Basilisk Eyes

Chapter 18: Erod elb mud subla ross ef orp yler ecnis

Harry sat at the table by his bed. Distantly he could hear the T.V. blaring in the living room. He was really tempted to get the anagnóstis out and listen to Hermione's letter again and read the other letters and leaflets.

The Dursleys are engrossed in the T.V.; they aren't going to hear me.

Still, he hesitated. He was risking losing his one chance to read the letters... or anything for that matter.

His heart pounding, he went to the door and locked it and placed his pillow across the bottom hoping that it would muffle any sounds that might filter through the cat door. He closed the window. Hedwig was out hunting (with strict orders to stay away from snakes). He had cleaned out her water and changed the paper in her cage once she flew outside with the setting sun.

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, glad for the break from the bright light. It was kind of nice just to sit in the dark.

Listening carefully, he decided that he should be able to read at least one thing. He decided to save the leaflets for tomorrow when he'd have some freedom to try out things with the staff.

I hope that the leaflets have spells for using the staff... I hope that I can get out of here soon! He closed his eyes with these wishes, holding his breath as he made them.

Harry knelt down and retrieved the anagnóstis and the letter Hedwig had brought him when she first arrived at the Dursleys.

He unrolled the scroll and flattened it out. He paused again before setting the anagnóstis against the upper left-hand corner.

"Erod elb mud subla ross ef orp yler ecnis." Harry took the anagnóstis off the page, completely perplexed. He tried it again. "Erod elb mud subla ross ef orp yler ecnis."

Who'd be writing me in another language? Is this from the goblins at Gringotts? Harry wondered.

Oh, wait. I'm an idiot!

He turned it around and tried again. The voice that spoke this time was clearly Dumbledore's gentle and aged tenor.

"Dear Harry, I've just spoken with Madam Pomfrey and she has shared with me the sad news of the permanent loss of your vision. I am more sorry than I can express. She and I feel that it is in your best interest for you to spend the remaining weeks of the term resting at home. I've sent a letter to your Aunt and Uncle to alert them of your arrival and I hope that they are doing all within their power to make you comfortable and give you the space you need to heal and adjust."

Harry lifted the anagnóstis from the parchment here. He ached. Something wanted to burst out from him; he wasn't sure if it was harsh laughter or quiet sobbing. The strangled sound that leaked out was a little of both.

He calmed his breath and then continued to read the letter.

"The classes that you're enrolled in over the summer will help you adapt to your blindness. I know that you'll face this new challenge with all the bravery and determination that befits a Gryffindor.

Sincerely, Professor Albus Dumbledore"

There was something about this letter that made Harry really, really worried. It was missing something. He stood up and started pacing. His heart was racing.

Why did he feel suddenly adrift?

Gryffindor? Gryffindor? Harry walked back and forth as the name rang in his ears.

It troubled him. Despite Dumbledore's assurances, he still wondered if he was truly a Gryffindor. The mention in the letter of his Gryffindor traits felt like a dig. Harry realized that he loved speaking to Nio hus cherio kisa even when he felt a little twinge of shame.

Shame for what? For using this gift from Salazar Slytherin that Voldemort had accidentally passed on to me when he tried to kill me?

"You have every right to use that gift, Harry!" he told himself firmly, sounding a bit like Ron in his bluster. "It doesn't make you a Slytherin." He stopped pacing and sat down with the letter and read it again.

It wasn't the Gryffindor part that made him feel so alone. It was something else.

He realized that it was what was not in the letter. Missing was assurance that there would be a place for him at Hogwarts at the end of the summer.

His heart plunged into his stomach. His chest tightened. The thought of not returning to Hogwarts was more frightening than facing Tom Riddle's murderous intent.

He read the letter for a third time while drawing in shaky breaths letting Dumbledore's gentle voice wash over him.

As he mulled over this insight, his hand loosely held the anagnóstis so that it hovered over the last words in the letter.

"Albus: a boy's name of Latin origin, meaning 'white, bright'."

The voice that offered this helpful definition was not Dumbledore's, but rather the crisp, knowledgeable voice of a young woman. The image of a young professional woman in sharp new robes and smart glasses popped into his head. Harry also remembered the feel of the round heads of the Albus Agapanthus in his hands as he worked in the garden earlier. Somehow the knowledge that Professor Dumbledore's name was the same bright, white light that was the only thing he could see anymore made him feel comforted and he was able to quell his fears.

They are just my fears. There's nothing here that confirms them.

He took out the ruler, the pad of paper, and the pencil and using the ruler as a guide for writing straight lines, he wrote a longer letter to Hermione and Ron using a couple of pages from the pad of paper. Harry spent the next half hour trying to put words to his worries without being too worrisome, his fears without being too fearful, and his hopes without being overly hopeful. He knew there wasn't much they could do for him, but it felt good to write to them knowing that they would understand.

He knew they'd be heading home via the Hogwarts express on Saturday—so he wanted to send the letter to them while they could get it together, instead of having to write two letters once they were at their respective homes. He used the anagnóstis to read his letter back to him. It was strange to listen to his own disembodied voice, but he was assured that the letter was legible and he was able to make a few spelling corrections with the eraser.

He decided to not push his luck any further and put everything back under the floorboard. He opened his window and called for Hedwig with a low whistle. She hooted softly in response and soon alighted on the window sill. He fastened the scroll (larger than the first one he sent to Hermione and Ron) with the leather strap and asked her to deliver the letter. He sat at the window for a while after her burst of flapping wings faded into the night. He couldn't see the moon, it must have been hidden behind clouds. He thought about tomorrow and the chance to learn how to use the staff and maybe gain more independence. It was a bubble of hope that kept him buoyed.

As he drifted asleep, he was able to loosen the grip of his fear of not returning to Hogwarts and let it drift out into the cool night air.