Dearest Harry - Eileen's Story

My darling Claudia, I do not know what I would do without you right now! Thanks for all your wonderful help.

A/N There is a cliffie at the end of this chapter but I really can't help it right now because of where we are in the story. I will try and have another chapter up in the next few days ~ Lucie

Forty-Six


Harry had been stunned by everyone’s reactions the night before, He had known that people would be not like his decision but hadn’t thought for a moment that they would be so upset. He knew now, with an awful clarity just how much they cared about him. Despite the fact that they had all told him so and, had spent the last few months trying to convince him of this fact, Harry had never quite believed them. Not until last night, when it had been so evident that it simply couldn’t be denied.

It had truly been easier when nobody cared about him. Oh he knew that Dumbledore had, but Dumbledore’s affection had always been tempered by his rationality. The headmaster had made the decision to sacrifice Harry, long before he came to Hogwarts, probably long before he was born come to that! And while Harry had grown to realise that Severus had come to care about him, but he had never known just how deeply Severus cared, until he had seen the relief on his uncle’s face when Harry had offered him a possible alternative to their pact.

Then there was Eileen. She had looked destroyed! And Draco! Harry hadn’t known that people could look like that! And he was only telling them that he might die.

All of his life, all of his life Harry had never really mattered to anyone. He had been hurt so many times as a child, nearly killed so many times at Hogwarts and no-one had ever been this distressed. Was this what things might have been like if he had known about Eileen before? If his parents had lived?

This was horrible; hurting so many people. Harry absolutely hated hurting others.

But he truly had no alternative as far as he could see. Voldemort was growing stronger again. Killing more people as each day passed and Harry could not have that on his conscience. As he had snuggled in bed next to Draco he had wished that he could take the other boy and they could just run away, leaving behind the awful, crushing guilt that he felt over hurting everyone. Draco had remained upset all evening and even making love had not really calmed him down.

Oh he had pretended. Draco was good at occlumency wasn’t he? He had once told Harry that. But Harry didn’t need Occlumency to read Draco’s every emotion, his every fear. He thought about the day before when he had asked Lucius Malfoy to look after Draco when he didn’t come back. He had naively thought that Draco would be fine, if Harry didn’t make it, upset for a while but ultimately he would be fine. Harry knew better now, Draco really needed him didn’t he? And Eileen and Severus. He was stunned by these new realisations.

So Harry took with him to the other side a bucketload of guilt for hurting those who cared about him. But how much worse would the guilt be if he did not go? The phrase ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t’ had never seemed so apt.


The whole order had accompanied him to the Ministry. Seemingly unwilling to be parted from him, right at this moment he was standing before the veil with all his friends and family gathered around him. It felt weird, it felt bizarre. Harry had always been alone before, or at the most accompanied by some of his friends. But this time he had an audience of adults of fully trained witches and wizards ready to support him on his journey.

He was wearing a harness which crossed over his chest and was formed out of a single long rope made from Basilisk hide. The knots had been tied by Hagrid and Harry had fleetingly wondered whether they would ever come undone, even if he did come back. The other end of the exceedingly long rope which lay mostly in coils on the floor of the chamber in which they stood was wrapped several times around Hagrid’s shoulders and torso. He was to be Harry’s anchor in this world and if he were worried, or if anything seemed to be about to hurt him he was to give it three sharp tugs and then Hagrid would to pull him back. Otherwise he had nine minutes. Nine minutes to rid himself of Voldemort’s fractured soul, find Sirius and come back to them all. That is what they had agreed.

There was much speculation about what Harry would find when he got to the other side of the veil. Nobody really knew what lay beyond the ragged curtain or if Harry would be able to breathe once he had gone through, if he might die on the other side. Muggles could live for maybe as long as three minutes without taking a breath. Some, if they had had lots of practice could hold their breath for longer. But Wizards could do without air for much longer, for nine minutes in fact. So that was how long he had, how long they would give him. He hoped it would be enough

Harry looked at the anxious faces around him. He wasn’t alone any longer, people would worry about him, they wanted him to come back, they needed him to come back and he didn’t want to admit it to himself, but Harry was scared. He had never had anyone to think about before, so it had cost him nothing to rush headlong into things. But everything was different now.

So he looked at the portal through which he was to pass. The muslin-like strands of ethereal cloth which waved in a breeze that could not exist, in a room with no windows, no direct entrance to the outside world.

It was now or never, Harry decided. Everyone was waiting, hardly breathing, for this to be over and there was only one person who could make it so.

He curled his hands into fists and took a deep breath, just for a heartbeat he closed his eyes and then squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin, Harry walked forwards through the entrance and beyond the veil.


There were voices in the mist. He had heard them before hadn’t he, he and Luna? They were muffled, indistinct, almost like a radio that was not properly tuned in. Harry didn’t know if that happened to wizarding radios or only to Muggle ones.

The mist was thick, impenetrable, worse than the one at the graveyard had been all those weeks ago. But this mist wasn’t cold, it was warm, muggy, cloying. Harry shuffled forward. He couldn’t really see anything.

Except.

Was that something up ahead? A dark shape? Several? Fleeting. There one minute and gone the next.

He reached down to check that the Basilisk rope was still tied around his waist, it was comforting somehow to feel it there. His eyes were wide open, almost as if he were staring though there truly did not seem to be anything to see. The staring felt involuntary, more the result of the fact that he didn’t seem to be blinking than because there was anything to look at. His chest rose and fell with the breaths that he had hardly even noticed for a moment or two. So he could breath here after all? Perhaps there was a chance, an outside chance that Sirius was alive. Was there food and water here? Could magical people live without sustenance?

A voice seemed to whisper close to his ear and Harry jumped, he whirled around he couldn’t see anything behind him either now the entrance had gone! Harry’s breathing started to increase. Oh fuck, where was the way out? He would never find his way back!

Then he remembered the rope.

The rope that was still attached to Hagrid. He breathed a sigh of relief and touched the rope once more tentatively

Was this what it had been like for Sirius, this panic? Being totally enveloped in the pale, all encompassing mist?

He stretched his hands out in front of him and found that he could hardly see his fingers, the mist was too thick. His head had begun to ache, to pound. But he could not go back yet, he couldn’t.

“Sirius?” his voice carried no weight here, no substance. It was swallowed by the mist. Fog was like that wasn’t it? He remembered reading that somewhere. That’s why ships had foghorns. Harry thought of Oliver Wood playing the bagpipes in the graveyard and half wished that Oliver were here now. The thought that his godfather might be in this empty whiteness somewhere was something that gladdened him because it made him feel less alone and yet made him feel deeply sad all at the same time. Sirius had been here a long time now hadn’t he? Poor Sirius all that time wandering alone, he hadn’t had much luck had he, Sirius Black? That shining young man in those old photos that Hagrid had given him.

The Marauders, so young and full of life, so hopeful for a wonderful future. He was becoming maudlin and wondered if it were the mist doing that to him

Harry tried shouting his godfather’s name again. Louder this time, only to have it swallowed in thick soupy whiteness.

“Siri…. Ahhhh!” Harry gasped. A twinge of pain in his scar, worse than any that he had yet felt brought him to his knees, he groaned and tried to pant through the agony. And there was no doubting that it was agony.

“Harry!” Harry tried to look up to see where the voice had come from but he could barely see. Bright lights were flashing across his sight, blazing like fireworks before fading rapidly. Someone was standing above him, close to him. He reached out a hand and grasped fabric. Soft and well worn.

Felt himself being pressed into a solid warm body, a familiar and much missed body.


“Sirius?” Harry said, gasping through his pain. “Sirius?”

“Oh Harry! Fuck it all, Pup, are you a sight for sore eyes!”

Sirius was stroking his hair running strong fingers across his forehead as if trying to soothe the pain.

“Push him out Harry!” Sirius said, “You have to push him out!”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. His head felt like it might explode. The pounding had grown worse.

He groaned. Clutched at Sirius

“Hurts, Sirius! Help me. What……Aghhhh! Oh fuck!……..what do I do?”

“You have to push him out, Harry! He is trying to take you over, possess you. Don’t let him Harry.”

Harry was panting now, curling up on himself. The pain! Oh God! It was worse than anything that he had ever felt and Harry knew pain, intimately. .

“Use your magic, Harry, push him out with your magic!”

Harry screamed. His vision was swamped with light. He twisted in Sirius’ arms, clutching at his godfather, wailing in total agony. Etched on his retina was a bolt of lightning. His scar. It was all encompassing, swallowing him in white hot agony.

Harry felt like he was being totally subsumed.

Somehow he reached deep inside himself and grasped at the shining essence that was his magic. It slipped away, once, twice, and each time it was more difficult to find again, ever more elusive, as the brightness began to fade and his vision was instead flooded with darkness. A darkness that was evil without mercy.

Harry screamed again

It was Voldemort. His twisted soul trying to force Harry out of his body, trying to take over.

Fight him Harry!! For fuck sake fight him!”

But Harry was drifting, floating, loose. In the mist there was no pain. There was comfort there Now that he was letting go his vision changed and he could see figures in the mist. Hundreds of them, gathering round. They were pale, they lacked colour, but each one was different, each one a human soul. Harry could see Dumbledore, Tonks. He could see Lily and James. He began to smile, to relax and move toward them

“HARRY!” It was Sirius’s voice, tinged with fear and desperation. He clearly wanted Harry to do something. Harry wrinkled his brow, trying to remember what it was that Sirius wanted, wondering why Sirius was refusing to just let him sink into the mist. Another even more heart wrenching cry from Sirius and Harry knew, like a revelation of sorts, that his godfather wanted Harry to fight, to not give up.

Harry thought of all those waiting for him on the other side of the veil. Draco, Eileen, Severus. He couldn'’t leave them, it would be too cruel, they needed him, he had to go back. Grabbing onto the loose connection he still had with his body he took a deep breath all the way to the heart of himself, grit his teeth and slammed back into himself with all his strength.

The pain was immense. Worse than ever. But this time Harry had a firm hold of his magic. He took it into his heart with that last breath, deep inside of him. His heart beats echoed around his head, bounced back at him from the mist and with each beat, magic flowed through him, along with the blood. Pumping through him, through his veins, burning, scourging, chasing away the darkness.

And then he was screaming again.

Harry felt like he was being bathed in molten fire. Like this terrible, unrelenting agony was all there is, was and ever would be. Harry felt as though he was being swept away by the flames.

Then it was done.

The pain, the darkness was gone.




Harry gulped in air. Sucking the mist deep into his lungs and then choking. Sirius was rubbing his back as Harry sobbed his relief into his godfather’s chest.

“You did it Harry! You expelled the bastard!”

Harry looked up. The mist seemed thinner. It was drawing aside like a curtain on a stage. Harry curled against his godfather, chilled all of a sudden.

There was a young man standing before them both. Tall and handsome. But his features were contorted with fear. Because all around them there was the sound of unearthly wailing. The figures that Harry had glimpsed just moments before were descending upon the figure in the mist. They were tearing Tom Riddle apart. each taking a small piece, ripping, shreading whilst they howled their joy, almost but not quite drowning out the agonised screams of the tortured soul against whom they were seeking vengeance.

Harry hid his face, which was shining with tears. He did not want to see this. But Sirius watched and Harry sensed rather than saw the look of triumph on his godfather’s face.

Then Sirius pulled him up and lay an arm around Harry’s shoulder. “You did it Harry! He has gone. Look!”

So Harry looked. The mist was drifting back, the thickness returning. It was like seeing calm water after a swirling morass.

“Wwwhat was that?”

“They were some of Tom’s victims, taking revenge.”

“Is it always like that? Every time I killed a part of his soul did that happen?”

“I have no idea,” Sirius said, “I didn’t witness the other times. But I doubt it some how. He was corporeal this time.”

“Would that have happened to me? If he had won, pushed me out.”

Harry looked up to see his godfather’s face for the first time. His eyes hurt, they were tinged with red and the light was blinding but the sight of Sirius’ face was like a balm.

Sirius stroked his cheek.

“Nah! They would have welcomed you, Pup! You’re the good guy!” He peered closely at Harry. “Your eyes are blood shot though. That was some battle you fought!”

He began to stand, helping Harry to his feet.

“You look fucking fantastic otherwise though! Sirius held him at arm’s length so he could look him up and down. His hands remained on Harry’s shoulders though, almost as if he didn’t want to let Harry go. “You’re all grown up!” he said trying to smile. His eyes glittered with tears though and he blinked them away. He was so much smaller than Harry remembered. Like the Basilisk, Sirius had gained epic proportions in Harry’s mind. But he was just a man wasn’t he?

“I’m sor…” He began, but Sirius placed a finger on Harry’s lips

“Shhhhhh! Oh no you don’t, Harry. Let it go kid! It’s okay.”
“But Sirius, it was my fault!”

“No, kid. It wasn’t. It was my fault for being so reckless! I shouldn’t have left you alone like that. It is me that should be sorry, not you.”

“But I am not alone now, I have lots of support!” Harry assured his godfather

“Yeah, I know,” Sirius replied.

“How?” Harry whispered, “how do you know?”

“I see you sometimes, catch glimpses through the mist. It is lonely here, but sometimes there are flashes of life,” Sirius stared ahead, looking beyond Harry, “they keep me from despair.”

“What happened Sirius? Have you been here ever since…..?”

Sirius looked at him again.

Ever since I fell through the veil? Yeah. I’ve been wandering though, and mostly it hasn’t been too bad. Sometimes I catch glimpses of you, and sometimes of those who have crossed all the way over. Like Lily and James and Regulus. But I seem to be stuck here. Not quite dead, but not alive either.

“Come back with me?”

Sirius smiled. “Can’t do that kid. Can’t go back. My life is over; I’d be in the way now, anyway there is no way back from here, not for me. I’ve been here too long.”

“Yes there is!” Harry screamed, “there fucking is! I’m not leaving you. I’m not losing you again! Not again, Sirius!”

All at once the rope around his waist tightened and Harry started to move backwards.

“No!” He pleaded, “not yet,”

But Sirius was smiling, “S’okay kid, when you’ve got to go.” His smile turned sad and his eyes started to glisten with unshed tears. “Have a nice life Harry, and don’t ever doubt that you made me so proud.” He let go of Harry’s shoulders and the tugging on the rope around Harry’s middle grew insistent.

”No!” he said, “I won’t leave you Sirius!” His feet were sliding backwards and Harry was desperately trying to dig his toes in, get some purchase. But how could he fight against Hagrid’s strength?

The mist was thickening and Sirius began to disappear, Harry saw him lift a hand as if to wave goodbye.

“NO!”

Harry’s cry was hysterical, it was a scream of despair, from somewhere, Merlin knew where Harry found some extra strength. His limbs felt like jelly, he was weak and shaking from his recent battle with Voldemort but Harry lunged forward, he lunged into the swirling whiteness and grabbed onto Sirius’ robes. He wrapped his arms around his godfather and, buried his head in Sirius’ neck. He wrapped his legs around the man too and instinctively, involuntarily Sirius hugged Harry back.

Harry was flying backwards now, faster and faster, being hauled back to the other side.

To life.

He didn’t know what would happen, he didn’t know if he would make it back, if he could take his godfather with him, or at would happen on the other side. But Harry didn’t care, he had to try, so he held on to Sirius with all the strength that he had. He wasn't letting him go again.