Basilisk Eyes

Chapter 114: Wine-dark sea

Harry was surprised to hear Arig behind him and turned his head toward the sound, mindfully as he was still lightly touching Healer Huw's arm with his burned hand.

"Hiya, Harry—you all right?"

"Yeah. Just they can't heal the burns yet. I thought you didn't get burned."

"Naw, they just want me to be there for the healing ritual since I was involved in the... altercation."

It sounded like Arig had made air quotes by the way his crutches paused mid-stride. He was walking next to Harry and Healer Huw now, his crutches grinding against the sand as they sunk into the beach, his footstep more labored as he sought traction. Harry was also struggling with his balance as the sands shifted beneath his feet.

Healer Huw made a reassuring sign on the back of Harry's hand on his arm that Harry took to mean, "it's okay—take your time."

The soundscape opened up around Harry as they walked forward—from the enclosed walls of the clinic to the vast expanse of the ocean made known by the distant cries of birds and the crashing surf. The wind picked at Harry's clothes and hair bringing a salty moisture with it that coated his skin. He could hear grasses rustling close by and feel the heat radiating off of the sand as it filled his trainers, though it was cool now. Tony's levitating gurney ahead of him sent a spray of sand that pelted against his shins.

"Ritual?" Harry questioned.

"Yeah, I guess this isn't a simple matter of waving wands and muttering incantations."

"Great," Harry sighed.

Ahead Harry could hear Mei's kvetching above the others as the group's voices ebbed and flowed with the waves. The distance between the two groups had grown. His palm on Healer Huw's arm was stinging as it rubbed against the fabric of his sleeve.

I hope the ritual actually works!

He was feeling light-headed with the sudden change of climate coupled with his empty belly and the pain in his hands. He stopped, let go of Healer Huw's arm, and bent over, trying to get the world to stop tilting. Healer Huw put an arm around his shoulders while his fingers traced a question mark on the back of his hand.

"You all right, mate?" Arig asked.

"Just... feeling... dizzy," Harry admitted as he swayed, his knees buckling under him.

Healer Huw put his arms under his knees and swung him up—cradling him against his chest. He smelled like pine-scented soap and mint toothpaste. Harry's head lolled against his shoulder as his relief and shame mingled and caught in his throat.

Harry made the sorry sign against Healer Huw's chest even though curling his fingers stung sharply.

"Sookay, 'arry," Healer Huw said in a toneless voice that was husky with disuse as he lurched through the sand unsteadied by Harry's added weight. His voice didn't align with the impression that Harry was forming in his mind's eye of the healer and it was jarring.

There was something about the way Healer Huw said his name that made Harry remember Hagrid and he had a penetrating pang remembering the gentle giant—his first friend from the wixen world—and wondered what he was up to and why he hadn't heard from him.

Harry blinked back tears—from what? Loss? Shame? Frustration? as his head rolled against Healer Huw's bony shoulder and his legs swung in an awkward rhythm. He listened to Arig's crutches and foot grinding through the sand next to him and tried to think of other things that were less mortifying than being cradled like a baby in a near-stranger's arms.