Basilisk Eyes

Chapter 40: Doused in water and tears

Harry was pretty sure it was the best Shepherd's pie he had ever tasted. The mincemeat and mash had more flavoring than Aunt Petunia used in her recipe and they had included generous helpings of small cooked vegetables that were firm, not soggy. It was both comforting and surprisingly delicious.

Though he was in the habit of woofing down his food as fast as he could, he tried to go slowly and savor it. He was glad he took a small scoop because it didn't take long before he felt full. He used his knife to help corner his peas and get them on his spoon and worked on keeping the spoon level as he moved it to his mouth. Most of the time, there were peas on the spoon—if only a few. A couple times he was surprised to put his mouth around an empty spoon and hoped that no one had noticed. Everyone at the table seemed to be focused their own meals.

He was pretty sure it was Tony across the table from them. He was quiet though, giving short, almost angry responses to the man sitting next to Harry who was asking him about his food.

Then he hissed angrily, "Dad! It's dripping down my chin. Wipe my chin off, would you? Hurry up!" and Harry was certain that it was Tony. With a jolt, it occurred to Harry that Tony's dad must be feeding him. No wonder he didn't want to eat in front of everyone. He wondered why his dad would be feeding him. When Harry had spoken to Tony earlier, it sounded like Tony was getting around just fine on his two feet, no sounds of crutches and he was standing, not sitting in a wheelchair like Mei.

It dawned on him that he had paused mid-bite and that if Tony was watching him, he'd know that Harry had been listening, so he quickly took the bite. His challenges suddenly didn't seem so hard. If Tony needed help eating, then he probably needed help doing other more private things and the thought of relying on other people for those things was mortifying.

Not that that gives him an excuse for being a blood-status snot, though, Harry grumbled.

Harry noticed that Gemma had stopped making noises next to him—her fork was no longer scraping against the plate. He put down his knife and fork and wiped his mouth on his serviette. He was thirsty but hadn't noticed any beverages when they went through the buffet line and hadn't thought to ask.

"Gemma?" he asked, uncertain if she would see the paper slip.

She tapped his hand twice.

"Is there water or something to drink on the table?"

She tapped his hand again and then she was reaching across him. She grabbed his hand a bit roughly and turned his palm up. It took him a moment to understand her frustration when she wrote into his hand, "C-A-N-'T" space "R-E-A-C-H" space "Y-O-U" space "A-S-K".

Harry listened for a moment to see if this was a good time to interrupt Tony and his dad.

When would be a good time? he wondered.

It seemed as though they might be done eating, too. So Harry turned toward Mr. Montague and cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, Mr. Montague?" he tried politely.

"Yes?" was the impatient reply.

"Could you please pass me the water?" Harry asked.

"Sure," he said.

Harry waited patiently.

Then Tony interjected, "Dad, he's blind. You have to tell him that you're holding it in front of him."

Harry felt his face grow hot and reached forward tentatively as Mr. Montague mumbled, "Oh, sorry. It's here."

Harry's hands found a pitcher of water and he put his hands around it, but it was slippery with condensed water and it dropped suddenly in his hands as Mr. Montague let go. Cold water splashed all over his front and lap and the pitcher shattered on the floor as Harry scooted his chair back quickly and yelped.