“Mr. Potter, it could easily have been worse.”

Yeah, maybe, but he didn’t see how that was supposed to make him feel better. It was pretty bad, and he had been told it was -- barring a miracle -- permanent. He had woken in the hospital wing over a day after being slipped that blasted potion, and been informed by Madam Pomfrey of the damage before she bustled off to tell his head of house he was awake.

“Are you paying attention, Mr. Potter?”

Harry refocused on the professor before him, giving her a small nod.

“As I was saying, the potion you were slipped was meant to cause your body to shrivel, starting at the outer limbs and working its way in. Fortunately, it was not brewed very well. That, coupled with…”

Harry did not catch the rest of what she said as she turned her head to look to her left and behind her, toward the door to the hospital wing. He followed her gaze to see Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey striding into the room, with Snape trailing behind like a shadow.

“...nking him.”

He turned back to face her as he heard the last word, trying to piece together what he had missed. His confusion must have shown on his face because he saw her chest heave in a sigh.

“I am sorry, Mr. Potter. How much did you miss?”

Harry frowned, frustrated, and said, “I got something about the potion not being brewed well?”

McGonagall nodded. “Yes, you are fortunate the… …but that our Potions Master is. You owe your life to Professor Snape’s quick thinking.” As she said this, Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey joined her in a cluster on one side of Harry’s bed, Snape positioning himself on the opposite side.

Harry decided he had caught enough of that not to ask McGonagall to repeat herself again. Her gaze, along with Snape and Madam Pomfrey’s, turned towards Dumbledore, and Harry followed suit.

“... are you doing, Harry?” Dumbledore asked kindly.

“OK, I guess,” Harry mumbled sullenly, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Madam Pomfrey has informed us of the… …As you likely know, you were very lucky--”

“Lucky,” Harry snorted, cutting Dumbledore off. His anger and frustration were swelling inside him, and he clenched his hands into fists in an effort to contain it. He was still grieving Sirius, reeling with the knowledge of Voldemort’s final demise, scared of the remaining Death Eaters who were already worming their way out of jail, and now this…

“Yes, Potter, lucky,” Snape snapped out. “It could have been significantly worse.”

“But it’s bloody well bad enough!” Harry suddenly burst out, his control shattering. “I can hardly hear! My eardrums are gone! My ears look like bloody dried-up peanuts! I’m-- I’m--”

Suddenly all of his energy was gone as quickly as the wave of emotion had broken over him, leaving him feeling empty and scared in its wake. He shivered slightly and hugged himself around his torso.

Madam Pomfrey began bustling about, gathering potions, while he saw Snape and Dumbledore begin conversing over him. Watching them, he realized all of the professors must have been speaking somewhat loudly for him thus far (though it had sounded rather quiet to him), because he could make out only the faintest sounds of the conversation going on above him. And considering that McGonagall appeared to be following the conversation even as she moved to help Madam Pomfrey, they could not be whispering.

Madam Pomfrey handed him a vial, telling him, “You need your rest.” He obediently drank it, content to slip back into sleep and hope that when he woke up this would all be a bad dream.

xxXxx

Harry woke to bright and orange light hitting his eyes, filtering in through the tall windows from the setting sun. His felt his stomach churn, and he realized it had probably been a while since he ate. He looked around the room, and saw Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall standing in the corner by Madam Pomfrey’s office. It looked as though they had been conversing, but they now turned and began walking towards him, Dumbledore in the lead.

“Ah, Harry!” Dumbledore said brightly as they approached his bed. “Hungry, are you?”

Harry felt his stomach churn again, and Dumbledore smiled at him.

“I think your stomach just answered for you, Harry. Minerva, would you fetch Poppy... …foods for Harry, I’m not sure… …restrictions.”

McGonagall nodded curtly and turned back towards the matron’s office. Dumbledore faced Harry and addressed him.

"Harry, we have a few things we need to discuss. You may know already that all of the other students have left for summer holidays. Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger were quite worried about you, and asked that you write them as soon as you wake up."

"Did anyone tell them that...?" Harry asked, trailing off.

Dumbledore gave him a small but kind smile. "No, we thought it best to leave it up to you to tell whom you would like. Madam Pomfrey also could not be completely certain of the extent of the damage until you woke.

"Now, given the circumstances, I have decided that it may not be the best for you to return to your relatives while you are still learning to adjust to all of this. Although there are still a few Death Eaters on the loose, I believe that you will be quite safe staying with Professor Snape for the duration of the holidays."

Harry stared at Dumbledore, dumbfounded. "I'm sorry Professor, could you repeat that? I thought I heard you say I'll be staying with Snape." Harry gave a nervous laugh.

"Professor Snape," Dumbledore chided him gently, "and you heard me correctly, Harry. I believe that this will be a very beneficial situation, for both of you." He glanced at the scowling Snape as he added this last part.

Harry stared at him. "But-- but--" he spluttered.

"It will make sense in time, Harry. Now, I must be going. I will leave Professor Snape to explain logistics."

Dumbledore stood up, and began to bid them farewell. Slightly dazed at all of the revelations, Harry nearly forgot to ask the question that had been niggling at the back of his mind since waking earlier that day, and he hurried to ask, “Professor, do you know who poisoned me?”

“Ah,” Dumbledore faced Harry again. “I believe we do.”

“Well?” Harry asked, impatiently.

Dumbledore sighed. “I will tell you if you insist, Harry, for I do not believe it fair to withhold the information from you. However, I do not think it will be beneficial for you to know.”

“I want to know,” Harry insisted.

“Very well.” Dumbledore clasped his hands before him, looking solemn. “It was Draco Malfoy. It was his attempt at revenge for his father’s imprisonment.”

Harry nodded, angry but unsurprised. “Is he going to be expelled?” Harry asked, somewhat unsure whether he wanted the answer to be ‘yes’ or ‘no.’

“No,” Dumbledore stated rather firmly. “He will be punished, and rather severely, but he will not be expelled.”

Harry nodded as Dumbledore once again said goodbye and strode out of the hospital wing, and his thoughts turned once more to what he had learned just before the talk turned to Draco Malfoy. He and Snape were silent for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts and each reluctant to break the uncomfortable silence. Harry was rather glad not to be returning to the Dursleys, but was not sure Snape would be any better. He supposed he would at least probably let him eat, which was an improvement, but he also was not happy at simply being pawned off on someone else, especially another someone who did not want him. Didn't he deserve some choice, some say in the matter, especially after all that had happened? He had defeated Voldemort, Sirius had died, the Ministry was still trying to decide whether he was a nutjob or a savior (though they fortunately seemed to be leaning towards savior this time around, which while not ideal was better than being called crazy)... He was growing tired of it all.

Finally, Snape spoke. "Madam Pomfrey has said that you can leave tomorrow morning. We will spend a day or two in my quarters here and then leave for my house. I will be by tomorrow after breakfast to walk you down." With that, he swept from the room, robes billowing.

xxXxx

Snape did not say a word to Harry as he led him to his quarters in some forgotten corner of the dungeons. Harry trailed behind him silently, lugging his trunk and owl’s cage. When Snape had opened the door to his room, presumably speaking some password Harry did not hear, and they stepped through, he motioned for Harry to sit at the small round table situated in the middle of the room they had entered into. Harry dropped his belongings near the door and complied, seating himself across from Snape.

Snape examined his fingers for a moment (if Harry had not known better he would have thought he was gathering himself), then met Harry’s eyes and began speaking.

“It has been left up to me to explain the finer details of your… situation. If at any point you have trouble hearing or understanding me, please let me know and I will endeavor to speak louder or if necessary write things down. It is important that you understand all of this.”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, looking away. Feeling a mixture of embarrassment and anger, he mumbled, “Why can’t you just speak loud enough in the first place?”

He heard Snape growl, “Look at me… …Harry.” Harry obeyed, defiance in his eyes, and Snape added, “Would you care to repeat that?”

“I said, why can’t you just speak loud enough in the first place?”

Snape glared at him. “Because I might not know how loud is loud enough.”

Harry bit down a retort, not wanting to enrage Snape too much when he would have to live with him for the rest of the summer.

After a moment, Snape continued his explanation. “The potion you were given was designed to, as you know, kill, disfigure, and essentially shrivel your entire body, beginning with your outermost limbs and working its why in to vital organs. If the brewer had been competent, it would have started at your fingers and toes and you would have been dead within thirty seconds. As it is, it began at your ears and moved much slower, allowing me time to halt its progress.”

Harry nodded. He had gathered most of this by this point.

“The potion has permanently affected your auricles, or the outer fleshy part of your ear,” Snape fingered the tip of his own ear as he explained this, “your ear canals, and your eardrums. This has reduced your body’s ability to conduct sound waves to the nerves deeper inside your ear, and has left you with a significant conductive hearing loss. It also likely reached some of the hair or nerve cells in your inner ear, though the damage to your inner ear was quite mild in comparison to your outer ear. This has resulted in a… …hearing loss in both ears.”

Harry frowned. “Sorry, Professor, what kind of hearing loss?”

Snape looked slightly pained as he said, “That’s alright, Potter. I imagine the term is unfamiliar to you.” He slid a scrap of parchment and quill over to him from one side of the table, where a small jumble of parchment and old-looking quills resided. He jotted something down quickly, then showed Harry the paper.

55-60 decibel (dB)

“Dec-i-bel,” Harry sounded the word out. “Did I pronounce that right?”

A brief flicker of emotion crossed Snape’s face before it returned to its usual impassive mask. “I believe it is close enough, Potter. Decibels are a way of measuring or characterizing the loudness of a sound. The average teenager has a threshold of about 0 decibels, while normal speech occurs at around 50 decibels. There are degrees of hearing loss, and your falls around the moderate to moderately-severe category."

Harry thought for a moment, then asked in a resigned tone, "So I'm deaf?"

Snape's eyes flashed a bit at that, and he snapped, "No you are hard-of-hearing."

"Sorry, what?" Harry asked.

"Hard. Of. Hearing." Snape bit out. He hesitated for a long moment, holding himself rigidly still almost as though trying to contain fidgeting. Harry was just starting to wonder if the conversation was over when Snape spoke again.

"The Headmaster has decided that it would be best if I... helped you through this period of adjustment... because I also have a hearing loss."

Harry stared at Snape, wide-eyed.

"I inherited the condition, although neither of my parents were deaf, and I lost my hearing when I was around seven."

Harry swallowed. "So you're hard-of-hearing too?"

"No, I am Deaf," Snape angrily corrected him.

Harry frowned. "I'm sorry, I don't understand the difference, sir." He tried to keep his voice polite.

Snape sighed. "It technically refers to degrees of hearing loss. Generally, someone who has a severe or profound hearing loss is considered deaf, while someone with a mild or moderate hearing loss is considered hard-of-hearing. However, it also reflects what culture you identify with. Someone who identifies more with hearing culture is more likely to consider themselves hard-of-hearing, while someone who identifies with Deaf culture usually considers themselves Deaf."

Harry was not sure he had caught that entire explanation, but he thought he had understood the gist of it. "So your hearing is worse than mine?" He asked, curious but also wary of offending Snape.

Snape sneered at him. "Yes, I dare say it is quite a bit worse."

Harry frowned, but before he could open his mouth to ask his next question, Snape interrupted him.

"I am quite exceptional at lip-reading, I have been told impossibly so, and I have had very extensive speech therapy. Speech therapy is one of only a few areas where the Deaf Wizarding community seems to have surpassed it's Muggle counterpart. And no, I do not have better eyesight than a hearing person, I simply pay more attention to my visual field, and likely have more developed peripherals."

Harry thought for a moment, putting the pieces together. He recalled Snape's overly-precise speech, his uncanny ability to know what they were saying even when they were whispering across the room, his hatred of mumbling, even his order earlier that in that same conversation to look at him when he spoke.

When he glanced back up, Snape was looking even more uncomfortable. He said, "That is also why I must ask you to let me know if you cannot understand me. I have difficulty judging my own volume, and have been informed I tend to speak rather quietly as a result." Then he stood, shaking out his robes slightly as though trying to shake off the awkward conversation. "I will show you to the guest room. Do not get too comfortable. I will be in my lab or my office all day finishing up some things, and we will leave for my house tomorrow morning."

xxXxx

Snape glanced at the closed door to the guest room as he passed it on the way to his own room much later that night. He was trying his best to be civil with the boy; Dumbledore had made it quite clear that he expected him to set aside his childhood grudges in order to help Potter through this period of adjustment. But the boy could just be so infuriating… If he were truthful with himself, he would have to admit that he was not entirely certain what it was about the brat that irritated him so thoroughly. He had realized a while earlier that year, during those disastrous Occlumency lessons, just how un-spoiled Potter was. In fact, it was partly his reports to Dumbledore that had led the old man to decide against Harry returning to his relatives that summer. But there was still something about the boy, perhaps the way that he so thoughtlessly and recklessly got his hands into everything (like his Pensieve...), that rubbed him the wrong way. And now he had to introduce the boy to his world, his culture. Snape sighed. It was going to be a long summer.

xxXxx

The next morning, Snape told Harry to dress in muggle clothes (himself dressing in dark slacks and a black button-down) and apparated them to a rundown-looking neighborhood. He hurried Harry, who was still a bit dizzy from his first experience apparating, inside a small and dingy house. Before Harry had time to look around too much, Snape had deposited his trunk at the foot of some dusty stairs and was back at the front door, beckoning Harry to follow. Harry scurried after him, stuffing a battered cap he had found at the bottom of his trunk earlier that morning low on his head in an attempt to cover his odd-looking ears.

They walked in silence for a few blocks, Harry looking at his surroundings curiously. Most of the houses near Snape's had a similar look of long-time disrepair, but as they walked on the neighborhoods grew nicer and newer-looking. Eventually, they crossed a busy street and entered a shopping center.

It was the first time Harry had been in such a crowded and noisy area since being in the hospital wing, and he was disheartened to realize how indistinguishable all of the noises were, and how few of them he could hear. Harry felt like he was walking around with a fishbowl on his head; everything seemed muffled and distorted as though he was underwater. When they entered the grocery store and began shopping, he was dismayed to learn that he could hardly understand a word Snape was saying. Snape, however, seemed to have expected this problem, and quickly resorted to writing small notes on the shopping list he was carrying with a muggle pen, or simply raising his eyebrows as he held up an item to ask if Harry wanted it. Harry’s own voice sounded loud in his ears compared to the muffled or deadened sounds around him, and he was quite self-conscious at first, but he relaxed a bit as he realized no one was paying them any attention.

After several minutes, they got into line at the single open check-out counter with a small pile of basic necessities. However, when they reached the front of the line, the cashier was busily chomping at a mouthful of gum, blowing bubbles intermittently between her words. Harry's face grew hot as Snape patiently asked the girl to repeat their total a couple of times, finally resorting to having her write it down. Snape, however, seemed genuinely unperturbed as he brought out the correct number of pounds.

As they left the shopping center, each carrying a bag of groceries, a young man looking to be in his early twenties came rushing up to them, startling Harry somewhat. He did not speak a word but began enthusiastically gesturing in what Harry vaguely recognized as sign language. Harry was quite surprised when Snape shifted his bag to his left arm and responded in kind.

After a few back-and-forths, the man turned to Harry and spoke as he signed. With the many cars rushing past, Harry did not catch much, only the words "you" and "name." He glanced at Snape for help, unsure of himself. Snape began signing again, presumably explaining who Harry was. After a couple more minutes of conversation, with Harry awkwardly shifting from foot to foot as he waited, the two said their farewells and Harry and Snape continued back to the house.

When they at last entered the blessedly quiet house, Harry followed Snape into the kitchen, setting his bag down on the grungy countertop. He watched Snape begin unloading groceries into the muggle refrigerator (though Harry noted that the inside appeared much larger than the outside would indicate), waiting for Snape to look at him again.

When Snape finally made eye contact and opened his mouth to speak, Harry cut him off. “What did you tell him about me?” he demanded.

Snape frowned. “What?” he asked.

Harry rolled his eyes. “The man you were speaking to outside of the store. You were talking about me, weren’t you?”

Snape waved his hand nonchalantly. “I was just explaining that you are a student of mine who recently experienced some hearing loss, and that I will be helping you adjust.”

“Well, why couldn’t you have said that part out loud so I knew what you were saying?”

Snape sighed, annoyed. “I assumed that the cars passing by would be loud enough that you would have difficulty understanding anyway. Did you not have difficulty understanding Daniel?”

Harry furrowed his brow. “I did,” he admitted, chafing at Snape’s dismissal of him and at his new limitations, but also realizing how logical Snape’s thought process had been.

“Sit,” he said, seating himself in one of the chairs situated around the round table in the kitchen and pointing to the chair across from him. The expression on his face was one of long-suffering and thinly-veiled annoyance, and as Harry sat he got the impression that Snape was only barely tolerating the situation out of his (apparently) extreme loyalty to Dumbledore.

“It, most unfortunately, again falls to me… …thorough explanation of what you can expect going forward.” He sighed, then continued, “You have spent most of your time since… …in quiet environments with adults who know how to speak clearly and loudly, and to face you when they speak, in order to help you hear and understand better. Because the majority of your hearing lo… your problem is mainly one of amplification, so people… …helps you a great deal.”

“Sorry,” Harry interrupted, embarrassed. “I didn’t get all of that. The majority of my hearing loss is what? And people doing what helps me a lot?”

Snape pulled a small muggle notebook and pen out of a pocket in his trousers, wrote something down quickly, and showed it to Harry.

majority of your hearing loss is conductance-based

people speaking slightly louder

Harry nodded, and Snape took the notebook back, leaving it in front of him on the table.

“But if I just need amplification, why can’t I just get a hearing aid?” Harry queried. “Isn’t that what they do?”

Snape looked mildly surprised at his knowledge. “Yes, Potter, that is their primary function. However, since devices such as hearing aids and cochlear implants are rather delicate, they tend to have an even more difficult time around magic than most other technology. Wizards have not been able to find a suitable magical substitute.”

Harry nodded again, and Snape resumed his previous explanation. “In general life, you will likely have a much harder time understanding speech since people tend to… …and mumble their words, and will not know or will forget to speak loudly and to face you.”

“Why does it make such a huge difference?” Harry asked. “Didn’t you say that normal speech happens at around 50 decibels, and my threshold is 55?”

“We measured your threshold at somewhere between 55 and 60,” Snape corrected him, “although this changes somewhat for different frequencies. But this is a threshold, meaning that sound needs to be at least this loud for you to be able to really hear it. Additionally, decibels do not work on a linear scale, so increasing a sound by ten decibels is actually making it ten times louder.

“Noisy situations are a bit different than a conversation in a quiet room, however. Sometimes, the noise may help you, in a sense, because while you will not be able to hear the background noise, your companions will and will naturally speak more loudly. Other times, the background sounds may interfere with you hearing their speech.

“I think you will also notice that your own voice seems louder, is this true?” Snape asked, receiving a confirming, if slightly surprised, nod from Harry. “That is because, again, your main difficulty is with sound conduction, and the sound from your own voice can actually be conducted through the bones of your face and skull.”

Harry thought for a moment, taking in all of this new information. Then he asked, “But you said most of my hearing loss is conductance-based?”

Snape inclined his head slightly. “I halted the progress of the potion just as it had reached your cochlear hair cells. I believe you will find you have a much more difficult time hearing higher-pitched sounds, but I do not think this should affect you too much. The only speech sounds that may fall in your affected frequency range are ‘fff,’ ‘sss,’ and ‘thh,’ and perhaps ‘hha,’ ‘ggg,’ and ‘shh.’” Snape drew out each of the sounds as he spoke them.

Eyes widening, Harry asked with a slightly shaky voice, “What sounds were those?”

Seeming unconcerned, Snape picked up the notebook and pen once again.

definitely f, s, th

possibly h, g, sh

Harry nodded vaguely, staring at the paper.

"As I was saying," Snape continued, "I do not think it will affect you overly much." He cleared his throat. "We do need to discuss the holidays. We will only be staying here for about a week. Early next week, we will be leaving for a summer camp at which I am usually a counselor."

“A summer camp?” Harry echoed, distracted from his dismay by the odd visions of Snape in swimtrunks which were now floating through his head.

Snape’s eyes flashed as he bit out, “Yes, for Deaf Wizarding children. There is one for ages five to ten and one for ages eleven to eighteen. The Headmaster believes it will be beneficial for you to attend.” Snape did not look very happy about this decision.

Harry nodded. He supposed he did not have much choice in the matter. “Sir?” Harry began, gathering his courage. His next question was perhaps a bit nosy, but he felt that he needed to know, and Snape had been rather helpful, if irritable, so far. “Do people know that you’re deaf then, is it just at school…? And who was that man, from earlier at the shopping center?”

Snape paused for a moment, then answered slowly, “Daniel is the son of a muggle couple who lives down the road. When they found out that their child was deaf, they came to me for advice. I have grown to know the family… rather well.”

“So people do know that you’re deaf then, outside of Hogwarts?” Harry clarified.

Snape shook his head slightly. “Not in the Wizarding world, at least not outside of the Deaf Wizarding community. Professor Dumbledore and a few other members of the staff know, but that is all.”

“And in the Muggle world?” Harry prompted.

Snape frowned slightly. “The Muggle world is slightly more advanced than the Wizarding one with regards to certain things, such as deafness. The Wizarding world remains prejudiced and ignorant when it comes to deafness, much like the Muggle world was a century ago. Most wizards still view deaf people as dumb, and view sign language as little more than gestures. They view deaf wizards as little better than squibs because of the difficulty we tend to have with verbal incantations. Some, particularly the younger generations and muggleborns, are a bit more enlightened, but the Wizarding community as a whole is very highly influenced by the old Pureblood families, and they cling to the old ways like barnacles on a rock.” Snape sneered nastily as he said this last part. "Although," he continued, "the American Wizarding community is more open-minded; they even have a Deaf school of magic near the American school Gallaudet."

Harry looked concerned, but let the subject drop, deciding he had pushed his luck far enough.

Later that night, he sat at the small desk in the guest room (which was as dingy-looking as the rest of the house), contemplating the two pieces of blank parchment before him. How much should he tell Ron and Hermione? And how could he tell them what had happened to him? He sighed. He knew they were great friends; they had stuck by him (except for that brief period in fourth year), they had guarded his back on his many exploits, they had faced Voldemort with him just this month in the Department of Mysteries. But how could he tell them this -- especially in a letter, and especially if what Snape had said was true? And at the same time, how could he keep it from them?

By the time they were due to leave for the camp, Snape and Harry were about ready to kill each other. Harry was furious that Snape had confiscated his invisibility cloak for the summer, saying only that he intended to keep him from pulling any foolish stunts on his watch, and it irritated him to no end how the man was an organization freak and yet could not keep his house clear of dust and grime. He could not understand why Snape thought it was ok to bait him, and then get angry when he defended himself, nor could he understand why Snape had grounded him on his second day there. Snape, for his part, hated that Harry was lazy (oversleeping! even if it was the second day of summer vacation), and could not stand Harry’s attitude and rudeness. He could not even take his grounding without complaint!

So it was in a tense silence that they apparated to what looked like a short gravel driveway surrounded by red buildings. It looked like the whole camp was set on a gentle slope leading down to the shores of a lake, so Harry could see a good amount of its spread. There were two clusters of four red cabins on either side of a dirt path, and a third cluster of three cabins down a bit closer to the lake. Interspersed around the path were a few other larger buildings, and around this central path were fields, and even what looked like a quidditch pitch. The entire camp was surrounded by woods on three sides, with the lake on the fourth.

Harry felt a light touch on his shoulder, and he turned quickly, stepping back, to hear Snape say, “Move out of the way,” as he pointed beyond them. Harry followed him over to where a few people were grouped, standing beneath a tall sign that read ‘Egbert the Eccentric’s Summer Camp.’ Harry nearly snorted at the name.

Snape got in line behind one other at what looked like a registration table where two adults sat. When he reached the front, Harry watched Snape speak to the men in sign language and sign a piece of paper. Then he saw Snape’s face seem to harden slightly, and he spoke in jerky motions, spinning away from the table once he had received a response and barking at Harry, “Come.”

Harry hastened to follow, dragging his trunk and owl cage behind him. He trailed Snape to the nearest circle of cabins and into one labeled with a ‘B3’ on the door. When Snape finally turned around, he asked, “How do the other kids get here?”

Snape looked distracted as he answered, “A few of the older students apparate, some take the Knight Bus, quite a lot Floo in. Most of them are not here yet. Pick a bed.” He gestured to the bunks along the walls as he said this last part.

Harry glanced around and walked towards a bed in the corner, pulling his trunk with him. He considered the top bunk, having thought it would be cool to sleep on the top of a bunk bed when he was younger, but ended up settling on the lower, deciding there was something about it that made him feel safer.

He turned around as he asked, “Is there somewhere I can bring Hedw…” He trailed off as he saw Snape was setting up his trunk at the foot of a single bed by the door. He walked over so that he was in Snape’s line of vision and asked, “What are you doing?”

Snape glared at him as he got out sheets and a blanket. “I am setting up my bed.”

Harry gaped at him. “You’re the counselor for this cabin, my cabin?”

“Trust me, I am not thrilled about this either,” Snape sneered at him.

Harry sighed. This was going to be a very long summer. “Is there somewhere I can bring Hedwig? Or do I just keep her here?”

“There is an owlery on the second floor of the building by the lake. Here, this has a map and a schedule.” Snape handed him a small roll of parchment, which Harry took and left, making sure his cap was still securely on his head as he went.

Glancing at the schedule after he had left Hedwig in the small roost, Harry saw that the only thing scheduled until dinner at 5:00 was ‘Registration and Unpacking.’ Having very little to unpack, and only a sleeping bag he had borrowed from Snape to set up on his bed, he decided to explore the camp a little.

xxXxx

About an hour later, Harry found himself angrily skipping stones across the waters of the lake, the shade from the eastern woods cool on his face. Why did Snape have to control every aspect of his life? Why did Dumbledore have to send him to the git -- he wasn’t that deaf! He’d gotten by fine so far; he could usually understand Snape, even if he did have to strain a little. And now Snape was his counselor for the whole bloody summer!

Suddenly, a wave of grief overtook him. He missed Sirius, he missed having an adult who actually cared for him. He swiped at his face. Why did he have to go to the bloody Department of Mysteries, why hadn’t he listened? It was all his fault. Well, it was a bit Snape’s fault too; he was such a bloody git to Sirius. But it was mostly his own fault.

He glanced at his watch and saw that it was nearing 4:30. He should probably go up and unpack; he didn’t want to give Snape a reason to punish him on his first day. He turned around and was startled to see that another boy was by the water’s edge too, about twenty feet closer to the path and a bit behind him. He was not yet used to people being able to sneak up on him so easily. The other boy was quite a bit taller than Harry, likely around six feet, with dark, styled hair and a brooding look about him. He did not acknowledge Harry as he passed by, and Harry returned the favor, heading back to his cabin.

When he reached the cabin, he saw that Snape was gone, though a couple of other boys were unpacking at their beds. Six beds were full already, including his own and Snape’s, and he wondered if the whole cabin had arrived already or whether any more were coming. He walked straight to his own bed and began unpacking his ill-fitting clothes onto a nearby set of shelves. He was just spreading the old sleeping bag onto his bed when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned to see a boy only a few inches taller than his own 5’3” with mousy brown hair that flopped into his eyes just a bit. The boy gave him a wide grin and began signing rapidly, speaking at the same time but too low for Harry to hear.

Harry stared at him for just a minute before he spoke up, saying, “Sorry, I can’t hear you, and I don’t know much sign language yet.” Snape had only just begun teaching him some basics, and he had admittedly been rather stubborn about practicing.

The boy looked slightly puzzled, but he spoke a bit louder, and Harry could just make out him saying, “…I’m Sean, … …your name?”

“I’m Harry,” he answered, clumsily spelling out H-A-R-R-Y as Snape had shown him. “You’re Sean?” he asked, trying to confirm he had heard the other camper correctly, haltingly spelling out S-E-A-N for clarity.

Sean nodded enthusiastically, moving through S-E-A-N incredibly rapidly and then making the sign for smile (spreading his index and thumb below his chin). Harry assumed this to be his name-sign, a concept Snape had briefly mentioned to Harry. He mimicked the sign, and smiled in response to Sean’s own grin.

When Sean sent him a questioning look, Harry shrugged, feeling awkward. “I only just lost my hearing recently, well not all of it, I guess I’m hard-of-hearing,” he tried to explain, finger-spelling H-O-H to try to clarify what he meant.

Sean nodded, either understanding or not wanting to ask. “… …going… …dinner?” he asked.

Harry nodded, and they walked together to the cafeteria in silence. When they entered the building, Harry saw a large room filled with round wooden tables. He saw no dishes on the tables, and wondered where the food appeared, until he saw a couple of long tables on the opposite end of the room which was piled with covered dishes, presumably of food. Sean led him to a table that was already occupied by three boys who looked to be around their age. He made a round of introductions as they sat, but Harry only caught the name of the first boy, David (his name sign curiously looked as though one were drinking from a cup or a mug), who had platinum blonde hair, pale blue eyes, and looked stocky and well-built. He nodded to each of them and proceeded to attempt to follow their conversation, which involved rapid signing and some spoken words (Sean and one of the others spoke, while the others did not) which he only occasionally could hear. He was already feeling completely lost and a bit isolated by the time their table was tapped to get in line for food, however the other boys seemed friendly enough as they good-naturedly jostled each other and him to get in line. He spent the rest of the meal growing more and more fatigued as he tried to follow what was going on around him.

Eventually, the lights in the building were flashed a couple of times (Harry wondered how they had gotten seemingly electric lights to work in a magical camp), and the room of children began moving towards the exit and back to their cabins. Harry vaguely remembered that ‘Bonding Time’ was next on the schedule, and his heart sank at what that might mean in Snape’s cabin.

xxXxx

When the five boys trooped back into the cabin, Snape was already seated cross-legged on the floor. The other boys joined him, forming a circle, and Harry quickly followed suit. Then Snape began signing and speaking out loud. Harry realized the spoken words were likely only for his own benefit, and his face flushed a bit.

“Welcome to Egbert… …ummer Camp. I believe most of… …been here before, and likely know each other, but I would like you to go around the circle and introduce yourselves anyway, … …how long you have been coming to this camp and your age. Then we will play… …-know-you game.”

As they went around the circle, Snape translated each of their responses, for which Harry was immensely grateful. This time, he learned that the boy with the dark skin and the close-cropped tightly-curled hair was Rudy, and the boy with the olive complexion, hazel eyes, and loosely-wavy dark hair that flipped out a bit around his ears was Gio. He also learned that Sean and David had been coming to the camp since they were five, while Rudy started coming when he was seven and Gio started coming when he was eleven. They were all either fifteen or sixteen. When it was Harry’s turn, he felt embarrassed as he awkwardly fingerspelled his name, then let Snape translate the rest of his response. He noticed that each of them glanced up at his lightning scar, which was only partially obscured by his fringe, although they did appear to try to be discreet about their stares. Even Snape went, introducing himself as Severus and saying he had been coming to the camp as a counselor for the past seventeen years (omitting his age).

After the introductions were done, Snape explained that they would be playing a game called ‘two truths and a lie.’ Basically, each person would take a turn saying three things about themselves, two of which were true and one of which was a lie. The rest of the group would have to guess which statement was the lie. At first, Harry was worried about what to say - he was famous, what could he say that they would not know? But he soon realized that they were all friends with each other anyway, so he decided he might actually have an advantage that way.

When it was his turn (he was seated as far from Snape as possible, so he was third out of the five to go), he said (with Snape translating), “I’ve never left the country before except to go to Hogwarts in Scotland, my favorite subject is Defense Against the Dark Arts, and my patronus is a lion.”

Snape did not bother trying to translate the group’s discussion, since each was talking over the other, but when he finally gave their final answer as the first one, Harry grinned and shook his head.

“No, my patronus is a stag,” he explained.

They all looked surprised, and David and Rudy got into some intense discussion which was halted eventually by Snape. The other boys mostly listed exploits from their past year as their facts, presumably because they knew most other things about each other from seeing each other at camp each year. When it was Snape’s turn, Harry was quite surprised to learn that his patronus was a doe, his favorite color was not black despite the fact that he rarely wore any other color (he did not disclose his actual favorite color), and that he played keeper on the quidditch team when he was in school.

As they got into bed, Harry was rather pleased to see that Sean's bed was the bottom bunk next to his. There were enough beds for ten campers, so not every bed was filled, but Gio was in the bunk above Sean's, and David and Rudy were both in the bunk on Sean and Gio's other side, with David on the top bed.

xxXxx

Harry, along with his cabin mates, was woken the next morning by flashing lights in the cabin. He groaned and rolled over, trying to cover his face with his pillow, but felt someone roughly shake his shoulder. He lifted his head and saw Sean grinning down at him, signing something he could not understand.

He learned what Sean had been warning him of when he finally extricated himself from his warm sleeping bag fifteen minutes later to see that he was last in line for the showers (there were only two). By the time he got in, the water would not get any hotter than lukewarm and it was rapidly turning cold. He washed quickly and dressed hurriedly to follow the other boys to breakfast, stuffing his cap back on before any of his cabin mates could see his odd-looking ears.

They were all handed class schedules that morning, and Harry groaned to realize that the ‘Class’ section he had seen each weekday morning on the camp schedule consisted of real school-type classes, not some strange camp activity as he had assumed. The rest of the table laughed at the expression on his face.

“… …not bad. …learn good stuff,” Sean tried to assure him. “What classes… …taking?” he asked.

Harry shrugged, looking down at his schedule. He turned his face up towards Sean as he read out, “Intermediate Signed and Verbal Magic, Beginner British Sign Language, Beginner Speechreading, and Wordless Magic, it says.”

Sean frowned. “Who signed you up?” Harry shrugged again, and Sean added, “I… …Verbal Magic and Wordless Magic with you.” He grinned at Harry, and Harry could not help but to smile back.

“What activities do they have in the afternoons?” Harry asked.

“… …choice… …outdoor activity or indoor… Football, … … quidditch, … … Indoor activities are chess, gobstones, and then… …both arts and crafts,” Sean told him brightly. “I usually go to all the outdoor ones.”

Harry nodded. “I’ll probably go to all of the outdoor ones too. Sorry, what were the second and fourth outdoor activities?”

“Swimming and gaga.”

Harry frowned. “Gaga?” He fingerspelled the word he thought he had heard and Sean enthusiastically nodded. “What’s that?”

Sean’s eyes lit up. “Oh, it’s a great sport!” he exclaimed, and was off on a detailed explanation of the rules.

Harry did not catch all of Sean’s description, but he was already growing tired of asking people to repeat things or clarify things, and so he just let the enthusiastic boy speak, nodding every once in a while in encouragement.

xxXxx

Harry and Sean walked together to their first class, with Sean now explaining the camp-wide Olympic Games that would begin in the second week, with the campers being split into teams by cabins. They took their seats in a classroom in the building by the lake (the building did not seem to have any official name, and was generally just called ‘the building by the lake’ or occasionally the ‘lake building’) with about ten other students. Their (rather one-sided) conversation was halted when the teacher entered the room, introducing herself (fortunately in both BSL and spoken English) as Sally.

Signed and Verbal Magic turned out to be pretty much what it sounded like. The students all had individual assistance in pronouncing spell words (a rather difficult feat when one could not hear the incantation very well or at all, Harry realized) as well as instruction in signed magic, which used variations on signed words to cast the spells. Harry thought that Hermione would find this adaptation fascinating, although he himself found it rather frustrating. The other students seemed to have a much easier time with the signed magic than with the verbal, but he found himself struggling to cast a simple Levitation Charm by signing.

In Beginner BSL, he was the only camper older than twelve and the only British person in the class. All of the other students were coming to camp for the first time from a different country and spoke a different sign language. However, despite his age, Harry soon felt quite a bit behind the younger children, who seemed to be picking up the language with surprising ease. He learned quickly that sign language was much more complicated than he had thought, with its own grammatical system that even involved facial expressions, and was really nothing like English.

He was quite relieved to realize that he was not the only beginner to Wordless Magic, and that he was not far behind those who had practiced it before. However, he had to bite back a groan when he learned that Snape was their teacher. Fortunately, although the man was still swooped about the classroom, looking intimidating, he seemed noticeably more patient with the students at the camp than at Hogwarts.

And he developed a grudging respect for the man when he realized just how difficult speechreading was. He was one of only a couple in the beginner class (the others were all, of course, eleven-year-olds), and he learned that speechreading was not as simple as learning which mouth shapes corresponded to which sounds or which words. In fact, only approximately 30% of speech could be read from the lips; the rest was all context and guesswork. Apparently, Snape was not exaggerating when he said that he was impossibly good at lipreading.

As the week went on, he began to get to know his cabin mates better. He learned that David’s name-sign was actually the sign for 'coffee,' and just how appropriate that was considering how many cups of coffee he drank each morning. David and Rudy were best friends, except for when they were arguing, which was about once a day. Gio was quiet, and perhaps a little shy, but brilliant, and had a surprisingly hilarious dry sense of humor. Sean quickly became Harry’s closest friend at the camp, despite their language barrier, and Harry realized just how optimistic and cheerful he was. The boys soon began referring to Harry by his scar, tracing a zig-zagging line on their own foreheads as his name-sign. Harry was not sure that he liked being referred to in such a way, but he did not want to risk his fragile acceptance.

The communication problems Harry was having were beginning to wear on him. He was increasingly fatigued each day as he strained to hear sounds that he could not and was immersed in a language he did not yet know. Some days he developed a pounding headache by bedtime. It left him feeling oddly in-between worlds; striving to use the hearing he had, acting as a hearing person, and unable to really speak or understand BSL, yet unable to hear what many people were saying very well.

Consequently, he became eager to learn as much BSL as he could as quickly as he could, although he soon discovered that many other sign languages besides BSL were spoken at the camp. The primary language for the camp was BSL, because the camp was in England and had been founded by the English, however campers came from all over western Europe, and a few even came from eastern Europe. Most of the campers were multilingual, speaking their native sign language and BSL, and many of them also spoke the native oral language of their country. Around half of the campers, including Sean, David, and Rudy, knew American Sign Language (ASL) as well because they attended the Washington Wizarding School for the Deaf, which was located in Washington, D.C. Sean also knew Irish Sign Language, and Gio knew Italian Sign Language. The camp even had classes in ASL through the advanced level, and in French Sign Language (LSF) through the intermediate level.

Despite the language barrier, Harry’s cabin mates, and the vast majority of the other campers, seemed to get along with him ok, even if some of them were not quite sure how to act around him. One of the older boys, however, seemed to resent him, as he learned on their first full day.

He and Sean had walked together from swimming to quidditch, lagging a bit behind the other three boys in their cabin. When they reached the pitch, Harry groaned to see that Snape was the referee. Sean gave him a confused look at the annoyed expression on his face, but made no comment. As Snape was rummaging in a shed for the trunk that held the quaffle, bludgers, and snitch, a tall boy with styled hair, whom Harry recognized from the lake the day before, walked up to Harry and Sean with a couple of his friends flanking him. He began speaking in sign language, a disgusted look on his face, while his friends glared at Harry and Sean shifted his weight uncomfortably. When the three older boys turned back around, Harry asked Sean for a translation.

Sean hesitated, then said, “… …you don’t belong here. … …hearing, not Deaf. He called you ‘the famous Harry Potter,’ … …like an insult.”

Harry nodded, pulling his cap lower over his head self-consciously. He was prevented from further conversation by Snape emerging with the trunk and beginning to split them into teams and explain the rules.

Unfortunately, Harry’s second week of camp seemed to go even worse than the first. He was still getting along fairly well with his cabinmates, but just about everything else, from the classes to the activities, seemed to be going wrong in some way.

At the beginning of the week, the start of the camp-wide olympic games was announced. Harry did not follow much of what the camp director was signing about the games at breakfast Monday morning, but Sean explained it to him later, and after several requests to repeat various aspects, Harry eventually got the gist of it. The camp had been split into three teams by cabins (although the third girls cabin, the other cabin of fifteen- to sixteen-year-olds, had to be split up for the sake of numbers). For the next six weeks, they would have competitive games in most of the activities (football, gaga, quidditch, chess, and gobstones) as they had the previous week, but now they would be split up according to their teams, when applicable. At the beginning of the final week of camp, the rankings from these games would be determined and this would determine the teams’ standings in each activity for the final tournament. For the final tournament, the teams would appoint an overall captain and choose which members would compete in which activities, provided that each member competed in at least one activity.

Harry and his cabin were on team three, which also consisted of the second girls cabin (the thirteen- to fourteen-year-old girls) and three out of the six girls from the third girls cabin. Team one was made up of the oldest boys cabin, the youngest girls cabin, and the other half of cabin G3, while team two was made up of the oldest girls, the youngest boys, and cabin B2 (the thirteen- to fourteen-year-old boys).

Harry’s team quickly put him at midfield for football due to his speed, but he discovered that week that there was quite a bit more to the sport than just swinging his foot at a ball. The first week of camp he had not seen much playing time, but now that the olympic teams had been formed there was a smaller pool of players from which to choose. He was grateful that his teammates, at least, were fairly patient with him when he continuously tripped over the ball or booted it in the entirely wrong direction. However, the tall, older boy who had made fun of him the previous week (whose name, Harry had since learned, was Finn), was on team one, and he would smirk and comment to his friends (though Harry could never understand his signing) whenever Harry messed up.

Harry also did not get a chance to play seeker in quidditch that week. It was, unsurprisingly, a rather popular position, and so nearly everyone was insisting that they get a turn at playing it. Still a bit insecure at the camp, and especially insecure in his sign language skills, Harry decided not to rock the boat and just wait for his turn. In the meantime, he played chaser and keeper a few times, and even played beater once. He discovered that while he was likely the best flyer, and great at catching (he actually did not make such a bad keeper), he did not have the best aim. But he knew that while he was recognizable as a decent player in the other positions, he would not be able to truly show his abilities until he played seeker. Why it mattered so much, he was not really sure, but for some reason he saw quidditch as his way to fit in at the camp. Quidditch was something where his fame did not matter, where his hearing level did not (or hardly did) matter, and where at Hogwarts he always felt free and unfettered.

However, he found the style of refereeing used at Egbert’s somewhat difficult to get used to. He was still getting used to the idea that he could not hear well in general life, and in the heat of the game he was trained to listen for a whistle blow, so he kept missing the signal flag and even his fellow players’ raised hands when he was particularly engrossed in a play, and was frequently the last to stop at the referee’s behest. Although the other players seemed to tolerate his mistakes, Finn seemed to find Harry’s inattentiveness particularly annoying, and Harry did understand his scathing comments that Harry might want to get his eyes checked, too.

Additionally, Harry seemed to be more fatigued each day as he tried to keep up with the rapid signing in multiple languages all around him, none of which he really knew well. He was getting quite annoyed with constantly straining to hear and asking people to repeat things, and with others' misunderstanding him and his halting, awkward BSL. Eventually, on Wednesday morning, he stayed after in Signed and Verbal Magic to ask the teacher a question. When Sally looked up from re-organizing the papers on her desk, he addressed her, accompanying his halting BSL with spoken English.

“Is there any way I can get a notebook and pen to carry, the muggle kind?” he asked, his face heating up slightly.

Sally smiled at him, and answered in BSL and English, though he thought she might have slowed down a bit for him. “Yes, the camp actually keeps some of those materials around for students such as yourself who are not yet fluent in BSL. There are plenty of foreign children who come without yet knowing BSL, and quills and parchment are just not portable enough. I can bring you a set at lunch, will that work?”

Harry nodded, relieved but still rather embarrassed. After thanking her, he hurried out and rushed to his next class, not wanting to be late.

xxXxx

On Friday of that week, Harry became the only person in the class who had not yet succeeded in casting a "nonverbal" (and non-signed) spell. Snape had so far only sneered at his lack of progress, which Harry found much easier to deal with than the taunts he had come to expect from the man at Hogwarts. Overall, the man was actually quite a bit nicer at the camp than he had been at Hogwarts; he was still stern and serious, but he was mostly fair, if a bit aloof. However, the man either did not notice or did not care to stop Finn’s occasionally taunting of Harry in the class, though Harry rather thought it was the latter.

Harry found his difficulty with wordless magic particularly frustrating since he had realized just how important such a skill was for deaf wizards. While Snape had only briefly mentioned its importance, it was somewhat emphasized in the camp curriculum, being a required class of all campers above fifteen years of age. Additionally, it did not take a genius to figure out that wordless magic, while certainly useful for hearing witches and wizards, especially when dueling, could help to even the playing field for deaf wizards and witches in some ways. It also could help them blend in with their hearing counterparts, an unfortunate necessity at times with the stubbornly ignorant culture of the Wizarding community. Harry wondered if the other campers’ not being able to ‘hear’ the spells in their minds, and early exposure to signed as opposed to verbal spells, somehow helped them in casting wordlessly, or if he just had some sort of block against wordless magic.

He was also beginning to have some difficulty in Signed and Verbal Magic. Although he had cast a couple of simple signed spells now, they were beginning to work on spells that he had not yet learned at Hogwarts, and he was having a more difficult time learning the new ones verbally than he usually did. Although he could hear himself speaking the incantations still, he had a hard time completely hearing the teacher pronounce it. The Deaf Wizarding community had developed a few techniques and spells to help students ‘feel’ and mimic certain mouth movements and utterances, but Harry’s progress still felt slow and clumsy to him. And his difficulty learning new verbal incantations made him even more determined to learn to cast wordlessly, and even more frustrated with his lack of progress.

After dinner that Friday night, Harry sat cross-legged on the floor by his bed, composing letters to Ron and Hermione. Leaving out the details about deafness or signing, he had told them all about his difficulties with nonverbal magic, about not getting to play seeker yet in quidditch, and about the many languages spoken at camp and his feelings of isolation. He had also told them about Finn, even describing how he had caused Harry’s shoelaces to tie themselves together after Wordless Magic that morning, tripping Harry while Snape’s back was turned.

As he finished the letters, he found himself wishing he had someone he could fully confide in, who could reassure him about his difficulties with nonverbal magic and with learning incantations in this new way. He kept considering just telling Ron and Hermione everything, but he was afraid, especially of hot-headed Ron’s reaction. Hermione he thought would be sympathetic and understanding, especially given her muggle upbringing, but Ron was unpredictable. And he did not think that he could tell one something without telling the other. But if he were honest with himself, what he really wanted was an adult, someone who he could trust to help him without treating him differently.

His grief returned as he thought of Sirius, the godfather he had hardly had a chance to really know. Sirius might have been uncomfortable about his hearing loss at first, but Harry felt sure that he would have gotten over it quickly, and been able to give him advice about at least nonverbal magic and the bullying he was experiencing. He remembered how good it had felt in his fourth year to confide in Sirius, how much the weight had lifted from his shoulders, however briefly, in those moments when he had been able to speak to him. There had been no one else he had ever confided in that way, with that feeling of relief, even if he had not always fully trusted Sirius’ reaction to some information.

But it’s all my fault anyways, Harry thought, rubbing impatiently at his prickling eyes. If I had just listened, if I had worked at occlumency, if I hadn’t let my bloody curiosity get away from me and looked into Snape’s pensieve…

His thoughts were interrupted when Rudy suddenly bounded into the cabin and motioned for his cabinmates to gather. Harry glanced around, seeing that only Gio and Snape were missing, before setting aside his quill and parchment and joining the other boys around Rudy and David’s beds. His grief easily morphed into anger at Finn as he learned of Rudy’s plan to prank cabin four, the oldest boys’ cabin, and he eagerly joined in the discussion.

xxXxx

Later that night, once Snape was asleep (and Gio had been filled in on the plan), the boys crept out of the cabin and across the dirt path to cabin B4. Harry found the experience of sneaking around in a Deaf camp somewhat strange, since there was no whispering, and they only tiptoed out of the cabin in an attempt to minimize vibrations in the floor that might wake Snape. Harry chuckled to himself as he thought that if he had known that Snape was deaf all of these years, it might have been a bit less nerve-racking when he encountered him while under the invisibility cloak at Hogwarts.

The moon was bright, allowing them to make some last-minute reminders to each other as they approached the cabin. Then Rudy opened the door, not worrying about the possibility of squeaky hinges, and they set to work. The group began gathering all the shoes that they could find, mismatching the pairs, and spelling them to tie themselves together. Then they began piling them together in the center of the cabin, a mountain of shoes.

Harry worked alongside them, glad to be part of the group, and enjoying the familiar feeling of mischief and adventure. As they were finishing up, he spotted a pair of nice sneakers by Finn’s bed, and an idea flashed into his mind. Before he could second-guess himself, he snatched them up, tied them together, and headed outside. Glancing about, he spotted a tall post in front of the cabin, likely previously used as a flagpole. He cast a quick sticking charm on the shoes, then threw them high. Fortunately, his aim was true, and they stuck near the top of the pole, the laces wrapping around the wood slightly.

Harry grinned and turned back to see the rest of his cabinmates trooping out, smiling and congratulating each other. They were quite enthusiastic when they saw Harry’s handiwork, and David slung an arm across his shoulders as they headed back to their own cabin.

That night, Harry fell asleep with a smile on his face. Maybe this camp wasn’t so bad.

xxXxx

The next morning, as the boys were taking turns showering, and being unusually rowdy about it, Snape stomped into the cabin with a stony expression on his face. Harry looked up from where he sat on his bed waiting his turn to see the man signing jerkily and speaking in a voice too low for him to hear. Recognizing the signs of Snape’s infamous anger, he imagined that the man’s voice had taken on that low and dangerously silky tone, and his eyes widened. He swallowed hard when Snape’s eyes turned to him and he beckoned him, then stood up and warily followed the man outside.

Once on the small porch of the cabin, Snape turned to face him and began signing rapidly, still speaking in that low voice. Harry stood staring at him, dumbfounded, for a moment, before cutting in.

“I can’t understand you sir,” he said nervously, signing the words as he spoke them out loud.

Snape’s face seemed to twitch slightly as he nodded shortly, then reached into his robes for the small notebook that Harry knew he carried and a pen. He began scribbling just as furiously as he had previously been speaking, then handed over the notebook for Harry to read.

I know that you were the mastermind behind this.

Harry was confused until Snape snatched back the notebook, scribbled something more, and then shoved it back into his hands.

The prank you all pulled last night. It was your idea and you were the one to stick Finn’s shoes to the pole.

Harry gulped, then began protesting. “It wasn’t my idea, I swear. We all went along with it.”

You all went along with it, yes, but it was your idea originally. You are always the ringleader, Potter. And do not think that the staff is unaware of your little rivalry with Finn.

Rivalry? Really, that was what they thought it was? Never mind that he had never done anything to Finn, at least before last night. He sighed. Well there was no sense in arguing with Snape, he had learned at least that much over his five years at Hogwarts.

“Whatever. What’s my punishment?” he asked, crossing his arms.

Snape’s eyes gleamed in victory, and Harry turned his head away.

Grounding and meal duty. Three days. Ask one of the other boys what it means. And tell them they’ll be joining you for meals.

By the time Harry got back inside, it was his turn to shower, and he hurried into the bathroom without looking at any of his cabinmates. He left his clothes folded on the bench outside the shower, with his cap on top, as he always did, but when he emerged from the shower, they were gone, along with his towel.

Horrified, and trying to flatten his perpetually messy hair enough to cover his ears (although it was not really long enough), he called out, “Give them back! This isn’t funny!” He cursed when he realized how pointless that attempt was, then resignedly grabbed a hand towel to wrap around himself a bit and stepped out of the bathroom.

When he entered the main part of the cabin, he saw Rudy holding his clothes, wadded up into a bundle. When Rudy caught sight of him, he grinned and held the clothes up above his head, swinging them back and forth tauntingly. Harry glared, knowing that his clothes were probably out of his range even if he jumped, since Rudy was so tall.

Rudy’s grin faded when he caught sight of Harry’s face, and he lowered the clothes and then tossed them to Harry, who caught them. “I was just having a little fun, relax,” he said verbally while he signed.

Harry nodded and began dressing, not sure what to say. He knew he was overreacting, and if the same thing had happened in Gryffindor tower a couple of months ago, he would have laughed it off. But he felt so insecure still in this environment, and he had managed so far to keep anyone from seeing his shriveled ears. Though he knew it was ridiculous to expect to keep them a secret from the world forever, he could not bring himself to show them.

He looked up as he slid his t-shirt on, and he saw Sean ask, “Hey, what’s that on your ear?”

Harry blushed, but knew there was no sense in hiding it now. All four of his cabinmates were looking at him with curiosity on their faces, so he answered, “It is my ear. They got messed up by the… accident” (he could not remember how to sign the word for potion) “that made me lose my hearing.”

Gio signed something that Harry thought might have been “they look cool,” and everyone resumed getting ready for the day, teasing each other as they always did. Harry felt some of his anxiety melt away, replaced by relief at the easy acceptance of his cabinmates. He did, however, still stuff his cap back on once he was dressed, not yet ready to show his ears to the rest of the camp.

On their way to breakfast, Harry told them what Snape had said that morning, and they explained what their respective punishments meant. As it turned out, pranks were pretty common at camp, and were mostly tolerated, usually just earning the culprits something like meal duty. David decided that Harry must have gone too far with his shoes-up-the-pole trick, although none of the boys would have thought so if he had not been punished so harshly for it. Grounding, they told him, meant that he was to report to classroom one for all fun activities and free times, and would be spending his time likely sitting in a corner while a counselor watched him. And since he had been grounded on a weekend, he would be spending the entire day until just an hour before curfew, except for meals, holed up there. Meal duty, which he would at least have company for, meant helping to serve for and clean up after breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Meal duty tended to be a sort of catch-all punishment, while grounding was usually reserved for much more serious offenses.

xxXxx

After breakfast, Harry waved goodbye to his friends, who were heading to the quidditch pitch for a pick-up game, and trudged slowly to the building by the lake. When he reached classroom one, he stopped short in the doorway, dread beginning to creep into his belly.

“Well, are you coming in?” Snape signed and spoke from behind the teacher’s desk.

Without saying a word, Harry moved inside and took a seat in the back of the classroom, slumping in his chair. He pulled out the little bit of written homework he had, having been told by Sean that he was only allowed to engage in academic activities during the grounding, and set to work on an essay.

By noon, he had finished all of his written work. He twirled his quill absentmindedly for a few minutes until he saw the lights flash, signalling lunch, and left the classroom without so much as a cursory glance at Snape.

He enjoyed the banter of his cabinmates through serving lunch and then eating their own rushed meal. He let their good humor wash over him and tried to allow it to ease the tension he seemed to constantly be feeling this whole summer, not worrying overmuch about catching only about half of their jokes.

By the time lunch was over, he felt marginally better as he shuffled back to classroom one in the building by the lake. He glanced at Snape as he slouched back into his seat, noting that the man looked as though he had not even moved from his position or looked up from his marking, though he knew he must have attended lunch. Harry sighed, bored now that he had nothing left to do, and felt the tension begin to seep back in as he restlessly shifted. Eventually, he pulled out his wand and began attempting to wordlessly cast a lumos, sweat beading on his forehead as he poured more and more effort into the activity.

After a few hours of fruitless attempts, he caught a glimpse of movement in front of him and looked up to see Snape watching him with a hint of… was that amusement?... on his face.

When he met his eyes, Snape signed, “You look…”

Harry frowned, then signed, “I don’t understand,” and mimicked the last sign Snape had made.

Snape’s lip curled, then he made the sign again, exaggerating the movements and the facial expression and looking pointedly at Harry. And then Harry understood.

Had Snape just said he looked… constipated?

Harry glared at him but was saved from trying to find a retort by the flashing of the lights that signalled dinner. He stalked out of the room and to the cafeteria, angrily taking his place behind the buffet tables. When he returned after dinner for the last two hours, he only sullenly stared out the window with his arms crossed in front of his chest, refusing to do more than glance at Snape, who was now reading a book.

Harry made a concerted effort to avoid looking at Snape in the cabin that evening, though to be fair this was not really a huge deviation from his usual behavior. However, this was made annoyingly difficult by the cabin bonding time scheduled for that night, for which Harry’s cabinmates had voted that they play Truth or Dare. And of course, since this was the magical world, the game was complicated by the addition of a mild truth serum (nowhere near the potency of Veritaserum, but still rather difficult to resist a direct question while under its influence, although a mouthful only lasted for a couple of minutes) and wizard’s oaths (promising to perform any dares put to them unless deemed inappropriate or dangerous by their counselor).

Harry picked Dare nearly every time, too wary of what he might be forced to admit to pick Truth. Fortunately, nobody complained about his lack of variety, since most of them had the same strategy themselves. His cabinmates apparently were not too creative, since most of them simply took turns doing things like eating nasty Bertie Bott’s flavors or dancing naked to the beat the rest of the cabin pounded out on the floor. Occasionally, someone shook things up slightly. Rudy dared David to go the entire next day without any coffee, to some serious grumblings from not only David but also the rest of the cabin, who claimed he would be impossible to be around without caffeine. David, in turn, dared the always meticulously-groomed Gio to spend the following day with bright yellow hair, and to forego brushing it in the morning. When Gio passed on this, he was forced to admit he had a crush on Adèle from the girls cabin in their age group.

The night was particularly warm and the cabin became quite stuffy with the lamps on (which Harry had learned were somewhat like magic oil lamps), so as Harry grew more relaxed, laughing at his friends’ antics, he eventually pulled off his sweaty cap. He regretted this only minutes later when it became his turn to be asked Truth or Dare again.

“I Dare you to go without your cap for the day tomorrow,” Rudy signed to him, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes as it had for most of the night.

Harry froze while he considered his options. After a minute of deliberation, his face flushed with embarrassment as he shook his head, passing on the Dare which meant that he had to take whatever Truth Rudy asked of him.

Rudy looked only slightly disappointed, but he began conferring with the other three on the best question to ask Harry. Harry had a difficult time following their rapid conversation, but it did not take very long for Rudy to smile at him and motion Snape to hand him the truth serum they were using.

Harry accepted the bottle without meeting Snape’s eyes, and took the prescribed mouthful without complaint, though his stomach was in knots over what he might be forced to admit to. He did not think there were any secrets left that would be dangerous to reveal, and Snape would surely stop him before he could answer if there were. However, he certainly had his fair share of secrets that he would rather did not get out to the general public.

“What is your … ?” Rudy asked him.

Harry shot him a questioning look as he repeated the unfamiliar sign Rudy had used, and Rudy fingerspelled it out for him.

“B-O-G-G-A-R-T.”

Harry shivered slightly as he thought of the tall cloaked figure the boggart always became when it faced him, the clammy feeling in the air and rattling breaths that accompanied it, and the memories that followed… He involuntarily closed his eyes as he remembered the green light and his mother’s screams, then the image of his godfather falling through the veil which haunted his most recent nightmares.

“D-E-M-E-N-T-O-R,” he fingerspelled, opening his eyes and sucking in a fortifying breath. The boys looked slightly surprised, but seemed to accept the answer, although Harry noticed that Sean seemed to be giving him a searching look. Harry smiled reassuringly at him, and Sean smiled back before returning his focus to the game, but Harry wondered what had caused Sean to look at him that way.

Overall, he reflected as he lay in bed later that night, it could have been much worse. He had stubbornly attempted to cling to his bad mood at first, but soon found that he was actually enjoying himself, the knot of anxiety and frustration that had formed in his gut from spending the day alone in Snape’s presence slowly unwinding. He had been nervous at first when he had taken Rudy’s Truth that someone might keep asking questions before the serum wore off, but overall the boys were quite honorable about the rules of the game, perhaps because they were all really in the same boat.

Harry felt surprisingly relaxed as he waited for sleep to claim him. Despite the language barrier, which he still chafed at, he was feeling more and more comfortable with the boys in his cabin. He was not nearly as close to Sean as he was to Ron and Hermione, but he felt almost as at ease around him as he did around his best friends. And he was beginning to build an easy acquaintanceship with Rudy, David, and Gio not unlike that which he had with Dean, Seamus, and Neville. Reflecting on the past couple of weeks, he realized that if it were not for Finn and having to live in such close quarters with Snape, he might feel almost at-home, although he did not think he could ever truly view anywhere as his home as much as he did Hogwarts. He did have to admit that Finn really was not any worse than Malfoy generally was, it just seemed a bit different dealing with a bully who was two years older than him and who he hardly spoke the same language as (it was rather difficult to retort to taunts you barely understood, especially in a language you barely knew). Plus, his cabinmates, and even Sean, did not stand up for him the same way that Ron and Hermione always did, and he could only imagine that it was because he was not yet enough a part of their group. Still, Egbert’s was pretty cool, even with Snape and Finn, and with being grounded.

xxXxx

However, it did not take long on Sunday for his good feelings to disappear again. He sat restlessly through a morning with Snape once again guarding him, staring longingly out the window in the direction of the quidditch pitch and getting an occasional glimpse of some action above the treeline. He was already in a somewhat foul mood when Finn started on him at lunch, and by the time he had returned to the classroom where Snape awaited him, he was storming. He stomped to his usual desk in the back corner, slammed his bag down on it, noting with some pleasure that he could hear the satisfying thud, and then threw himself into his chair and resumed staring outside but without really seeing anything.

He looked up when he felt a shadow looming over him and saw Snape standing before him with his arms crossed. Once he had Harry’s attention, he signed something to him, a hard expression on his face. Harry shook his head, trying to clear it enough to focus and understand the signs, but Snape rolled his eyes to the ceiling and then thrust a piece of paper at him before returning to his desk and his potions book.

Harry looked back at the note in his hand and read to himself,

If you come in here with such an attitude again, your grounding will be extended. And I will find some particularly nasty cauldrons for you to clean.

Harry’s anger flared brighter for just a moment, and then fizzled out as his heart sank. He could not even understand Snape’s threats anymore, not without resorting to writing. He rested his forearms on the desk before him and then buried his face in them, shutting off the world.

By the time he was allowed to return to the cabin that night, he felt as though a dark and heavy cloud was surrounding him, sapping his energy and weighing his mood down. With barely a good night to his cabinmates, he went straight to his bed and rolled over to face the wall, staring unseeingly at the seams in the wood.

xxXxx

Harry alternated between feeling listless and frustrated all through his classes the next morning. He barely listened or contributed to the conversation as Sean chattered on, but he reasoned that given his current language skills this probably did not seem too rude or very unusual. He could still hardly perform signed magic, and although he was picking up new verbal incantations slightly faster as he grew mored used to the techniques and spells the teachers used to help them feel the mouth movements, it still felt annoyingly slow. His mood improved ever so slightly in BSL, where he was beginning to gain momentum in learning the language, likely due to his current immersion in it and his determination to communicate. However, he quickly grew discouraged again when he headed to his speechreading class. He had been holding out hope that perhaps by the time he returned to Hogwarts in a few weeks he would be proficient enough at speechreading to get by with as few people knowing of his hearing loss as possible. However, this goal was seeming more and more impossibly far-fetched as time went on, and he despaired at the thought of people’s reactions once word got out. It seemed that not a year could go by without some kind of rumors and drama centered around him.

His mood swung back towards frustration in wordless magic as he once again failed at so much as lighting his wand tip. He nearly reached his boiling point towards the end of class, when Finn succeeded in a wordless summoning charm and, in celebration, summoned Snape’s little black notebook from his robes while his back was turned and then quickly banished it to Harry’s desk.

Obviously noticing his notebook fly out of his pocket, Snape slowly turned with a fearsome glare, roving over the room with his eyes as he searched for his notebook. Before Harry could react, Snape’s eyes landed on his desk, and he gulped as the anger in the Professor’s gaze tripled.

Just then, the lights flashed signalling the end of the class, and Harry jumped up and raced for the door, joining the crowds beginning to form out in the hallway. He breathed a sigh of relief at his apparent escape, then remembered he was still grounded. He groaned at this realization, then crossed his fingers that someone else would be on duty as he approached the classroom and took his usual seat.

Five minutes later, Snape stormed into the room, strides long, robes billowing, and eyes flashing in his cold face. He strode immediately to Harry’s desk and began speaking and signing quickly and too low to be audible, again. Harry felt a sense of deja vu when he interrupted him, feeling angry and embarrassed and ashamed.

“I can’t understand you,” Harry signed and spoke, and then his anger surged up in a cresting wave. He pushed his chair back and stood up, setting his palms on the desk and leaning forward, abandoning attempts at signing. “I can hardly understand anyone!” He began gripping at his hair in frustration as he shouted, “I feel like a flipping moron, just trying to communicate with people, and it’s so slow! I can’t understand you or my cabinmates or Finn’s insults, and how will I understand Ron and Hermione or the professor when I get back to Hogwarts? I am constantly on edge and trying so hard just to hear or understand!” And then the anger had crashed over him and he slumped back in his chair, drained. “I’m so tired. It’s so tiring.” He was not even really sure what he was saying anymore, and he put his face in his hands, his elbows on the desk.

After a few moments, he felt his desk vibrate slightly. He raised his head slightly and saw Snape tapping the desk with a finger. He looked up, meeting Snape’s eyes, and his face flushed slightly in embarrassment. He had just said all of that in front of Snape, his most hated professor, the man who loved to make his life miserable. He was such an idiot. He resisted the urge to bury his face back in his hands or at least glance away, knowing that would be considered rude.

As he calmed down slightly, he realized that Snape looked… vaguely uncomfortable. He looked like he was about to speak, but then he paused and pulled out his notebook. He met Harry’s eyes again and then looked down and began writing. After a bit, he tore off the page and handed it to Harry.

It is difficult, I know, but that is why you are here. You are not the only one to have lost their hearing postlingually (after having learned to speak), nor are you the only one to experience communication issues. In fact, the extent of the hearing you have maintained likely greatly helps your transition. It will eventually get easier. You will become accustomed to it.

But perhaps you are still trying to rely too heavily on your hearing. The amount you have left can be a useful tool, but you are no longer completely a hearing person. Perhaps you need to let go of that aspect of your identity to an extent. If you do not, you may continue to feel isolated and as though you belong to neither community.

As he finished reading the note, Harry looked up at Snape, surprised. He had thought Snape resented his connection to the Deaf community; he had been quite resistant to welcoming him into it, even if he had grudgingly allowed him to stay for the summer. Not only was he now encouraging him to become more a part of the community, but the note was almost… comforting.

Snape, however, was bent over his notebook and writing again. Not long after Harry had looked back up, Snape tore off the new sheet and handed it to Harry, then whirled around and swept to the desk at the front of the room, settling in it with parchments to grade before him.

Harry looked back at the paper in his hand and read,

There are teachers here who would be willing to help you with the transition, if you only would alert the staff to the difficulties you are having. Even I would be willing to help if only to cease your tantrums.