Dearest Harry - Eileen's Story

Forty-Seven


Thanks to my darling Claudia who practically co-wrote the last two chapters. You are wonderful my dear lady do you know that?

A/N okay, still a cliffie I'm afraid but I promise there won't be one in the next chapter! ~ Lucie


Harry had looked so small as he plunged into the portal that stood starkly in the centre of the room that Severus wanted to go after him, call him back, pull him close and then run away. The shoulders that were squared just before Harry walked determinedly forward were too slender for the burden that had been placed on them, Severus wanted to protect him.

“Harry wait!” He had not even realised that he was going to call out until he had already done so. But Harry didn’t appear to have heard, he was gone. Swallowed up by the veil.

Eileen gave a strangled sob and sank down to sit on one of the benches that were arrayed all around them.

Severus’ eyes strayed to the hourglass that Arthur had turned as soon as Harry entered the veil. It stood on the floor beside the structure and Severus wondered how angry Harry would be if they pulled him back before the last grains of sand had filtered through it. They had agreed to give him nine minutes, which was the maximum time a wizard could survive without air. If Harry died on the other side of the veil, then there was still a chance they would be still able to revive him after nine minutes, with minimal chance of brain damage. It was the best that they could do.

Severus had not slept for well over a week now and last night they had all sat around talking, examining what they were planning to do, looking for any hidden pitfalls. Everyone, apart from Harry and Draco that was. No-one, not a single person, had been able to sleep. They went over the same ground, time after time, until nothing new could be said at all. It was almost as if, so long as they had plans, contingencies for their contingencies, if they covered every eventuality, that they could somehow keep Harry safe. But of course they could not. There were so just so many things that could go wrong, so many things about the veil and the Horcruxes that they didn’t understand.

This had to be the most foolish thing that Harry had ever done! Severus was furious with him, furious with himself and the entire situation. He could barely stand still and started to pace, back and forth across the tiled floor.

Molly was sitting beside Eileen, with her arm wrapped around the older woman’s shoulders. It was a mark of how dreadfully upset Eileen was that she was allowing the other woman to comfort her. They had been getting on better in recent days, but they still had their moments. Minerva joined them. She said not a word, she simply laid a hand on Eileen’s arm and sat beside her, silently.

Luna was sitting as close to the veil as she could, her head was on one side, as though she was listening to something that no-one else could hear. Beside her sat the house-elf, what was her name again? Wispy? Wilky? Winky, that was it! Winky. She was gently stroking Luna’s messy blonde hair as if comforting a child, and with her free hand she occasionally touched a necklace made of Butterbeer corks that she had taken to wearing in imitation of her heroine.

Neville stood to the other side of the veil. Here was another boy who had changed a lot in recent months. Eileen liked Neville, much to Severus’ initial disgust. She said he had a lot of quiet strength. At some point last night he had taken Severus’ mother aside and blushing furiously murmured an urgent request that Severus was too far away to hear.

Eileen had turned to find Minerva and then the three of them had left the hall. It had seemed an eternity before they returned with Neville clutching something long and metallic and shining. The Sword of Gryffindor.

He stood with it now beside the veil. Another contingency, if Harry had to be cut free, the sword was the only thing which could cut through Basilisk skin easily, even the knives took time and effort. All of them had suffered numerous cuts from the sharp shards of skin, all of them had sore fingers and throbbing palms from where they had grasps the knives for hour after hour. The sword would make light work of their rope though, should it need to, funny that it had not occurred to them to use it when they were preparing the Basilisk skin in the first place.

Hermione sat with Ron, her face hidden in her hands. Draco was with Narcissa. Holding his mother’s hand. He looked calm, composed. He was not meeting anyone’s eye. His mouth was contorted into a superior expression, but Severus didn’t think that anyone was fooled, not this time. There was a tell tale twitch beneath Draco’s right eye and the knuckles of the hand that clutched his mother’s were white. Severus wondered idly if Narcissa were in pain from her son’s fierce grip. Lucius sat beside them, just a little apart.

Around the room sat members of the Order of the Phoenix, Moody, Lupin, Arthur, Robbie Bones. All of them, staring at nothing, drumming their fingers waiting patiently, waiting for Harry to come home.

And all the while, hardly moving, as close to the portal as he could possibly get, stood Hagrid, holding tight to Harry’s lifeline, while great coils of Basilisk rope lay curled at his feet. They were moving slowly as if the giant snake were alive again, indicating that somewhere, on the other side, Harry was moving forward.

Severus closed his eyes. He didn’t want to watch, didn’t want to see the worry, the despair etched in every face.

They sprang wide again as he heard a crash and rumble just in time to see the door to the chamber fly off, leaving a large gap in the wall.

“Oh how cosy you all look. How sweet! Gathered to wait for Potter are we? Dearie, Dearie me where could Potter be?”

Voldemort was the one who had spoken. He entered the chamber imperiously, stepping over the rumble with an incongruously delicate air glaring at them all through narrowed, red eyes.

Someone screamed

Moody, Shacklebolt and a few others leapt to their feet brandishing wands

But it seemed hopeless as an unstoppable steam of Death Eaters were pouring in to the chamber behind their master, firing hexes as they came.

The battle for the Ministry had begun.



Severus stood slowly. The others were slowing Voldemort’s forces down.

A wave of guilt washed over him. He should have insisted on stronger defences, he should never have let Harry go through the veil because now the hero that they needed to save them could be forever trapped on the other side

He had warned Kingsley and the others that something like this might happen. He had never felt completely comfortable with Harry’s dismissal of the pain he had felt in his scar when he had dreamt of the veil. Severus had suspected that the Occlumency shields that Eileen had taught her grandson to create had faltered when Harry had seen Black in his dream. Harry’s emotions had probably peaked and attracted the curiosity of the Dark Lord. Severus doubted that he had any idea what they were up to, but he had obviously seen enough to bring him here today.

He sent a swift prayer to any stray gods that might be listening to protect his nephew and then surreptitiously Severus cast a Notice-Me-Not spell over the Basilisk rope. The coils had reduced quite noticeably, wherever Harry was, he still seemed to be moving forward at least. But there was no way that Severus wanted The Dark Lord to notice Harry’s only connection to the world

The chamber was in chaos. Spells were flying everywhere. Severus heard yells and cries of pain and fear as people dodged out of the way of hexes.

Then rising above the other shouts Severus heard a chilling scream that send shivers down his spine. He turned rapidly wand in hand to see what was happening and froze in horror.

It was Remus.

Peter Pettigrew had grabbed him. Normally Severus would have bet on Remus’ strength against the weaker man, but Peter had a silver hand. His face was contorted in a cruel smirk as he laid the hand against Remus’ cheek. The werewolf’s flesh was blistering, smoking as the metal burnt its way into his skin.

Remus was struggling, trying to push free, howling in agony but Pettigrew would not let go. This was Peter at his worst; the snivelling little coward had disappeared momentarily. This was the Pettigrew that had cold bloodedly murdered twelve Muggles and sent the odious Black to Azkaban.

Severus tried to get across the chamber, but there were too many people in the way. Neville and Hermione stood back to back battling against the Carrows. Ron appeared to be desperately trying to work his way over to the struggling werewolf but was still quite a distance away. Eileen and Minerva were fighting three Death Eaters, whom Severus could not recognise from this distance and the Dark Lord was in the middle of the mayhem, laughing manically at it all like some storybook villain from a Muggle comic.

Remus screamed again, a desperate, terrible sound.

Then Severus saw someone was running towards Lupin, white-blond hair flying, rippling behind him like an untamed river as he moved towards the stricken werewolf.

“Lucius?” Severus whispered to himself, “Lucius?”

The man had gone mad! He had no magic, no way to defend Remus what the fuck did he think he was doing? Lucius had his walking stick grasped in his hands he was brandishing it wildly, clearing a path through the fighting.

He was shouting, bellowing.

A battle cry for a not quite broken man.

Severus could not quite see what Lucius was trying to do, the cane was a wand no-longer, what did Lucius hope to achieve? But as he watched he saw that Lucius was not preparing to hex Pettigrew. Instead he swung the cane as if it were a club, bringing it back behind his head, using the entire force of his body. He hit Pettigrew across the back of his skull, there was a sound as if someone had smashed a melon with a cleaver and the smaller man was knocked off his feet and sent crashing to the benches.

He lay in a heap, his head at a peculiar angle. Even from his position Severus could not mistake the fact that Lucius had killed him. Peter Pettigrew was dead.

Lucius sagged.

Severus couldn’t help thinking that Lucius had just landed a hit that would have made the England cricket team proud and looked around for Robbie Bones, just in case he had seen what Lucius had done too.

Draco was running towards his father now, Severus was closer. But Draco was faster and there were fewer people in his way. All the time that he had watched Severus had worked his way through the swirling robes of others, hearing the desperate grunts and whispered curses, but still Draco got there first.

Draco had been shouting for his father but then his cries had changed. He had reached Lucius and as he wrapped his arms around the elder Malfoy he was sobbing almost uncontrollably “Dad!” he said, “oh Daddy!” Just as he had when he was a very tiny boy and had fallen over and hurt himself, or had had a bad dream.

Severus had finally reached Remus’ side, the werewolf had collapsed to the ground, he was whimpering, and clutching his face, obviously in great pain.

Draco was currently battering at his father with his fists, seemingly unconscious of the raging battle that surrounded them, still sobbing helplessly. But Lucius simply wrapped him in a hug and held him close.

The fight still raged on around them and Severus let fly the occasional hex, to keep everyone away from the trio, before quickly erecting a shield.

“You frightened me you stupid git!” Draco was saying, desperately trying to wriggle out of his father’s arms. “You’ve got no magic, you arsehole! You could have been killed.”

“Shush, Draco,” Lucius said wrapping his arms more tightly around Draco in the midst of all the chaos, crushing his son against him and stilling the flailing fists. “I had to help him, it could so easily have been you! He could have done that to you not so long ago and I couldn’t bear to see such torture.”

Draco choked back a sob and Severus turned his attention toward Remus as Narcissa reached the little group. The man was in obvious agony, he was rolled in a ball, arms wrapped around his head, tears, generated by the pain, rolled unchecked down his burned and swollen cheek

“AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

The scream that rent the air this time was like nothing else that Severus had ever heard.

It was Voldemort.

His face was turned towards the vaulted ceiling of the chamber in which they were trapped. His hands clawed at his face first and then his chest.

The room went still.

Voldemort was wavering. He looked paler than ever. For a moment he almost seemed to disappear, his body now looked insubstantial, terribly weakened. The Death Eaters began to lose interest in the battle and simply watched their master seemingly weaken.

Had Harry done it? Had he destroyed the last Horcrux? What did it mean?

“Now! Bring him back now!” It was Luna that had spoken. The girl had not moved throughout the entire battle, she had sat frozen beside the tall mysterious structure through which Harry had disappeared only minutes before.

Someone turned towards her, firing off a hex and Luna crumpled unresisting to the ground.

This time the shrill scream came from the house-elf, who fell to her knees in terrible anguish, but then Luna moved, and groaned quietly. She wasn’t dead, but she probably needed help. Severus lowered the shield that he had created and pulled Narcissa toward him. “Help Lupin,” he croaked and standing he recast the shield around the werewolf and the little family, taking care that none of the magic was even close to touching Lucius.

Hagrid seemed frozen.

Voldemort appeared to have regained his balance now and his scream turned into a roar of fury.

The hourglass was nearly empty and Severus began to run towards it, still dodging curses for all that he was worth.

“PULL HAGRID!!” He bellowed, “FOR FUCK SAKE MAN PULL!”

Severus’ shout drew Voldemort’s attention to Hagrid then, raising an arm and pointing at the man he screamed.

“KILL THE GIANT!”

But Hagrid had heard Severus command and started to pull the rope as fast as he could.

Several of the Death Eaters started to fire hexes at the large man, but Hagrid was ignoring them and their curses bounced off his arms and torso apparently doing no harm. But Severus knew better. Even Hagrid could not resist such heavy cursing for long, eventually he would weaken, fall and there would be no-one to rescue Harry. No-one else was strong enough, no-one else could hold the robe for very long without their hands being torn to shreds.

The half giant was pulling for all he was worth. Hand over hand, drawing something towards him. Something that only he knew was there. Something invisible to the eyes of everyone else, thanks to Severus’ spell.

“Cover him!” Severus shouted as those members of the Order that were close enough hurried to do as Severus asked.

All at once Hagrid stopped.

“Don’t stop man!” Severus hissed as he continued to shield the half-giant, “keep pulling, keep pulling!”

“Can’t. Too heavy!” Hagrid was straining against something. face red with the strain, limbs shaking, he was leaning backwards; putting all his strength into what he was doing, leaning hard against the resistance.

“PULL!”

With a great roar Hagrid did as Severus told him, then the force he was pulling against seemed to give a little as he flew backwards off his feet and an enormous crack rent the air.

Molly screamed and pointed and they all turned towards the veil. The portal was bowing, it was changing shape, curving outwards. For several seconds time stood still. A groaning noise came from nowhere, a rumbling, like distant thunder, like an earthquake.

The room began to shake as the portal seemed to stretch beyond credibility, apparently determined to hold on to its prize. Hagrid had regained his footing, he seemed a little shaken, but his face wore a look of determination and he still appeared to be holding tight to the invisible rope, as Severus watched he bent his knees and began to pull again.

Then the gateway exploded.

“GET DOWN!!!! Severus shouted. Shards of stone from the arch, sharper than knives were flying through the air and two bodies, not one, came soaring through the veil, as if falling from a great height. Wrapped around each other, holding each other closely, arms entwined. They landed with a soft thud on the ground beside Severus.

Harry and Sirius Black.

Neither moved. They had parted slightly on landing. Black was on the ground, Harry sprawled somewhat over him, his hands were clutching Black's robes. Both of them were pale and covered in some sort of thick mucus and a layer of fine dust, which was showering down on them. It was all that was left of the imposing portal, which had once dominated the room.

Severus had been one of the only people still standing in the chamber when the world exploded in a shower of white hot debris but now he fell to his knees. Quickly, silently, he whispered a diagnostic spell and could have sobbed with relief when he found a pulse, not just for Harry but for Black as well. Of course Severus could have cared less about the fate of the animagus, but Harry had returned, he had not died on the other side of the veil.

They were alive, both of them, unconscious but alive.