"Those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly." For Iris Potter, these words defined her whole life. Born with a natural talent for Legilim...
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Iris lay awake in her bed, unmoving, staring up at the ceiling of the small bedroom she shared with Harry. It was the middle of the night and everyone in the house was asleep beside her. Something had been nagging the Potter girl in the back of her head all night and she just couldn't fall asleep.
Finally, Iris moved, raising one of her hands above her face and taking in a deep breath.
Then quietly, so as not to wake Harry who was sleeping in his bed on just the other side of the small room, she whispered, "Lumos." And snapped her fingers together.
Iris gasped, sitting up straight, watching her palm light up with a glowing brightness, like what she saw when she used her wand to do the charm.
She had asked the Hogwarts librarian, Madam Pince, for any books on wandless magic before they had gone home for the summer and had been reading them in the dead of night, trying to figure out how to do it.
Iris wasn't quite sure why she decided to attempt to teach herself wandless magic, but she had been trying all Summer to get even a spark of magic to ignite and now it finally happened. Iris huffed a quiet laugh, staring at the light in awe.
A thump then sounded from the other side of the room and Iris immediately closed her hand into a fist, snuffing out the light. Another shuffling noise sounded from the bed next to Iris', and she promptly pulled the chain on the lamp sitting on the nightstand next to her bed, illuminating the room with a dim glow.
The brunette looked over toward where she heard the sound and saw Harry rolling around fitfully in his sleep. Iris stood up, concerned, and made her way over to his bed watching her twin in the dim light of the lamp.
She put the back of her hand to his forehead. He was burning up, and she noticed the area around his scar, identical to her own, was red and looked agitated.
Forehead wrinkling with concern, Iris bent over and poked him a few times.
"Harry," she whispered, "Wake up."
He didn't wake, but his hands shot up to his face to press against his scar, which seemed to be hurting him.
Iris' lips pursed, watching her brother with worry as she shook him, trying to get him to wake up.
"Come on Harry, wake up!"
Suddenly, Harry's eyes snapped wide open and Iris jumped, clutching her chest in shock.
Harry lay flat on his back, breathing hard as though he had been running. Iris let out a sigh of relief.
He sat up, one hand still on his scar, the other hand reaching out in the dim lamp-light for his glasses, which were on the bedside table.
Iris waited silently as she perched on the edge of his bed, observing him carefully.
Harry ran his fingers over the scar again. It looked like it was putting him in pain. He turned to look at Iris. She was still watching him with her eyes glazed over in curiosity as she looked at the boy in front of her. A skinny boy of fourteen looked back at her, his bright green eyes puzzled under his untidy black hair.
