It was a cold August evening. When you look at that sentence, you rather get a feeling those words don't belong together. They don't make sense together. Some things in life fit together like puzzle pieces, like they know exactly where their place in the world is. Some things in life, well, the best way to describe it, is they don't. They don't have a place in the giant mishmash of machinery the world is. This is how Miss Eileen Potter, of 11 Spinner's End, Cokesworth, often felt like. She didn't belong.
On that particular day, it really was a cold August evening, and things didn't feel quite right. The wind that usually blew in from the dirty river banks and made puddles along the river banks – it usually made her hair stand up and made her feel that rushing feeling, like she was the wind. That wasn't present today, and the puddles had faded away until there was nothing but asphalt and a dark day.
She crouched down in the dark alleys of Spinner's End. Spinner's End wasn't just known for its poverty. It was a dead-end in life for most people. But there were crooks and thieves in the streets. And Eileen knew each and every one of them – and how to manipulate them. Her mother had given her a few coins for bread that morning. Along with strict instructions to not go stealing in the alleys, she knew how horrible a reputation she had been given by having a daughter as a thief. A strong pang of guilt seized her. She didn't really want to steal, not really, and disappointing her mother was one of the few things she did that she hated. But they had to get along.
'Here's one,' Eileen hissed, as a rich-looking boy came drawling into the alley. He had straw-colored hair neatly combed into the latest hairstyle, a crisp white shirt with blue jeans, and nice black leather shoes. She could see a dollar poking out of his shoe. She cleared her throat.
"Oi!" the boy shouted when he saw her, covered in ash and looking the exact opposite of himself, in his clean white outfit. "I say, I've come down here every morning and I've never seen the likes of you. Shouldn't you go home and wash up? I've got a little money for soap if you like."
"I don't need your help." She growled. She still eyed the money, so the boy held out his hand. "Take it." She pushed it away. "Really, take it."
She took it and started to get up. "By the way." The boy's voice called again. Reluctantly, Eileen turned around. "What's your name?" The boy looked at her, and smiled. "Is it a secret?"
"No." Eileen was flustered and a bit angry. "It's Eileen. Eileen Potter."
The boy gasped. "What?" Eileen said, crossly. "What's your name, then?"
"Mine's Seamus Finnigan." Seamus said, still gaping.
Then he said it. "But are you the sister of Harry Potter?"
Eileen scowled. Just when she had met a nice enough person, the troubles had begun. "Why do you care?" she asked crossly and stomped away.
"No. Wait!" Seamus called. But Eileen didn't look back.
"Mum?" Eileen called, loudly. She dried her shoes, carefully, on the doormat and sat down on the bottom step of the stairs. "A moment, Eileen!" her mother called back. It took a few minutes for her mother to arrive, and her mother's red hair was windswept, as though she'd been working all morning. She was pretty beautiful, inside and out. "Your brother's inside the kitchen, eating his breakfast. You can join him if you like."
"In a bit." Eileen answered.
"Mum, stop." Eileen stopped her as they were walking through the hallway. "Yes?" her mother answered, biting her tongue. Eileen's questions had turned to be personal these days, and most of her questions had answers Lily wanted to keep to herself. "Why is Harry famous, and why am I.. not?" In the last few months, the question had been asked countless times and Lily couldn't bring herself to answer it correctly. "I don't know, Eileen, for the last time."
"Yeah. Right. Okay. Whatever." Eileen tossed her head over her shoulder, hiding her hurt. "I met a boy." Eileen muttered, not looking back.
"Wait – what?" Lily was on her on an instant. "You – met – a – boy?"
"Yeah.. so what, Mum?" Eileen grumbled. She wasn't really in a mood to talk, but Lily took no notice.
"What's his name?" Lily's eyes were bright. "What's whose name?" Eileen raised her eyebrows. "Eileen. You know who I'm talking about."
"Noman Nobody." Eileen sighed. "You got that from the Odyssey, didn't you?" Lily smiled. That was probably one of the few things Eileen had gotten from her father – trickery. Sarcasm. Lily loved her more for it.
"Yeah… and anyway, his name's Seamus Finnigan. I'm pretty sure he's in the rich side of town. You know. Where you said Dad used to live."
Lily suddenly grew quiet. "I.. see." Eileen's description surprised her – Eileen rarely ever talked about her father. It was a sore subject for her. Especially since she hated her adoptive father, Severus.
"God, I'm really starving right now for some breakfast." Eileen said, making a point.
"Oh, yes, darling," Lily guided Eileen toward the dining room, all while thinking about Eileen's words. Especially the ones about James – that had meant a lot to her.
She saw Harry already in the dining room, alone in the presence of Severus, who was pretty much the opposite of friendly to his adoptive son. He was poking at his pancakes, but brightened when Lily and Eileen showed up. "Hey!" Harry said, obviously relieved to have some company. Severus grunted, but smiled the best he could.
Eileen set her grey scarf on her dining room chair. It was basically falling apart, so she had to perch very delicately on the poor chair. "Hi. Any mail?" Eileen asked of Harry, who then scrummaged in his shoulder bag. "Yeah."
"A letter from one of 'Dad's' friends.." Harry grimaced noticeably when he said the word 'Dad.' "A lotion from a company for Mum." This was said affectionately as Harry held Lily's hand. "And a letter from some place called Hogwarts for us, Eileen, it's addressed to Mr. Harry Potter and Miss Eileen Potter!"
Lily's and Severus' spoons and forks were dropped onto the floor, as they rose from the table, their faces very pale.