Authors Notes

Hey everyone! So before I talk about the chapter below, I just wanted to respond to something that I have received many messages about. I understand there is another long-form fiction that has recently gained popularity about a 'blind Harry', but to be clear I do not think they have stolen or used any of my storylines or ideas. If you read some of the chapters you will see that the other story is very different from mine and will most assuredly diverge more and more as we go on.

I'm very grateful to everyone who messaged me about it, but please do not worry, after all there is nothing new under the sun, and I am not the first person to write about a 'blind Harry'.

So here is another chapter for you all, I struggled with this one as it is mostly an update on the state of various characters and a beginning to bringing all the side storylines together. I hope you all like it, but any corrections or suggestions are appreciated. Please continue to Follow, Favourite and Review as it really does help give me the motivation to keep going!

Reviews

disestablishmentaria - You are very welcome, thank you for reading and I hope you keep enjoying it!

Jennifer Crone - I will give it a try!

hypponymus - Thank you very much, I'm glad you like the characters. I'm very proud of my OC's and the changes I've made to the existing characters.

death390 - Thanks for letting me know, I will check that and fix soon!

griffin blackwood - Thank you very much, I always look forward to seeing your reviews!

littleemberlou - Thank you very much for your kind words and I am glad you are still enjoying the story! I love writing the moments between Harry and his ersatz family and I'm glad you liked the Sirius saving Katie moment, I was particularly proud of that!

Chapter 30

The Winter Break passed relatively quickly after Christmas Day for Harry, he spent the days after working on an essay on the properties of Ashwinder Eggs for Potions, a translation for Ancient Runes and in the evenings, he read through more of De La Rue's book. He was the only third year Ravenclaw who had stayed for the break and he did miss the background noise that the others made in the Dorm room, but the gentle patter of rain on the windows was soothing in its own way.

On the last day before the rest of the school was due to return, Harry was pleased to find Kyrre had returned from visiting Aunt Petunia. She carried no letter but when she alighted on the table a brief impression of one of his aunt's hugs whispered across his mind. He smiled and offered the Hrafn a rasher of bacon which she took gratefully, hopping closer to him to eat.

"Cor she's grown again!" Hagrid's earthshaking footsteps spilled some of the water from Harry's goblet but the Ravenclaw smiled and turned to face the Groundskeeper.

"Hey Hagrid, yes I think I might have to get a new perch for her soon." Harry ran a finger along the feathers atop Kyrre's head and let her preen under the attention. "Of course, it could be because someone has been leaving out Dragon liver for her."

"Well tha' could jus' be someone throwin' out cuts that ain' no good anymore." Hagrid blustered with a shrug but Harry chuckled at the fib and the Groundskeeper shuffled closer and extended one of his large fingers to the magical bird. "I've been readin' up on some of the stories 'bout these Hrafn, reckon they were the insp'ration for Odin's birds apparently."

"Huh that makes sense I guess, his ravens were meant to be spies and messengers, right?" Translating and using Ancient Runes required a basic knowledge of the cultures and times that the runic languages came from, so Harry had read up on the Aesir and Vanir of Norse religion for the Futhark runes. They were interesting myths, though some were fairly obviously about real magical beasts that had become twisted through time and retelling.

"Aye summat like that, bu' I found somethin' pretty excitin' for next lesson with you while I was lookin' into it." Hagrid gave one more gentle stroke to the top of Kyrre's head before he straightened and began to walk out of the hall. "You jus' wait Harry!"

Harry would deny it if asked, but he felt a definite shiver run down his spine at the thought of what Hagrid would find 'exciting'.

Sirius Black was used to the cold. Twelve years in a bare stone cell in the North Sea had left his body accustomed to the bite of ice in his bones. But just because he was used to it didn't mean he enjoyed it.

The Scottish Highlands were relentless, smothered under a thick blanket of white. After a week straight of snow, his resolve wavered. He had succumbed to temptation and cast a Warming Charm—one feeble spell, barely enough to melt the frost that clung to his matted hair. But it was enough.

The Dementors found him within the hour.

The first whisper of their presence curled through the air like a creeping frost, their dreadful pull sending a shudder down his already freezing spine. And where Dementors went, Aurors followed. It left him with one option: run.

Sirius tore through the snowdrifts, pushing through banks of white that rose as high as his hips. He risked a glance behind him, up the mountain to where his old hiding place was, just in time to see a faint dot of light appear above a handful of red-cloaked figures. With a muttered curse he kept running, he couldn't risk any magic so close to the Dementors especially with Auror's nearby. He fancied his chances against most of them one-on-one but there were a few who could give him trouble, and if they were in a group he wasn't too proud to admit he would lose. Probably.

Panting, he ran until his lungs burned, until his limbs screamed in protest. A half-mile down the mountain, he spotted a stream. Wide. Deep enough for his needs. Without hesitation, he plunged in.

"Merlin's balls, that's cold," he gasped, wading forward. "Come on, Sirius. You've dealt with worse." He shook his head and took a few faltering steps before he slipped on the slick stones beneath the surface and fell, just managing to catch himself on his hands before his head would hit the water. He struggled to push himself to his feet but only succeeded in almost toppling over. Sirius closed his eyes and let out a tired sigh, the longer he stayed in the water, the warmer it felt and he was tempted to just lay down in it and sleep. Just for a little while.

"Get up off your knees you useless bastard!"

"Wha-" Sirius blinked open his eyes wearily and sputtered at the sight of his grandfather's face. Floating just beneath the surface of the water, his grandfather Arcturus Black II was scowling at him from beneath a wild mop of dark grey hair. Sirius blinked twice more but each time he opened his eyes, his grandfather's face remained though the longer he looked the more oddities he noticed. Arcturus Black II had never grown a beard let alone the rough wiry scruff he could see, the man had always believed them to be for vagrants and men with weak chins, and he had certainly never let his hair grow so wild and unkempt.

"Oh." Sirius watched as a single tear trailed down the aged face on the water's surface, feeling the same path form on his own weathered skin. "Well at least I look like you and not Father I suppose."

"Well are you just going to stare or are you going to get up? You've got a job to do, so bloody well get on with it." The face of Arcturus Black growled at him and for a moment he could really believe it was his grandfather talking to him.

"You always were a grumpy bastard, glad to see that hasn't changed." Sirius grumbled as he half-crawled through the water, ignoring the numb burning that filled his limbs as he forced his way down the stream until he could no longer feel the water lapping at his arms or legs at all.

On and on he forced his tired and broken body to move, until finally he reached the western edge of the Forbidden Forest's borders and flopped out of the water onto the needle covered ground beneath one of the towering fir trees. He didn't dare look at his body as he felt the comforting oblivion of unconsciousness start to take him, he managed to transform into Padfoot as his vision dimmed and turned to black and he curled up in the roots of the tree.

He would rest and then he would try and get into the castle again. He needed to protect little Harry. He had to make up for his failures.

He had to.

"You sure he was here, Moody?" Yaxley demanded as he stalked out from the cave, his voice sharp and laced with frustration. He raised one hand to shield his face from the cutting wind, while his other clenched his wand so tightly that his knuckles whitened. Behind him, Gawain Robards and Kingsley Shacklebolt methodically scanned the rocky ground, their wands sweeping through the air as they checked for any lingering traces of magic—Apparition signatures, Portkey remnants, anything that might tell them where their fugitive had vanished to.

Alastor Moody stood apart, leaning heavily on his stave, his gaze fixed on the desolate landscape below. Snow had begun to settle on his broad shoulders, but he paid it no mind, the sharp, unnatural swivel of his enchanted eye betraying his ceaseless vigilance.

"Aye, he was here." Moody turned away from the edge and stomped his false leg against the stone, sending a scattering of frost and dust tumbling down the slope. "He'll have headed down the mountain. But with this snowfall—and the Dementors getting here before us—there's no trail left to follow."

"So he got away? Again?!" Yaxley's wand hand twitched, his irritation barely contained and Alastor let his grip tighten around the stave slightly. The Auror Captain had always had suspicions about Yaxley who had made it through the Blood War with no official charges brought against him but plenty of short-lived rumours.

"If the Dementors hadn't raced off without alerting us, we might have been able to track his spell use," Moody growled, his voice rough as the mountain wind. His magical eye spun wildly in its socket, scanning the frozen expanse below. "Bloody things tainted any lingering magic when they got here. Almost as if someone doesn't want him found—and told the Dementors to destroy the evidence."

Yaxley stepped closer, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. "Your paranoia is showing again, old man. That almost sounded like an accusation against the Ministry."

His voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned in. "But I'll pass the message along to the Minister. I'm sure he'll be very interested to hear your thoughts."

To Yaxley, Moody didn't move, but in the next breath, Yaxley was yanked off balance. His feet scrambled for purchase as a powerful grip latched onto his arm and dragged him toward the edge of the precipice. He barely had time to react before he found himself teetering over the void, his free hand shooting out in desperation to seize the lapel of Moody's thick coat.

The wind roared below them, carving through the valley like a living thing, an endless, hungry abyss waiting for the slightest misstep.

"I don't like you, Yaxley." Moody's voice was low and calm, but there was iron in it, the kind of certainty that came from a man who had seen too much bloodshed to waste words. "I don't like your subtle threats. Never have."

Yaxley struggled, his wand hand useless in Moody's vice-like grip. His boots scraped against the slick stone, his body tilting dangerously as he fought to keep himself from going over the edge.

"I don't do subtle," Moody continued. "No need. When I threaten someone, there's no ambiguity. No chance of misunderstanding."

Yaxley's breath came in short, sharp bursts, his usual arrogant composure utterly shattered. "You mad bastard, let me up!"

Moody held him there a moment longer, letting the reality of his situation sink in, before abruptly yanking him back onto solid ground. Yaxley collapsed onto his hands and knees, gasping for breath, his blond hair falling loose around his face, damp from the snow and sweat of fear.

"Just wanted to make sure you had a good view of the trail," Alastor stepped back and pulled the struggling wizard back up onto the ledge before he let him fall to his knees. "Case you saw anything I missed, old eyes an' all that."

Moody stomped his stave against the stone. "Just wanted to make sure you had a good view of the trail. Case you saw anything I missed—old eyes an' all that."

Kingsley and Robards exchanged glances but said nothing, returning to their methodical work. Yaxley had confronted Moody before and while politically he was in a stronger position, politics held little sway in the field.

Yaxley forced himself to his feet, his wand hand shaking ever so slightly as he straightened his robes. His mouth twisted into something that might have been a sneer, but the effect was lost in the lingering tremor of his breath.

"I'll make you regret that, Moody," he spat, though there was no real conviction behind the words.

Moody chuckled, a deep, rasping sound. "Get in line."

With a sharp turn, Yaxley Disapparated, vanishing with a crack that echoed through the icy cliffs.

Moody exhaled slowly, his fingers flexing around his stave. "Come on, lads. Let's see if the bastard left anything useful behind."

Kingsley nodded, his dark eyes scanning the cave with renewed focus. "If he was here, he cleaned up after himself. I've only found some animal droppings."

Moody glanced back down the mountainside once more before turning to follow them inside the narrow cave. The hunt wasn't over yet.

The quiet hum of the Hogwarts Library filled the space between the towering shelves, only occasionally punctuated by the distant sound of a turning page or the scratch of a quill against parchment. Snow still clung to the edges of the high-arched windows, blurring the view of the frostbitten grounds outside. The warmth inside, however, was enough to make one forget the bitter chill of the Scottish winter.

"So how was your Christmas, Harry?" Katie Bell asked as she slipped into the chair opposite him, laying her own book open but clearly ignoring it as she leaned on one arm, looking at him eagerly.

"My Chri—oh, it was nice, thank you," Harry stumbled over his words, his thoughts still tangled in the thick tome on the Goblin Rebellions of the 13th Century. He blinked, dragging his attention away from the endless accounts of battles and grievances to focus on the Gryffindor Chaser who had found him in his quiet corner. "How was yours?"

"Oh, it was great, thanks! We visited Dad's folks and Mum cooked. She's a great cook—she's the one who makes all the food at their café in Diagon Alley. She's really more of a baker, I suppose, but she's still good at a roast. Anyway, we had a turkey, and I got this nice new jumper that's so soft. Oh!" Katie paused mid-ramble and reached into her bag, pulling out a small wrapped box. She slid it across the table towards him. "I forgot to give this to you before I left. I thought about mailing it, but I wanted to give it to you in person."

"Thank you, you didn't have to do that." Harry hesitated before taking the box, guilt creeping in as he realized he hadn't thought to get her anything. His Christmas gift list had always been small but that didn't excuse his oversight.

"It's not just from me. My parents heard about what happened and insisted they should get you something to thank you for... you know." Katie shrugged, her voice warm but slightly shy as she gestured toward the gift. "Go on, then, open it."

Harry carefully peeled back the wrapping paper, revealing a small book with what felt like a leather cover. Running his fingers across the surface, he frowned—it bore no title, but it was undoubtedly enchanted. Pale red and blue threads of magic flickered along the binding, shifting like restless ink. The enchantments tugged at his senses, drawing him in as his fingertips skimmed the surface, feeling for the magic woven into the pages. It was not unlike the enchanted quill Castamir had once given him, though this was both simpler and more complex, more personal. He could tell that two different people had laid magic upon it, one much more experienced than the other.

"It's a journal for you," Katie explained, watching him closely. He lifted his head, frowning slightly in curiosity. "My parents know about your... well, they asked what you might like, and I thought a journal might be handy for your notes and thoughts and stuff. It works like a Dicta-Quill—you just need to open it, keep a finger on the page, and it will record everything you say in Braille. It even has some security charms to keep it safe from anyone being nosy."

Harry turned the book over again, his lips curving into a small smile at the mention of security charms. He recognized the red magic woven through them—flickers of warm orange intertwined with the defensive spells. They were Katie's work. She had cast them herself, and for a fourth-year, they were impressive.

"Thank you, Katie. It's a great gift. And please thank your parents for me." He set the leather-bound journal down beside his history book, trying not to dwell on the unsettling similarities it bore to another enchanted diary he had encountered just a year earlier.

"You're welcome, Harry." Katie hesitated for a moment, as if on the verge of saying something more, but then she slumped slightly and turned her attention to the book she had brought with her.

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the occasional turning of a page. Harry attempted to refocus on his own reading, but his mind betrayed him. He traced the same line of Braille five times without absorbing a word. His attention was unshakably drawn to the girl sitting across from him. He felt... a lot of things. Guilt, for not having thought to get her a gift in return. Discomfort, because he didn't feel he deserved the praise or thanks she had given him—surely one of the professors would have caught her if he hadn't acted. Annoyance, with himself, because despite these misgivings, he found himself pleased whenever she managed to corner him in the corridors to say hello, or, as in this case, sit with him in the library. It was too much.

"Would you like to—" "I should get goi—"

Both spoke at once, cutting each other off. Harry felt heat rush to his cheeks and quickly dipped his head, mortified. He had been about to ask if she wanted to walk with him to lunch, but she had clearly been looking for an opportunity to leave.

"Sorry, Harry, what were you going to ask?" Katie tilted her head slightly, standing but not yet moving away.

"No, nothing. I'm just going to keep reading up on this. Binns threatened a test for next week." He ducked his head, pretending to focus on the history book in front of him instead of the older Gryffindor girl whose fiery red magic streaked with warm orange still lingered in his awareness.

"Okay, well, I guess I'll see you later."

Harry nodded, half-raising his hand in farewell as Katie turned to go, stopping briefly to return her book to a nearby shelf. He couldn't help but notice the way she paused, glancing back toward him for the briefest moment before rounding the corner and disappearing from sight. Exhaling softly, he let his senses retract, focusing only on the immediate space around him.

He tried to forget the encounter. Instead, he filled the next three hours with endless Goblin chieftains and their mostly valid reasons for rebelling against the Wizard's Council—and later, the Wizengamot.

"Mutatio Forma"

Harry twisted his wand through a short triangle with a flick to the left at the end, his emerald-green magic flaring as it wrapped around the square block of wood. The transformation rippled through the material, warping its structure until it reshaped into a carved rose, its delicate petals unfurling and splintering thorns jutting from beneath.

"Elephant," Terry suggested from his seat opposite, setting down his goblet of pumpkin juice.

"Mutatio Forma"

The carved plant trembled, shrinking momentarily as its petals curled inward. The thorns stretched and thickened, shifting into curved tusks, and the body expanded with broad, rounded limbs. A moment later, a wooden elephant landed on the table with a dull thunk. One of its ears was slightly lopsided, but Harry was still pleased with the result—he had only ever encountered toy elephants as a child.

"What about a badger?" Susan Bones chimed in, leaning over from her seat behind Terry at the Hufflepuff table.

"You would suggest that," Terry muttered, stacking a final sausage onto his breakfast sandwich before lifting it for a bite.

"Mutatio Carna Animatio"

A startled yelp erupted from Terry as his toast twitched. The top layer bulged outward, warping as a ketchup-slicked sausage wriggled free like a burrowing creature. It sprouted clawed paws, scrambling over the toast's surface. The end of the sausage contracted, deforming into a stubby head before it took a swipe at Terry's lingering fingers.

"Oh, mate... that's not right. I can't eat that now," Terry groaned, pushing his plate away as he watched the animated sausage attempt to dig back into the toast, its tiny claws scratching against the plate.

"Wow, Harry, I'm not sure if I'm more impressed or disgusted," Neville remarked, settling into the seat beside Harry and leaning in to inspect the bizarre creature.

"Susan asked for a badger," Harry offered with a straight face as he let the magic unravel, the sausage immediately going limp.

"I think she meant for you to use the wood, but sure," Terry muttered, quickly covering his plate with a spare one before turning back to Harry. "So, you've managed to get it down to just the primary incantations, then?"

"I think so. It's still easier to use the full incantation, but in a pinch, I reckon I can manage with just the forma spell and skip the extra descriptors," Harry explained, spearing a sausage with his fork and taking a bite. "For Transfiguration, anyway—it's so much more rigid than Charms. What about you?"

"Mutatio Forma"

Terry pointed his wand at the wooden elephant, his sky-blue magic flickering around the figurine. The transformation began, but the structure faltered—splinters sprouted along the elephant's surface, uneven and jagged.

"Mutatio Lignum"

This time, Terry's magic sank into the wood smoothly, guiding it with greater ease. The elephant's form rippled as its body lengthened, limbs vanishing as its shape moulded into broad wings. A moment later, an intricately carved eagle perched before them, wings spread in mid-flight.

"You'll get there, mate. It's harder to use the general shape incantation than the material one, but you're getting close," Harry encouraged as Neville nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I suppose," Terry admitted before his smirk turned suspicious. "Now, what's this I hear about you and the Gryffindor Seeker having a tryst in the libra—"

Terry barely got the words out before his mouth filled with thick, foamy bubbles. He spluttered, struggling against the sudden froth, while Neville clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

"If you ever want to taste food again, don't finish that sentence," Harry warned, feeling warmth creeping up his neck.

Terry wilted under the threat, nodding in surrender as the soap bubbles began to subside. Susan, however, scoffed before abruptly turning away from their table. Hannah Abbot placed an arm around her shoulders, though for what reason, Harry wasn't sure.

"Harry, mate," Neville finally said, still chuckling, "for one of the nicest people I know, you can be scary sometimes."

"He'll be fine," Harry replied, tucking his wand away. "The taste will fade in a few minutes, and he'll be back to inhaling bacon like normal."

As the clocktower tolled, he stood and stretched. "I've got a lesson with Professor Lupin now. We still on for tea at Hagrid's this afternoon?"

"Yeah, actually, that reminds me—I promised to bring him some mature Chomping Cabbages from the greenhouse." Neville frowned, making a mental note as Harry waved a goodbye.

The walk up to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was pleasantly quiet. Most students spent their Saturdays in the common rooms or studying, leaving the corridors nearly empty save for the steady tap-tap-tap of Harry's cane against the stone floor. He reached the classroom door and knocked before stepping inside.

"Ah, Harry, excellent timing. Professor Snape was just leaving," Lupin said warmly from his place in front of the desk.

Harry heard the quiet rustle of robes as Professor Snape turned, his usually placid grey magic coiled tightly, tense and unsettled. Without a word, he stalked past Harry, footsteps sharp against the stone. The faint scent of potion ingredients clung to the air in his wake.

Behind the Defense Professor, a smoking goblet hissed gently on the desk. Lupin exhaled tiredly and gestured for Harry to approach.

"My apologies, Harry. Professor Snape and I have been having a... minor disagreement."

Lupin picked up the goblet and drained its contents in one swift motion, wincing as he set the empty vessel down. He took a deep breath before giving Harry a small, reassuring smile. "Right, are you ready?"

Harry nodded, gripping his wand as Lupin walked over to the familiar battered chest against the wall. With a flick of his wand, the lock clicked open, and the lid creaked as the Boggart stirred inside.

The moment it emerged, the air turned ice-cold, and tendrils of shadow curled outward. A Boggart-Dementor loomed before him, even the patchwork mockery of a humanoid form was imitated, though the visceral dread that it provoked in Harry was greatly reduced.

In

Out

"Expecto Patronum!"

Harry's emerald magic flared, and a bright oval shield burst into existence before him, the misty protection resolute against the dark entity. The Boggart recoiled, its sinister presence held at bay as the shield burned brilliantly, and far more steadily than the Patronus he had conjured against the real Dementors at Christmas. For a brief moment, he swore something within the light was trying to push outward—something with form—but then the Boggart-Dementor faltered, twisting back into the chest as Lupin snapped it shut.

Harry exhaled sharply, his arms trembling as he dropped the spell. His legs felt weak, and he sagged slightly from the exertion.

Lupin placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. "That was extraordinary, Harry. I doubt any other student below sixth year could make half the progress you have." The weary professor turned to look at the chest and shook his head incredulously. "Truly you should be proud of yourself."

Harry nodded, pleased but frustrated. He still couldn't bring forth a corporeal Patronus.

Lupin sighed. "With the full moon a week away, I'll have to postpone further lessons until after I've recovered. But don't be discouraged—you're closer than you think."

As Harry left, he felt both accomplished and unsatisfied. He was improving, but not enough. Not yet. Not with the monsters waiting at the gates for their next chance.

END