Joe's Note: For those of you who wondered what happened to this story for the better part of two months, I updated on the last day of July before spending all of August in an event that had me writing a one-shot every day for thirty-one days, and then September brought a mix of college life and photo shoots that kept me busy. By the way, as we continue… not only is this a rewrite of a 2007 story of mine, but it's a fusion of two working files I had from back then. So if Tonks randomly pops in and out or you see something else that doesn't quite make sense? Drop me a review. It might be me not explaining something properly, or it might be me making a mistake as I fuse the two versions. And if you don't find any errors? Drop me a review anyway. Writers love reviews.
Dedications & Thanks: To Nicholas, Alexander, Howard, Alonsis2, Connor, MJ, Daniel, Christopher, Fablesrogue, Morgan, Janne, Eric, DireSquirrel, Joseph, Jason, mpop, RileyWestfall, bloodylord, Luke, Zachary, Marc, Ziryo, Elliot, Crusifikz70, Timothy, Leigh, Chris, George, Koby, Ken, Dimitria, William, Invernos, Paul, Pat, Joel, Kentucky Fried Dragon, Warren, Mitch, and Jess for sponsoring me on , and making it easier for me to spend more of my time writing.
June 23, 2006
Number Four Privet Drive
Little Whinging, Surrey, England, United Kingdom
Tugging another weed out of the ground, Harry grunted and dropped it onto an increasingly large pile. "You know, back when we were at the station? I'm pretty sure that I heard you tell Vernon I'd be too busy to do chores this summer…"
"I did. However, I made that statement before I saw the deplorable state of your aunt's flower beds." Illyria took a sip from the brightly colored drink in her hand, flicking the umbrella in it experimentally before turning her gaze toward Harry. "Just because the flowers were unlucky enough to have been planted at this house does not mean they deserve to be neglected."
Harry frowned at the explanation, looking from Illyria to the flowerbeds he'd been slaving over all evening and back. "So… if Aunt Petunia's flowers are that important to you, why am I the one doing the work?" The icy glare he received in reply made Harry cringe, but he pushed on anyway. "What? You're the floramouth here. Or whatever you want to call that power. You turned the Chamber of Secrets into a garden paradise in under a week. How hard would it be for you to turn a weed-infested bed of roses into something up to your standards?"
Holding up her drink - where she'd gotten it, Harry still had no idea - Illyria gestured to it with her free hand. "I am otherwise occupied at the moment. And until recently, Nymphadora was occupied with turning your bedroom into something worthy of my grandeur. That left you as the only one able to fulfill my desire."
From her spot on her own wooden lawn chair beside Illyria, Tonks saluted Harry with her own drink. Seriously, where were those coming from? Because all the manual labor was making him thirsty as all hell… "Besides, what better way to announce to the neighborhood that you're back, you're freaky, and that you've brought friends?"
"So you're only moonbathing because you want to freak out my relatives?" Harry looked up at the dark sky, then in the window at where his relatives were alternating nervous glances between the television and his motley little group. Not that it took much to disturb his relatives, he thought with a snort. And surely she could have come up with a way to do it that didn't involve manual labor on his part…
"I am moonbathing in part because your relatives find it disturbing, yes. My primary reason, though, is because I enjoy watching your reaction to my lack of attire." Pausing, Illyria slowly ran the fingers of her free hand along the pale skin of her drink-bearing arm. "It is gratifying to know that even if I am not the most attractive girl you know, you still find my form appealing enough to become aroused by it."
Blushing faintly at her words, Harry turned back to the weeds and viciously yanked the next one out. Note to self: he really needed to have that talk with Illyria about the future of their partnership and relationship. After all, he was only really paying attention to other girls at her insistence. If this was the thanks he was going to get for fulfilling her wishes, then he was seriously going to consider being more insubordinate in the future. Because the catsuit and the shared bed made it pretty impossible for him to ignore her femininity. Her sprawling out on a conjured wooden lawn chair in a red and black bikini was just patently unnecessary. Not to mention… "And what's Tonks's excuse?"
Tonks giggled a bit at that, and Harry looked back over just in time to see her stretch languidly. For some reason, she'd opted to remain in her borrowed form and had even transfigured her outfit to match Illyria's bikini. "Harry, Harry, Harry. You're going to be sharing a bed with us this summer. If just seeing us like this is blowing your mind, you're going to be in serious trouble later tonight…"
Wait, what? As their eyes met, Harry felt a tendril of thought dip into his mind for the briefest of moments and then Illyria demonstrated a mannerism that she'd definitely acquired from him, slowly raising one eyebrow. "I find it interesting that your mind immediately jumps to that particular conclusion. No, Nymphadora shall be joining us in your bed for entirely non-sexual reasons… although I confess it might be interesting to watch the two of you-"
"That's okay! Really!" Blushing darker, Harry looked from Illyria to not-quite-Illyria and back, and then it dawned on him. "Your twin thing?"
The Illyrias nodded just the slightest bit out of sync, and then the real Illyria reached out to pet the top of Tonks's head. Harry chuckled as the metamorphmagus peered upward curiously before shrugging and relaxing; it was nice to know that he wasn't alone in finding the God-King's mannerisms a bit odd. "We are supposed to be interchangeable and identical, but such a ruse would be difficult to maintain if we had drastically different nocturnal patterns. Since I have been informed that attempting to force her to emulate my behaviors would be… inadvisable… we compromised as we did this afternoon. I shall feign slumber each night so as to give her time to rest, and she shall take to slumbering in your bed because that is where I spend my nights."
"Oh. I figured that she could just apparate home from my room each night and then return in the morning… but if that's what you want, then I guess that's what we're doing." Harry looked down at the flowerbed and went back to weeding. Illyria, he could handle. They'd curled up while he slept several times since that night at the Ministry - and she was still physically in his bed on the nights when they didn't - and so the idea of sharing a bed with her was no problem for him by now. But to add another person… a girl, no, woman who had graduated Hogwarts the year before he even started? That would take a little adjusting to. "That wasn't quite what I had in mind when I suggested Tonks for this job…"
"I know. But after conversing at length with Nymphadora and considering the matter carefully, I have come to the conclusion that it is the best of all possible options. And just think of the reactions that you will receive when you tell Ron and your roommates that you spent the summer sleeping between two beautiful…" Illyria trailed off as she slowly set her glass down next to her chair, her eyes narrowing into icy slits as her other hand came up to wrap around the butterbeer cork necklace she wore. It and her radish earrings were the only 'real' items that remained in her wardrobe; as best Harry knew, everything else she wore was a product of… whatever magic she used to turn her catsuit into other things. Glamoury? Transfiguration? Harry wasn't entirely sure. Nor had he understood why she'd insisted on hanging onto Luna's odd jewelry, not until… "Death Eater attack. At the Rookery."
"How..?"
"Voldemort and Hermione Granger are not the only ones who are aware of the Protean Charm and its usefulness. Xenophilius Lovegood placed it and other charms on Luna's jewelry so that they could communicate when needed." Illyria rose to her feet, bikini fluidly reshaping itself into her trademark catsuit in the process. "They must be there because of the fact I possess Luna. There's no other explanation for it. We must go there. Now."
Harry nodded and pushed himself upright, groaning a bit as his knees protested. Bloody weeds. As he drew his wand from where he'd tucked it away in the back of his trouser's waistband - Moody's warning be damned - Harry realized that they were facing a rather large problem. Pulling out his wand, he suddenly realized a flaw in their plan. "How are we going to get to Ottery St. Catchpole? The Dursleys aren't on the Floo Network for obvious reasons, and I can't apparate yet. Portkey?"
Hopping up, Tonks grabbed the towel thrown over the back of her chair and wrapped it around her waist before stepping into the rainbow-laced combat boots that were waiting for. As she slipped back into her own form, she simultaneously transfigured the towel and her bikini into a t-shirt and jeans that fit her regular form. At Illyria's curious look, she shrugged helplessly. "I'd rather not make you look bad by trying and failing to imitate what you can do on a battlefield. And no, Harry. Portkeys are regulated by the Ministry. I don't even know how to make them. The only reason Dumbledore can throw them around the way he does is because… well, he's Dumbledore."
"At least neither of you suggested the Knight Bus. If there is a mode of transport less befitting of my stature, I cannot think of it." Stalking over to the outer wall of Number Four, Illyria slapped her hand against it and then inhaled deeply. Her actions were met with a loud cracking noise and the smell of ozone, and the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood up as it began raining motes of red energy. "I will have to scavenge the energy to construct new wards for our dwelling at some point tonight. The power of your headmaster's vaunted 'blood wards' is now mine to command, though, and I shall make good use of it." Illyria made her way back over to them, stopping between Tonks and Harry and grabbing each with one hand. "Brace yourselves."
For what? Before Harry could ask, the world around him abruptly tinted itself blue. There was the oddest sort of stretching sensation, and then he found himself shooting upward through the air. They climbed higher and higher, first through the clouds and then onward to where the sky bled from blue to black, before arcing and heading back down toward the earth. As they grew closer to their destination, Harry began to worry: not only were they not slowing down, but they were plummeting to the ground head-first. The latter solved itself when he found his body forcibly rotated a hundred and eighty degrees so he was upright once more, and then his feet hit the ground as his entire body was subjected to the same sort of crushing sensation as when he took a turn at too high a speed on his Firebolt. It didn't splatter itself across the ground, though, for which Harry was quite grateful.
And then the world returned to normal, and Harry was standing over two hundred kilometers west of where he'd been mere seconds ago. In front of him was what he assumed was the Lovegood homestead. As the name 'Rookery' suggested, it was shaped like a giant version of the chess piece, formed from black stone and standing a good forty feet or so tall. Through the ground floor's windows, Harry could see a flurry of spellfire… and then one spell in a very familiar shade of green that abruptly brought things to an end.
Unlike when he'd been affected by Voldemort, the rage that flooded Harry's mind as the Death Eaters began to stream out the front door was icy cold and pure. "Kill them." Illyria snarled as the last man out the door hurled a curse back over his shoulder, setting the house ablaze. "Kill them all."
Harry stood there frozen, watching as Illyria stalked toward the burning house. Could he really do it? Could he kill people simply because she wanted them gone and had told him to do so? And then it hit him… why the hell not? At the end of the day, while Dumbledore preached repentance and rehabilitation, Voldemort and his Death Eaters wanted to kill Harry, his friends, and anyone else who opposed their lunacy. Hell, they'd just killed an innocent man simply for being the one who fathered their newest enemy. What better way to protect the innocents of the wizarding world than to kill the Death Eaters before they could do even more harm? Kill more people? Destroy more families?
As he took a step forward, a hand wrapped around his bicep and pulled him to a stop. He looked back to find Tonks staring at him in terrified disbelief. "We can't just go around killing people for the fun of it, Harry! The Ministry will put you in Azkaban! Even aurors and hit wizards have rules they have to follow; bring in a dead body for no good reason and you can end up in a cell next to someone you helped put away. I don't know how you two got away with killing the Lestranges, but-"
"Because Azkaban can't hold her, and I'm the bloody fucking Chosen One." Shrugging Tonks off, Harry watched as the Death Eaters split into two groups: a small cluster bravely held their ground in the face of Illyria's advance, buying time for the rest as they broke off and ran for the ward line. As he took off running on a course that would allow him to intercept them, he pushed a thought in Illyria's direction and sighed in relief as her rage faded from his mind; fighting would be much easier with a clear head.
The truth was that Harry - at least in a legal sense - was nigh untouchable now. The first inkling had come almost immediately after hearing the prophecy in the headmaster's office, as he wrapped his mind around his true importance to the wizarding world. It had only been reinforced by his conversations with Illyria and his success during the 'contract negotiations' with Dumbledore. It was his 'destiny' to save them all from Voldemort, and he could hardly do that while sitting in a jail cell. Nor would the Ministry find it easy to sell the public on a renewed campaign against him as long as they thought they needed him… and as long as his only 'crimes' were doing things they approved of. Given their tendency to rape, torture, and murder? Harry was reasonably certain that the public would be in favor of him killing Death Eaters.
Torn from his thoughts by a brilliant flash of blue light, Harry watched as a glowing blue dome slowly unfurled, the edges of the bubble digging themselves into the dirt at the perimeter of the property. As the Death Eaters reached it, one after another slammed into the translucent barrier and stumbled back. Slowing to a casual trot before stopping completely, Harry found himself chuckling softly as he watched the men try everything they could think of to escape: banishing random objects of increasing size at the softly glowing shield, apparition, portkeys… one even went so far as to transfigure a fellow Death Eater into a squirrel to see if animals could pass through safely. Nothing worked. "Well. That'll make this easier."
"Who's there?" The Death Eaters turned to face him, one stopping long enough to restore his squirrelly fellow back to human form. "Release us now and we won't kill you like we killed old man Lovegood!"
Before Harry could respond - perhaps by pointing out that their decision to kill 'old man Lovegood' was what had landed them in this predicament - Tonks caught up with him, skidding to a stop and pulling a badge out of… somewhere. Harry wasn't quite sure how that worked, to be honest, given that her current outfit had been a rather skimpy bikini and a towel up until a few minutes ago. "Auror Tonks, Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I am arresting you all on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."
Rather than surrender their wands and come peacefully, the Death Eaters exchanged looks before raising their wands almost as one. The man who had led their efforts to try and breach the barrier stepped forward, eyeing Tonks curious. "Tonks eh? So that'd make you Lestrange and Malfoy's half-blood niece? Well then… the Dark Lord will reward us handsomely for our success here tonight. Maybe we can earn a bit extra for wiping out an embarrassment like you." With his wand already up and pointing at Tonks, all it took were two snarled worlds. "Avada Kedavra!"
His demonically-enhanced speed returned unbidden at that point, allowing Harry to tackle Tonks to the ground and then raise an earthen barrier with a flick of his wand before the Death Eater could even finish producing his spell. By the time the familiar burst of green magic was roaring through the space the metamorphmagus had been occupying, Harry had one hand fisted in the front of her shirt as he glared at her. "And this is why I think Illyria might be on to something! You want to stun them, and they want to kill you. They can revive each other all night long, but I can't bring you back from the dead." And maybe if he'd realized that at the Department of Mysteries and done more to take the Death Eaters permanently out of the fight, things would have turned out differently. Maybe Sirius would still be… no. Focus on the here and now. "I repeat. They. Are. Trying. To. Kill. You."
"Harry, I can't… it's murder." Tonks shook her head. "It's what separates us from them, according to Dumbledore. If we cross that line-"
Harry growled in frustration before casting a Sticking Charm on the back of Tonks's shirt and pressing her against the earth wall he'd created. "Fine. Then stay here where you won't accidentally get yourself killed." That made the odds eight against one, which weren't too much worse than eight against two… but Harry would have preferred a friendly wand by his side all the same. Oh well. Popping up over the top of the barrier, Harry jabbed his wand at the Death Eater who'd flung the Killing Curse at Tonks and unleashed a bolt of blue energy.
The Reductor Curse struck one Death Eater on the hip and detonated, the resulting concussive wave scattering the entire group even as Harry's target went down screaming and clutching at his ruined side. Given it took most wizards a few seconds to cast a successful Killing Curse - not everyone was constantly as full of hatred and homicidal intent as Voldemort or Bellatrix - Harry wasn't surprised when return fire came in the form of a stunner and then two other spells that neither he nor Illyria recognized. All three dissipated on the shield he quickly cast, though, so Harry put them out of his mind. What they could potentially do to him didn't matter if they couldn't hit him. The Death Eaters seemed to realize that as well, rallying around their fallen leader. "All together now. We need to shatter his shield, and then-"
Rather than give them time to gather their wits, Harry decided to press his assault. While it probably wasn't what Professor Flitwick had intended they use it for, the Seize and Pull Charm did a magnificent job of plucking the new leader right out of the middle of the group and pulling him through the air toward Harry. The tumbling body crossed the intervening distance in a matter of seconds, slamming headfirst into the barrier Harry had created. Head twisting awkwardly, the man's neck gave way with a loud snap and he dropped to the ground, unmoving. Just to be sure, Harry leaned over the top of the wall and unleashed a Blasting Curse into the body, detonating it and sending blood and chunks of flesh splattering across the grass.
As he ducked back down to plot his next move, it hit him. He'd just killed a man. Killed him and disfigured the remains, even. A combination of two spells Hermione taught him back in third year had turned a Death Eater into bloody pieces. Sweet Merlin. But even as he tried to process that, a little part of Harry whispered that he hadn't even broached the spells he'd learned to pass on to the DA this year… or Illyria's knowledge…
Phillip Parkinson was not the brightest man, or the bravest man. He'd signed away his only child to the Malfoys so that his family could be elevated a bit politically and financially by the marriage. If he was honest, though, Pansy was no prize - just like her mother - and so what was wrong with taking advantage of someone actually wanting the worthless cow? Might as well get some use out of her. Then, when Lucius had approached him with news of the Dark Lord's return, he'd joined up as a Death Eater for the same reason: the potential for power.
Now, he was starting to rethink that decision.
The woman standing in front of him wasn't familiar in the most literal sense, but he had a reasonably good idea of her identity based on the Dark Lord's description and where they currently were. "You have killed the shell's… Luna's father. Destroyed her home." Illyria slowly and deliberately drew her wand. "You will tell me why."
He may not have been the brightest man, but Parkinson was smart enough to realize when he was in serious trouble. He was still trapped under the Anti-Disapparition Jinx that Snape had cast to keep Xenophilius Lovegood from fleeing, and he wasn't strong enough to drop it so he could escape now. Or rather, he wasn't strong enough to dispel it faster than she could kill him. Raising his hands in surrender, he stepped back to put a little more room between them. Not that he had much to work with, given he was only a few yards away from the Lovegoods' burning house. "Well… it's rather obvious, innit?"
"I know that you are here because of my connection to this family." Kneeling down, Illyria looked skyward and then slammed her fists into the soil. A bolt of brilliant blue energy shot skyward, reaching up twenty feet into the air before arching out into a dome that slid down to seal the entire property in a giant bubble. "Surely you can be more specific, given that your continued existence depends on how satisfied I am with your answers?"
The importance of satisfying the creature in front of him quickly became apparent as Parkinson watched his fellows run into the shield she'd established, remaining stymied by the impassable barrier long enough for two of Illyria's cohorts to descend on them. Presumably Potter and… perhaps one of his little friends from the battle at the Ministry? Not that it particularly mattered who else was there given the problem standing directly in front of him. "Rookwood found your sarcophagus while the Death Eaters were setting a trap for Potter. Told Malfoy a few things, and Malfoy passed them on to the Dark Lord. That wasn't enough for him, though; he wanted to know more. So since there are at least two Lovegoods involved in your return, he sent us here to ask the third what he knew."
"And then we killed the filthy blood traitor when we were done!"
And while Parkinson was not the brightest man, he was smart enough to know that taunting an Old One with the death of someone important to them was a Very Bad Idea. The Death Eater who'd seen fit to brag about their deed - Parkinson didn't even remember the man's name, to be honest; nobody of import as best he knew - found that out for himself a moment later when Illyria unleashed a brilliant red bolt of lightning from the tip of her wand. Her target went down screaming, followed by Garrott and McQuillen as the lightning arced from one man to the next, forming a chain. Spinning in a tight circle, Parkinson's mind raced as he took in the tortured faces of his fellow Death Eaters, trying to figure out what to do. Write the others off as a necessary sacrifice, and try and escape while the demon was occupied with them? Attack her to try and disrupt her spell? Or maybe- "Sweet Merlin!"
Parkinson stumbled back and fell flat on his arse as McQuillen's body exploded into a fine red mist, followed by Garrot's and then finally the death of man Illyria had originally cursed. Rather than fall to the ground, though, the clouds of blood - and Merlin knew what else - chose to defy gravity and began to glow as they floated through the cool night air. They drifted over Parkinson's head, making their way over to Illyria as the Old One spread her arms wide. One after another, they settled onto her body until she was covered entirely, before slowly sinking into her skin and disappearing from sight. There was a brief pause, and then Parkinson's jaw dropped as all the blue parts of the demon - her eyes, the streaks in her hair, those odd and inhuman patches of skin - pulsed with an inner light before returning to normal. "Their magic, pitiful as it was in comparison to my grandeur, is now mine. For you, however, I have other plans."
Red light leapt from the tip of her wand, but Parkinson was granted darkness rather than pain.
Wizards could only survive being burned alive if they had the foresight to cast the Flame-Freezing Charm, Harry discovered. Or, failing that, if someone was smart enough to put out the fire consuming their friend quickly. Given that Death Eaters didn't tend to be too terribly smart… the simple Fire-Making Spell suddenly became a very lethal weapon. Thanks to his initial target flailing about and slamming into one of his fellows, Harry quickly had a four-on-one battle on his hands.
Dropping back down behind the barrier he'd created to protect them against the initial Killing Curse, Harry glanced over at Tonks. "You sure you don't want to make yourself useful? Because I can guarantee that Illyria's watching all this through my eyes right now, and that she isn't going to be amused with you when we get back to Privet Drive." There was the meaty sound of flesh impacting flesh, and Harry peeked back up over the top of his cover before amending that statement. "She doesn't seem to be too amused right now, either."
Perhaps that was a bit of an understatement. Not wanting to join Tonks in whatever punishment Illyria would inevitably hand out to those who weren't pulling their weight, though, Harry vaulted over the top of the earthen wall and moved to join Illyria as she pressed the attack. Despite his desire to help, though, he found his wand shifting from target to target fruitlessly, unable to launch a single spell as the Old One brought the remaining Death Eaters down with breathtaking savagery. Her fists were practically a blur even to his eyes, brutally beating each man into submission before finishing things with a last punch that caved her prey's skull in and then moving on to the next. As the final Death Eater's corpse collapsed to the ground like a puppet with the strings cut, Illyria surveyed the battlefield slowly, her eyes coming to rest on the severely injured but still breathing man who'd lost his hip to Harry's first spell. "You have unfinished business to attend to, Harry."
Making his way over to the Death Eater that Illyria was staring quite pointedly at, Harry frowned. 'Do I have to? Isn't this pretty much the definition of adding insult to injury? It's one thing when they're fighting back, but… well, look at him. And there's no way he's going to live through the night. Why do I have to-'
'Because you must finish what you start. And because I demand it. He took part in the murder of the shell's father. He must pay the price.'
Before Harry could reply, Illyria shoved an image into his head that brought him up short: Pettigrew receiving his silver hand from Voldemort after the latter's resurrection. And then everything became so much easier to justify, at least for Harry. Despite five years in the wizarding world and counting, his first instinct was to look at things from a muggle perspective more often than not. In the muggle world, an injury like the Death Eater's would be permanently debilitating. But in the wizarding world, if mainstream healing magic wasn't capable of undoing the damage, Voldemort himself was. Which meant the man could - and probably would - be right back out there with his fellows in short order, terrorizing in the Dark Lord's name. And so that meant Illyria was right: the man had to die. Sighing, Harry pointed his wand down at the fallen wizard. "I'd apologize for what's about to happen, but… it was your decisions that brought us here. So it's really your own fault if you think about it."
"Wait! Wait!" The Death Eater tried to jerk himself backward across the ground, only to scream in pain as the sudden movement aggravated his injury. Wide, terrified eyes stared up at Harry through the eyeholes of the man's mask as he clutched at his hip. "You can't do this. You're the good guy. You're supposed to stun us and take us in so we can be brought to justice."
Snorting, Harry jerked a thumb in the direction of the burning Rookery. "Yeah, because that's worked so bloody well for us so far." A new piece of knowledge smoothly inserted itself into his brain courtesy of Illyria, and he looked over at her before nodding. It would do; while a bit more vicious than anything he'd cast before in his life, it was the cleanest and simplest death he could offer this man short of the Killing Curse itself. "Caedo!" A white crescent of energy shot from the tip of his wand, slicing the man's throat open from ear to ear. The Death Eater brought his hands up to clutch at his neck, gasping desperately as blood spurted out around his fingers… but all too soon, he was relieved of what lifeblood remained inside him and went limp on the grass.
Illyria made her way over to Harry, eyeing his second intentional kill - he wasn't counting the two men who'd burn to death, since they'd only died due to their fellows' inaction - for a few seconds before nodding in satisfaction. Then she stomped on the man's head, crushing it beneath her deceptively dainty foot. "Very impressive, Harry, especially in comparison to your showing at the Ministry of Magic. Unfortunately, your newfound competence seems to have come at the expense of Nymphadora's." She shot a glare over at the earthen wall that Tonks was still hiding behind… probably because he'd stuck her to it. Oops. He should probably go take care of- "I will retrieve Nymphadora after I finish with one other task." Or not. Okay. "As a reward, I will entrust you with the secret of our arrival. Using it, you will be responsible for returning us safely to your relative's abode."
"How?" Harry cringed as Illyria shot him the sort of look Hermione usually reserved for Ron. "I meant that you had to borrow the power of the wards to use that spell. There's no way that I can-" Trailing off as Illyria took his hands in hers, Harry sucked in a breath as he felt her magic flow up his limbs and into his body, making his veins glow blue beneath his skin and pulse with each beat of his heart. Then something slid into place in his mind and… he could see everything. At least when it came to the Rookery and Number Four Privet Drive; he was by no means omniscient. But he was aware of every spark and ember created by the blazing remains of Luna's childhood home, of every individual weed in the pile he'd been creating when they had left his relatives' house to come here, of the red squirrel making its way across his uncle's lawn as it approached said pile…
…and of Illyria casting a rather unexpected spell on the unconscious form of Phillip Parkinson. Harry raised an eyebrow as he looked over at where she was crouched down beside the man's body. What in the world was she hoping to achieve with that..?
