh, well, yes. He's out of the country. He would want to know… you could send him a letter."

"Er."

"Surely you can use a Quick Quotes Quill?"

"Yes, it's not that. It's just… well, he's the Headmaster. He doesn't want to hear from me."

"Oh, don't be so modest. He talks about you all the time. Quite fond of you, he is!"

"Er."

"No matter," Sir Nicolas said clapping his hands together as he stood up from the couch. "I just want to look this up. Just a moment. Oh, and yes, your pumpkin juice is on the table to your left." Sir Nicolas walked over to the far side of the room.

Harry felt along the couch to his left, budging over as he went until he found the arm and then a lace-covered table next to it. He carefully moved his fingers over the bumpy surface of the lace until he found the bottom of a goblet—cool and wet with condensation. He carried it gingerly to his lips as it felt rather full and took a sip. The pumpkin juice was smooth and spicy with a slightly different tang than what he was used to at the Center and at Hogwarts. He ran his fingers of his left hand over the pattern of the lace on the table absently while he sipped—a fleur-de-lis like the ones in the dormitory.

Left alone to observe the room, Harry noticed that there was a cool breeze coming from the wall across from the couch, but not high up as if from a window, instead, it seemed to be coming from a source near the floor. It was accompanied by a rustling noise that didn't sound like paper or fabric… he was trying to puzzle it out when Sir Nicolas cried out in triumph from across the room.

While Harry was getting his pumpkin juice, Sir Nicolas had been pulling heavy books off a shelf and then putting them back noisily. He must have found what he was looking for because he started walking back toward Harry slowly, turning pages and muttering to himself in French.

From behind them, Harry could hear plates and silverware being set down on a wood surface. He didn't hear footsteps along with it, so guessed that Madam Flamel had sent the dinnerware to the table magically.

"Ah, yes," he said, returning to English. "Here is a wizard who tested some of Merlin's theories about Phoenix tears and ran more recent tests… incredibly rare, Phoenix's are, you know. Only one can live at a time and they can live to be 500 years old, which means they are regenerating thousands of times over their lifetime."

Sir Nicolas settled down on the couch near Harry and Harry set his pumpkin juice back on the table. Sir Nicolas was running his finger down the page and muttering to himself. He stopped abruptly and turned to Harry.

"You must tell me what happened… everything. The Basilisk, the venom, the Phoenix tears. How did this come about?"

Harry's throat closed and he choked a little on his saliva. Sir Nicolas pounded him on the back, but continued to press. "In order to understand what has happened, these changes in your body. It is highly unusual. And if I'm to help you… my time here, our time here is coming to an end. Perenelle and I… well, we are not long for this earth, but before we go, we are determined to help Albus… and you… this threat you face… so much greater now. But perhaps these things happen for a reason. Maybe it is part of the greater plan. Albus thought he'd made an error… but now I'm not so sure. Perhaps this is simply a step in the path of vanquishing the Dark Lord."

"Greater plan? Vanquishing the Dark Lord? I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said as he braced himself on the couch holding on to the cushion under his legs and planting his feet firmly on the floor, trying to will away his dizziness. He kept sucking in air, but it didn't seem to be reaching his lungs.

"Ah, forgive me. Just the nonsense of an old man… prone to fancies and fairytales," Sir Nicolas' tone changed suddenly as if he'd come into focus.

"What do you mean that you are not long for this earth?" Harry asked, hoping to shift the focus away from talk of Voldemort.

"Perenelle, and I—we destroyed the stone. It posed too great a threat. So, when our elixir runs out, we'll die. It is the way of things," Sir Nicolas said with an ease that made it seem as if he were talking about the end of a long day, not the end of his life.

"How much time do you have left?"

"These things are uncertain. We thought we had less than a year, but now, it's been over a year since we destroyed it. And here we are, still here with still a bit of elixir left. But we need to use our time well, so tell me exactly what happened in the Chamber of Secrets," Sir Nicolas pressed again.

Harry drew in a deep breath and told his story yet again. It was becoming rote. Sir Nicolas stopped him a few times asking for details about the consistency of the blood and venom that doused him when the sword punctured the roof of the serpent's mouth and how exactly it stung when it got in his eyes.

"Did Albus save any of the evidence? Did he take samples from your clothes that night?" Sir Nicolas asked as he paced in front of Harry. He had set a Quick Quotes Quill to take down Harry's story as he told it and it was scratching across the parchment as they spoke.

"No, sir, he didn't," Harry said, the memory of his fatigue and confusion as he tried to find the chair in Professor McGonagall's office that night sitting heavily on his shoulders.

"So, Fawkes's tears on your arm brought you back from the brink of death, but didn't clear your eyes… and the pain in your eyes didn't stop until Fawkes cried tears directly into them?"

"Yes, that's right," Harry said.

"It says here that the older they are the more potent their tears. Pity Fawkes is relatively young… an older Phoenix might have been able to save your sight."

"Oh."

"What do you see? You still have some vision, yes?"

"Not really. Not enough to use. At first, everything was blurry and I could still some color, then all I could see was light, now I just know when it is light or dark, but can't really tell where it is coming from… only if it is a certain light… like the moon in a dark sky."

"You can see the moon?"

"Yes, usually. If it is bright."

"Hmmm. Interesting."

"Why is that interesting?"

"You can't see the shapes of other light, though?"

"No, not really."

"Have you tested it?"

"No, I've been busy learning how to read braille and walk with my staff… and I learned how to swim… how to milk goats… how to climb rigging… how to sculpt the silver tip on my staff…"

"You've learned a lot in a few weeks, haven't you?"

"Yeah. Actually, I've learned more spells in three weeks at the Center than I've learned in two years at Hogwarts," Harry said.

"Ah, yes. This is something that Albus and I have debated a number of times. But he is firm in his belief that practical application of magic is not fitting until the students are older."

"Oh. That just hurts the muggle-borns or those like me… raise by muggles, doesn't it?"

"That's what I've always contended but he's adamant. We are very good friends and we don't always agree."

"Dinner is served. Come to the table, gentlemen!" Madam Flamel called from the kitchen.

Harry stood up and shook out his staff, determined to find his own way and not be pulled to the table by Sir Nicolas… however well-intentioned he was. He was thankful when Sir Nicolas didn't interfere with his plan and let his shoulders drop a bit.

The room proved to be challenging and Harry changed his staff from narrating to vibrating to get to the table more efficiently. Sir Nicolas buzzed around the room returning books to the shelf and shuffling papers and seemingly oblivious to Harry's progress through the minefield of poofs, end tables, and credenzas.

Finally, free of the hazards, Harry stood at the end of the dining room table and squeezed his staff to get a description. The table sounded as if it were elegantly laid out with fine china, crystal goblets, and fine linens. Harry felt his palms slicken with the thought of sending a crystal goblet careening to the floor. He calmed himself remembering that Madam Flamel was a skilled wix and she'd likely know how to repair a broken crystal. He ran his palms on down school robes.

"Here, Harry, please sit here," Madam Flamel tapped the table giving him an audio cue to follow. He found the back of the chair and pulled it out and sat down. His stomach rumbled in response to the smells wafting off the table, easing his fears of eating in front of people he didn't know very well.