Note: Do not be offended by the term "asylum" when I refer to Hogwarts Asylum for the Deaf. In the 1800's the word "asylum" was often interchangeable when used to refer to schools that catered to the disabled or the deaf.
Chapter 8: Table Manners And Other Surprises
Hermione woke not long after dawn. The revelations from the night before had made sleeping near impossible. She had tossed and turned beneath the sheets until they were twisted about her body in a knot. Thoughts of the young man sleeping on the other side of the house kept invading her mind. So many people had failed Harry, and she struggled to imagine what a life like his must have been like. A million questions came to her mind, but she had no way to ask him. By the time she gave up on sleep, Hermione had begun to formulate a plan.
Just as she was on her way to the kitchen, Hermione spotted a very disheveled Mrs. Figg rearranging flowers in vase. The older woman looked as though she had not slept well either. "Oh, Miss Granger," the housekeeper said softly. "I hadn't thought you would be up yet."
"I couldn't stay abed," Hermione admitted.
Mrs. Figg nodded knowingly. "I must say that between the news about Harry and the master leaving, I was quite upset myself."
"Lord Snape isn't here?" Hermione asked in shock. How could the man leave at a time like this? Why, the idea was simply heartless!
"He left late last night for London. You must understand that the lord is man who does not take things lightly. I fear he places the blame squarely on his own shoulders," Mrs. Figg said sadly.
Hermione swallowed hard. "And running away helps matters," she blurted out.
Mrs. Figg's face fell. "Miss Granger, if you knew the lord, you wouldn't say such things."
"Well, I don't know him, and I doubt I ever truly shall."
A silence fell between the two women. Neither wanted to say anything else to offend the other, but both were sure that if they continued with the conversation that they would. Instead, Mrs. Figg changed the subject all together. "I shall tell Cook to prepare your breakfast and ready Harry's tray," she suggested.
Hermione shook her head. "I thought that perhaps I would bring Harry down here to eat. It's high time he learn some table manners, and, with the lord gone, no one is here to object."
"Very well," the housekeeper replied. "In that case, I will send Seamus up to wake the boy and get him dressed."
When Harry came into the breakfast parlor that morning, he had a quizzical look on his face. It was as though he knew what should be happening and was slightly thrown by the change in schedule. Hermione smiled at him. "Good morning, Harry," she said with a small wave.
Harry grinned and repeated the gesture enthusiastically
Hermione pulled out a chair for Harry, and he sat down just as obediently as he had the night before. She remained standing as the maids began bringing out the plates. Moving with lightening reflexes, Hermione caught Harry's hand before he could dig into the meal with his bare fingers. Looking at her with large, confused eyes, Harry frowned. "No," Hermione said shaking her head for emphasis.
She moved to her own chair and sat down. Using exaggerated gestures, she picked up her napkin and placed it in her lap. She pointed at Harry, signaling for him to do the same. With a heavy sigh, Harry did as he was asked. "Yes, Harry. That's good," she said slowly. And thus began Harry's introduction to table manners. By the end of the meal, Harry had learned the uses for his spoon and his napkin. He would hardly be fit to dine in fine society, but it was a start. Hermione couldn't stop herself from smiling as she recalled how little Lord Snape expected of the boy. It appeared that she was bound to win the wager after all. Why, she didn't doubt that Harry could learn much more than simply how to eat porridge using silverware.
After the breakfast dishes were cleared, Hermione summoned a footman. "Could you have the stable master prepare a carriage for us, please?" she requested uncomfortably. She wasn't quite used to having the authority to request anything of anyone, but she truly did want Remus' opinion.
The boy looked at her nervously. "Do you think that's a good idea, miss?" he asked. "I don't know if the lord wants him off of the property."
Hermione bit her lip. To be honest, the young man had a point, but surely Lord Snape wouldn't object to a simple trip to the physician's. "I wasn't implying that I wished to take Harry into town, merely that I thought it best he see Dr. Lupin," she amended. "If the lord has reason to be wroth with anyone, it will be me."
"Yes, miss," he relented, still looking wary.
The carriage was brought round shortly, and Hermione managed to get Harry inside the vehicle with very little fuss. He actually seemed rather excited to be going for a ride. Leaning his head out the window, Harry was enthralled by the passing scenes. He pointed at things that caught his attention as they passed. Hermione couldn't help but let out a girlish giggle at his enthusiasm for the most mundane. Every passerby on the street and cow in the field was reason for Harry to nearly bound out of his seat. He was an innocent child in a young man's body. Despite the light ghosting of a beard that Seamus helped shave off every morning, Harry was nowhere near grown. Anyone who would have looked at him that day would have agreed. In that regard, Hermione didn't know whether to envy him or pity him.
As the carriage came to a stop, a look of apprehension crossed Harry's face. He stepped down behind Hermione, but made no move to pull ahead of her as he was so often wont to do. Taking his hand, Hermione whispered, "Harry, there's nothing to worry about."
Remus' home was modest by most standards—miniscule in comparison to Spinner's End—but it was warm and inviting. The cottage's stone façade was covered in ivy, and well tended rose bushes bloomed along the gate. A tiny stable sat just off to one side of the house, and Remus' small buggy was sitting horseless.
Hermione knocked on the door and was soon greeted by a round-faced woman. Mrs. O'Grady, Remus' housekeeper, opened the door with a cheery grin. "Why, Miss Granger, we weren't expecting you," she said kindly. "Come in, come in. The doctor is in his study."
"Thank you, Mrs. O'Grady. Would it be alright if Harry and I waited in the parlor?" Hermione asked.
"Of course, child!" Mrs. O'Grady stepped aside to allow them inside.
The interior of the house was much like the exterior—quaint and homey. Hermione led Harry into a well used sitting room and took a seat on the couch. She watched as Harry examined the books lining the walls. Someday, she dearly hoped that she could teach him to read. She made note to ask Remus if he knew of any of the techniques used in the teaching of deaf children.
Remus appeared in the doorway not long after they had arrived. He removed his reading spectacles and smiled at the pair. "I hope this is a social visit rather than a professional one," he teased.
"It is a bit of both, I'm afraid," Hermione replied. She began to rattle off the events of the past two days, and before long she was pacing as she spoke. Finally, she managed to settle herself back onto the sofa. "So now you understand why I just had to visit you."
The physician remained silent for quite a while. He paled visibly when he realized exactly what he had missed. "I never imagined…what I mean to say is…oh dear, this is utterly inexcusable," he stammered sadly. "It does change things quite a bit."
"It does," Hermione agreed. "Now what?"
"I would like to examine him again, if you would agree," he suggested.
"I had thought you might. Though that is not the only reason I came," Hermione said. She sighed. "How does one teach a pupil who cannot hear? How will he ever learn to speak, to communicate?"
Remus frowned. "He might not. I recall a deaf woman whom I saw in London years ago. She had no lingual skills and very little ability to care for herself. I found her in a workhouse clearing scraps from beneath the looms when I came to offer my services there. I took her to the Hogwarts Aslyum for the Deaf, but at her age, they told me there was little to be done. I can't say that this is the case for Harry, and I think I should write the headmaster there for his opinion. However, I will say that I was very impressed by many of the students there."
"How so?" Hermione inquired.
"Well, for starters, I was very much awed to learn just how complex the language they use is. Sign language is more than just unintelligent gestures. While I was there, the headmaster allowed me to sit in on a literature lecture. While I am not sure it is as detailed as the King's English, I do have to say that it certainly has an eloquence to it. Also, I met several completely deaf students who could tell what I was saying to them by the way my lips moved and were able to speak quite clearly. It was quite fascinating," Remus admitted. "Who knows, perhaps Harry will one day be able to do the same."
"I hope so," Hermione said, biting back tears. "I can't stand not being able to speak to him. There is so much I want to tell him! So much that I can see he wants to know! My heart breaks knowing how helpless I am right now. And with Lord Snape gone, I can't help but feel that I am his champion."
Remus smiled and handed her his handkerchief. "With you in his corner, I doubt he'll ever need anyone else, Hermione."
The three ate a light luncheon together. Needless to say, the doctor was quite amazed by how Harry comported himself at the table. Afterward, Hermione waited in the parlor while Remus took Harry to another room to begin his examination. She picked up a book and had just begun to read when a woman appeared in the room.
"Oh," the stranger said looking at Hermione, "I didn't know there would be anyone else here to see the doctor today."
Hermione stood. "I am here with my…ah…friend. We shouldn't be long, Miss…?"
"Brown. Lavender Brown," she said, holding out her hand. "I saw you arrive on the coach last week."
"I'm Hermione Granger, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Brown," Hermione said, taking Miss Brown's hand. She studied the woman before her. Though her features would have been considered pretty, Miss Brown was far too thin and too pale. Her skirts were obviously well worn, and her hands bore the calluses of a woman who made her trade with the needle.
"Is your friend ill, Miss Granger?" Miss Brown asked boldly.
"He is here for a simple examination. And you?"
Miss Brown shrugged. "I've never been healthy. Dr. Lupin has ever been a godsend to me. My mother—God rest her soul—called him an angel, and I can't say that she was wrong."
Hermione smiled. "He is one of the kindest souls that I have ever known."
"Have you known the doctor long?" Miss Brown asked.
Before Hermione could reply, Harry came flying into the room, holding up a wooden tube. He pushed into her hands, motioning for her to look through it. She put the thing aside and pointed to Miss Brown.
Harry waved to Miss Brown a bit warily, but he did smile at her.
Miss Brown, however, looked as though she were horrified. She began to hyperventilate almost immediately. "H…Harry Potter. You're dead!" With those words, Miss Brown fell promptly to the floor in a dead faint.