Blindness

Chapter 4: Emerald Eyes

It was hard for her to believe the story he told, and yet its sheer unbelievability made it plausible.

Had she even read of any blind wizards? She had seen a few with glasses, proof that there was no simple magical cure for less than perfect eyesight. But no one truly blind.

And Harry Potter was blind in the normal sense of the word.

She wondered if the wizards had even talked to him long enough to realize that he was not normal anything, really.

"Light? C-c-colors only, or, or... s-s-s-shapes, too?"

Harry shrugged where he sat in the nearly abandoned library, most of the other students in class.

Like they both should be. He might be able to get away with it, but she was certain she would have a note to bring home to her parents.

But it was so totally worth it.

"I see colors, in patterns and moving at different rates. No two things look quite the same, and I've learned to recognize a lot of the patterns and colors well enough to get by. All people have the same general pattern, though witches and wizards glow brighter. But all have different hues, all over the color spectrum. I saw a woman once, and knew she was pregnant, because she bore another color different than her own inside of her."

"Really." Hermione breathed, finding the thought beyond fascinating.

Harry grinned. "It has its perks, its tricks. But I can't find its true potential. The wizards won't take me into their school, and they have no books I can read. I need help, Hermione. I need another of my kind."

Her heart raced, then fell. "B-b-but, I'm not... I'm m-m-muggleborn, and I was only at H-h-hogwarts for two m-m-m-m-months. I hardly know a-an-any-anything about their w-world."

Harry leaned forward, all humor gone. "I don't care for labels, and I don't need a Hogwarts student. I need someone smart and willing to work with me, to help me find a way to learn what you can just read in books. Someone to guide me on trips to Diagon Alley, and help me with experimental magic."

Hermione bit her lip. "We're not s-supposed to use m-magic outside of school, you k-know. My p-p-parents had to sign special papers at the M-m-ministry to get them to allow m-me leeway as long as I was e-e-enrolled with a tutor. I'm surprised you haven't been c-c-caught by the Trace."

"The Trace?" He asked, and Hermione nodded, then realized he couldn't see the small gesture.

"It's like a b-beacon of some sort, lets them know when we're u-u-using magic without an a-a-adult."

He sighed, absently rolling his long staff between his palms where it was propped against his shoulder.

"I don't know. Maybe it doesn't track the accidental magic of children, and seeing as I was never enrolled in a magical school... maybe it wasn't activated." He smiled suddenly. "You see, you are useful already. I had no idea that the wizards might be tracking me."

Hermione flushed, looking down, words jumbling together in her mind and making it difficult to speak coherently.

It had been a long time since someone other than her parents had spoken to her in that tone of voice. Someone whose good opinion she couldn't help but crave.

That troll knocked more than a few screws loose, she mused, and ground her teeth together.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked, and Hermione blew out a breath.

"N-n-nothing. I'll do it. I'll h-help."

He beamed, and though he couldn't see it, Hermione smiled back at him.