Harry woke with a heightened awareness. One moment he was being dragged under, the next he was staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. There was a large crack running across the plaster, a cool wind across the side of his face and a suspicious lack of pain.

A brush of his hand confirmed his leg was not wounded but his scar had been bleeding profusely. His forehead was hot, almost feverish, but he felt fine; there wasn't even a headache. His thoughts were quiet, sharp.

He turned his head to find the wall demolished. Support beams stuck out the sides of the drywall. The ruins were scattered across the floor, leaving a fine white dust on everything with a sprinkle of broken glass. Link knelt at one side, looking out over the town. Level Ones floated in the sky as black forms flitted between them.

The sound of his sitting up drew Link's attention. "Potter? You're awake?"

"I sure hope so," Harry said, coughing as his movement threw up a cloud of the white dust. "How long…?"

"Not too long," Link said. "An hour at the most. We feared you wouldn't wake. Does your scar often bleed like that?"

"I wouldn't say often." He wiped it with his sleeve, smearing it. It was half dry and barely trickling now. "But it's not the first time. The townspeople… Did they get out?"

"I cannot say for certain. I extended a warning, but I don't believe they took me seriously until the bullets started. Then members of some kind of military force starting popping in – and I mean that most literally – but even Kanda's most vulgar threats did not dissuade them from staying."

It couldn't be anything but Aurors, and that meant they were likely not under Voldemort's regime. "Bloody hell, they don't stand a chance!"

Harry stood and moved to the giant hole just in time to see a red spell shoot up and bounce off an akuma's hide. The spell nearly collided with one of the Exorcists, forcing them to dodge out of the way and ruin their own attack. Drawn by the light, the akuma let loose bullets towards where it had come from. He heard shouting, then silence.

"It would be best to remain here, out of the way," Link said, watching the same scene. "We did what we could. What the wizards do is their own affair. We must let the Exorcists do their jobs, and it is also probably best if you are not seen."

"You're fine with just sitting here and watching? You might not be an Exorcist, but that doesn't mean there's nothing you can do!" Harry exclaimed.

"There are different kinds of fighting, Potter. Ours is not on the front lines."

"People can be stupid, but that doesn't mean we should just let them die," he said. "If you want to stay here, then fine. But I won't."

He leapt from the hole. He might not be as skilled a warrior as the Exorcists, but he was very good at falling; he tucked and rolled back to his feet. Legs aching from the jarring landing, he reached back to his pouch and undid the zipper just enough that he could touch the cloak if he needed to.

There was a scream; he didn't think about it. He took off towards it as Link yelled and chased after him.

He was sure Link could have caught him if he'd wanted. Harry's running had improved greatly, but he'd seen Link's movements – he knew the other was trained, even if Harry had never seen him in action.

The streets were ruined, the buildings damaged. He dodged around rubble and collapsed walls. He almost couldn't recognize the town for the one he'd arrived in.

Turning the corner, he spotted them. A Level One floated between Harry and a small group of terrified wizards as it aimed its barrels.

He didn't so much as hesitate. He kept running and twisted, sliding forward and under the akuma. With a twist of his wrist, his wand was in his hand even as he came up the other side and dug his heels into the ground so that the momentum threw him to his feet.

He turned, threw up his wand, and shouted, "Protego!"

Light filled his vision. For a moment there was no sound, no feeling, as if he were just floating in a void of white.

Then it all exploded and he was flung backwards, slamming into a wall.

Dots of light still colored his vision even as his ears rung and his breath struggled to come back. He put his wand in the air and shot off another spell – a golden light flew straight up into the sky and exploded into golden sparkles and thin missiles.

He might have only been lucky that one of the Exorcists were nearby, but Lavi came flying down from one of the rooftops. He landed on the akuma hard enough that its round body slammed against the street, then jumped and destroyed it with a single swing of his hammer.

"You look like you need a hand," Lavi said with a small grin. "It wasn't your most graceful rescue, but we all start somewhere."

Stuck in the small crater he'd made in the wall, Harry gratefully took the hand held out to him. "I've never been called graceful anyway," he said.

The wall half-collapsed when he pulled out of it. He dusted his jacket and hair and repaired his cracked glasses with a muttered spell.

"Hey, Bastion!" Someone shouted. "What's wrong with you?! Bloody hell, what is that?!"

Harry glanced over to see the wizards he'd rescued huddled around one man. Black stars had started to spread across his face.

Lavi grimly patted his shoulder. "Good luck."

He made a motioned towards a stiff Link standing nearby before leaping away. Harry took a deep breath and approached the group. One person was preforming medical diagnosis spells, but was growing increasingly panicked.

"There's nothing you can do for him," Harry said, standing over their huddled forms. They jumped, staring up at him in clear distrust. Several wands were leveled his way, but he held his hands up. "What he's been infected with – there's no cure. You've got to get out of here before more of you get hurt."

There were explosions from far off. He hoped there weren't more groups like this one.

"There's got to be something we can do!" said one man, small and shaken. But the black stars spread, covering every available inch of skin, and the infected man turned to dust.

For a moment, there was only disbelieving silence.

"These creatures are called akuma," Harry said as they stared at the lump of ash. "Their bullets carry a poison that does this. If it so much as scratches you, you're done for. There's nothing you can do. So, you see, it's dangerous to be here."

The shaken man began to cry. "Who's going to tell his family? He's got another kid on the way…"

But the biggest of them stood and came toe-to-toe with Harry. "You know what these are? How do you kill them?"

Harry had gone against something far more terrifying recently. He wasn't intimidated. "You can't," he said.

"Your friends are doing it," the man snapped, jerking his head towards one of the flitting shadows. "Freaks."

"I said you can't, there's a difference," Harry said, surprised by his own sudden anger. "You want a whole debriefing right now? There isn't time. Please leave before you die for no reason. You're only in the way here."

"Excuse me?!" The man's eyes widened. "We're in the way?!"

"Wait – wait, I know that face," said another. "You're Harry Potter!"

Their faces ranged from shock and disbelief to anger to hope. Harry nodded. If his fame might help them trust him, he'd use it.

"Gor blimey!" they exclaimed, tears in the corner of his eyes. They practically flung themselves at Harry, clinging to his jacket. "Nobody knew – there were so many rumors you were dead – people have started to give up hope!"

Harry awkwardly patted their shoulder. "I'm still alive. I think you can understand why I've been hiding from the public."

They gave a small, watery smile. "But… you're still fighting? You're still trying to bring him down?"

"Just because you don't see me, doesn't mean I'm not around," he said. "I'm still fighting; you can too, but you can't do that if you're dead. Do you get it?"

A sudden flash of light startled him. He jerked, nearly punching of the men in the face. He lowered his camera with a satisfied smile, but the burly one shoved him hard enough he stumbled and almost fell.

"What're you still doing here?!" he said, raising a hand threateningly. The cameraman looked gleeful even with broken glasses and covered in drywall. "We told you to leave, Safarri! This is no place for a novice reporter like you!"

"This is the perfect place for me to be! Think of it – I, the only one with coverage of this event! And Harry Potter himself!" Safarri held out of a hand towards Harry. "The name is Simm Safarri – Simm, if you like. Now, tell us what's been going on. Tell us more about these creatures. What have you been doing to combat them?"

Another explosion came from not two streets away. Harry scowled impatiently, ignoring the hand. "I told you there's no time – can't you see what'd going on around you?"

But then he thought; If Safarri was a reporter, maybe he could use this to his advantage. If the wizarding world was still mostly ignorant about the akuma, they'd keep sending Aurors and wouldn't be able to handle these emergencies properly.

And he could use it against Voldemort.

Still scowling, he waved for them to follow. He crept down the street until he found a mostly-intact post office. The inside was in complete disarray, but it was out of sight and away from the fighting.

Link leaned against a counter and crossed his arms.

Harry quickly learned their names. The large, burly one was Boda Kadsadra. The thin, polite man was Vila Dedsromm, and the small, panicked one seemed too awestruck to give his name.

He stood in front of them and held his hands up. He could feel Safarri hanging onto his every word, so he tried to choose them carefully. "Listen. These creatures – akuma – they can't be hurt by spells, but protective ones still seem effective. You would be best concentrating your efforts during times like these to evacuation and protection. You cannot kill them."

"You said that before," Safarri said. "But there obviously is a way. Why not explain that instead?"

"Because it wouldn't make a difference; you still wouldn't be able to do it. It's simply beyond your ability," Harry said. "They can disguise themselves as people. Someone is creating them – they come to you when you're grieving and offer to bring back your loved ones, but it's a lie. If that happens, you must say no."

"Bringing back the dead is impossible," Boda said with a snort. "Everyone knows that, Potter."

"You do stupid things when you're dealing with loss," Harry said. "You might be tempted to accept anyway. 'It's probably impossible, but what if…?' Don't do it."

The Aurors looked to each other uncertainly. Link watched, silent so far, but there was a warning look on his face. Harry continued. "We're fighting. Know that. But when you come in, you become a problem. Don't try to fight them."

"Do you mean you and the Order of the Phoenix?" Safarri leaned forward eagerly. "Even though Dumbledore is dead now?"

Harry didn't know how he knew about the Order, but it didn't matter. "The Order is fighting," he said, certain that was true even though they hadn't been in contact. "But they aren't the only ones fighting. I promise you."

"You sound like you aren't together. Has something happened? Why wouldn't the Boy-Who-Lived be fighting with the main resistance against You-Know-Who?"

"Because sometimes the fight carries us other places," he said. "I might not be with them right now, but we're on the same side. If you want to help, take the fight to the Ministry. Voldemort is behind the Minister, directing his every move. It's not safe anymore."

"But-"

"He's right," said Vila. "And you heard him. We're in the way here. There's been no reinforcements; there probably won't be any. We need to return and pass on the information."

Harry nodded. "Be careful what you say and who you say it to."

One of the windows that were still partly intact shattered with a sudden tremble. Boda hit a counter with his fist. "Just don't die, you hear me?"

"Do you have any messages?" Safarri said. "To any allies, friends?"

Harry thought. He had a lot of things he wanted to say. He missed his friends. He wanted to talk to everyone again, to make sure they were alright. He wanted them to know he was doing the best he could. But in the end, he shook his head. "It's too dangerous. Just… just know that even though things seem bad, it's not over."

The Aurors bid Harry goodbye. There wasn't much more to say. When they were gone, Link idly said, "They hold you in high regard."

"Didn't you read my file?" Harry smiled tiredly. "I didn't do anything. Everyone else did. I just reaped the fame, I guess."

"You're a public figure," Link said. "But it's very easy to lay blame at such a person's feet. It seems they have much more faith than that – and I suppose I could see why."

"Could you? At least that makes one of us."

"You're still fighting, despite the odds." Link nodded decisively. "You have yet to fall victim to many of the pitfalls that come with such heavy responsibility. It almost reminds me of Walker."

Coming from Link, Harry couldn't think of a compliment that would have meant more.

He kept an eye out for more survivors, but not even shouting reached his ears. He ran through several streets before he saw a tall building who was partially collapsed to the side. He used the fire escape to climb as far as he could, then stood in the ruined wall.

He had a good view of the town. The Exorcists were rapidly decreasing the akuma – he could see Level Twos, at least, had started to appear.

It took a great deal of concentration and split-second thinking, but Harry began firing off shields. He softened landings, blocked bullets, distracted akuma with lights and sounds.

He hoped he was useful. The Exorcists moved so fast it was hard to keep up, but he would be happy even if he only prevented one wound.

He was so caught up with it that he never heard anyone approach. He'd left Link to be a lookout – he hadn't expected anyone to appear.

But then movement flashed and an arm was sticking out of his chest.

He felt no pain. His cloths didn't rumple. He would have thought it was nothing more than an illusion if he couldn't feel someone right behind him. Warm breath hit his ear.

"You're making too much fuss, boy. I think it's time you stop."

The hand twisted, making a cupping motion, and violently pulled back.

Harry felt a pain in his chest and reacted.