Dearest Harry - Eileen's Story

I am trying to update one chapter a day at the moment so finger crossed that I can keep doing that until the story is finished

Thanks for all the reviews and kind words ~ Lucie

Many thanks go to Claudia and Emma, who between them, have made these chapters so much better than they were


Chapter Thirty Two


Severus was standing by the lytch-gate* that led out of the churchyard, when he heard Harry’s shout. He turned to see dark, cloaked figures rising out of the mist. People were beginning to run towards him but it was clear that the narrow setting of the gate was going to cause a logjam. There were simply too many people to go through it and the dampener on magic meant that they could not remove or widen it. Praying that Eileen and Harry would be okay, he grabbed hold of an Auror who was rushing to get out of the way.

“Stay here,” he hissed, “we need to slow them down, get them through properly or someone will get crushed.” He and the Auror did their best to calm people down enough to listen to instructions but panic had set in. The dark figures were appearing from nowhere, ever more rapidly and people were becoming hysterical. Deep in the mist Severus saw a bright flash of light appear and take form. It galloped towards him, almost as if in salute before rushing off in another direction. It was Harry’s Patronus.

Soon it was joined by more flashes of light. He caught sight of an otter in the distance and a small terrier dog. Obviously the wards were allowing light magic to be performed and what could be lighter magic than a Patronus after all?

Severus grabbed someone else to help him calm the alarmed mourners. It was Oliver Wood. “We have to stop them panicking Oliver!” he said urgently. “We have to get them calmed down.”

Oliver looked quite worried himself. In the mist they could make out shadowy shapes, hear muffled shouts and screams, it was absolutely terrifying. People continued to stagger towards them but all the time the mist grew thicker, more impenetrable. The initial surge of people had reached Severus, Oliver and the young Auror whose name Severus did not know.

Severus shouted, telling people to keep calm He was standing on a grave and felt a pang of sadness at that, but he had to make the terrified crowd listen to him.

For a moment he thought he might have got their attention. But then someone spotted a looming shape in the mist and began to scream

There was another surge of panic as the rising shape came of the fog to loom over them and more people began to scream, desperately trying to push forwards, to get away. Severus grabbed at a young girl who was in serious danger of being crushed, and shoved her behind him. Wood and the other young Auror were desperately trying to hold everyone back, but they were not strong enough, and all the time the large shape came ever closer.

“’Ere Sev’rus,” it finally said pushing a few people gently to one side as it finally reached him, “Need an ‘and?”

“Hagrid!” Severus had never been so pleased to see anyone in his entire life. He nearly wilted with relief.

Once the crushed group at the gate could see that it was Hagrid who had appeared, the surge of relief that went through them was almost palpable.

Wood and his companion managed to move everyone back, though it was not easy as there was still a feeling of panic in the air and a certain reluctance to move away from the perceived safety of the gate.

Now that the edge of hysteria had dissipated, Severus bellowed for silence. There were enough people in this small crowd who had been his students at Hogwarts for his voice to have an instant effect.

“Hornby,” he growled, “ stand there.” He pointed to a piece of ground just in front of the gate. “Everyone else, line up behind him.” Hornby was a bluff, red-faced man, a former Hufflepuff. He had, however, been quite good at potions and so Severus had never torn the man to shreds with quite the relish that he had used on some of his other students in the past.

Everything depended on Hornby obeying him; if he did, Severus knew that the others would probably fall into line behind him. He was glad that there had been at least one favourable article in the Daily Prophet about him, informing the world of his innocence, before a flurry of others which started hinting at true darkness had begun. Severus worried about how he was being portrayed, not for himself he was used to being hated. But he wondered what the effect would be on Harry and Eileen. At least there had been one positive article, he only hoped it was enough.

Severus, however, had chosen well. Hornby fell into place and the crowd, pleased to have found someone to take charge at last, swiftly followed suit.

Severus quickly directed Hagrid to demolish the gate, remove its roof and widen the gap in the wall, which the huge man did with no problem whatsoever. Severus felt a slight pang at its destruction, but the gate could easily be rebuilt after all. People could not. Hagrid strode away in the direction of the Apparition field, the mist seemed thinner there and the bulky Groundskeeper became an easy figure for people to follow, away from the Dementors and away from the wards on the cemetery to the place where they could safely Apparate or Portkey away.

A whole crowd of people hurried after him, looking like nothing so much as a bunch of first years at the beginning of a new school term.

When they had first arrived at the funeral, Severus had thought that not many people were attending. Only about forty or so chairs had been laid out. But as the morning had worn on more and more mourners had arrived to pay their last respects to the lively young Auror, until Severus suspected that several hundred people had gathered to hear Kingsley’s speech. It had been gratifying and heart-warming that so many people had come. But now it was horrifying that those people who had gathered in sympathy were currently at the most terrible risk of joining Tonks in the afterlife.

The mist had continued to thicken and Severus could see barely anything now, until Eileen staggered in their direction. She was crying.

Severus rushed forward and caught her up in his arms. “Oh Sevvy,” she sobbed, “I can’t see Harry, I can’t find him!”

“It’s alright Mum, he’s safe, I can see his Patronus, it’s protecting him, it’s protecting us all I think.”

“I can’t go to him yet; we have to get everyone out first.” Severus knew that he could not go and look for Harry until he had made the exit as safe as possible. The boy would never forgive him if he put anyone else in danger for Harry’s sake. Severus also told himself, with more than a little pride, that his nephew was one of the people here today who was best able to protect himself from Dementor attack. Most of the people who were running in panic from the graveyard could no more conjure a Patronus than they could fly to the moon.

He looked at the young Auror, who had stayed with him, despite his obvious fear. “Will you take my mother to safety?” He asked, quietly. The young man looked at him steadily for a second or two. He was very young, hardly more than a boy himself it seemed. But there were a lot of children fighting this war, a war that they had had no part in creating. Severus had never seen him before, from his accent Severus thought he might be Australian and for a brief second he wondered what had brought the boy to Britain, to fight for their side.

The Auror met his gaze, seemingly without fear this time. “It would be an honour sir,” he said.

“I am not going anywhere Severus.” Eileen began, but Severus put a hand on her cheek, tenderly.

“Please Mum?” he said, “I need to find Harry, and I have to know that you’re safe. We both do.”

Her lip quivered, just a tiny bit, but she rapidly reached a decision. “I’ll go Sevvy, but if the two of you are not out of here in half an hour, no power on earth will stop me coming back to look for you both.”

Severus couldn’t help the small smile that escaped him at her words. He placed a quick kiss on her forehead and watched the young Auror lead her away to safety.

The gateway was more than wide enough now but hardly anyone had made it through in the last few minutes and Severus was getting worried that people were getting lost in the mist. But he couldn’t spare anyone to go and look for them; he just did not have enough sensible people to help him right now. They needed someone to show any more confused mourners, who arrived at the gate to safety, but they also needed to guard the exit and they needed to find those that were wandering lost in the mist.

With no warning Alastor Moody emerged from the fog. The old Auror cut a distinctive figure even in all the gloom; he was a fearsome sight indeed in the circumstances. Severus mused that Moody was probably a fearsome sight to most people in just about any circumstances. But Oliver Wood seemed pleased to have his assistance. Severus swallowed his dislike for the man.

“I’m glad you are here,” he said to Moody as sincerely as he could, “I need to get to Harry. We need to make sure he is safe, and we still need to get people out. Not enough have left so far, there must be at least a hundred or so still trapped in that graveyard. We need someone here to guide them out.”

The Auror looked at him steadily for a moment.

“You do what you need to, me lad,” he said calmly, “I’ll get ‘em out, “

Severus felt like a weight had been lifted from him.

He nodded at the grizzled man.

“We have to get them here first, Severus said, “We have to send people out through the gate. It’s the only way out of the graveyard and we have to help them find it.”

“It’s alright laddie,” Moody said, “You go get your nephew, we’ll get the rest of ‘em out. Wood here can help with that.”

Severus decided to trust him. He turned away from the gap in the old stone wall where the lytch-gate had been and ran as quickly as he could, considering that he was almost totally blinded by the fog, towards what seemed to be the thickest part of the mist. It was here that he could see the tell-tale flashes of light which indicated the casting of powerful spells. He was sure that this was where Harry was.

He moved as quickly as he could under the circumstances idly wondering how on earth Moody would direct people to the gate in such a thick fog.

Then all at once he knew.

Through the mist behind him he could hear the distinctive wailing of bagpipes and just for a moment his heart leapt.

Oliver was playing. He was leading the lost home.

There had always been something magical about the sound of the pipes, they had been played in Scotland for hundreds of years. That wonderful, hideous wailing, would cut through the thick fog like nothing else on earth.

His heart lightened a little bit. Maybe there was a chance that they could get people to safety after all?

He still couldn’t see much of anything himself. Vague shapes, which loomed up from nowhere and proved to be bushes or trees occupied all his attention for a moment or two. There was no sign of anyone living. No people at all.

He stumbled on, uncertain, now, as to which direction the flashes of light had come from. He could hear his own heart pounding in his ears and still in the distance seemingly far behind him, the mournful call of the pipes.

All at once his foot caught on something. Something soft but unyielding and Severus went crashing to the ground. He felt around him to see what had brought him down. This part of the mist was so think that he literally could not see his hand in front of his face.

The thing that he had fallen over was a body.

Severus’ breath caught. It hitched in his throat and for a moment he almost panicked. The person, whoever it was, was still breathing.

“Please,” Severus muttered to himself, “Whoever you are, please don’t have been Kissed.”

It was a fate that had so nearly been Severus’, if not for Albus speaking up for him, he would have been Kissed for certain. He was still not sure that he wouldn’t end up being Kissed anyway. Harry had defended him he knew, but he wondered whether at the end of all things even Harry’s defense would be enough. For the moment Severus was enjoying freedom, if living what passed for his life right now could be called enjoyment! But he did not truly expect it to last. One day soon he thought it would all catch up with him?

He was sobbing silently to himself. He hadn’t slept the night before; he hadn’t slept for a long time. He was always so worried these days, so anxious. The mist was encroaching into his head, sapping his will, draining him. All he wanted to do was to lie down and sleep. He knew that he could not give in to that feeling; he had to stand up and move on.

But first he had to check the unconscious form beside him. Just to make sure.

He was willing whoever he had found to be all right. He was laying face down, the shape of the body suggested that it was a man that Severus had found.

Severus sent one more silent prayer to whatever God had heard him before and then he put both his hands behind the man’s shoulder and carefully turned him over.

He was in no way prepared for who he found.

“Remus?”

The name was wrenched from him.

It was Remus Lupin, lying here in front of him, pale and cold and breathing shallowly.

Severus wanted to kill something. He wanted to tear the Dark Lord’s heart out and stamp on it.

“Oh Remus!

“Shit, fuck, buggeration, no! Oh fuck, no! Remus!””

They had never had a chance really had they? Him and Remus. There had always been something, someone to get in the way. The other Marauders, Remus’ Lycanthropy, Nymphadora Tonks, Severus’ own pride.

Severus rarely cried.

The only time that he had even shed a tear in recent years was when his mother told him she was dying. Even his sobs earlier had left him dry-eyed.

But now he cried. He cried for Remus Lupin. The last true Marauder and the man that he loved.

He wrapped his arms around prone form of the werewolf and sat rocking him gently. He let the tears flow down his cheeks unchecked. He cried for what might have been, if only he had had a bit more bravery, if only Remus had. In a moment he would have to move. He would have to find Harry. But just for now, wrapped in this timeless mist, he could hold onto his beloved werewolf and no-one could see him, or judge him or laugh at him.

Remus’ eyes were closed and he was still breathing gently. Severus tenderly brushed a clump of hair away from Remus’ eyes unconsciously echoing the gesture he had used with Harry only the night before.

The tears were flowing fast now and Severus threw his head back, trying to clear them away. He didn’t want to remove his hands from the fallen werewolf. He blinked hard and looked up at the sky. Or at least he looked at where the sky would be if only this infernal mist were not in the way.

“Severus?” asked a voice. It was dull and scratchy. “Severus, is Harry all right?”

Severus heart leapt. “Remus?” he said, forgetting for a moment who he was with, letting down his guard.

“You’re okay? I thought you were dead.” His deep black eyes met the yellow brown of the werewolf’s eyes, something passed between them then, a deep understanding, a connection before Severus dropped him.

“Ouch!”

Lupin looked completely confused.

“Severus, I think that I tripped, I have banged my head.” Lupin said ruefully. He was rubbing a patch on the back of his head and staring in a rather puzzled way at Severus.

“I thought that the Dementors had got to you,” Severus said sullenly

Remus gave a short, bitter laugh. “So did I for a moment,” he said, “But I think that I was lucky, that their interest is concentrated elsewhere right now.

He stared ahead of them, into the mist. Severus could see light flashes again.

“Harry!” Both men said at exactly the same time. Just for a second they shared a glance. Each of them cared deeply about the boy, didn’t they?

Severus grabbed Lupin’s arm to support him, the man was probably very unsteady after his fall and they had to stay together in the mist he told himself firmly, it was only sensible. Lupin didn’t object. In fact he looped his own arm through Severus’ own. It felt so good not to be alone.

They moved forward as fast as they could the ground was too bumpy for them to run, the fog too thick.

So they stumbled onwards, holding tightly to each other for safety’s sake.

It seemed like they had been travelling for hours, but really it could not have been more than ten minutes since Severus had been at the lytch-gate, twenty since the panic had begun.

Up ahead, Severus could hear shouting, and the mist seemed finally to be clearing away. It grew finer, paler, until it was little more than wispy clouds of white. On the other side of the fog the day was bright and glorious. The sun burned down and after the gloom of the mist it almost hurt his eyes.

On a large patch of grass just in front of them there were about 200 people all grouped together. They looked quite frightened, they were hugging eachother, and several people were crying. But they were safe. Each and every one of them were safe. All around the group, in strategic positions still casting Patronuses were the children who had formed Dumbledore’s Army.

Luna Lovegood was there, and Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom. But there were others too, about fifteen in all, a number of distinctive red-heads amongst them. At the very front, his eyes dancing, alight with the thrill of the battle stood Harry and right beside him, appearing a little nervous, but determined to do his part, a very dishevelled looking Draco Malfoy.

Harry lifted his wand again and from the end flew yet another bright stag, which galloped joyfully toward Severus and Remus. Just for a moment, Severus thought they might be trampled, but then the magnificent creature veered off and closely followed by a hoard of other animal shapes it charged into the mist.

The mist which was rapidly disappearing at last, being chased away, dissolved by an odd assortment of motley creatures.

There were dogs and a bear, as well as a strange magical creature, which he did not recognise. They each plunged into the thick whiteness in their turn as if taking part in a joyful game and in their wake followed three smaller creatures: a wild cat, an otter and smallest of all, but determinedly bringing up the rear, a glowing, white ferret.


* If you want to see a lytch-gate go here http://www.history.uk.com/churches/index.php?archive=2 The gate in this story is surrounded by a high wall, but lytch-gates typically have roofs and I have seen them surrounded by fairly high walls.