Notes:
This fic takes some significant inspiration from Pharetra's Raven's Colours, little idea stealing. Given that fic got officially abandoned, I hope Pharetra doesn't mind - but if she does, she's welcome to let me know and I'll take this down. Some similar stuff happening so far, but we'll divert from that pretty heckin' quick after a few chapters. If I'm making oversights or writing Harry's blindness incorrectly/badly, please let me know! TW for child abuse, mentioned and in part shown.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Harry stumbled on the curb. It wasn't unusual, he could never tell where it was. Picking himself back up, he stood carefully and concentrated on continuing along the path. The colours weren't very strong here, but every now and then filaments clung to the path and the hedges he could hear. It was enough to mark the way for him to find the park.
IF YOU CAN SEE THIS TEXT, THEN EITHER YOU HAVE WORK SKINS TURNED OFF, OR THIS WORK HAS BEEN STOLEN AND POSTED ON AN ALTERNATE PLATFORM WITHOUT ITS ORIGINAL AUTHOR'S PERMISSION. If this has messed with a screen reader, my apologies. What was unusual was the time - Uncle Vernon didn't normally have Harry out of the house this early; the neighbours might see him. But today the Dursleys had visitors, and didn't want their "blind freak" of a ward in the house. Normally visitors were in the evening, when there were fewer people out. Harry didn't resent being told to go out. If anything, he liked the occasional ability to leave the house without the tyrannical eyes of his relatives on him. But it wasn't easy to navigate even if the fresh air was a nice change. He couldn't see with his eyes, other than a vague sense of light and dark - which wasn't particularly useful when he spent most of his time in the cupboard under the stairs - but he could 'see' colours sometimes. Not with his eyes though, it was hard to explain. Number 4 Privet Drive was saturated in them, to the point he could nearly run up the stairs if he concentrated enough. If Dudley wouldn't immediately push him back down again, that was. Most places weren't though. Sometimes there were filaments flitting about, clinging to objects.
Sometimes they were in people too. Not many, certainly not the Dursleys. If anything, the Dursleys were aggressively grey. Most people on the street were neutral. He had his own colours, sort of purple and red. Once in a while he'd see someone else with colours, but he'd never gotten to talk to them.
He kept walking, making sure each step was secure as the sound of birds surrounded him. Eventually, his uneasy gait found him at the park he so often waited at - it was a little easier to 'see' than most places, with a few colours in some places. There was a seat he could always sense well, and he would usually sit there and listen to the birds and the leaves of the trees. Rounding the corner, however, what he saw was new. It wasn't that someone was sitting on the bench, that wasn't out of the ordinary at this hour. It was what the person looked like to him - a swirl of red and blue, with golden flecks sparkling within. Also nearby were two other people - mostly grey but with those same tiny golden flecks - standing near what Harry believed to be the swingset.
"Oh leave her, there's no harm in letting her read. We both know she's more interested in math than the swings," said a voice - probably a man, Harry thought - belonging to one of them. "With all the books she carries around, frankly she probably doesn't need much more exercise than the walk here!" Whoever it was chuckled.
"I guess so, Dennie. But we came here to relax, and she always insists on reading!" said the other flecked figure, who Harry thought might be a woman. The parents of the person sitting at the bench? Harry resolved to ignore them and instead see if he could find somewhere else to sit. He wasn't supposed to speak to strangers. Unfortunately, this was easier said than done, as he meandered around. If memory served him correctly, there was another bench to the right, and he hesitantly began stepping nearer to it, hands groping slightly - he didn't want to draw attention though.
Gravity inverted as he was suddenly reminded of the small platform the bench in question stood on - by walking into it. He slammed down onto the stone slab, his arms flailing. One of his elbows caught the brick edge and pain erupted through his left arm as it grazed and he gasped. All three of the figures reacted - the one sitting on the bench seemed to look up abruptly, and he heard her book close. The two greyer ones started over with cries of alarm, panic filling Harry's mind.
"Oh my word, are you okay there?" the man asked, much closer than Harry had realized.
"'M fine," he mumbled quickly, struggling to stand as what he believed to be the man's arm stretched toward him. He wasn't supposed to touch strangers either. The other figure joined them, moving as if she was looking him over.
"Hermione dear, would you go grab the plasters from my bag? He's got a cut or two. What's your name, dear?"
"H-harry," he replied shakily. The sparkling girl stood and ran over to what must have been the woman's bag, then came over to Harry, holding her arm out, presumably with plasters which the older woman took.
"What happened to your eyes ??" came the incredulous plea for knowledge from Hermione, inciting a sigh from her father.
"That was rude, Hermione. Sorry about that, Harry was it?" Hermione mumbled an apology as Harry nodded. "I imagine you didn't know the step was there?" the father asked, kindly.
"No sir. I'm sorry, I'll go." Harry started up, teetering off balance as the woman held his arm.
"No no, that's okay. Um, if you don't mind me asking, did you forget your cane? I don't see a seeing-eye dog or anything." Harry opened his mouth in confusion before the man spoke again. "Know what, forget I asked, that was rude of me." Something tapped Harry's arm.
"I'm just going to put a band-aid over this graze, okay? It's bleeding quite a bit and you wouldn't want to make it worse." Harry nodded mutely, thinking of other things.
"Cane?" he finally asked.
"Hmm? Yeah, a probing cane to tell if things are in your way. Did they not give you one??" The man sounded confused at Harry's confusion. Harry shrunk back slightly, thinking he'd said something wrong.
"Who?" There was a pause.
"Don't worry about it," the man said carefully.
"All done!" said the woman, gently taking her arm from Harry's.
"Tha-thank you ma'am," Harry mumbled, turning back to the bench and tentatively poking for the ledge with his foot. Finding it, he stepped up and set to finding the bench. After it seemed Harry wasn't continuing the conversation, the adults backed away again, and Hermione seemed to have gone back to her bench. He gently rubbed the elbow, realizing with a shock that Uncle Vernon would probably be able to see whatever it was and know he'd spoken to strangers. Picking at the sides in mild panic, he quickly came to the conclusion that removing it would be inconvenient. He'd just have to cover it with his hand. If only he'd worn something with long sleeves, he thought.
He was disrupted from his concerns by the approach of a red and gold swirl - the girl from earlier had come over, her shoes clicking on the concrete slab.
"Hey um, sorry for earlier. Your eyes are actually pretty cool like that," she said, becoming enthusiastic. "My name's Hermione, what's yours?"
"I-it's Har-harry. Harry Potter," he replied, looking down.
"Mind if I sit? I finished my book." Harry felt for the edge of the bench to make sure he didn't fall off and scooched over, wordlessly. He felt the reverberations as Hermione sat down unceremoniously. "It really wasn't that challenging, maths isn't hard. What's your favourite subject?" Harry shrugged.
"Don't have one," he answered, slightly evading the subject as he rocked gently on the spot.
"Huh. I've always enjoyed math, but history and english are pretty fun too," Hermione rambled on. Harry took a moment to observe her colours more closely now that she was sitting next to him. They weren't as vibrant as his own could be sometimes, but they flashed wildly through red and blue - the golden flecks were more like rivers, bordering the colours and branching off into pools of green and orange.
"I'm being awkward aren't I? Mum says I do that a lot." the girl asked, as Harry realized the awkward silence. He shook his head.
"I'm sorry." Harry didn't know what to say. "Wh-what-wh-what-what do my eyes look like?" he eventually asked.
"What do you mean?"
"You-you-you said my eyes look cool. Do they look d-different?"
"Oh! Oh, yeah. They're kind of all white, like milk. Your face is a little red around them too, did something happen to them?" Harry could hear Hermione was glad for the engagement, but the final question sent a chill down his spine.
"Not supposed to talk about it."
"Oh. Um. What colour did they used to be?" she was clearly not as glad at that answer and Harry cringed at his own clumsy protection of the secret Aunt Petunia had demanded he keep.
"They used to be green," Harry said, remembering his reflection from a long time ago - it had been at least three years now, and his only memories of it were as a toddler. "Aunt Petunia says they look like my mother's. Well, did."
"Is your mum nice? Where is she?" Hermione it seemed was overflowing with questions for the strange child she was met with.
"I-she-I don't know. She's... not around anymore. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon take care of me now."
"And are they nice?"
Harry looked away in simmering panic, at least as much as someone blind and capable of seeing strange colours in a 360° arc could. Aunt Petunia had told him not to lie. But Uncle Vernon would beat him if he told the truth to the interrogative child. Instead, he opted for silence.
"Oh." Harry could hear that Hermione had figured it out. He didn't know what was worse; her knowing just from silence, or that someone knew now. If Uncle Vernon found out… "What year are you in?" she asked, in a brighter tone.
"Huh?"
"What year are you in? At school?"
"Oh. Well Dudley's in his first year, but I stay home." Harry didn't know where to toe the line, but more silence was only going to make her more suspicious.
"Oh, you're homeschooled? What's that like?"
"Uh…"
"How do you take notes? Being blind can't make that easy."
"Uh…"
--
The two talked for a while, Hermione eventually realizing that the topic wasn't one Harry was willing to speak on. The two were both the same age, 6, and Hermione went to a different school than Dudley did. Hermione's parents were dentists, and they lived a long walk away. They eventually played hide and seek, with Harry always finding Hermione immediately. Alas, where Hermione stuck out like a sore thumb to Harry wherever she was, Harry's blindness made it hard for him to hide in the first place, and the two tired of the game. She ended up reading some of her math book to Harry after he expressed interest.
"Hermione, it's getting late, we're off! Come on," her father called as her mother gathered a bag.
"Oh. Sorry Harry, I've got to go. Actually, you live near here right? You said it can be hard for you to get around, would you like us to help you?"
"Um," Harry thought for a moment. He'd have to guide them to Privet Drive, or at least tell them the way. But he couldn't tell them where he lived - just the thought of Uncle Vernon seeing someone guiding him home was enough to send involuntary shudders down his spine. Then again, he didn't exactly enjoy the callouses on his elbows, knees and palms he'd acquired from constantly tripping over things on the way. "Yes please. I can tell you the way."
"Okay! I'll ask my mum." Hermione jogged off. Hearing their voices, Harry stood gingerly and rubbed his arms for warmth. After a few seconds, as Harry carefully made his way off the bench's foundation. The glittery girl swooped back over, the greyer parents following. "Should I hold your hand, or..?" she asked, seeming unsure of what was appropriate.
"Yes, please," Harry said, offering his own, which she took.
Harry didn't know the names of the streets, which led to some problems at a complicated intersection where he really only knew the direction. Regardless, the way had more flecks of colour along it than the rest of Surrey, so following it wasn't so hard. Hermione marvelled at how well Harry could tell cars were coming. Harry meanwhile thought Hermione must have had fluff in her ears not to know. Eventually, Harry slowed down a bit, knowing it was still a tad too light for the Dursleys to want him home yet, as Hermione and he walked ahead of her parents. Despite his apparently keen hearing, Harry couldn't make out what they were saying. He did catch a few words though. "Skinny... clearly underfed... bad teeth… did you see the bruise on his collarbone," and the like. It terrified Harry to no end what Uncle Vernon might do if he found out, and he tried to put it out of his mind.
"Careful of the curb," Hermione warned, as they stepped down, crossing a road. "We should hang out again some time, you seem nice. Pity you don't go to school though, it'd make it so much easier."
"Yeah, that'd be nice," Harry said, whimsically. They were close to Privet Drive, he could hear the signature sounds of the damaged sprinkler on the corner - sometimes he'd accidentally walk through its spray, not knowing it was there, and end up soaked. "I'm good from here, thanks," he announced, loud enough so that the parents could hear.
"You're sure?" asked the mother.
"Yes ma'am. I know the way from here," he pointed in the general direction of the sprinkler. "I know the bumps." A car pulled out of the driveway of number 4, and turned down the main road. Harry couldn't see the car, but he could at least see the brightness of the headlights burning into what remained of his sight, throwing errant colours into his real vision.
"If you're sure then, dear," Mrs. Granger said, coming over. "I do hope we see you again," Harry could only nod at that.
"Oh well. Goodbye Harry, it was nice meeting you!" Hermione said. Again, Harry could only nod, hoping Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia hadn't heard her say that.
"Another time, young man," Mr. Granger said, walking past. Hermione's distinctive colours flitted away, as Harry was left in the near silence of what was now most definitely night. Breathing deeply, he walked the familiarly bumpy path back to number 4, remembering to cover the plaster as he walked up the gravel driveway.
"Awfully prompt, boy," Vernon growled as Harry crossed the threshold. "Were you hiding behind the flowers again? Eavesdropping on my business meetings?"
"No sir!" Harry protested, shuddering as Vernon's footsteps grew closer and the grey mass that signified his presence drew nearer. Hoping to avoid an arbitrary scolding, he started to make his way toward the cupboard - he was glad to be able to navigate by colours here.
"The fuck is that on your arm, boy?!"
--
Notes:
Start of something fun, I hope! Again, I absolutely must credit Pharetra with the idea of a blind magic-sense Harry Potter. I've based his stammering on my own, if anyone was curious. If anyone is confused by the fact that I've tagged this as having Harry Potter as a trans girl but there's little evidence of this so far, worry not, it's coming. Might be a few chapters until we get the wee lass though - I have well-laid plans!!! Had to keep reminding myself she hasn't figured herself out yet and kept calling Harry "she". Don't worry, we'll get to "her" in good time. I've got concrete plans all the way into their second year at Hogwarts - I slipped up so many times writing this and referred to Harry by she/her and by what her name's going to be.