#basiliskeyes

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? 

Crossposted: Basilisk Eyes by Hegemone | Completed: Chapter 3 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 stood for a moment on the spot, not really sure where he was in the room. He felt a bit nauseous from the unexpected jump through space in the corridor outside Professor McGonagall’s office to the hospital wing. He let the familiar odors of the hospital wing wash over him and listened. Madam Pomfrey must have given Ginny a pepper up potion—the smell permeated. He could hear people talking quietly at the end of the wing, near Madam Pomfrey’s office. 

He squinted trying to make out the shadows, but couldn't see anything except a low, hazy light that must be the fireplace—he could smell it, too, and hear it pop occasionally. It was indistinct—the essence of light without any shape or form. 

He thought about how the wing was laid out with rows of beds and a long corridor down the center and reached out trying to find the nearest bed. His hand passed through empty air, so he took a few steps. His foot without the sock felt funny—his trainers were slippery with who knows what… mucky snake pond water, Basilisk blood, his own sweat.

He took another pass with his hand and softly hit a metal bar with his fingers. He grasped it. It was the cool metal tube that made the foot of a bed. He ran his hand over it, feeling the hooks where a chart would hang if someone were in the bed being treated.

His stomach gurgled as he walked in the open space between the beds; he was feeling a little lightheaded; he was so hungry. He reached, guessing where the next bed would be and found it.

At the next bed, his foot collided with the metal foot of the bed and made a ringing sound. The murmured conversations at the end of the wing stopped suddenly. Harry imagined people looking at him and flushed.

“Harry!” Ron’s voice rang out and his feet slapped on the stone floor as he grew nearer. 

“Hermione’s about to get the potion!” Ron exclaimed, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him away from the row of beds that he was making his way along. 

Harry stumbled after Ron, trying to get his footing.

“Oi! Ron! Wait!” Harry said. “Let me hold onto you. I don’t like being pulled.” 

He put his hand on Ron’s shoulder as he had with Ginny earlier, and walked a little behind Ron. Ron seemed to tense and his gait was unnatural as if he wasn’t sure what to do. Harry blushed, imagining how silly they must look walking down the corridor like this. Everyone was still pretty hushed and he felt as though all eyes were on him.

Swishing skirts or robes (Harry wasn’t sure which) and footsteps approached along with a familiar scent that put Harry in mind of a warm and bustling kitchen. 

Mrs. Weasley started wailing as she pulled Harry into another fierce embrace, “Oh, Harry! Ginny told me that something happened to your eyes down in the Chamber! Let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey. I don’t know why Professor Dumbledore kept you so long. And why are you here on your own? Surely he didn’t leave you to find your way here by yourself… not able to see… and who knows what wandering the corridors at this time of night!” Molly effused as she pulled him alongside her, arm around his shoulders. 

“It’s okay, Mrs. Weasley. Dobby brought me here,” he said. 

Harry could hear someone moving around clinking glass jars and imagined that Madam Pomfrey was mixing potions at her potions station nearby. He wondered why he couldn’t see people’s distinct shapes anymore, like the dark shadowy form of Riddle that he had seen in the dungeons. He wondered if his vision was getting worse. 

“Poppy!” Mrs. Weasley called. 

The clinking of glass bottles stopped and the clipped footsteps of Madam Pomfrey approached. “Can you take a look at Harry’s eyes? Ginny said that he got venom in them.”

“Oh, yes!” Poppy exclaimed. 

She gently guided Harry to a nearby bed and asked him to lie down. 

“Lumos,” she said as a bright light exploded into the space in front of Harry’s face. 

Again he yelped in surprise and pain as he shut his eyes tightly against the piercing light. 

His head throbbed.

“Hmmm,” Poppy murmured and a soft “nox” eclipsed the light that shone through his closed eyelids.

“What?” Harry asked, daring to open his eyes again.

“Nothing dear,” she hushed. “I’m just going to run some diagnostics.” 

He felt the air moving around his head.

After a moment of this, punctuated by grim mutterings from Madam Pomfrey that made Harry’s stomach clench in dread, she asked, “Ginny said that Fawkes used his tears on you. Did he cry in your eyes, too?”

“Yes, Madam Pomfrey, down in the Chamber. Dumbledore said they had healing properties and Fawkes had cried on the wound I got from the Basilisk fang in my arm and it went away completely. See?” 

He lifted up his arm, pulling back his robes to show her where the wound had been. He ran his fingers over his forearm, not able to discern any difference in the skin.

“But it was later. I didn’t think of it right away… about asking Fawkes to use the tears on my eyes… that is.”

“Oh, well,” murmured Madam Pomfrey, absentmindedly. “You were lucky to have Fawkes nearby. It doesn’t take long to die from Basilisk venom. I can’t believe that a monstrosity like that has been lurking in the dungeons of this castle for so long.” 

The venom in her voice made Harry want to shrink away from her.

“Alright, I’m going to get you cleaned up,” Madam Pomfrey said.

Suddenly things began to move around Harry and he hoped that one of the sounds he heard was of curtains being placed around his bed because his clothes had been whisked off, his body scrubbed, and he was suddenly dressed in clean hospital robes. He heard his wand and broken glasses clatter on the top of the small table by his bed. 

It wasn’t as restorative as taking a hot bath, but it did feel good to be in clean clothes. He wiggled his toes and relaxed into the bed, his limbs so weighty that they seemed submerged in the soft mattress. His eyelids were heavy and he fought against the sleep that was overpowering him.

“Is Ginny okay?” he asked Madam Pomfrey who was still close by, he could hear the scratching of her quill on parchment near the foot of his bed.

“Yes, dear. She’s fine. Just resting now after her pepper up potion.”

“And Hermione? Is she okay?” Harry asked.

“Oh, yes. I was just about to give Hermione her Mandrake potion when you showed up. The others are doing well.”

“So… ” Harry asked—he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. “What about my eyes?”

“Oh, well. I’m… I’m still looking into it,” Madam Pomfrey said. “You rest while I consult with the healers at St. Mungo’s. We might need to send you there.”

“Oh,” said Harry, his apprehension mounting. He had been so confident that Madam Pomfrey would restore his eyesight with a flick of her wand. He didn’t feel hungry anymore. In fact, he felt like he might be sick. He moved to his side and felt around the sides of the beds to see if there was a basin that he could use, just in case. He found one sitting on the table by the bed and felt reassured. He lay back on the pillow trying to calm his stomach.

He could hear the others talking in low voices nearby. Madam Pomfrey had walked away from his bed and he heard the glass vials being moved around again.

Footsteps approached his bed, Ron’s heavy slapping feet. Harry felt a smile play at his lips. He heard Ron fumbling with curtains and was relieved to learn that he hadn’t been exposed to everyone in the room when Madam Pomfrey cleaned him up.

“How are you, mate?” Ron asked.

“I’m fine.” 

“Right.”

“Well, I’m alive and I’m not petrified, so that’s a good thing. I know who I am. I wasn’t eaten by a monstrous snake or Avada Kedavra’d by Riddle.”

“Okay, but why didn’t Madam Pomfrey fix your eyes?”

“What—you can tell?” asked Harry.

“Yeah. Your eyes don’t look right. They are bloodshot and puffy and kind of darting around, not fixing on anything.”

“Oh.”

“Oi! I think she’s going to wake up Hermione now. Be right back.”

“Okay, I’m not going anywhere,” Harry sighed and laid back to stare at the ceiling. Except he couldn’t even see that. 

It sounded like the people in the room had gathered around another bed, a few beds down from his on the other side of the corridor. He was trying to figure out who was in the hospital wing. He knew that Ginny was in a bed just two or three down from him and he could hear Mr. Weasley speaking softly to her. He wondered if other people were here to see the other victims of the Basilisk… Colin, Justin, Penelope, and Nearly Headless Nick. Was it just Hermione left? Had the others gone?

He wondered if anyone had notified Hermione’s parents. Did they even know she had been petrified? He wished he had asked Ron to stay with him and describe what was going on. As much as he wanted to just go to sleep, he was also desperate to know that Hermione was going to be okay. He got out of bed, grimacing when his feet came in contact with the cold, stone floor and felt around on the table by his bed until he located his wand that had rolled next to the basin.

He wished he knew a spell that would help guide him through the obstacles in the room without stubbing his toes.

“Posuit soccis,” he muttered pointing his wand at his feet and was relieved when his slippers magically encased them. He smiled gratefully for that one, remembering when Neville had taught it to him first year. Castle floors were too cold to manage without slippers.

He moved to the end of the bed, fussed with the curtains until he found the opening, and then moved down the aisle from bed to bed toward the voices.

“Is Hermione waking up?” he asked, hoping that Ron would hear him.

“She’s just starting to depetrify,” said a girl’s voice that he didn’t recognize.

“Oh,” said Harry, wanting to move in closer, but not really sure where closer was. 

He could feel and hear people jostling around, but he imagined that they were all looking at Hermione and didn’t see him. He stood awkwardly outside the group trying to glean what was going on by the conversation.

“Is Ron nearby?” Harry asked the girl. He waited, but she didn’t answer so he figured she hadn’t heard him. He asked again, a little louder.

“He’s right in front of you,” her voice laced with irritation and incredulity.

“Oh, thanks,” Harry said blushing, realizing that she must have gestured before.  

“Hey, Ron?” Harry reached forward, his hand coming into contact with someone’s back. He hoped it was Ron.  

“Oi, Harry! What are you doing out of bed?” Ron asked, grabbing Harry and pulling him forward. Harry stumbled and caught himself on the bed that everyone was clustered around.

“I wanted to see Hermione. Is she okay?” he asked.

“She’s just starting to come back.” 

Ron’s voice was thick with emotion and his hand squeezed Harry’s upper arm. Harry felt around gingerly on the bed in front of him, trying to figure out where he was. He found Hermione’s hand, still cold and hard where it had lain before with the page about the Basilisk scrunched into her fist. He held onto her hand and marveled as it gradually warmed beneath his.

“Hermione?” 

Her hand twitched almost imperceptibly.

“Harry? Ron?” 

Her voice was weak.

“We’re here, Hermione!” they said, trying to crowd closer to her bed.

“Did you find the Chamber of Secrets?”

“Yes, Ginny’s okay.”

“What?”

“The Basilisk is dead.”

“Oh, thank goodness… Are you okay?” Hermione shifted in her bed. “Harry, what’s wrong with your eyes?” 

“Oh, I got some venom in them. Madam Pomfrey’s working on it. I’ll be okay,” he said, realizing that he wasn’t really looking in her direction, and pointed his nose toward her voice. He squeezed her hand which was now warm and soft again. 

“How are you going to study for your exams if you can’t see, Harry!” Hermione exclaimed.

“No idea,” he said smiling a bit at her response. He was more worried about other things. But for now, he was really relieved that Hermione was okay.

“Hey, Ron. Can you take me over to see Ginny?” Harry said as he found Ron’s arm and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Sure.”

They moved through the crowd of people who were filling Hermione in on all the events that had taken place while she was petrified.

“Hi, Harry,” Ginny said, her voice floating softly up from the bed where she was reclining.

“Hi, Ginny,” Harry said as he found the edge of the bed and sat next to her. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” she hiccuped.

He was afraid that he’d set her off again. He felt around for her hand and found it, squeezing it gently.

“Hey, we’re going to be okay, you know?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “What did Madam Pomfrey say about your eyes? Why hasn’t she fixed them yet?”

“She’s got to talk to healers at St. Mungo's,” he said, trying to put a brave face on.

“Oh. Okay.”

“Ginny, you know this isn’t your fault, right?”

“Yeah. Dad’s been talking to me. He was so mad at first, but he’s just sad now. And he’s been telling me about all the people who You-Know-Who possessed and made do things that they didn’t want to do… and I guess, I’m just one of those people now.”

“Okay. I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Harry said. 

Turning to Ron who was fidgeting by the bed, he said, “Ron, do you mind leading me to my bed. I’m so tired.”

“Your hospital bed or your bed in Gryffindor tower?”

“Good question. I think Madam Pomfrey wants me to stay here tonight. Keep an eye on me, and everything. Maybe she’ll put a silencing charm over my bed so I can sleep.” 

Harry and Ron walked over to his bed and Harry climbed in.

He decided to try out the charm—he had heard her cast it enough, “Silentium”

All the bustling sounds of everyone in the room were suddenly cut off and Harry realized that it was too much for him to handle. He didn’t like not being able to hear nor see anyone and quickly he muttered, ‘Finite’ and the sounds flooded back. He was relieved. He realized that he was tired enough to fall asleep despite all the noise and conversations. 

I have hidden something in Kaitlin’s background. You have until midnight to find it. If no one finds it by then you all suck. I mean, i’ll tell you what and where it is. Whoever finds it first gets a promo. Maybe. Or just bragging rights. ANYWAY…GO.

and if you don’t publish this Kaitlin then you suck.