Basilisk Eyes

Chapter 68: Mind healing

As Harry was navigating to the bathroom in his stocking feet, he stopped a moment in the middle of the room to get a description of it—trying to figure out where he was. He was certain that it was not the part of Healer Jordan's office that he had visited before. He figured out that it was a small room adjacent to the room he'd been in before. The way the staff described it, the room was sparsely furnished and sounded a bit clinical. It smelled like the hospital wing, but it was definitely smaller. The toilet was just outside the door.

Returning to the camp bed, he wondered if he should be calling Besel something else.

"Should I be calling you Mind Healer Geller?" he asked as he returned.

"What are you comfortable with?" was her opaque response.

"Er—I dunno," Harry muttered. "I like Besel."

"I do, too, and while Healer Jordan might frown on the informality of it, I feel like it is more important for you to feel comfortable."

"Okay," Harry agreed. "Is there somewhere more comfortable where I can sit? The camp bed..."

"Sure, directly to your right and about a yard from you is a chair that you can sit on," she informed him as she adjusted her chair so that she was facing it. "Does this mean that you want to continue talking now?"

"Uh, I guess so? Maybe just a little?" Harry asked, as he found the chair and sat down.

"Yes, we could talk for about bit—however long you'd like," Besel said. "Is there anything you'd like to discuss?"

"I dunno," he said, then cringed—it seemed like he kept saying that. He hurried on to the only topic that was kind of really bugging him. "I was wondering if there was a way to keep my bed dry? My roommate keeps splashing my area."

"Oh, well, sure," Besel said. "There are a number of ways to handle that. A shield charm, a physical barrier, a drying spell. What do you think would work best?"

"Maybe a physical barrier? Mei seems to want some privacy, too. She keeps thinking that I'm looking at her."

He must have conveyed some emotion in that statement because Besel asked, "How do you feel about that?"

An anger flashed across Harry's chest and rose in his voice, "Really mad."

He surprised himself with that and clamped down his lips and sat on his hands, afraid that more would erupt.

Besel was quiet and Harry wasn't sure what it meant.

Is she upset with me for getting angry?

He blinked. In these silences, he ached for sight to be able to read people's emotions on their faces. He had always been able to tell from the slightest twitch in Uncle Vernon's mustache or the way Aunt Petunia's lips were compressed into a tighter line or if there was a manic quality in the way Dudley's eyes widened just how much trouble he was in. He was learning to listen to the noises people made, but he didn't really know anyone here well enough to be able to read them as effectively by sound as he had read people by sight before.

This silence is really long...

Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"Do you want to elaborate on that?" Besel asked. She didn't sound angry or upset, just curious.

"I mean it is bad enough not being able to see, but then when she accuses me of looking at her! It just feels so mean. Like she's trying to poke me—get me where it already hurts really badly. And she knows what it is like. I mean, she told me that she misses her legs and being able to walk." Harry gestured toward Besel and then realized what he was doing and dropped his hand.