Dearest Harry - Eileen's Story

Chapter Three

Harry was lying on his back, staring at a crack in the ceiling; he had been familiar with this particular crack since the age of eleven when he had first been moved here. All those summers when he had only been allowed out to cook or clean, when he had been locked away and barely fed. He had marched armies across that ceiling in his mind, pretended the crack were a shore against which he could crash a stormy sea or even imagine it was a path to anywhere, really that wasn’t here!

This summer the Dursleys had more or less left him alone. He was sporting a cracked lip from where Dudley had smacked him a few days ago and his ribs were still sore from when his uncle had slammed him into a wall just yesterday. If only he didn’t feel so bad. He felt feverish, as if he were coming down with flu or something and Harry hated being ill. His only memories of childhood illnesses involved being shut in a cramped space, hot and shivery with a sore dry throat.

He had seen adverts on TV when children were sick and their parents gave them medicine, and tucked them under fluffy duvets, Aunt Petunia had always done that for Dudley, but nobody, not in all his life as far as he could remember had ever done such a thing for Harry. But now he was getting maudlin it must be his aching head. So he gave himself a shake and concentrated again on the book he was trying to read. It didn’t matter anymore anyway, none of it mattered because in just eighteen hours Harry would be seventeen and his childhood would be over for good.

He was happy about it, really he was, he just wished that somewhere, he had someone who had cared about him during his childhood. There had been Sirius of course, he had loved Sirius so much and had spent the whole of last year determined not to think about him. There had been so much going on that it had not been too hard. But this summer during the endless hours of the night, he had thought time and time about his godfather and wished with all his heart that things could have been different.

He had kept his promise to Dumbledore though, despite the fact that he Ron and Hermione had spent their days searching for Horcruxes he had dutifully returned every night to his aunt’s house and today, he had decided that it was best if he spent the whole day here. He knew that Petunia and Vernon would want to get the most out of him and would probably work him like a dog trying to get those last few jobs sorted out before he disappeared from their lives for ever. Of course there was one other factor, that prevented him leaving the house today and carry on with his allotted task of Horcrux hunting, he felt like shit!

There was a thud against his door. It was Vernon letting him know that it was morning and time for his work schedule to start. He had tried at the beginning of the summer to get out of these tasks but his uncle was not completely stupid, mostly yes, completely no. He knew that Harry had to come back here to ensure the magical protection that would be so necessary to him in his fight against the Evil Red Eyed One. So he made some demands.

No magic, absolutely none whatsoever. No freaks staying in his precious house thank you very much, and all those jobs that the lazy little freak had never bothered to complete finished, done, finito.

So Harry had done his best to abide by these rules and Vernon had let him stay and he had been fed well enough because he always ate before he returned and he could survive the occasional slap or bash, he had been doing it for long enough after all. He would not be fed today he knew, but the way he felt right now that didn’t matter anyway.

He swung his legs out of bed and swayed on his feet as he stood. The whole room was blurry, even with his glasses on and Harry thought ruefully that in his opinion the blurriness did quite a bit to improve it. He turned to the door to find as usual that his uncle had unlocked it and wondered idly if he would be allowed a shower. A smack across the back of his head as he emerged answered that little query.

“Hurry up, boy. You have a lot to do today before you bugger off for good, do what you have to do and be downstairs in three minutes.”

Harry nodded and headed for the bathroom to indeed do what he had to do.


Harry was cleaning the kitchen window, no matter how hard he tried today he could not get the smears out. The world seemed to be getting more and more wobbly and the ladder felt distinctly unsafe. Harry was desperately thirsty, he had had nothing since his bathroom visit that morning and his mouth felt dry and parched. He had to have some water maybe Aunt Petunia would let him drink from the kitchen tap? She generally did not let him in the kitchen if he was doing outside jobs but he was so desperate now that he knew he would just have to ask.

He knocked gently on the back door and when there was no answer he quietly let himself inside. Thanking whichever god had removed Petunia temporarily from her domain, Harry made his way over to the tap and turned it on. He knew he was not allowed to touch any of the glasses or crockery he drank directly from the water stream. He felt absolutely wonderful against his sore throat and Harry shut his eyes with pleasure only to find himself being dragged away by his hair.

“What are you doing?” It was his Aunt screeching at him, she looked half demented with anger. “You are going to make my kitchen filthy you wicked, wicked boy!” Harry was definitely swaying on his feet now.

“Sorry Aunt Petunia, thirsty, so thirsty!”

He half saw the rolling pin coming at him from the corner of his eye, normally he could have ducked it, but not today, it caught him square on his shoulder blade and Harry heard a sickening crack.

“Ow,” he said as he fell heavily to the kitchen floor. He was slipping in and out of consciousness now but he could hear his aunt screeching even more loudly, and she was kicking his sore ribs with her shiny court shoe.

“M’sorry,” he muttered wetly, his mouth was bleeding he must have hit it on the way down, but he hurt so much all over now that he could not bring himself to care. He felt himself being dragged out of the kitchen by strong meaty hands but he could not move, could not resist.

“Look at the mess Vernon,” his aunt was saying, “The filthy boy is bleeding everywhere.”

“Its alright love I’ll get him out of sight for now, and I will throw him out in a minute, he broke his promise, he hasn’t finished half the jobs he said he’d do.”

Harry was surprised uncle Vernon was home already? It must be six o’clock in just six hours he would be seventeen. Vernon was shoving him in to the cupboard kicking him hard to try and make him go in, but Harry had grown a lot since eleven and he didn’t exactly fit very well anymore. He did his best though, with the last of his rapidly disappearing strength he bent his knees and rolled himself in through the entry, only to find the door slammed shut and bolted behind him. Harry sighed at least he had had a drink, though his mouth was now full of blood and Aunt Petunia’s voice was muffled because she really did hurt his head.

Then he heard screaming, terrified screaming followed by the tell tale pops of apparition, multiple apparitions.

“Death Eaters Vernon, Death Eaters!! They are outside, hundreds of them, at the edge of the garden. They’ll kill us all, oh God they’ll kill us all.”

Harry thought idly to himself that he should get up, go out there and try to defend his family, but it was really weird, it was almost as if he could feel the blood wards working, tingling through his veins. As long as they stayed here they would be safe, at least until midnight anyway! Then they could have a birthday party! Harry sighed, he hated birthdays he thought and he slipped blissfully into unconsciousness.