Dearest Harry - Eileen's Story

Thanks to Kim and TQA for looking this over.


Harry wasn’t sure where he was when he awoke. His head was so sore, that he had to open his eyes really slowly because even the diffused light in this place, wherever it was, seemed too much and it hurt! Without his glasses everything was blurry but, after peering around for a moment or two, Harry was pretty convinced that he was at Grimmauld Place.

He and Ron had been doing the odd bit of decorating to make the place look just a bit more homely. Harry had found it really difficult coming back here at the beginning of the summer holidays; it just reminded him too much of Sirius. Once his godfather had died, Harry knew that his one chance of ever having a real home had died along with him. But he had also decided that, for whatever time he had left, he was going to try and make his surroundings just that little bit nicer, just that little bit more welcoming.

Harry had no idea where his glasses were. He had vague memories of Privet Drive and Snape and a fever. But before he could investigate to find out what had happened, he needed the loo. So, he swung his legs out of bed and tentatively stood up. He at once felt sick and woozy, but Harry was used to discomfort and so he took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself and headed for where the door would be if this was indeed Grimmauld.

Ten minutes later, Harry knew that his assessment had been right. He had made his bladder a lot more comfortable and had then set off downstairs in search of some answers. He had had to roll up his pyjama bottoms, as they were far too big for him. They were old and faded and probably Ron’s, which made Harry think that Mrs Weasley had been here at some point at least. But right now he really needed something to drink, so he headed for the kitchen where liquid refreshment and the answers he was looking for were most likely to be found. So he held tight to the banister rail and somewhat shakily made his way downstairs.

He was somewhat taken aback to see that the kitchen was full of people. Luckily none of them seemed to have noticed him yet, so he started to back cautiously out again when Hermione turned away from her discussion with Remus and saw him.

“Harry!” she said. “Oh Harry, you are awake.”

Every eye turned to look at him and Harry felt like cringing, but instead he hitched up his pyjama bottoms, which had slid rather low on his hips and limped forward into the room.

“Er, hi,” he said.


Severus saw Harry enter the room a moment or two before Hermione did. Without his glasses, the boy seemed ridiculously young. He easily could have passed for a fourteen year old. He seemed to have too slender a frame to take on the weight of the hopes of the wizarding world, too fragile by half. Severus saw the boy’s eyes widen when he realised how many people were there to greet his arrival, but he also saw him square his shoulders and march – well, limp- right in, regardless of how bothered he was by the reception committee.

For three days, the boy had hovered between life and death, and Severus had sat with him for much of that time: Heard him crying in his delirium, begging his uncle not to hit him any more, begging Sirius Black to not be dead, sobbing softly as he heard Voldemort killing his mother time after time. And somewhere over those three days, the boy had stopped being Potter and become Harry. Just Harry.

Severus, Molly, Arthur, Lupin, they had all taken their turn sitting by his bedside and he knew that each and every one of them felt differently about the boy than they had merely a few days before. He had displayed a vulnerability that none of them had noticed before. All too late they had realised that the boy was just that, a child with too many expectations to fulfil.

But he was trying, Severus had to hand him that. He had raised his chin and walked into that room as if he had just been asleep for a few hours, rather than flirting with death for several days. He could only have been left alone for a few minutes; Ginny Weasley had been on sentry duty, and must have wandered off for a moment or two because Harry should not be down here. They should have been alerted that he was awake. She would surely pay for her inattention when her mother caught up with her later on.

A meeting of the Order had been called to decide what to do if the boy did not wake up soon. But it seemed like the reason for the panic was over for now, because here he was on his feet, even if he did still look rather battered and bruised.

“I’ve, em, I need a drink of water?” Harry said, and that galvanised the room into action. The boy was whisked into a chair close to the long pine table around which many of them were sitting.

“What are you doing out of bed, Harry? You should be resting.” Molly was scolding him, “We’ll get you some water and then we’ll get you back upstairs.”

Lupin and Arthur were busily shooing a number of people from the room, promising updates on Harry’s condition and the boy was sitting in the middle of all this confusion, looking, well, looking rather confused.

He drank the water calmly enough but then as the crowd disbursed a bit he turned to Hermione and said, “What’s wrong Hermione? Has something happened? What was everyone doing here?”

She sat down rather heavily beside him and said, “We were worried about you, Harry. You nearly died.”

Harry just looked at her, his confusion hardly lessened, “What again?”

Severus spoke now, “You had magic fever, Harry, triggered by your powers becoming fully active. You should have been resting; someone should have been taking care of you. The unusual strength of your sudden increase of ability combined with the neglect that you have been suffering almost proved fatal. All of that was even more exacerbated by the, er, abuse that you suffered.”

Harry looked perplexed.

“Erm Professor Snape,” he said, “What are you talking about?”

Severus felt annoyed. He had been harbouring feelings towards Harry that were almost familial, but, within seconds of their first conversation, he was remembering just why Potter annoyed him so much. The boy was so arrogant, he just did not listen.

There were just a few of them left in the room now: himself, Arthur and Molly, the werewolf, Granger and Weasley, and almost unnoticed, huddled in a corner, Draco Malfoy.

“Surely even you could not be so arrogant that you would ignore the fact that you should have been resting when the full strength of your magic emerged at your majority?” Severus commented snottily.

Harry placed both his hands on the table and spread them in front of himself, almost as if he was gathering strength and took a deep breath. “I am sorry,” he muttered, “I just don’t understand. What extra magic? Didn’t I already have all the magic I am meant to get?”

Severus was appalled. Obviously he was not the only one, as Arthur said, “Harry, did Albus not warn you that this might happen when your magic came in? Most children they just have a small temperature and feel a bit queasy, but plenty of fluids and a day of rest and they are fine. But you are not most children, Harry. From the occasional flashes of strength that you have displayed, it was a forgone conclusion within the Order that your magic would come in strongly. Did no one tell you this?”

From the look of confusion on Harry’s face it was obvious that nobody had thought to even mention to Harry that a magical fever was a possibility. Hermione looked a bit shame faced, “Didn’t you notice when my magic came in, Harry? Ron’s transition was much simpler, but I was away for a whole day, back in September.”

Harry blushed and stared at the table before hanging his head and muttering, “I thought it was something about being a girl, you know, you are away from class sometimes, every couple of months.”

There was a stunned silence at this comment as they all realised that Harry truly had not known that some wizarding children only reached their full magical capacity on or around their seventeenth birthday and nobody saw fit to warn him of this, not even Albus.

“Oh Harry!” Molly said. Severus could read her expression quite clearly; she obviously thought that this was yet one more instance when those who were supposed to have been supporting him had let him down. The tragic thing was she was right.

“S’alright, Mrs Weasley,” Harry said, smiling at her reassuringly. “I’m fine now.”

“But you almost weren’t, you foolish boy!” Severus found himself saying, “Do you not understand, Harry? You could have died!”

Harry’s green eyes looked at Severus in complete astonishment.

“So?” he said. “It wouldn’t have been the first time. What’s wrong, Professor? Worried that you nearly lost your weapon? Because you didn’t, I’m fine and why do you keep calling me ‘Harry’?”

“Harry!” Remus was shocked. “You are more to us than merely a weapon. We were worried about you. We have taken it in turns to sit by your bedside. Severus has taken his turn also. He really is on our side, Harry, and we all care about you.”

Harry raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Well, that’s very kind of you all,” he said evenly, “I know Professor Snape’s on our side. I told you, remember. But what made you all care about me all of a sudden? No one did before.”

The adults in the room all looked rather stung by that comment.

“Look,” Harry said, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I have ‘nearly died’ quite a few times in the past and no one ever came to sit beside me before. When Sirius died,” here his voice cracked somewhat, “When Sirius died, I wanted to die too. You weren’t there then, why should you care so much now?”

“We thought you were with loving relatives then, Harry.” Lupin said rather sadly.

Harry snorted.

“We do know differently now though,” Lupin continued, “When we brought you back, Severus had to strip you down to your boxers and we saw, we saw..”

“Just what do you think you saw, Professor?” Harry spat. He had gone quite white, he was trembling with emotion, “You saw a few bruises, so what?”

“Harry!” Molly exclaimed, “There were far worse injuries than just a few bruises. You had a broken shoulder, cracked ribs. You were beaten, Harry, weren’t you? Harry you were being abused!”

Harry snorted again and this time he shrugged too, wincing slightly as his shoulder was obviously still a bit sore.

“I’ve had worse!” Every one drew in a sharp breath when Harry said that, and he looked around at them all glaring somewhat. “What does it matter now anyway? I’m seventeen. I don’t ever have to go back.” Then he looked around the room again “Where are the Dursley’s anyway? Are they okay?”

Severus was stunned yet again. The Dursleys had almost cheerfully admitted hitting and neglecting Harry. The boy himself asserted that he had had far worse beatings from them than the ones that had produced the bruises that they had all witnessed, and the awful thing was Severus now knew that the boy was not exaggerating in any way. Yet he still asked after their safety, this odious family to whom he owed nothing.

“Don’t change the subject, boy,” Severus hissed, noticing with a pang that Harry flinched at his last word. He calmed himself, “I am sorry, I did not mean to shout at you, Harry, but we have all been worried.”

Harry’s jaw dropped and he stared at Severus as if he had gone completely mad.

“Um, Professor Snape, has somebody hexed you or something? Because you are still calling me Harry and that sounded a lot like an apology to me. I mean, I know you helped me and everything back at Aunt Petunia’s house. Um, at least I think you did?” He peered at Severus for confirmation and when Severus nodded he continued, “So really, I should be saying thank you, but I don’t understand. I mean you hate me, don’t you? Why would you be worried?”

Severus felt ashamed. He had been haranguing the boy as usual. He had once again assumed that Harry had been ignoring his own safety when it was obvious now that Harry had no idea about the changes that his magic was about to undergo. He also seemed to have no expectation that he would receive anything other than hatred at his relatives’ house, and that their hatred would be expressed by his uncle’s fists and whatever kitchen implement his aunt could lay her hands on.

“We didn’t know, Harry.” Molly said, “None of us did. We would not have allowed you to go back to…to such treatment.”

Harry laughed bitterly. “Oh, please, Mrs Weasley,” he said, looking wryly amused, “Professor Dumbledore knew. Oh, not the details, I’m sure, but he knew how unhappy I was. You, Professor Snape, you saw my memories when you were teaching me….” He broke off for a moment, and swallowed hard, when he continued his voice was infinitely sad, “When I wouldn’t learn Occlumency.”

If it were possible he looked even sadder then when he continued.

“Didn’t you think it strange that I would happily go and live with a man whom I had only known for half an hour, Professor Lupin, just because he asked me?” And now he looked Molly Weasley in the eye. “You sent me food, Mrs Weasley, and you know that the twins got me out in second year when the Dursleys locked me in my room for the whole summer and starved me. That was hard, harder than a few bruises; I was really lonely and hungry that year. The bars from my window are still in your big shed.”

Both Molly and Arthur’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh Harry,” Molly said sorrowfully, “We truly didn’t know. They locked you in your room? We just thought that your cousin was on some sort of diet. I never knew where the bars came from.” Arthur interjected this time, “Fred and George said something,” he was commenting, “but I thought it was just a joke, I mean nobody would lock a child in a room and starv…” He looked at Harry then, a look of horror growing on his face, “By Merlin, they did, didn’t they?”

Everyone looked stunned at this comment, even Ron who had surely witnessed the event. Hermione was sobbing softly with her head on the Weasley boy’s shoulder.

“We didn’t realise Harry,” Ron said, “We thought it was an adventure, you know?”

But Harry had had enough.

“It doesn’t matter!” he said irritably. “It’s over now. I am never going back.” He was looking decidedly pale and wobbly again. This whole situation was obviously proving to be rather a trial and Severus felt another of those pangs of guilt that he was becoming accustomed to when dealing with the boy. “Are they okay, though?” Harry was saying, “Please tell me. No one got hurt when the Death Eaters came because of me, did they?”

“No, Harry, no one got hurt. Not even the Dursleys,” Severus said, getting to his feet, although he left the thought unsaid that the Dursleys deserved a whole world of hurt, in his opinion at least. “But you look completely exhausted right now. I am going to take you back to your bed. Molly will bring you some soup, and later, when you have slept, you and I, Harry are going to have a very long talk.”

It was a mark of how exhausted the boy must be feeling that he did not protest when Severus swept him into his arms and started towards the door.

He had not gone very far when it suddenly burst open and Ginny Weasley came running in.

“Mum, Mum, I just went to see Dean for a little bit and when I got back Harry was gone, he is missing Mum!” She stopped abruptly when she saw Severus. “Oh!” she said. Severus couldn’t help himself he grinned rather evilly.

“Ah Ginevra, I rather think you have some explaining to do.” he said. And with that he swept out of the room with a very puzzled Harry Potter held safely in his arms, followed closely by his perpetual shadow, Draco Malfoy.