"I heard you say 'blimey' just now, Potter," Draco smirked so hard it was evident in his voice.
"What of it?" Harry asked, pressing his throbbing thumb into the palm of his other hand while his mind was racing through ways he could get out of this predicament.
"You don't know where that comes from? What it means?" Draco hooted in delight.
"Er, no," Harry said as he returned his hand to the soil, trying to find Nio as stealthfully as he could.
The slow pace and emphatic noise of his steps made it sound like Draco was making his way down the stone steps in an exaggerated fashion and Harry couldn't help but imagine that he was entering the garden like it was his big scene in a play. He would have laughed if he wasn't worried about finding Nio.
"Well, if you don't already know…" Draco trailed off as if his attention had been caught by something.
Harry shifted his shoulders, hoping that he was blocking Draco's view of the patch of dirt where Nio was blissfully munching on some insects.
"Wait, is that…?" Draco had abandoned his dramatic entrance and had hurried over to Harry's side.
Harry hissed at Nio under his breath to hurry up and climb back up his arm, but the snake was reluctant to leave his meal.
"Oh, it's just a garden snake," Draco said.
"Still missing your runespore?" Harry asked with deceptive calm.
"You haven't seen them, have you?" said Draco, resuming his condescending tone. "Oh, right. You're blind. It is quite impressive actually. I didn't think you could get any more pathetic, scar head? And yet you've managed it."
"Oh, I don't know. Being blind isn't so bad. At least I don't have to look at your minging maw anymore," Harry said as Nio finally started crawling around his wrist and under his sleeve. He sighed in relief as he stood up and summoned his staff, shaking it out in front of him.
"Good one, Harry!" George hooted from the other side of the courtyard.
"Do you need help getting rid of this git?" Fred said.
"Nah, I've got it. Ta," Harry said, turning a sly smile on Draco, who had gasped when the staff struck him and stepped back a few paces. "Oh, sorry. Didn't see you there."
He swung his staff around him in an arc and smirked as Draco jumped to avoid the silver tip.
"You're getting braver, Malfoy," Harry said. "Where are your goons? This is the second time you've been out and about on your own. Or did they finally find some real friends?"
"Hit me with that stick again and I'll…" Draco threatened.
"Tell your father?" Harry said. "How is he these days? Did it take him long to recover after Dobby threw him against the wall?"
"You… you…!" Draco sputtered.
"Better slip back to your Slytherin mates, Malfoy," Fred chortled, stepping next to Harry and putting a hand on his shoulder.
Harry managed to suppress the flinch of surprise when Fred touched him. He didn't need to give Draco any more fuel for his campaign.
By the time George was also by his side, Malfoy had clattered back up the steps and the hinges on the courtyard door had squeaked soon followed by the thud of the doors echoing around the courtyard.
Harry let out a sigh and turned toward the twins.
"Er. Thanks. Were you also following me?"
"No, we followed that berk when we saw him sneaking out of the great hall after your dramatic exit," George said.
"Seemed like he was up to no good," Fred added. "And you missed the treacle tart."
"It was too much in there," Harry sighed, grinding the tip of his staff into a spongy spot between paving stones.
One of them clapped him on the back, startling him and he yelped.
"Oh, right. Sorry, mate. Keep forgetting you can't see those coming," George apologized.
"Wanna head back to the feast or … we could go down to the kitchens and see if we can pinch a tart for you," Fred suggested.
"Nah, I'm good," Harry said, feeling grateful but not up for antics. "I think I'll just head up to the Tower."
"All right, if you're sure," Fred said, starting to walk back to the stairs.
"I'll go with you. Make sure that soggy kitchen rag of a Slytherin isn't lurking around," George said.
Harry's lips curved upwards in a slight smile as he turned his chin toward George. He wanted to be alone and not alone at the same time. He hadn't been around just one of the twins much and it was a bit of a different experience without the constant banter ping-ponging between them.
"Do you want to hold onto my arm?" George asked awkwardly.
"Naw. It's okay. I'll just use my staff," Harry said, stepping forward and tapping the stone base of the raised bed on his right with the tip.
"It tells you stuff, doesn't it?" George asked from behind Harry.
"Yeah, it has a navigation charm on it," Harry said over his shoulder as he walked in the general direction of the stairs that led to the north hallway.
"But I don't hear anything," George said.
"It just talks in my ear… pretty handy, really," Harry explained, tapping the aftí on his ear.
"Doesn't it do more than that, though?" George asked.
"Yep, it vibrates, too. Kind of nudges me along with signals. Otherwise the constant talking would be annoying. It vibrates on one side or the other of the staff to help me stay on a path, for instance." Harry deliberately stepped off the garden path and held his staff out to George so that he could feel the vibrations.
"Oh, that's tidy," George said.
As they made their way to Gryffindor tower, Harry realized that he was registering familiar landmarks differently than he had before. Instead of noticing portraits or grand statues that marked the different wings and corridors, he was aware of odors. The corridor from the garden to the great staircase had a mustiness as though moss grew between the stones and the great staircase smelled pleasantly of wood polish. Also, the staircase creaked and groaned as it moved slowly, anticipating where they wanted to go. He must have been aware of these smells and sounds before to recognize them now, but without the distraction of sight, they were more present than they'd ever been before.
"You all right, there?" George asked after a long silence.
"Oh, yes. Sorry. Did you say something?"
"Just rambling on about the Falmouth Falcons. Fred, Lee, Ron, and I got to see them play a few weeks ago, but of course Ron was rooting for the Chudley Cannons. Splattered them all over the field, though, so that's probably why he didn't mention it. Takes it pretty personally, doesn't he? And they haven't won a game since Dumbledore was in nappies," George stated a bit gleefully.
Harry sighed. What he would have given a few months ago to watch a bonafide Quidditch game in person and be able to discuss all the brilliant moves with Ron and his Gryffindor teammates.
"Er, sorry. I imagine that's why Ron didn't mention it," George said glummly as he took in Harry's crestfallen face. "And I always thought he was the clueless arse."
Harry snorted at that and corrected his course when his staff vibrated to let him know he was listing to the right a little too much.
They were in the corridor, approaching the Gryffindor portrait. Harry could hear her familiar voice bantering with nearby portraits.
He felt his face heat up as he realized that she was talking about him. He stuttered to a halt.
"...yes, yes… blind. Poor boy. I'll do what I can for him, of course. But really, it's just too sad. Oh, speak of the ogre! Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley! Welcome back to school. Mind the step."
Harry heard the distortion in her voice as the portrait swung open and put out a hand to verify it was where he thought it was. He sped up wanting to get through as quickly as he could to escape her comments, but misjudged his position, caught his foot on the wall and tumbled into the room.
Behind him, he could hear the portrait making a fuss and asking what had happened while George hurried through to kneel by him.
Harry rolled on his back and grabbed his knee. He was grateful for the cushioning charm his staff had put out around him—it likely saved his wrist from breaking, but his knee had hit the floor before it erupted around him and it smarted.
He rocked back and forth a bit and then sat up, feeling the floor around him for his staff.
"You all right, mate?" George asked.
"Just a bruise," Harry said, rubbing his knee.
He stood up and inhaled a full breath. He needed to get his bearings again as his fall made him uncertain which direction he was facing. As he squeezed the staff to get a description of the room, he took a moment to appreciate the familiar aromas of the Gryffindor common room. It didn't smell strongly of the adolescents who'd soon be inhabiting the room, but more of the underlying odors of magical wood polish (so different from Aunt Petunia's chemicals), lingering wood burning from the hearth, candles, old books, and the distinctive mustiness of the old castle. It was also oddly silent. He supposed he was thankful it was just George who had witnessed his dramatic entrance.
"I'm going to have to work on that," Harry said ruefully.
"Or the entrance could be tailored to make it easier for you to get through," George said.
"Naw. I'm sure I can get the hang of it. I was just not paying enough attention," Harry said, cringing at the thought of modifications on his account.
"It wouldn't be too hard," George said, his voice directed at the wall that they had just come through.
"Er. No need to fuss. I'll manage. I'm just going to go to my room… get settled before everyone's back," Harry said to George. Though he really didn't need it, he asked his staff to navigate to the third-year dormitory and limped slightly as he followed the guiding vibrations to the staircase. After a moment, George followed behind him and then paused when Harry turned into his room.
"Let me know if you need anything," George said with an uncertainty that made Harry pause.
"All right. I will. Thanks, George," Harry replied and then turned back to the room. He stood a moment wondering if it had changed at all since the last time he saw it. He supposed it was tidy. As tidy as it would be before his roommates arrived and started piling scrolls, books, and clothes haphazardly, letting loose fanged frisbees and snitches, and leaving half drunk goblets of pumpkin juice on empty surfaces. He squeezed the staff again to verify the layout of the room and was thankful that nothing had changed.
Harry took a moment to find his bed and feel the familiar bed curtains and bedspread, then he toed off his shoes and placed them deliberately under the end of the bed so that he could find them easily next morning, then changed into his pajamas. He was glad to have the room to himself. He padded to the water closet to brush his teeth and was splashing water on his face when he felt the rumble of many Gryffindor feet returning to the tower. He managed to make it back to his bed before his roommates came charging into the dormitory calling his name.
"What are you up to, mate?" Dean asked, laughing. "Can you believe this guy? Already in tucked into bed."
Someone had jumped on his bed. Seamus he guessed as Dean was still chortling somewhere near the door.
"Come on, Harry. It's our first night back. We've got traditions! None of this hiding behind your bed curtains," Seamus said.
Harry groaned as Dean dragged him from his bed and pulled him toward the door. He supposed it was better than them tiptoeing around him… thinking he was fragile or something… but he wasn't quite sure if he was ready to join in the fray. It was a lot.
Ron had slipped in on his other side and warned him of the stairs before he fell down them.
"You all right, mate? Why are you limping? Do you want me to tell them to knock it off?" Ron whispered in his ear as he nudged Harry's arm with his own, offering to guide him.
"Nah. Just banged up my knee coming through the portrait hole. It's okay," Harry said, as he squeezed Ron's arm gratefully. "Thanks, though."
The common room was a buzz with everyone catching up with their friends and comparing timetables. Harry could hear the distinctive noise of the parchment as they passed them around or flapped them in the air.
Dean let go of Harry and disappeared into the crowd with a laugh that told Harry that he'd been distracted by someone's antics. Seamus, no doubt. Ron turned toward the heat of the hearth, putting his arm behind him so that Harry wouldn't walk into their classmates as they made their way through the throng. People patted Harry on the shoulder unexpectedly, exclaimed how he was already in his pajamas, or pushed past him to get to someone else. It was pure chaos and Harry held on firmly to Ron's arm.
"I've got your timetable, Harry," Hermione said, bouncing him as she sat next to him on their favorite settee.
"Oh, can I see?" Harry asked, holding his hand out.
Hermione's hesitation was telling.
"Er. It's not in braille, is it?" Harry deduced, deflating a bit.
"No. Sorry. But here, let me try this charm I read about," Hermione said.
Harry heard her extract her wand from her robes and then she was tapping the parchment in his hand while chanting, "scribere ad tactum."
He felt the raised dots emerging underneath his fingertips.
"Oh, that's brill!" Ron said, leaning over Harry's shoulder. "The text is still there and the dots, too. Can you actually read it?"
Harry found the top left corner and slid his finger lightly over an embossed image in the corner, determining that it was the Hogwarts coat of arms when the eagle nipped at his fingers and then went on to find the first line, reading aloud, "Name, Harry Potter, Year, 3."
"Yep, I can read it," Harry confirmed.
"Wait, yours is different from ours," Hermione said, her own parchment rustling close to his.
"Truly?" Harry asked.
"Just a bit. See you've got an O&M period while we've got a spare period. What's O&M? That's a bummer. Hey, wait a sec. Hermione. Yours is really off. You've got extra columns," Ron exclaimed, chortling. "Hang on. What are you doing? Are you hiding it?"
"Er. No. I'm…" Hermione's voice got oddly high-pitched. "I'll get mine sorted out with Professor McGonagall. I was just curious about why Harry's is different. I wasn't expecting that."
"And you were expecting yours to be different?" Ron said with emphasis on the yours.
"No, yes, er, I mean. I had already noticed that. I'm sure it is nothing to be worried about."
"Sure, if you say so," Ron said with complete disbelief.
Harry could almost feel the heat emanating off of Hermione and wondered what was going on.
"Is there something you're not telling us, Hermione?" Harry asked quietly.
"I'll tell you later. I just… I can't say now," she said in a hushed tone.
Ron started to say something, but what ever it was, was absorbed by a cheering on the other side of the room. When it quieted down, Harry was surprised that Ron let it go, until he realized that Ron wasn't there anymore. He had slipped away and Harry couldn't tell where he was in the room at all.
Harry spent some time trying to decipher his timetable but couldn't make sense of it. It was too noisy in the room… he couldn't concentrate on the braille and it was too loud to try using his anagnóstis. He pushed the timetable into the storage in his staff, promising himself he'd look at it later and figure out what his first class was before he went to bed.
Moments later, someone was pushing something against Harry's hand. He used his other hand to feel what he was being handed and retracted his hand when his fingers were lodged in goo.
"What is that?"
"Your Treacle tart, mate! You missed it. Fred went to the kitchens and got you a piece," Ron said laughing.
Harry stuck his fingers in his mouth to lick off the treacle.
"Mmmm. That's delicious," Harry said as he accepted the plate and felt around for the fork which he could hear sliding around on the side of the plate. "Tell Fred thanks, will you?"
"Not a problem, Harry," Fred said.
"Oh, hiya, Fred," Harry said, smiling sheepishly and turning his nose in Fred's direction. He took a bite of the treacle tart, loving the way it clung to his fork almost as much as the sweet, jelly confection as it melted in his mouth.
"You missed a bit," Ron said, leaning over Harry's shoulder as Harry was scrapping his fork over the plate's surface trying to track down any last crumbs. "To the right a little, more, more. There you go."
Finding that last bite was unexpected and he savored it as he tried to determine what was going on around him. It settled the plate on his knees, unsure if there was an empty spot on the end table.
"Oh, I vanish that for you, all right?" someone asked and the weight of the plate disappeared from his knees.
"Thanks?" Harry said, lifting his face to the unfamiliar voice.
"It's me, Harry!" someone said, kneeling down in front of him. "Can't you tell by my voice?"
"Er. No?" Harry said, his face feeling hot.
"Uh. Sorry. Oliver Wood."
"Oh, right.
"So you really are blind? I was hoping it was just a cruel joke," Oliver said, his voice turning down at the edges.
"Right. Me, too," Harry said, trying to laugh.
"I heard that you're still playing Quidditch," Oliver said conspiratorily. "I've got a plan for how we're going to win the House Cup this year."