Dearest Harry - Eileen's Story

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The next few days were busy and really nice – at least in some ways. For the first time in his life, Harry felt that he knew what it was like to live in a normal family.

He had silly, friendly arguments with Hermione and Ron, and played lots of chess, got snarked at by Severus several times a day and seemed to get hugs from Eileen and Molly whenever he stood still long enough.

Since being asked to chair the first meeting of the inner circle of the Order, just after that dreadful night when Tonks had died, Severus had seemed to have become the nominal head of the light. Harry wondered what Severus thought about that, the irony of it all, but hadn’t yet gathered enough courage to ask him.

They were getting on really well now in many ways, but neither of them had completely managed to overcome all those years of hatred yet. It was just too long a legacy. But, in the meantime, Severus seemed intent on treating Harry as if he were about twelve. ‘Overcompensating’ Hermione called it. Harry found it deeply galling and rather nice, both at the same time.

It had been decided that Harry was not going to do any horcrux hunting. Everyone felt that this was far too dangerous for him; others were far more suited to that. Instead, he would undergo training: Severus would teach him how to cast silently, Bill would teach defensive techniques with Remus, who would assist once he was recovered. Remus, it seemed, was currently prostrate with grief.

Just for a short while after Severus had used his new salve formulation on the werewolf, Remus had seemed healthier than Harry had ever seen him. His skin had seemed to glow; his eyes had shone with a light that Harry had never seen there before. But in the last few days Remus had appeared to shrink. His cheeks were hollow, his eyes shaded. Pain was etched on every feature.

He could barely bring himself to speak, even to Harry. Although he did not ignore Harry if he spoke to him, he snapped at everyone else and couldn’t seem to even be in the same room as Severus.

Tonks’ death and Remus’ reaction to it had cast a shadow of sadness over everything that had happened. Harry would be laughing or talking and then he would suddenly remember the zany girl who had befriended him. She had been one of the only bright, fun things that had happened to him during the long, dark year when Sirius died.

That had been the year when Harry had felt most alone, most in despair. But Tonks had helped. Her clowning around and her cheerful smile had been infectious and in recent weeks she had continued to support Harry. She’d been at the Dursleys, she was the one that had stopped the other Order members from hexing them. Then, without any fuss at all, Tonks had whisked them away from Harry for good without any questions or recriminations. If she’d thought them dreadful people who did not deserve order support, then she kept that thought to herself.

He had liked her immensely and knew that he was going to miss her a lot.

Eileen was going to teach him Occlumency. She had been shocked at how badly things had gone when Severus had tried to teach him. She was angry with Severus for (she said) failing Harry so badly, but even more angry with Dumbledore for forcing the two together. She had ranted for quite some time about the fact that two people who were at such odds should never have been forced to work together in such a way.

But Harry knew that Dumbledore had not had a choice about who taught him at that point; there had simply been nobody else who was even remotely suitable. Harry had known so much information that could not be divulged. It would have helped Harry immeasurably though if Dumbledore had explained the reasons behind the need to learn Occlumency in the first place.

Harry might even have practiced, tried harder to get on with his most hated professor.

He still couldn’t think about that, or about the whole horrible year, for that matter: the visions, Umbridge, the horrible row, Sirius’ death. Harry shuddered violently. He did not want to think about it at all, wouldn’t think about it.

Occlumency with Eileen was very different from the way it had been with Snape. And when Harry thought of Severus and Occluding, he could not think of him as Severus at all.

Severus was being really nice to him, supportive. Well, apart from the odd bit of snark and Harry quite liked that, it was so Severus. He had taught him several spells already and had hardly shouted at him or cursed his intelligence at all yet. Severus had hugged him, and tucked him up in bed when he wasn’t well. Severus had the same hands as Harry, exactly the same. He held his head in the same way when he was studying something. He was family, wasn’t he? Severus knew everything about Harry; even all the bad stuff and he still seemed intent on sticking around and that meant an awful lot.

But Snape? Snape was the bogeyman from his school days. His worst, most despised teacher, even more detested than Umbridge in some ways.

Eileen had taken Harry up to the room that was now her bedroom and taught him some meditation techniques. She had sat in the newly re-covered chintz armchair, whilst he had lain on the bed, and she told him a story. She had described a long, green, grassy tunnel and a secret door that led into a beautiful garden, she had described the wild flowers that surrounded him on his visualised walk and the gaudier cultivated variety that filled the overflowing beds. She described a gnarled old oak tree that would always protect him, the soft breeze against his cheeks and the joyful birdsong and the feel of the long grass as he ran his fingers through it and the warmth of the sun on his back.

And Harry had relaxed, he had felt warm and safe and tranquil. And when Eileen had cast Legilimens, Harry had found that he could hide his memories in the long grass, secrete them behind the trees and keep them out of Eileen’s grasp.

He couldn’t do it for very long yet. But he could do it.

Harry’s success had caused a row between Severus and Eileen. She had been furious at the insensitivity that her son had shown, and Severus in his turn had shouted about how dreadful, how thoughtless Harry had been back then. .

They had been right in the middle of their row when they had spotted Harry standing frozen watching them whilst Severus ripped him apart. It had abruptly ended the argument.

Eileen had rushed over and hugged him, scowling back at Severus and Severus had said nothing, merely slipped from the room, robe billowing in his wake in exactly the way he had used to back at Hogwarts.

And Harry had felt flayed. He got that Severus didn’t feel like that about him anymore. But he had done once which made Harry certain that somewhere deep down inside himself maybe he still felt that way.

Harry sensed that Severus was trying to get along better, he really was. But he understood that he would not be able to like Harry overnight it would take some time and Harry would just have to work harder at it that was all.

Tomorrow was the day of Tonks’ funeral and Harry didn’t quite know what to do with himself. Because Tonks was an Auror, she was having an official memorial service. But the Order members were coming back to Grimmauld Place afterwards, so Eileen and Molly were busy preparing mountains of food. Harry had offered to help, but after his comment about learning to cook before he’d started school, they seemed to have closed ranks when it came to tasks in the kitchen and shooed him away.

Harry felt dreadfully uncomfortable. He had always helped before and he wanted to help this time too. It would almost be like doing something for Tonks. So he hung around on the edge of all the hustle and bustle and watched. But every time he tried to do something, someone shooed him away and Harry had never learned how to just be.

Narcissa was magically peeling potatoes. Draco was bustling about looking important. He had been avoiding Harry since his mother returned. They had grabbed a couple of quick snogs and Draco had assured Harry that he did still love him, but since she had returned, he had barely left Narcissa’s side so Harry didn’t feel very reassured at all. Hermione was helping Severus research the possible horcruxes and try to discover where they might be hidden. Ginny kept sloping off somewhere and was sometimes missing for hours, and Ron was helping Bill.

The salve that Severus had given the oldest Weasley was only partially successful. The scars had faded quite considerably but they were still there. Bill didn’t seem to mind though. He had thanked Eileen and Severus profusely and had even thanked Harry, although Harry thought he had hardly contributed much to the partial cure, just a mangy bit of fur.

He didn’t know what to do with himself. Really, he felt completely useless. Everyone kept telling him to relax, go and read a book, go and have a snooze. But Harry didn’t know how to relax on his own. Maybe if he meditated, he thought, like Eileen had shown him?

He went a lay on his bed for a little while and tried to visualise the place that Eileen had conjured for him, but somehow without her rich warm tones he couldn’t quite get there. He would sort of catch glimpses, the whisper of grass, the sigh of the wind. A bright flower on the edge of his conciousness. But he couldn’t see anything properly; it stubbornly remained out of reach.

So he got up again and took himself off to the library. He flopped in one of the wing chairs nearest the fireplace and started searching through the pile of books that he found on the floor beside it. They were an interesting selection and he idly wondered who had chosen them. He picked up a book entitled My Family and Other Magical Animals – Is the talent to become an animagus hereditary? by Geraldine Duralleous and started flicking through.


It was quite late now, almost 11.30pm. Severus had had quite a successful day. He had spent some time chatting with Narcissa, which had really helped sooth him after his row with Eileen. He hated rowing with his mother, but she had been furious with Severus after she had discovered exactly how he had ‘helped’ Harry learn Occlumency. That had not been well done of him, he knew that now. The problem was that he just hadn’t known Harry then, he had been subsumed by his prejudices and he couldn’t remake the past. He hated that the boy had overheard his sharp words too. The wounded look on Harry’s face had been so eloquent and Severus had wanted to apologise, but instead he had fled, down to the basement to try out some other salve recipes for Bill’s distorted features. . It was too late to go back and fix the year when he and Harry had failed so badly even though he really, really wanted to. They would just have to carry on as they were - there was just no point crying over spilt potion.

Harry was not in his room. The covers on his bed were rumpled, but Severus could not guess when the boy had been here last.

Ron was staying the night at Bill’s flat, which was above a seedy looking shop near Tottenham Court Road, and Draco was still with his mother, it seemed. So Severus did a simple point-me spell and followed the direction indicated by his wand. He finally found Harry asleep in the library.

The boy was curled up looking awkward and uncomfortable in one of the high-backed chairs that were scattered around, a small frown creasing his forehead. Bill and the twins had spent nearly the whole of the previous day removing hexes from various different items in the library: a task which they had completed successfully and with great aplomb. Bill was an extraordinarily good curse breaker with a wealth of relevant experience and Fred and George probably had more affinity with magic than any almost other wizard that Severus had ever known - apart from Harry, that was! But Severus was not about to praise the twins if he could help it. Those two needed no extra boost of confidence; they were already quite proud of their abilities.

Unlike Harry, it seemed.

Severus could not believe that he had once found this young man arrogant. On the contrary, he now knew that Harry’s self esteem was almost non existent. When Eileen and Molly had resisted his attempts to help, Harry had sloped off on his own. It had never occurred to him that they might actually have enjoyed his company, that he would have been welcome to stay and chat.

He had seemed very uncomfortable about being in the way, bothering anybody. Severus had learned that when there was a problem, a situation where anyone was endangered, then Harry was decisive, quick and amazingly brave. But relationships seemed to just confuse him. He didn’t understand them. On several occasions Severus had caught Harry looking at him or at Eileen as if trying to work things out, trying to understand what the hell was going on and how he was going to deal with all the changes in his life. It was hardly surprising, really, was it? Unloved for just about his entire life, Harry was very unsure about how to handle affection. He coped with life-threatening situations so well because, for him, they were normal, those he was used to.

When he had disappeared, everyone had been rushing around. Harry’s absence had not been noticed, not until bedtime when he was nowhere to be seen.

They had known he was safe within the confines of Grimmauld Place, because he and Arthur, as the heads of the two magical families in residence at the house, had spent some considerable time strengthening the wards and linking everyone’s magical signatures into the house. They would have known if he had left or been in real danger.

Severus retrieved the book that Harry had been reading and smiled at the title. If the animagus ability was hereditary then it was one legacy that had come from James. Neither Severus or Eileen had been able to transform and he didn’t think that Lily had ever managed the technique either.

He could transform the chair though easily enough though, so he did. The back reclined and the seat widened and Harry sighed and snuggled down. Severus then transformed his handkerchief into a think woollen blanket and tucked it gently around the dark haired boy.

All at once, he was hit by a wave of such tenderness for his nephew that he was caught unawares. He lifted his hand and tenderly brushed a stray lock of hair from Harry’s forehead.

“You are getting very fond of that boy, aren’t you, Severus?”

It was Arthur who had spoken.

Everyone else had headed up for the night. It had been Eileen who had noticed Harry’s absence, she had called Severus, been eager to make amends. She always went to check on her grandson before she went to bed herself and had noticed that he was missing.

Severus looked up and met the eyes of his friend. He knew that Arthur had doubted him; he had had every reason to, hadn’t he, after all? But somehow, over the past few weeks of caring for Harry, they had overcome the animosity that had built up.

“I was looking for Ginny,” Arthur said. “She seems to have taken herself off somewhere as well. She is here because I can feel her, but she has been really moody and out of sorts the last couple of days.”

Severus harrumphed.

“She is a teenaged girl, Arthur, being moody comes with the territory. She is not still mooning after the Thomas boy, is she?”

Arthur gave a short laugh. “She may well be! But after the talking to that Molly gave her the time that she abandoned Harry and he woke alone I don’t think she would risk sneaking off again.

“I don’t know Severus, I have raised six sons and my one female child is more trouble than the rest of my kids put together!”

They shared a rueful and rather shamefaced look about the vagaries of womankind; something they would never dare to do if either Molly or Eileen were there.

Arthur smiled at him. “I’m off to check the sitting room, Ginny may well have fallen asleep in there. Sleep well, Severus,” he said. Severus nodded in return.

They had just left the library when they heard a muffled crash in the kitchen.

Severus entered first with Arthur close behind.

They had found Ginny, it seemed; she was lying, seemingly unconscious, on the kitchen floor. Beside her, on the concrete, there was a glint of something gold. Severus thought it was the locket that Tonks had retrieved but couldn’t be sure from this distance. Arthur started to rush forward towards his daughter but was stopped by a figure who emerged from the shadows.

He was a young man. He was very good looking with dark curling hair. He was smirking at them and holding a wand.

“I wouldn’t come any closer if I were you. I wouldn’t hesitate to kill you both,” he said. “I have no idea why I am here, or where I am. So you are going to tell me. I have just come across this wand - how strange that it should suit me so well. This girl it seems to have revived me, I have some sort of strange connection to her so you are not coming any closer, not till I know what is going on.

“Hands on your heads where I can see them. I don’t want to kill you unless I have to.” He smiled at them, his eyes crinkling attractively.

Severus’ heart was pounding; no surely, it couldn’t be? The locket, oh shit, it must have been the locket! Arthur was edging forward and Severus reached out to stop him but the boy had spotted the movement. He levelled Harry’s wand, for that is whose wand it was. What other one would suit him so well? Harry hadn’t used it, not for weeks.

Arthur leapt back, his arm was bleeding and he grabbed it with his other hand to try to staunch the flow of blood.

“Please,” he said, “please don’t hurt her. She is just a child. Take me instead.”

The boy snorted. “Oh come on, old man! What would I want with you? Just shut up and stay where you are. I will kill you anyway if you move or speak again. Both of you.

“My name is Riddle, by the way,” he said with another charming smile. “Tom Riddle. But you can call me Lord Voldemort.”