"What's this?" Aminah asked. "Oh, my book?"
"Oh, right! Sir Nicolas asked me to return it to you. He said that he removed the dark magic from it and it is safe. He said that Madam Flamel would tell you more about it today in our braille lesson."
"I'm kind of scared to open it again."
"Sir Nicolas said that it is totally clean now and you don't have to worry about it."
"Mum, can you tell me what Gemma is saying? I'm not nearly as good at signing as Harry is."
Gemma waited patiently while Aminah's mum came closer to them and asked Gemma to repeat what she'd said. Harry kept his fingers lightly resting on Gemma's hands while she signed to get a sense of what she was saying. When Aminah's mum read the slips of paper generated by Gemma's signs, Harry was pleased that he had gotten the gist of her comment right.
"She says that she picked it up last night and didn't feel the zing of magic that she'd felt that night she was pulled into it. Oh, honey. That's right. Aminah was telling me about that awful experience. I'm surprised you were brave enough to hold that book again after what happened to you!"
"Mum, I can't hear the papers rattling… did you cast the writing charm so Gemma can understand you?"
"Oh, right. What's that spell again?"
They helped Aminah's mom cast the Scribunt loqui spell and she repeated a version of what she'd said. Harry's stomach rumbled—the bangers and eggs aromas filling the room were just goading his hunger.
"Was that your stomach?" Aminah asked.
Gemma signed "What?" as Harry laughed and admitted, "Yes, your breakfast smells heavenly."
"You two should head on to the dining hall. Don't let us keep you," Aminah's mum said.
"Thanks for checking on me and bringing the book. I'm doing loads better today than I was yesterday. Just knowing that we're this close to finding my dad… when I was beginning to think that he was lost to us forever… well, it makes a world of difference."
Gemma hugged Aminah again and as they left through the herb garden Harry could hear Aminah's mum commenting on how sweet her friends were and how glad she was that she had people who were looking out for her as roommates. Harry paused a second so he could tell Gemma what he heard because he felt that it wasn't really fair that Gemma couldn't hear it when it was mostly about her, then they followed the tantalizing aromas of breakfast to the dining hall.
oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo
Because the Egresses were still closed off (all except the Flamel's), his morning session with Ms. Midgeon was taking place in a room that Harry hadn't been in before… he hadn't even heard of the room, which had a funny name—it was called the Moody room. It made him wonder what they'd be doing in there.
Gemma had gone with Peter to help him find something that he'd misplaced (Gemma told Harry what it was, but he didn't understand the sign and she rushed off before he could ask), so Harry was trying to find the room on his own. He had located it on the tactile map in the corridor outside the Mount Blanc room, and was now in the corridor beyond the kitchens trying to find the room. But his staff had just stopped giving directions.
"Navigant Moody room," Harry asked his staff. It was strangely silent in his aftí. He shook it and tried again. "Navigant Moody Room!" He squeezed it three times to get a description of the area. Nothing.
The hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood on end as he realized that there was a strange lack of magical pulse going through his staff. It felt dull and unresponsive in his hand. He flicked out his wand and tried the Navigant spell on it. It felt as though it were just a stick, nothing more. No magic thrummed through the wood. There was no connection. Harry resisted an urge to throw it away from him and made the motion to snap it back into place in his holster, but it clattered to the floor.
"Merlin's pants!" he exclaimed as he listened to it rolling away across the stone floor.
He tried to collapse his staff (it wouldn't) and so then knelt and swept the floor with his staff trying to find his wand. He didn't bother trying to summon it. It was like his magic had been shut off.
Suddenly, his staff started rattling in his hand and then lurched away. As it was pulled from his grasp, he heard wood splintering, and then the corridor was reverberating with the vibration and noises of a truckload of stuff skittering across the floor. Some of it fell against Harry's knees and he reached out trying to figure out what it was. Books, clothing, a deck of cards tied with a string, his broom!
My broom! From my staff! My staff split and everything spilled into the corridor!
He felt his broom, worried that it had been damaged as it had been disgorged from the staff. It seemed okay… maybe a bent twig or two, but nothing more than an intense game of scrimmage wouldn't do. He found Gemma's broom, too, and made sure it was okay.
As Hedwig's cage rolled noisily across the stone floor and hit the wall, Harry fell back on his heels in horror and despair.
Everything I own! Here in the hall. My pants!
He started scooping everything toward him and gathering it into a pile. He realized that he hadn't felt anything like his wand and he heard something that sounded like one of Mei's pearls rolling away. He did find his book bag and started putting his smaller items in it… his bottles of ink, quills, toiletries, pencils. He stacked his books and put his clothes in a pile, trying to hide his holey socks and pants under his school robes.
"Oh, no! My staff is broken! No, no, no!"
He had heard the splintering wood, but had hoped it wasn't badly damaged. His fingers told him otherwise. The handle had broken off completely and was a mass of splintered wood scattered on the floor. It was much shorter now. Harry swallowed a sob. His staff was nearly as dear to him as a limb and he felt nauseated as his fingers traced the split wood and fragments. He made a small pile of the wood fragments.
Maybe it can be magically repaired?
He thought of Ron's broken wand.
This was more than a break. The top of my staff has been shattered.
He pushed down his dread.
As he examined his staff, the silvertip hit the wall. The noise brought him back to his current predicament.
He pushed everything against the wall and then started using the quadrant technique that Godric had taught them for searching for lost things. At the time, he had thought it had been a waste of time when he could just do a summoning charm, but now, when his hand brushed against the pearl—making it roll away again—he understood why he needed to learn how to systematically search an area. He located the pearl and tucked it into a pocket in his book bag.
Where is everyone? Has this happened to everyone at the Center? Is all the magic here going to fall apart?
He wondered how much of the Center depended on magic… was it going to suddenly spill out on to Charing Cross Road?
Could that happen?
Finally, his hand connected with the wand. It had no spark of connection, either. He tried to place it manually back in the holster, but found that it was too long. Normally, it shrunk down to a size that fit on the inside of his forearm. He put it in his pocket instead and then stood up, dusting off his hands, and realized that he wasn't sure what direction he was facing in the corridor.
Harry gulped down a bit of panic that rose in his throat and tried to take one of the calming breaths that Ms. Midgeon had been coaching them on. He filled his lungs, held his breath for a count of four and then let it out slowly.
Harry snapped his fingers to listen to the space around him. It was one of the techniques that Godric had taught them in sessions when they couldn't rely on magic to orient themselves. He got a sense of which way the corridor was running, but still wasn't sure if he had turned around while he was searching for his stuff.
Maybe Godric set up this test? To see if I can use the non-magical techniques he's been teaching us? Nah. He wouldn't do anything to break my staff… that would be just cruel.
He felt the wall that he had stacked his stuff by, but he felt dizzy as he tried to imagine which way he was facing. Holding his short staff in his hand, he tapped the tip against the stone floor and listened. The clear metal ring sounded off the walls, floor, and ceiling. The sound was more finessed than his snapping fingers.
Is this the north or the south wall?
He thought about the movements he'd made as he searched and decided that he had turned to his right, but not enough to be heading back the way he came. He tapped the staff again and listened for more clues about the space.
A door opened and the sounds of the kitchen filled the corridor for a moment. It helped Harry get his bearings. Harry turned his face toward the sound and called out, "hello?"
No one answered and the sound was eclipsed as the door shut on the corridor taking the aromas of the coming lunch with it. The voices from the kitchen sounded frantic and he wondered if everything was spilling out of magical containers there, too.
Harry sighed and stood still trying to decide if he should go to the kitchen door he had just heard open or try to find his classroom. He decided that the classroom should be closer and started walking along the wall, searching for the alcove for the door. He knew there would be a panel posted on the right side of the door. Finally, his staff didn't hit a wall and instead swung into an open space. He found the corner and ran his hands over the wall until he found the panel with the information about the room.
"Of course, it's not going to read aloud to me," he sighed and worked on reading the braille. After a little bit of confusion, he figured out that he was at room number 127 and that it was called the Holman room. He wondered what the room was used for as he thought of the Lieutenant's voice being whipped away by the sea breezes.
He didn't remember the classrooms having numbers on his schedule. He thought about going back to his pile of things and finding his schedule, but the thought made him tired. He tried the door, but it was locked, and pressing the raised triangles on the panel for opening the door had no effect.
He continued down the hall wondering if there was another room on the other side of the corridor. He paused wondering if he should go back to the kitchen, but he couldn't hear anything from it anymore and decided to keep going down the right side of the corridor trying to find another doorway.
Harry kept an ear out for other students arriving for class, hoping that someone would come along who could help him find the classroom faster.
"Arrgh! Where is everyone?" he muttered as he struck the wall harder than necessary with his staff, sending reverberations up his arm and echoes down the corridor. He stomped his foot.
It seemed like forever between the two doorways, but he finally found another one and slowly deciphered the braille, learning that it was number 129 and was the Moody room. He breathed a sigh of relief and fumbled about with his short staff trying to find the doorknob.
The door was locked.
"Gah! I can't believe it! What is going on?"
Harry pounded on the door… first with his fist until it hurt, then with his broken staff. A splinter struck him on the cheek.
"Criminy!"
A bit frantically, Harry started walking back down the corridor toward the kitchen door. His staff struck his pile of things sooner than he was expecting it and because it was so short and he was having to hold it so close to his body, he didn't have much time to react and stumbled as he tried to stop. He dropped his staff and managed to steady himself with his hand against the wall.
He kicked at his pile of stuff and then regretted it when his foot made contact with the pile of books. Now his toes hurt and he was worried about the photo album of his parents. He knelt down and felt the pile, straightening it and making sure he hadn't hurt anything. He smoothed out some crumpled pages but determined it was one of his school books and not one of the albums from his vault.
He felt around for his dropped staff and found it again, recoiling as he drove a splinter into his palm. He tried to get it out, but the end was too short to grasp and he had to leave it in. At least it was on his left hand.
He rose and made his way around the pile and then walked a little more slowly, straining to hear any sign of anyone… in the kitchen or from the classrooms behind him. The Center was eerily quiet.
Harry found the door to the kitchen. It wasn't set in an alcove like the classroom doors, but flush with the wall. He knew it was the door because sounded different when his staff struck it… hollow. He found the doorknob and tried it. It was also locked. When he pounded on the door he discovered that there was a small window in the door. He strained to see, but he couldn't tell if there was light in the kitchen.
Must not be bright enough for me to see it.
He pressed his hands against the window—it was too high up for his face—hoping that if they couldn't hear him pounding, that maybe they'd see him. He could feel vibrations through the door, but couldn't hear any noises.
Then the door opened suddenly against his hands and he jumped back as the smells of the kitchen spilled out into the corridor along with a suffocating heat.
"Can I help… oh! It is Harry Potter! Harry Potters, sir? What is Harry Potter doing here?" a squeaky voice asked.
"Uh, Dobby? Is that you?"
His answer was a fierce hug around his knees that about sent him toppling over the little elf and into the kitchen. The door closed behind him as he struggled to his knees.
"Yes, it is Dobby! At Harry Potter's service!"
"Dobby! I'm so glad you're here. My staff broke and everything that was in it fell into the hallway, and I can't get into my class or find anyone else." Harry felt the heat rising in his face as he explained his predicament.
"But why is Harry Potters here? Shouldn't Harry Potter be at the muggle's house?"
"I'm here learning stuff," Harry explained, tapping the silver tip of his staff on the ground.
"But whys?"
"Dobby, don't you know? Gosh. With the Daily Prophet article, I thought everyone knew. I was blinded by the Basilisk… in the Chamber of Secrets. You were right. Hogwarts was dangerous."
"Ahhhh. This is terrible. It is all Dobby's fault. Dobby tried to stop most terrible things from happening. Ahhh. Noooo!" It sounded as if the elf was banging his head on the stone floor.
Harry laid his staff on the floor, found the small elf, and pulled him toward his chest to prevent him from hurting himself more. Dobby's distinctive odor filled his nose, making Harry think of mushrooms and spices. His skin was cool despite the heat in the kitchen.
"Dobby. It isn't your fault. You tried to stop me. It isn't your fault. Tom Riddle. He sent the serpent after me. Ron and I went to find Ron's sister Ginny. Riddle was going to kill her. We couldn't let that happen."
"Ahhh. But Harry Potter! How can Harry Potter defeat the Dark Lord if Harry Potter cannot see the Dark Lord? And defeat the Dark Lord Harry Potter must!"
"I dunno, Dobby. I was just lucky, I guess. But I've managed to get away three times now… so that's something… right?"
"Harry Potter is too humble. Harry Potter is too kind!" The house-elf wept into the crook of Harry's neck until his T-shirt was sopping with tears.
"Hey, it's okay. Really it is. I escaped and so did Ginny. We're both doing all right… you know? So how have you been Dobby? Mr. Malfoy couldn't hurt you anymore, right?"
"Yes, Harry Potter freed Dobby. Dobby is a free elf. Dobby is getting paid for his work. They is good to Dobby here. Yes, they is."
"I'm glad. It is good to know that you are in a better place."
"Harry Potter is too good."
"Do you know what is going on?" Harry asked, pausing a second to listen to the sounds of the kitchen. It didn't sound like things magically exploding here… in fact, it just sounded like a busy kitchen.
"Going on?"
"Why all my staff exploded and all the magic stopped working in the corridor and I can't get into any of the classrooms?"
"Your magic stopped working? This is not good. No, very bad it is." Dobby pulled away from Harry and padded toward the door that Harry entered through.
Harry found his staff and followed Dobby, finding the doorway by way of the cool air that offered relief from the kitchen's heat.
"Ayyyahh! This is terrible bad!" Dobby had stopped suddenly and Harry's knees knocked into him as somehow his staff missed him completely.
Dobby made a little sound that sounded halfway between a sigh and a sob and Harry felt the little elf fall forward. He crouched down to help him get back up.
"Sorry, Dobby, I didn't mean to knock you down," Harry said. "Dobby, are you okay? Dobby?" Harry shook his shoulder but the elf didn't say anything and was limp. Where he had been cool to the touch in the kitchen, now his skin was hot. Too hot.
"Dobby!" Harry pulled him into a clumsy embrace and struggled to stand up while also holding onto his broken staff. The elf was heavier than he expected.
Harry positioned Dobby so that his lolling head hung over his shoulder and then worked on finding his way back to the kitchen door, awkwardly poking forward with his staff as he struggled to keep Dobby from rolling off his shoulder.
He got to the door and pounded on it. There had been others in the kitchen. They had to help him. He tried pulling the door open, but it was locked again.
"Let me in! Dobby needs help!" Harry kicked at the door.