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.