Chapter Text
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Chapter 1
July 1991
Young Harry Potter woke in darkness. But then, he always awoke to darkness. With a yawn and a stretch, he flexed that hidden muscle deep inside and pushed. Suddenly, his surroundings were lit up by faintly glowing lights, well in his mind they were anyway.
He had discovered this ability when he was younger, when running from Dudley and his friends, Harry had stumbled and fallen, losing hold of his stick. In his fear and desperation, he had felt a sudden wrenching tear inside his chest, and suddenly he could see!
He could see the path in front of him and behind him, he could see his hands on the stony ground and his stick off to the left, he could see the hedge that bordered on one side of him and the wooden fence on the other. He could see it all, in various shades of colour and grey and then it was gone, and darkness returned.
The flash of awareness had allowed him to find his stick where it had fallen a few paces from him and carry on his escape from Dudley. He was caught, as you would expect from a small underfed blind boy, fleeing several bigger stronger and faster boys. But he did not forget that brief flash of sight and later, curled up in his cupboard underneath the stairs he had tried to remember the feeling. The tearing deep inside his chest and the dull ache in his head, though he wasn’t sure if that was related or if it was from striking his head on the ground.
He had focused on the feeling, on the colour he had seen, and after what felt like hours, there was another flash and for a brief moment he had been able to see his cupboard. He could see the underside of the stairs above him, the wall behind him with shelves stacked with cleaning products. He could see the door; he could see the small mattress and pillow and the few precious braille books tucked behind the bucket in the corner. He could see everything around him.
For the next few years Harry had practiced this ability, a first he was only able to achieve brief flashes of awareness, and only then after concentrating for several minutes. But as the years passed, he was able to perform these pushes quicker and quicker until around his ninth birthday, he was able to use this form of awareness almost constantly while focussing on other things at the same time.
This sight he could use was not perfect, he had studied different forms of sight among animals, and it seemed to work a little like echolocation. He could coat his surroundings in something, some sound nobody could hear perhaps, and then his mind turned that into an image of his surroundings. From what he had read, it was different to normal sight in several ways.
For instance, there was a limit to how far he could push, and beyond that there was a vague fuzziness and then just darkness, though the limit was increasing the more he practiced, and he had it up to around twenty feet now.
He had also found that living things, natural things, were much clearer to his sight. Every person was a slightly different colour or combination of colours, normally with brighter colour around their heads and chests. He had difficulty with some metals, but others like gold and silver were very easy to see, they would shine brightly in his mind. He could find little pattern to it except that anything that had once been alive, or still was, was typically easier for him to see.
He had also found that around his home in Little Whinging, there was a curtain of reddish gold. It seemed to stretch up endlessly and completely encircled the borough, it rippled when he touched it or passed through it, it would brighten and seem to cling to his touch slightly before releasing him, though he felt no resistance. In fact, he felt only a slightly warm patch of air whenever he touched the red curtain. It was odd, but then he had seen some other odd things in his experiments with the sight, so he didn’t think of it too often.
He was disturbed from reminiscing on his journey learning how to use the sight when there was Thump – Thump – Thud! as the overweight form of Uncle Vernon made his way downstairs and into the kitchen. With another stretch, he pushed at the door to his cupboard and made his way down the hall and into the kitchen as well, his hand trailing absently along the wall beside him.
Harry had realised early on that Vernon, who disliked abnormality or ‘Freakishness’ as he often spat, would be … displeased to learn of Harry’s ability to see. It was not normal, and though Harry was fairly sure Petunia knew he was more aware than perhaps he should have been, but Vernon was, thankfully, none the wiser.
As Harry made his way into the Kitchen, carefully avoiding Vernon’s legs which were splayed out in what would normally be his path to the table, a coincidence, he was sure. Aunt Petunia was already up and bustling about the kitchen preparing breakfast and judging by the dull thuds coming from the landing, Dudley was on his way down for breakfast as well.
Harry reached up and adjusted his tinted glasses as he waited patiently. Petunia had taken him to buy them from a charity shop when he started school, and after a quick search through the glass cabinets, she had found a pair of dark tinted glasses, metal semi-rimless with dark jungle green lenses. She had had him try them on and had quietly told him they made him look very handsome, though he thought perhaps that was because they hid his scars a little.
As Dudley thundered into the kitchen, attempting to push Harry as he sat down, Petunia came to the table with breakfast and served a full English to Vernon and Dudley. Sausages, eggs, bacon, tomato, and beans for her “growing boy” and twice that for Vernon who needed a “proper meal” before a long day at work, and then scrambled eggs on toast for herself and Harry, along with an apple for him as Petunia and Harry were the only ones who ate the fruit from the bowl on the side.
As Harry finished his toast there was a familiar clatter as the letter box was opened and closed, quickly followed by a grunt from Vernon as Harry obediently rose from the table and ventured to the door.
Stooping to collect the mail, Harry noticed one of the envelopes was a little heavier and smoother than the others but thought little of it as he returned to the kitchen and dutifully handed the morning post off to his aunt to read through.
Petunia muttered something about Marge, Vernon’s boorish sister, being unwell (which Harry definitely did not smile about) then a bill, and then there was a moments silence as Petunia seemed stunned momentarily.
She recovered quickly, and Harry absently noticed she had tucked an envelope under her plate as she collected Vernon and Dudley’s now empty dishes. As she passed by Harry, she softly patted his shoulder, before loading the dishwasher and asking if Harry wouldn’t mind helping her clean up.
Dudley, hearing this, fled the kitchen, calling out that he was meeting Piers to play football and couldn’t be late as he rushed to the door and slammed it closed. Vernon quickly followed, heading to work for the morning leaving only Harry and Petunia in the house.
Harry was about to rise and join Petunia at the sink when she turned and, after retrieving the envelope from beneath her plate, handed the letter to him.
“This is for you Harry,” she said in a soft voice “it’s a letter from the school your parents went to.” There was a pause as she sighed deeply before continuing. “I have a few things to explain to you Harry and maybe I should have told you before now, but I had half hoped you would not be like them.” With a deep exhale Petunia sat down, deflating and seeming to fold in on herself. “You have magic Harry dear. Like your mother and father, and this school will teach you how to use that magic.”
“Magic?” Harry questioned. He thought for a moment, it would explain many things, he knew that his sight wasn’t normal, maybe this was how all magical people saw the world?
“Yes, your mother was a witch, and your father a wizard. If you open the letter, it should explain everything, you will have to reply and ask for a teacher to take you to Charing Cross, that’s where their shops are.” Petunia explained as Harry took the envelope. It had a very faint blue light threaded through it but apart from that it seemed to be an ordinary envelope, a little heavy perhaps.
Harry ran his fingers across the front of the envelope and felt small indentations, but not braille, it was just the pen marks. Already doubtful, he turned the envelope over and cracked the seal on the back, there was a brief spark of light as he did so that seemed to fade away quickly. Inside were two pages and a quick pass over of both revealed what Harry already expected.
“Aunt Petunia, I’m sorry, could you read them for me?” He asked hesitantly. “It’s not in braille.” He explained as Petunia let out a little scoff, at him or the writers he didn’t know.
“Of course, yes, pass them here then.” Harry dutifully handed the letter back to Petunia who pulled on the reading glasses she kept on a chain around her neck before clearing her throat and reading aloud.
“Dear Mr Potter.
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress.”
Petunia paused and then continued “There is also a list of equipment you will need but the teacher who comes can explain that for you.” She passed the letter back and stood up, moving to the sink. “You should type up a response. If it hasn’t changed, you should be able to slip it in the envelope and take it outside.” She let out a short, pained laugh. “You should enjoy what happens then.”
Harry sat still for a moment, many different thoughts whirling around his mind before deciding to go forward one step at a time.
First step being to reply to the letter, so he stood up and made his way to Dudley’s spare room upstairs. He had been given a braille typewriter by the school, an old thing with a few keys bent slightly but it worked all the same and he had been allowed to keep it in Dudley’s spare room during the summer.
With slightly shaking hands he checked the paper was loaded properly before typing a quick reply.
Dear Deputy Headmistress,
I have been advised I will need a teacher to escort me to Charing Cross for purchasing my supplies as I am blind.
Would this be possible?
Many Thanks,
Harry Potter
He paused for a moment, thinking, before adding.
P.S Please come during the day as my Uncle Vernon works then and it would be easier for him.
With a chuckle at the thought of a wizard in a pointy hat meeting Vernon, he took the paper from the typewriter and, after a quick check with his fingers to make sure he hadn’t spelled anything incorrectly, he folded the paper carefully making sure to avoid creasing the lines of braille. Popping it into the now empty envelope he made his way downstairs and, grabbing his cane from where it rested beside the front door, he stepped out into the morning sun.
Not knowing what to do, he held the envelope out above his head for a moment, feeling rather foolish as he did so. He was about to turn back inside and question his aunt when he heard a low hoot and heard a rush of wind and feathers. Pushing his awareness to expand, he saw a bird perched atop the streetlamp. As soon as he saw it, he could tell it wasn’t an ordinary bird. Most animals had one colour to them, but this one was a pale brown colour with amber light threaded across its body.
With another hoot it leapt from its roost, and swept towards him, before he could react it had snatched the envelope from his still outstretched hand and, with a few heavy flaps of its wings, it was rising up and soaring away, until it quickly left his sight.
With a laugh, Harry turned and headed back indoors, muttering under his breath about mad aunts and birds as he closed the door.
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In an office, lit by a warm and cheery fire, Minerva McGonagall was sat behind a dark wooden desk in a comfortable chair, reading through letters and marking off a list to the side. She was sorting through acceptance letters, almost everyone sent an invitation to attend Hogwarts accepted, only a few families preferred to attend Beauxbatons in France or Durmstrang in the Black Forest. She had nearly finished when a tawny owl slipped in through an open window facing the forest that bordered Hogwarts Castle.
It landed lightly upon her large oak desk and dropped it’s letter carefully in front of her, before taking off and flitting back out through the window.
Minerva reached for the envelope and, after opening the letter within, frowned for a moment. She picked up her wand and a spare piece of parchment, laying the letter beside the blank sheet and waving her wand above both, intoning “Tactus ad aspectum” as she did so. For a moment there was a blur of colour on the blank sheet, it seemed to waver before collapsing into a smear of meaningless ink across the page.
Minerva scowled at the smeared page, as she picked the letter back up and stood, striding from the room and making her way to her colleague’s office. She reached the Charms corridor and paused outside the office door before rapping sharply on the door. There was a moments silence before.
“Come in Minerva, its open.” A slightly squeaky voice called from within.
“You know some people find monitoring charms to be impolite Filius” She rebuked as she opened the door and stepped into the Charms Master’s office. A pleasant space with pale eggshell walls and books stacked to the rafters, with a fireplace tucked away in the corner and hidden behind a desk piled high with thick tomes, drinking from a goblet of pale silver was Filius Flitwick. A short man, he stood at a little under 4 ft tall, with a grey braided beard and dark grey hair pulled back into a loose tail, he wore simple brown robes and chortled loudly at Minerva’s scolding.
“I needed no charm to know that it was you Minerva, only you knock so precisely on my door!” He laughed as his friends’ cheeks reddened slightly, before waving his wand and revealing a second chair in the room that had previously been obscured by books and loose sheets of parchment. He waited for Minerva to sit before offering her a drink.
“Thank you, Filius, but no, I actually came for your help.” Minerva paused here ducking her head slightly in embarrassment before continuing. “I need your help with a charm, the touch to sight translation charm?” She held up the letter and showed Filius that it was printed in braille.
“Ah, a tricky charm Minerva, I don’t blame you for struggling, I must confess I’ve had no need of it since young Christopher Judge graduated.” The Charms professor held out his hand for the letter and laid it down next to a spare sheet he drew from a drawer beneath his desk. He set aside his goblet and with a wave of his wand, spoke clearly.
“Tactus ad aspectum.” He paused to watch as dark ink gathered on the previously blank sheet of paper, it shifted and twisted before settling as letters upon the page. Filius read the letter quickly before handing it to Minerva along with the original braille copy.
He waited long enough for his friend to finish reading the letter, taking another sip from his goblet before speaking up.
“I should like to volunteer myself to collect Harry and escort him to Diagon Alley, Minerva.” He raised a hand to forestall her immediate refusal. “Think about it Minerva, I have the most experience with those who are impaired of the senses.” Seeing that she was thinking about his words he waited patiently for her to reply, settling in and watching the witch as she sat thinking.
Minerva sat still for several moments before finally agreeing.
“I should have liked to go myself but you make a good point Filius, and I will still get to see him when he arrives.” She gave Filius the original braille copy of the letter and, after chatting about the upcoming school year and accepting a quick drink, she departed to mark down the last name on the Hogwarts acceptance list.
Harry Potter.
A/N Hey everyone so I’m reposting this as its already on FF, let me know what you think!