Dearest Harry - Eileen's Story

A/N Sorry guys RL has been v busy today, so did not get todays chapter finished and sent off to be betaed. Will do that tomorrow though and post as soon as I get it back.

Thamks for all the kind reviews and many, many thanks to Claudia, who has helped so much in the last few weeks.


Thirty six

Coming out of the darkness was agony. Harry liked the darkness, it didn’t hurt.

He fought returning to consciousness as hard as he could. But bloody Percy Weasley just wouldn’t leave him alone.

Harry could hear him calling him. Shaking him. Crying all over him. As much as he might like to, Harry just couldn’t ignore Percy’s distress. He wondered if Ron would mind if Harry slapped his least favourite brother. He probably wouldn’t, but Harry couldn’t quite seem to make his arm work properly.

“Wha’ is it?” Harry muttered, “pleas g’way Percy!”

“Oh Harry.” Percy sobbed, “you’re alive. Oh thank Merlin! Thank Merlin!”

“Nope, not ‘live definitely not ‘live. Dead as a doornail me!” Harry heard himself mutter, God! He must be feeling like shite, he was rambling.

He cracked open one eye. To see Percy staring down at him. His eyes were large and wet and his freckles were standing out starkly against his pale, greenish, white skin.

Harry’s heart clenched. He couldn’t help it; he obviously had a weakness for Weasleys. Percy had Ginny’s eyes and Ron’s hair and he couldn’t just ignore him however attractive unconsciousness might be right now. Not when the other boy crying and looking so desperate.

He opened his other eye.

“Oh Harry, I thought he’d killed you.” Percy’s voice was trembling, “the last time he kept you under for ages! Oh Harry, your screams!” Percy’s voice caught, it seemed that he could not go on.

Harry felt a bit got at.

“Well of course I screamed,” he said defensively, “being Crucioed hurts!”

Percy was staring at him with his mouth open.

“It hurts?” he said, “looked like it was a lot worse than that to me. It looked like total agony!”

“Yeah, well it’s no fucking walk in the park,” Harry said, trying to push himself into a sitting position and failing miserably. “But I’ll live. At least,” he amended, “I’ll live until he starts on me again.”

Percy seemed horrified at Harry’s attitude, although whether he was most anxious about the fact that Voldie might start on him again, or if it was Harry’s swearing that was bothering him most, Harry couldn’t tell.

“How can you be so casual about it? He nearly killed you. You could have died Harry. He tortured you until you were unconscious!”

Oh so it was the torturing that was bothering him. That made Harry feel a bit warmer toward Percy. He almost smiled but his lips didn’t seem to be working properly. Maybe that explained why his speech was still coming out a little slurred.

“Yeah Perce, I was there, y’know?” Harry said, pushing his hands a bit further away, in the hope that it might make it easier to help himself up. He was shaking so fucking much that he couldn’t seem to get control of his limbs. Even worse, he couldn’t seem to access much of his magic. It felt like it was blocked somehow.

Finally he rolled over. He was on a cold damp floor; it looked like stone to him. Wherever they were it was cold and quite dark. There was light trickling in from a high window. A small dirty window. With bars on it “So fucking clichéd!” he muttered to himself.

From this position he could indeed push himself up a bit more easily.

“What’s going on outside?” He asked, “I take it that there is a battle or something going on? Voldie’s lot must be otherwise engaged, or we’d be dead by now.”

Finally he whispered, “D’you know if they are okay, if Draco’s okay?” Harry had no doubt that his uncle would be there too. But Harry was not particularly worried about Severus; he was one of the strongest wizards that Harry knew after all, but Draco? He wasn’t a fighter really was he? And Harry wasn’t there to protect him right now; he really hoped that Draco would be okay

“They’re fighting.” Percy said. “It has been going on for 45 minutes or so. That’s how long you were unconscious.

“We can’t see what is happening from here, I’ve tried. But the window is too high, all I can see are flashes of light in the distance.”

Percy suddenly seemed to realise what Harry was trying to do and rushed to assist him.

He pulled Harry to a seated position and rested him against his own body. He was quite warm, Harry thought, and much more comfortable than the floor.

Harry was puzzled. Why was Percy helping him? It didn’t seem right somehow. He thought that Percy was firmly in the ‘hate Harry Potter’ camp.

God, Percy hadn’t suddenly discovered that they were related as well had he? Harry didn’t think that he could stand finding any more long lost relatives right now. Even if they did happen to also be related to Ron, who was as close to a brother as Harry would ever get.

“Oh fuck!” he thought, Molly Weasley would probably hate him even more now as somehow, he had dragged Percy into mortal danger.

“Sorry that you’re here Percy! Sorry about everything.” he said, looking up at the red-head. He had really liked Percy in first and second year. Ron’s older brother had seemed to really care about his little sister and his brothers, despite the fact that he obviously found the, all extremely annoying. Was it fourth or fifth year that Percy had started to hate him? Harry couldn’t really remember now.

Percy was crying again.

“I’m the one that should be sorry Harry. I didn’t believe you and I should have done. I just thought you were trying to get attention. That you would drag Ron into your dangerous games.

“I thought that you had gone mad. That you would get my baby brother hurt. I didn’t want to believe that He was back.”

Percy was hugging him tightly and sobbing into Harry’s hair. Harry tried patting him, but he couldn’t seem to control his hands. They still shook too much.

“You were right Percy,” Harry said sadly. “I did get him hurt.” He was thinking of the brains at the Ministry, of Ron’s time in the forest when they had barely escaped Aragog and of the giant chess set in first year.

“No,” Percy’s voice was muffled, “Not you. He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named did that. Not you.”

Harry opened his mouth to argue. But couldn’t think what to say. His head hurt too. It was like his thoughts were scrambled.

He concentrated on looking around the room in which they seemed to be trapped. It was small and built of stone and there was absolutely nothing in it. Apart from the high window there was just a depressingly solid wooden door.

He sank back against Percy and just listened to him talk. He would just rest for a while he thought.

“I didn’t want to believe it.” Percy said, “because he is so evil, so awful. I didn’t want my family to be in danger, so I blamed you. That was so much easier after all. If you were a spoiled, attention seeking brat, then none of it was true and there was hope for us all.

“But you weren’t lying, and my family believed you and turned against me and they were right to do so. And even then I still wouldn’t believe you.

“And then little things got me wondering. What was really happening? Papers went missing in the Ministry after Fudge was removed. Then Stan Shunpike was arrested. I knew Stan. I used to travel by Knight Bus to stay with Penelope and he was always there. He’s a nice guy. He’s not a Death Eater Harry.” Harry wanted to say that he thought that was pretty fucking obvious, but Percy was still speaking. “After Amelia Bones was killed, they started appointing people to jobs that seemed above their capabilities.” Percy laughed ominously. “Not that they haven’t always done that, but this was so much more obvious. There were late meetings held in secret. Dolores Umbridge came back.

“She’d been in St Mungo’s for months, but when she got back things were worse. Scrimgeour didn’t fight her on anything; he seemed frightened of her He did whatever she said. One day I sneaked into her office. She hates you Harry, she has a drawer full of photos of you that have all been defaced. . So I watched them. I watched her. Dad was suspect; there are a lot of people at the Ministry who don’t like Dad. He has always made it clear which side he was on and they were always careful to hide things from him. Our rift was common knowledge, so I exploited it. But some of the things that she said Harry, some of the hatred she spouted about werewolves, or anyone related to magical creatures in any way.”

Percy shuddered.

“She was the one who had the portkey Harry.”

Harry shuddered that time, “fucking bitch,” he murmured, “if I ever get my hands on her!” He was just glad that he had managed to hit her so hard. He hoped he had caused a permanent disfigurement. Not that anyone would notice!

“When I saw her, coming towards you,” Percy was saying quietly, “I had to try to stop her, I knew she wanted to hurt you Harry.”

Whilst Percy had been talking Harry had tried to concentrate on his magic. He could feel it, but it was wispy, like Eileen’s had been before he’d fixed it. He chased it with his mind and just managed to grasp it. It was weak and fragmented but he needed it. He willed it to come back and thought he felt it respond a little. He felt a bit stronger. He doubted that he could do a spell, but he was feeling less weak. He felt like light was flowing through his veins. Making him stronger

“I’m so sorry Harry,” Percy said, so softly that it was almost like a shadow of speech “I really fucked up this time didn’t I?”

Harry looked up at him, this brother of Ron’s. Who was trying so hard. Percy was obviously terrified, but he was doing his best to help.

“Not your fault.” Harry said. “Not mine either. It is all his doing you know? All his. He is evil and twisted and spiteful. He can’t bear to think of anyone being happy. He has to destroy and kill.”

“But we are going to die Harry.” Percy whispered, “and I don’t want to die. Not till I’ve said sorry, not till I’ve seen my Mum again.” His voice hitched and he began to cry.

“Percy,” Harry said, “stop crying. We have to get out of here mate, or we really will die.”

He closed his eyes again, just for a minute and then let out a sigh.

“Help me up?” Harry said.

Percy had stopped crying but he was looking at Harry in astonishment.

“But you should be in bed, recovering.”

“God! He was so fucking naïve,” Harry thought

“Well, Percy,” he said, “I don’t see any beds in here do you? And I don’t think that Voldie is about to produce one for me. So if I want somewhere nice and comfy where I can recover, then I am going to have to get out of here. Now help me up!”

Percy looked at him as if he were mad. But he did as he was asked. He put his hands under Harry’s arms and hauled him to his feet.

Harry felt like he had been thrown into a cement mixer. The room was churning and there was a roaring noise in his ears.

He was almost sick. He felt bile rising in his throat, burning. But Harry hadn’t had anything to eat since the night before so there wasn’t anything to throw up.

He leaned heavily on Percy for a moment or two, breathing deeply, and pulled himself up till he was standing, almost on his own.

Harry felt wobbly, his knees were like rubber. But he was still on his feet.

“Have you tried the door yet?” Harry asked.

“It’s solid and very strong,” Percy replied. “Magic doesn’t work either. Not that I am much good at wandless spells anyway. There is a dampener on magic, tied into the wards I think. That’s what Umbridge said when she brought us down here. Your sore ribs’ll be down to her. She kicked you really hard Harry.

Percy looked apologetic. As if it was his fault. Harry thought that he would do a lot more to that evil witch than kick her in the ribs if he caught up with her.

So there was a dampener on magic? That explained why his felt so fuzzy. But it didn’t explain why it was coming back.

He looked over at the door, thinking that maybe he could try an Alohomora?

But then the door opened

Harry braced himself for battle. He tried to ensure that Percy was behind him. He hadn’t done a very good job of protecting him up until now Harry thought, not that he was about to do much better this time, but he did feel stronger. Just a bit.

Standing in the doorway was Peter Pettigrew.

Harry heard himself growl. Here was someone whose throat he would love to rip out. If only he had enough magic to transform right now, which he most certainly did not.

“What the fuck do you want?” He snarled.

Pettigrew flinched.

“Harry,” he said, in what Harry assumed was meant to be a winning way. “Don’t be like that. I’m here to help you. What would your parents say about your manners?”

“I have no fucking idea, considering I never met them!” Harry snapped back, infuriated that Pettigrew dared even to mention his parents.

Pettigrew, for some peculiar reason looked wounded. Harry wished that he had his magic back. Then he would give the bastard something to really make him look wounded about..

Perhaps deciding that Percy would be more reasonable, Pettigrew addressed him instead.

“I owe him a life debt.” he said, gesturing with his head in Harry’s direction, “It’s chaos out there at the moment and they’ll never know it was me that let you go.

“Turn right when you leave the room, follow the corridor to the end, then turn left, right and left again. Go up some steps and that’ll take you outside.”

He looked directly at Harry then. Harry was still distinctly wobbly and though his magic did seem to be coming back quite strongly, it still wasn’t strong enough to curse Pettigrew which Harry really, really wanted to.

“We are even now Harry,” he said. For a moment his face showed an echo of deep sadness and then he left so quickly that he almost seemed to melt away

“Harry, do you think it’s a trap?” Percy was asking him, he sounded terrified, his eyes were wide, frightened. For the second time that day Harry felt old.

“I have no fucking idea Percy,” he answered. “But he does owe me a life debt, so chances are he is telling the truth. And at this point I don’t think we have a lot to lose. I think we should go for it. Do you think you could help me walk?”

Percy sniffed. “Of course I will help you Harry,” he said stuffily. “But I do think you should stop swearing. It is very vulgar you know?”

Harry couldn’t help himself, leaning his weight against Percy as they made their way slowly towards the open door he began to giggle hysterically.



When the order arrived at Malfoy Manor it was already dark. It had taken them nearly an hour to get prepared, to get everyone here. Draco had had to key them all separately into the wards. When Voldemort took over the manor, Narcissa had just had to accept Voldemort and because the Death Eaters wore his mark they could do magic too. But the wards at the Manor were fiendish and had been set by Lucius. They dampened or eradicated the magic of anyone who was not given express permission to perform magic on the grounds or in the Manor itself so Draco had had to key each of the volunteers to the wards individually. Although these were the same people who had maligned him earlier, somehow, Draco had, with grace and determination taken the hands of each one of the individuals who were hoping to help Harry and whisper the necessary words under his breath.


Severus wondered how Draco was taking it, seeing his old home. The place looked a mess. Severus had been here many times in the past. If the shock of the devastation was bad enough for him, how must Draco be taking it? There was rubble everywhere, several windows had been broken and the rose garden was gone, the lawns were rutted and muddied and someone had cut the topiary trees into grotesque and obscene shapes.

But Draco’s face betrayed nothing, it was pale yet resolute.

He had behaved so bravely tonight and Severus felt so proud of him. Apart from his mini breakdown when Harry had vanished that was. Of course, Severus too had been close to his own breakdown at that particular moment, so he was hardly going to blame the boy for that. But Draco had, it seemed, finally grown up.

He had been the first person to answer Severus’ impassioned plea at the Ministry.

He had simply stood, still covered in debris from the trolley, and said firmly, “I’ll go. I want to help Harry. I want to bring him home.”

Within seconds over one-hundred and forty people had offered to come. All of the Weasley’s had insisted that they come along, including Molly a resolute look on her face. She would still not let Ginny come with them. Ginny had been dispatched back to Grimmauld Place to look after Eileen. Severus mother had wanted to come too and it had taken him several long tense moments to argue her out of the idea. He could not bear to lose her and he convinced her that Harry would feel the same way. Voldemort had already had Harry for fifteen minutes by then and Severus was feeling quite frantic.

Once Eileen had understood that, she had gone without a fight. But her eyes had been damp with tears when she held her son close and whispered so that only Severus could hear her. “Bring him home, love! Please bring him home.”

One after another the volunteers apparated on to the ruined lawn, until the grounds swarmed with them all. A number of those present were seasoned Aurors, with years of battle experience behind them. Some were familiar faces, people who knew Harry such as Arthur, and Tom from the Leaky Cauldron. Students of Hogwarts, still children in Severus’ eyes, but refusing to be left behind and complete strangers, wizards that Severus had never seen before but who were ready to fight. Some seemed resolute like Molly was; they knew what they were facing. Others were clearly frightened, staying close by companions, holding on to each other for safety’s sake, for comfort or courage.

Severus was just praying to those Gods, whoever they were, who had helped him in the last day or so that Harry was still alive. He knew full well what Voldemort could do to someone in the amount of time that Harry had been missing. But he was determined not to think about that.

He would be alright, somehow, Harry would be alright. Severus had stopped deluding himself long ago. He loved his nephew. Possibly more than even Molly loved her chicks because he only had Harry as his surrogate flesh and blood child. He knew without a doubt that he could not have loved any son of his own more than he loved Harry. He couldn’t imagine his life without Harry around now. He had been the focus for so many of Severus’ deepest emotions over the past six years. If Severus hadn’t been able to come on this mission he might well have fallen apart by now. Even when he had hated Harry he couldn’t help but admire his apparent indestructibility. Harry would not die here tonight, Severus would not let him. Somehow they would get him out and take him home

The ruined gardens seemed mysterious in the moonlight and somewhere far off in the distance an owl hooted. Severus deployed people as best he could, behind piles of rubble, hidden in bushes, behind a wall that still stood. For a moment nothing happened. The night stayed quiet and still, then without warning a hoard of dark figures started to pour from the house and the battle of Malfoy Manor had begun.