Basilisk Eyes: Chapter 15: The anagnóstis
Crossposted: Basilisk Eyes by Hegemone | Completed: Chapter 15 out of 157 | T | AO3 | FFN | WATT | HPFF
Summary: As Harry Potter slays the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, blood and venom get in his eyes, mostly blinding him. While Harry learns to adapt, he makes some new friends. But this is more than a story of adaptation and friendship as there are threats... and Harry isn't the only one with a past that haunts him.
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Harry paused with his trainers in his hand at the back door to the kitchen after he’d brushed himself off as much as possible. He was tempted to race upstairs (as fast as he could go at this point as he still had to think carefully as he moved through the house outside of his room), but he knew that to give in to that temptation would alert Aunt Petunia to the fact that something was up.
And something was up! Hedwig had returned and he hoped she’d returned with a note tied to her leg. I should have asked Nio hus cherio kisa, Harry thought, his mind sliding over Little Friend’s name in Parseltongue. The suspense was killing him!
He drew in a deep breath and tried to compose his face into what it would be normally—some mixture of discomfort, desire to not be noticed, and ignorance. Looking at all happy or content was sure to draw attention and ire. All he had to do to achieve the expression was to think about the task ahead of him—Aunt Petunia told him that after potting the petunias she wanted him to do a thorough dusting of Dudley’s room in anticipation of his arrival on Friday. He had been emotionally scarred the last time when he uncovered a pair of Dudley’s pants, unceremoniously stuffed behind a short row of books (decorative, no doubt). They were encrusted and stiff and ugh… the thought that he’d had put his hand on them was enough to make him retch a little. He’d put them in the bin because no doubt if anyone else found them, somehow Harry would be blamed.
Slowly, Harry opened the door and walked through the kitchen, finding landmarks with his outstretched hands.
I’m going to have to figure out a way to move around the house so that I don’t look so blind. Dudley’s going to terrorize me. I guess I have two days to get more comfortable with the layout, he thought.
As he moved through the hallway, he considered sealing his room so that Aunt Petunia couldn’t hear the message from Hermione. He wished he knew a spell.
There has to be a spell. I should have paid closer attention in Charms. I hope Hermione’s figured out how to send an audio message that isn’t as loud as a howler! I should have taken the message off of Hedwig in the garden! Why didn’t I just do it there? he chastised himself.
He knew why, though. Nothing—nothing—was worse in the eyes of the Dursleys than the possibility of the neighbors finding out what a freak Harry was.
He made his way up the stairs, then across the hall to his room, where he closed his door, but didn’t lock it. The sound of the lock would definitely bring Aunt Petunia snooping even though she was on the front porch arranging the petunias.
Hedwig was in her cage—he could hear her nibbling on the scraps he’d saved for her from breakfast. He went to the window and closed it, then went back to her cage to accept her nuzzles into his hand and stroke her.
“Thank you, Hedwig. Sorry I had to send you up here. Thank you for understanding,” he said as she nipped at his fingers. “I know, I know.”
His hands made their way down her sleek body to her legs and he unfastened the bit of leather strap that held the small scroll to her leg. The scroll was heavier than he expected.
“Thank you for bringing this to me,” Harry said as he sat down on the bed. His fingers traced the shape of the scroll and he discovered that the ends had been carefully folded as if to prevent something from falling out.
Listening for any sign that Aunt Petunia had come inside, Harry decided that it was safe. He unfurled the scroll and something small and heavy, as if it were made of metal, fell into his lap. He picked it up and felt along its length. It was roughly the size and shape of a fountain pen. If it wasn’t so heavy, he would have thought it was a fountain pen, but there was no lid to remove, though one end was tapered to a point; it was blunter than a pen. He held it to his ear, expecting it to make a noise, but he couldn’t detect any sound. He did feel a bit of a magic pulse going through it.
He was still holding the paper it had been wrapped up in and he tried holding the point to the paper, and that’s when Hermione’s voice erupted into the room, “… hope you’re… ” as if she was sitting next to him. He jerked the pen away from the paper and her voice stopped.
He moved to the table by his bed and smoothed the small parchment out on the wood surface, flattening down the edges that had been folded in and held it open with his left hand. With his right hand, he lowered the pen to the paper near the top left-hand corner and dragged it across to the right-hand corner. Hermione spoke to him again and his heart filled his chest. Hearing her voice was a balm and he let her words wash over him. This was way better than a howler.
“Dear Harry,
I hope you’re okay. I was so glad to get your note as I’ve been,” here the pen ran off the side of the page and it took Harry a second to find the line again. He kept his left index finger on the edge of the paper at that line and then was able to scan the next lines more fluidly.
… “so worried about you. Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t tell me anything except that you’d gone home to the Dursleys to rest. She said that she couldn’t tell us what the Healers at St. Mungo's said or did because that was private. She did look very sad, though, and it makes me fearful that they weren’t able to heal your eyes. Your note pretty much confirmed it, that, and the fact that Dumbledore gave me this anagnóstis to send to you. He said that it is fashioned after the one Homer used. He says that it will help you read any text and so, should help you with the stuff you need to read,” here it sounded like she was a bit exasperated, he guessed with his short note and cryptic message.
“Please write me again and let me know that you’re okay and that the Dursleys aren’t being horrid. I hope you’ve been able to rest and heal. Ginny also went home early to recover. I’ve been doing as much research as I can between classes. I’m really frustrated because there doesn’t seem to be much in the library that would be useful for you. And all the Professors are busy trying to come up with work to keep everyone from being unruly… it is kind of a madhouse here without exams. So, that’s why it took me so long to write back. But Professor Dumbledore gave me this to send to you, so I thought I better send it along, even if I didn’t have the spells you wanted. I’m still working on it. Though you can’t do spells at home anyway… so it won’t do you much good. Sorry. I’ll write again soon with your list of homework for the summer holidays. Ron says, ‘hi.’ Hugs, Hermione.”
Harry let out his breath, which he realized he had been holding while he listened to Hermione’s note. He was disappointed that Hermione hadn’t been able to find any spells to help him, but realized he kind of expected it. Afterall, he’d never seen a blind wizard… maybe he was the first?
But after getting over his initial disappointment, he realized that to just hear Hermione’s voice gave him so much hope and pushed away some of the fog of despair that had been following him around like his own personal raincloud. He wished that Ron had written, too. He missed them so much. The wisps of hope evaporated quickly when Aunt Petunia slammed through the front door. Before she had made it up the stairs, Harry had stashed the anagnóstis and the letter under the floorboard. He was opening up his window again when she pounded on his door, demanding that he start working on Dudley’s room. He had to work on not sounding too cheerful when he responded.
