Basilisk Eyes

Chapter 90: Egress

"No, we'll have to go with transfiguration," Healer Jordan continued, unaware that Harry's world was spinning. "What time are you leaving tomorrow?"

"Huh?" Harry said.

"Are you alright, Harry?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said almost automatically, planting his feet squarely on the floor in an attempt to stop the tilting. "Er, Hermione and her dad are coming at 9 am to pick me up."

"Okay, well, stop by my office on your way to meet them and I'll do a bit of transfiguration so that you're not recognizable. You should still be able to access your vault at Gringotts, though, as the goblin magic will be able to see beyond the transfiguration to verify your identity," Healer Jordan explained.

"Does that mean that goblins will be able to recognize me?" Harry asked.

"Yes, but just in the context of proving your right to access your vault. The goblins who work at Gringotts have a vested interest in protecting their customers. You should be as safe as you can be without locking you away from the world. Even then, there are no guarantees."

Harry was quiet, listening to Arig's plaintiful whining and scratching on the other side of the door.

Safe. When have I ever felt safe? When have I ever been safe?

Sometimes, when he had hidden away in his cupboard he had felt safe for a little bit, until Vernon's footsteps had thundered down the hall... sometimes he'd felt safe in his bed at Hogwarts surrounded by the snores and mutterings of his dorm mates... he had even had some moments here in the Center... in the courtyard or in the owlery.

oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo

Harry awoke in the morning to the gentle chiming of bells and groaned... then remembered he was the one who had set the alarm. It had taken him a while to figure out how to do it. In fact, he was the only one in the dorm. Everyone else had gone home for the weekend—except for Arig, of course, who was still being held captive for his own safety and that of others.

He tried to bury his head in his pillow, but the chiming persisted. Finally, he slid out of bed and grabbed his staff to find the panel and shut off the alarm. He made his way to the toilet to get ready for the day.

Last night when he realized that it was just him and the cranky old man with the billywig allergy, Gordon, at the Center for dinner, the heaviness that he had felt on Friday started seeping back into his limbs. Dinner with Gordon had been a slog and he was glad for the excuse to escape to his room. He tried working on braille for a bit, but couldn't focus and didn't get very far. Finally, he'd just gone to bed early and then ended up laying in bed for a long time, keenly aware of how eerily quiet it was without his friends making their little noises.

He still felt a little weighed down, even though he was looking forward to spending the day with Hermione and her dad. He had spent a lot of time last night wondering if he and Ron would ever be friends again like they had been before this happened. Those thoughts returned as he was pulling on his trousers... remembering Ron's question about if he needed help when he dressed. At the time, it seemed kind of ridiculous, but as he was feeling his shirt to find the tag and seams to make sure he put it on frontwards and right-side-out, he wondered if he would have thought the same thing before all this happened.

It's definitely a little harder, but not impossible. It's different.

He thought about Lieutenant James Holman traveling all over the world to get away from people who tried to confine him to a life of dependency and boredom.

He had a flash of horror that almost made him fall over while he was putting on his trainers...

What if the reason Aunt Petunia was so nice to me was because she thought that I'd be stuck living with her and without magic for the rest of my life, cleaning, cooking, and doing yard work?