An Interference of Portraits

Green Eggs and Ham

Beyond the sofa buying expedition with Luna and Neville's daily dance lessons, I didn't see anyone for a few days and I appreciated the quiet as I lost myself in the sorting out the dining room between dealing with the odd Owl from the Ministry.

Perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised that my peace and quiet wouldn't last and it wasn't long before I received an Owl from Draco saying he was visiting the St Eulalia Orphanage on Friday because the children had an inset day from their local school and they always appreciated the extra help on those days. Would I like to join him?

I wasn't going to refuse.

It was a warm July day and it was funny how natural it felt to be dressing that morning in my lightweight combats, a fitted t-shirt, and trainers, much as I'd worn when I was travelling, especially out in Kathmandu, where I'd ended up staying for far longer than anticipated and working for a French NGO out there. It was the only time I'm stopped for any length of time in a city but I'd felt so welcome and so anonymous on my journey into the Himalayas that I couldn't help being drawn in. It was also because my work out there had felt worthwhile and finally gave me a sense of purpose after the war. As a result, that day, it seemed auspicious that it was the right thing to be wearing. Plus, the t-shirt was one of my favourites. One of my travelling companions called Johan had given it to me as a leaving present; it was stone blue and said 'I'm not short, I'm fun sized' across the chest. He said it amused him. That's because Johan was 6'4" to my lanky 5'9". Everyone was short according to Johan.

The St Eulalia Orphanage in Wandsworth, South London, specialised in the 'special problem' of the upbringing, re-socialising, and education of orphaned, neglected, or abandoned Muggleborn children. As we stepped through the doors, I couldn't help being drawn back to Albus Dumbledore's memory that he'd shown me of Tom Riddle. I wondered briefly if it were the same place but remembered otherwise. Riddle's place didn't cater for children with magical abilities. And this was a completely different atmosphere: a home rather than an institution.

From the outside, it just looked like a typical Georgian terraced-house, similar to Grimmauld Place but with less floors and a much larger floorplan because it was double-fronted. The outside had clean white stuccoed walls with neat road-side iron railings and pretty, well-tended window boxes. The only clue that the house was slightly different to it's neighbours was the higher-than-usual security to actually get into the building to safeguard the residents.

Once inside, the house was modern and accommodating and bright. The ground floor had a reception area, a comfortable lounge, a kitchen and dining area, and two small classrooms. The kitchen was a new extension and led out into a pretty garden that had a vegetable patch as well as a good lawn and some swings and a slide. I couldn't help being impressed by what I saw with the whole facility. There was something lively and happy about the home, despite the kids' circumstances as they waited for fostering or their new home. The orphanage was run by carefully checked and monitored support workers. The environment was clean, well provisioned, and loving. It was easy to see the bond between key workers and children who were encouraged to help garden or in the kitchen in such a nurturing way that I couldn't help comparing it with my own upbringing.

I was simply introduced as 'Harry' to the children, though the staff clearly knew who I was. There were only eight children in residence, though the home could take more. In many ways, it was a relief it was so few, in other ways, it was more heart breaking because I wanted to give them all something as I quickly learnt their names and something of their characters during the morning we spent together. It was, I could tell immediately, a great care facility, and in stark contrast to some of my experiences in Kathmandu.

As we took a break before lunch, I enjoyed sitting in the sunshine on a bench in the garden reading a selection of books with a young girl of about seven called Gwendolyn.