Stepping off of the staircase and into Dumbledore’s office, Snape watched with first confusion, then some alarm, and finally growing amusement as Harry stiffened and then began slowly settling into what resembled a fighter’s crouch. He glanced about at the many portraits of previous Hogwarts Headmaster’s, all of whom were staring at Harry and whispering to each other. He supposed it would be rather disconcerting to walk into a room you presumed to be empty only to be surrounded by whispers, and he was actually somewhat impressed by the boy’s quick reaction. He shook his head and decided to intervene before the boy began striking out and ruining the priceless, though often inane, portraits.

Smirking slightly, Snape snapped, “Mr. Potter, they are just wizard portraits. All of the former headmasters of Hogwarts, in fact, though they are still the worst gossips in the castle. But aside from feeding the rumor mill they cannot harm you.” He glared at the busybody portraits as he said this, but none of them seemed to even notice him.

He turned his attention back to the red-faced Potter boy and watched as he straightened out of his crouch, clearly embarrassed.

“Portraits, sir?” the boy asked, seemingly attempting to quash his embarrassment. “They talk?”

Snape sneered. Who thought it was a good idea for the Boy-Who-Lived to grow up ignorant of magic? “Yes. Unlike their muggle counterparts, wizard photographs and portraits usually can move around, even leaving their frames, and portraits generally speak, taking on the personality of their subject to a limited extent.”

The boy’s face took on a strange expression. Was that… hopefulness? Wistfulness? “Can a muggle photograph be made to do that?” he asked.

“No,” Snape answered, wondering what had brought that look upon the child’s usually stoic face. “It is done upon creation.”

Potter nodded slightly, suddenly looking rather tired, and so Snape spoke again. “Come. I will show you to the Headmaster’s quarters. These are his offices, but straight ahead is a door that leads to his rooms.”

With that, he led him through the hallway that connected the Headmaster’s office to his quarters, then down the hallway in the quarters to the guest room at the end. He periodically glanced back to ensure that the boy was having no difficulty following him, but the boy seemed to have no trouble, even if he did not always walk a straight line down the hall.

He left him at the door to his new room and headed back down the hallway to the living room. While Dumbledore had assured him that he did not mind if he took his bedroom, Snape felt too strange sleeping in the older man’s bed. He seated himself on the couch and rubbed a hand down his face. The day already felt long and it was only mid-afternoon. Sighing, he called one of the Hogwarts house elves to bring him a book from his quarters, and settled in to read until dinner.

xxXxx

A couple of hours later, Snape roused from his book and glanced at the time. Seeing it was about dinner time, he started debating with himself about whether he should retrieve the boy from his room. He had just convinced himself to get up and at least knock on the door when he spotted Harry making his way slowly down the hallway, his long cane held diagonally before him and his left hand trailing along the wall. Curious, he remained seated and began to silently observe the boy.

Harry quickly found the doorknob to the bathroom and stepped inside, apparently exploring briefly before closing the door behind him. When he re-emerged a few minutes later, he continued his progress down the hall, hesitating when his hand brushed against the closed door to the master bedroom but not opening it. When he reached the open doorway to the kitchen, he turned into the room and Snape could see him running his hand over the counters and cabinets. He circled almost the entire room before reaching the doorway to the dining room, and then repeated the process in that room. Snape watched him touch each of the four chairs once, walking around the table one time before finding the wall again and tracing it to the living room.

Snape sat very still as Harry ventured into the living room, watching him first encounter the ottoman and then the arm of the couch. However, before the boy could run into his legs with his cane, Snape spoke up.

“It is nearly time for dinner. Would you care to sit at the table while I call down to the kitchens?”

He was somewhat amused when he saw the boy jump, although he also felt a flicker of guilt for concealing his presence for so long. The boy nodded mutely, then turned back towards the dining room, and Snape stood and walked to the floo.

Harry was cursing himself silently as he walked back to the table. If the continued weakness of his extended touch had not already been a sign that he was very tired, his lack of observance certainly would have tipped him off. Usually, even if he could not hear them breathing or rustling as they moved, he could still tell when someone else was in a room or near him. There was something indefinably different about a room when someone else was in it.

Harry sat down in the chair closest to the living room doorway and listened to Snape call something out, followed by a roaring sound. About a minute later, he heard his footsteps enter the room and then settle in the chair across from him. Suddenly, his nose was assaulted with the rich aroma of hot food. He frowned, a bit confused, then cautiously walked his hand forward until it found a bowl. He groped around for a spoon, finding a small piece of bread on the way, and began eating the light soup. Having already eaten more than he was accustomed to having most days, it did not take long before he felt almost uncomfortably full. He set his spoon down and waited patiently for the sounds of clinking and chewing from across the table to cease before asking if he could be excused and getting up from the table.

He resumed exploring the living room after dinner, feeling rather uncomfortable and embarrassed now that he knew Snape’s eyes were on him, but even more insecure with the idea of being unfamiliar with the place at which he was staying. He had just encountered the fireplace mantle with his forehead (and was busy rubbing at the bruise that was forming and silently hoping that his baseball cap would be laundered and returned to him quickly) when he heard Snape clear his throat behind him. He turned to face the man as he began speaking.

“I need to run an errand this evening. I will not be gone too long, but I will ask Madam Pomfrey to come up until I return.”

Inwardly, Harry bristled a bit at the idea of being babysat, but outwardly he only nodded silently. He decided he was tired enough to go to bed anyways, and started heading back towards his room as he heard the same roar from earlier that he was beginning to associate with some form of communication among wizards.

xxXxx

Snape apparated to an alley off of a cozy street not far outside of Ballycastle, Ireland. Adjusting his robes slightly, he swept down the street and approached a scrappy-looking house that crouched among the other dwellings as though jealously guarding something. He hoped that Bartley had not moved in the last few years as he walked up to the door and knocked smartly three times. He waited patiently as he heard the sounds of rustling from within, then quick, light footsteps approaching the door.

“Who is it?” he heard called from within, although the door had not been opened yet.

“It’s Severus Snape, Bartley,” he called through the door.

There was a pause, then the the door cracked open slightly. “Severus?” the man’s voice inquired.

“Yes, it’s me. May I come in?”

The door opened fully now, and Snape could see the form of his former mentor in the doorway, dressed in muggle jeans and a light sweater, although the darkness within the house left him mostly covered in shadow.

“Severus! Well it’s been quite a few years!” Bartley exclaimed. “No, don’t bother coming in, we’ll just be going right back out. Give me just a mo’.” He moved to the side of the doorway and Snape could see him gathering some items from a shelf next to the door. Less than a minute later, he reappeared in the doorway, adjusting a pair of dark glasses on his face and holding a long white cane in his hand. Snape moved back slightly as Bartley stepped out of the door, closing it tightly behind him.

Bartley turned as though to walk towards the sidewalk, then faced back towards Snape and asked, “I don’t suppose you’re wearing muggle clothes, are you?”

“No, sorry,” Snape answered, glancing down at his everyday black robes.

Bartley shrugged slightly. “No matter. They see plenty of weird folk anyway.” He turned back towards the sidewalk and began walking, his cane held before him and Snape following. “This way. It’s just down the street. Sorry about relocating, only I haven’t got much stock at the mo’, and I fancy a drink for this conversation.”

“I have not even told you my reason for visiting.”

Bartley shrugged again. “It’s been far too many years for you to just show up out of the blue to have a chat.”

Snape had no response to that, and so they continued in silence until Bartley led them inside a pub called O’Reilly’s. He expertly wove his way between the tables, his cane held close to his body, stopping only for a brief, whispered conversation with a passing waitress, before having a seat at one of the stools by the bar. Snape sat next to him and glanced around the room.

It was clearly a muggle bar, although there were evidently enough witches and wizards living in the area that his robes did not attract more than a couple funny looks. From the looks of the place, it was occupied mostly by regulars, but with enough newcomers that nothing was thought of an extra stranger coming in. It was also crowded enough that their conversation would not be easily overheard, but not so crowded that they would need to shout to hear each other.

The bartender greeted Bartley by name and took their orders, returning fairly quickly with their drinks. Bartley leaned his elbows against the bar as he drank, and Snape followed suit, examining his glass as he considered how to broach the subject.

But Bartley, never much of one for patience, eventually spoke up. “So what brings you all the way down here this evening, Severus?”

Snape blew out his breath, slowly and quietly. “I have a young charge who is in my care temporarily. He starts at Hogwarts this year, muggle-raised, and he is blind.”

One corner of Bartley’s mouth lifted in a lopsided smile. “And you thought of me?”

“I suppose.”

“Well, what do you want to know, Severus?” Bartley queried, his tone containing a hint of teasing.

This time Snape sighed audibly. “Everything, Bartley. I have no idea where to even begin.  I will probably be taking him to Diagon Alley myself and I have no idea…” he trailed off.

Bartley’s grin widened. “Ah. A place where even the sneaky Severus Snape is unsure of his tread. Well, you would be much better off asking most of your questions of the boy’s parents, or of the boy himself.”

“I do not only have questions of how to act around him. I also need to know about blind wizards, specifically,” Snape explained, trying to contain his exasperation. The man was deliberately ignoring his hints.

“Ah.” Bartley frowned slightly. “There are not very many of us, it is true.” When Snape sighed again, Bartley chuckled. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you off the hook, Severus. Let’s see, where to begin? Well first, how old was he when he went blind?”

“Not quite eight, I believe,” Snape answered.

“Hm, that is interesting,” Bartley mused thoughtfully. Snape held his tongue and was rewarded when Bartley continued. “Well, as you know, there are not that many blind witches or wizards. Most things can be healed by magic. There are occasionally people like me who get an unfortunately-placed curse, but most blind wizards are muggleborn,” he gestured in Snape’s direction, “or muggle raised. Every once in a while, a muggleborn wizard is born blind, and their magic recognizes this as normal and will not act to correct it. Usually by the time they enter the magical world it is irreversible. Even less frequently, a wizard is in an accident that is severe enough that their magic cannot fully protect them and cannot fully heal them. If they do not receive magical healing soon enough, this can again become irreversible. I imagine this was the case with your charge? I have never known of a wizard going blind of genetic causes later than birth, but there is not much documentation on these things so I suppose it is possible--”

“Yes, he was in an accident,” Snape interrupted the man before he could travel too far down his tangent.

Bartley nodded contemplatively. “Just before he turned eight, you said? That is very interesting timing. Well, again, there is really not much documentation on these things. The Wizarding world seems to largely ignore most disabilities; it’s like pulling teeth to get the Ministry to print things in Braille sometimes… Anyways. So a lot of this is speculation. But there have been a few blind wizards that have been described as having some sort of supersensory ability, slightly different for each of them. And these wizards, and witches, all went blind during the time period of their magical development, between about three or four years of age and about fifteen or sixteen years of age. I have a theory that because of the timing, their magic developed some sort of compensatory abilities. I’ve always wondered if those stories were actually true though.” He grimaced slightly. “Wish my magic would do that. It’d be right handy sometimes.”

Snape nodded slightly. “I will look out for that,” he said softly, thinking of Bartley’s theory and considering whether he had seen any signs of such an ability in Harry. “You said that the Ministry is difficult to work with?” he prompted after a moment.

Bartley waved a hand nonchalantly. “Eh, they aren’t so bad. They just aren’t very used to it. There’s only a handful of blind wizards in the UK at any given time, and it’s only been fairly recently that Wizarding society has started seeing us as much more than invalids. Muggles tend to be a bit more progressive that way.” He swept a hand to encompass their surroundings. “It’s why I end up hanging out with them so much.”

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, until Bartley stood suddenly. He gulped down what remained of his drink, set the glass solidly back down on the bar, then faced Snape and grinned. “Alright, Sev, ready to learn sighted lead?”

xxXxx