Chapter Text
At the beginning of a very normal street in a very normal town in northern Surrey, just one house down from the corner, stood a home like any other. Its hedges were trimmed in exactly the same way as their neighbors’, the car in the driveway even matched in color with the neighbors across the street. And the occupants of said house were spending an almost inordinate amount of time pretending that they were just like their neighbors—if only slightly higher class, of course—when in reality, that couldn’t be further from the truth.
The normally quiet neighborhood of Privet Drive was pierced by loud shouts, shrill yelling—both male and female—of at least two, if not three people arguing loudly, disturbing the nighttime peace that its residents usually enjoyed. So loudly in fact, that it caused Mrs. Olsen from next door to stick her head out of her window with a slightly deeper than normal frown of disdain. The silhouette of a black cat dashed down the street between the last raindrops of yet another British summer downpour, causing the lights to flicker in its wake, until it came to a rest just in front of the house which was the cause of the ruckus. Upon further inspection, it wasn’t a cat at all. It was simply a shadow, empty blackness given form, although in the dim orange flicker of the streetlamps, one might be able to forgive the untrained eye such a mistake.
The shadow made its way through the hedges, and up the brick walls of No. 4, until it froze part-way as the door of the house was pulled open from the inside. A tall man with long, wavy black hair and an neatly-trimmed beard stepped through. He was wearing silky, well-tailored dark robes, faintly ornate silver and gold at the edges as well as around his neck, and was holding a long black wand. A frown marred his face as he slammed the door behind him.
He stood for a moment, seemingly pondering, until he spoke in a low and gravelly voice, “It seems that Dumbledore has a lot of explaining to do.”
The man suddenly distorted, collapsed in on himself in a spinning blur, and within a second, he was gone with a loud crack, leaving behind just a faint rustle of the hedges and an angry shout from one of the neighbors across the street.
The shadow was still there, hesitating, frozen in place on the outside of the house. Its form was vaguely humanoid, but still very much not. Large long limbs bent at odd angles, where there was supposed to be a head there was more of a face, and it seemed to be shivering, almost glitching. After several seconds, it slowly began moving again, creeping closer to the window, until it reached out its dark disjointed tendrils in jerky motions, and slipped inside through the narrow seam in the frame.
Inside, there was a room that was noticeably less well-kept than the rest of the house. There were two beds, two trunks, two cages. A chaotic mix of books and other utensils lay strewn out of the trunk and scattered across the room. Yet one bed sat unused, one cage just as vacant, and most importantly, the room was otherwise entirely bereft of its occupants. That was, until now.
The darkness pooled in the corner of the room, gathering substance from the ambient gloom. The bedside lamp began to flicker as the shadows began to move, became more vivid, darker, deeper. Almost less like a shadow, and more like an infinite abyss that would entrap anything foolish enough to enter, and never let go. The lamp gave one final defeated glimmer, until it burnt out for good, plunging the room into almost perfect darkness, save for the faint orange glow of the streetlights from outside.
A shimmering outline materialized against the abyss, and slowly, a silhouette began to emerge, taking short and heavy steps as it re-entered the material plane. In the soft mix of moonlight and streetlamps, the silhouette grew more pronounced, slowly gained presence, shape, and… color.
It resolved into the shape of a girl. Her shoulder-length dark hair was tangled and messy, framing vacant, bright green eyes on a face devoid of any emotion, marred only by a haunted expression. She was wearing a worn-out dark T-shirt and gray shorts that she had gradually grown into, and was completely drenched in water from head to toe. The state of her attire had nothing to do with the rain, however.
The girl just stood there, as the shadows slowly ebbed away, retreating into corners far; whether to linger, or disappear, only she knew. The only sound in the room was the constant dripping of water onto the old wooden floorboards. Slowly, she raised a hand, and in her open palm, light materialized. A fist-sized orb of pure color lit up, bathing the room in all the colors of the rainbow, each color shining in different directions many times over, as they kept moving in a kaleidoscopic pattern of pure chaos given order.
The girl was staring into the orb blankly—as if contemplating—while the light danced across her eyes. Finally, she gave a flick of the hand, causing the orb to start floating. She took one lethargic step, then another, until she collapsed on the one bed that wasn’t standing in its immaculate, unused state.
Iris Potter wasn’t crying. Even though she admittedly had used to cry a lot growing up here; she had left that person behind when she had joined the magical world, left this home for a magical castle to learn magic. Real magic.
But even after all this time, especially now, she wished for nothing more than to be able to cry one final time. To find some form of closure, even if it was in something as simple as tears. Her gaze drifted across the room to the bed sitting opposite her. Next to it, in the one cage that wasn’t empty, sat a beautiful snowy owl, who gave a silent whimper.
“Want me to let you out, Hedwig?”
A soft hoot came in reply. Iris got up, opened the cage, followed by the window. Hedwig jumped out, but instead of taking off into the night, landed next to her and nibbled at her hand for a moment, before giving a questioning chirp.
“I didn’t find him,” Iris whispered, her gaze fixed on the floor.
This resulted in a saddened trill. Iris looked up and met the bird’s yellow gaze, until she finally spoke up, her mouth as dry as a desert. “I’m sorry.”
Harry’s owl had long since caught on that something was wrong; if only after Iris had tried to find him by sending Hedwig with a letter addressed to him, only for the bird to return back to her after a few confused circles around the neighborhood. After one final soft hoot, and another affectionate peck at her fingers, Hedwig took flight and left through the open window.
Her eyes rested on the second cage for a moment, which she still hadn’t gotten rid of after over a year. Maybe there was some part of her hoping that she would still return to her, although the logical part of her mind mostly screamed in terror at the possibility. Those purple eyes still haunted her dreams to this day.
Feeling herself still dripping all over the floor, she brought up her wand, and lit up the tip in the bright orange glow. Iris had never been able to do spells the regular way. “Chorís ygró.” The mumbled incantation caused the light to drain out of her wand and assemble into a spell. With a soft, orange pulse, the water seemed to evaporate from her clothing, but it was far from perfect. Instead of drenched to the bone, her clothes were now simply a damp mess. Damn. She’d always had issues with the spells from that book.
She turned back around and her eyes came to rest on the small stack of letters sitting on their table. She had ignored all of them as they had arrived, one after the other, only glancing across their contents. It wasn’t hard to guess what they would be about. All of Harry’s friends were now suddenly writing her. All of them, hoping she would know anything more than they did. Iris hadn’t replied. She hadn’t wanted to get their hopes up by sending a reply only to have it contain no news one way or another. Now, she kind of wished she had replied to them before.
Next to it lay the Daily Prophet, depicting Gilderoy Lockhart’s final moment in all of its gruesome detail, just as he was swallowed up by the Lethifold in the middle of Diagon Alley.
Everything had gone wrong. Everything had always gone wrong, as soon as she had gotten involved.
The second half of the page held yet another article speculating on the whereabouts of the Boy-Who-Lived. The general consensus seemed to be that it was either Dumbledore who was to blame, or Dumbledore’s absence instead.
Aimlessly, her hand swiped one of the letters from the desk, flicked it open with a flash of yellow light, and began to read.
Hey, Iris,
I wasn’t sure what to write, Merlin I’m still making it up as I go, It’s just… You know. Messed up. I know, you’re the last person I’d need to tell that. Are you doing okay? I… we’re all worried. Mum keeps asking if I’ve heard anything, keeps asking Ginny if she heard anything, Ginny keeps asking me, even Fred and George…
Have you heard anything about Harry? I know he’d probably write as soon as he could, and you’re probably busy looking for him on your own, despite what McGonagall said, it’s just,
Sorry. I- Please write back? I’m not just worried about Harry, you know? We’re friends too, aren’t we? If you don’t write back, I’m going to have to send you cauldron cakes until you do.
Hope you’re doing okay, and that you’ll find time to write soon.
Ron
The letter slipped through Iris’ slackened grip, and dropped to the ground. She stared at the pen for a moment, but then collapsed back onto the bed instead, only further staining the sheets. Said cauldron cake was wrapped in a small package next to the stack of letters on the desk, but she hadn’t touched it either. Of course, that made her just feel even worse about it. Not only did he know she loved those just as much as him, but he knew that she knew that he couldn’t afford all that many with his pocket money, so he was basically guilt-tripping her into replying with his kindness. And on any other day, it might have worked.
But right now, she was just sitting, staring, letting her thoughts wander, to think about something, anything other than what had just happened. This wasn’t a problem that she could just solve by pulling another impossible stunt with magic. She had tried.
Yet convincing her own mind of that fact seemed like a hopeless endeavor. Maybe she could…
Well, why not? It was worth a shot. Iris brought up her hand, and lit it up in the deep Indigo. She swirled her finger, bending the light into a sphere, raised it up to her temple, and finally pushed. Her thoughts lit up in all of their chaotic glory under the influence of her homebrew brand of what was supposed to be Occlumency.
Which mainly caused her to descend away from despair and straight back into panic. How had she messed up this badly?
“I don’t know what to do if you keep doing things like that…” Tracey’s worried voice echoed through her mind, only to be immediately replaced by another one.
“Why… aren’t you angry?” her own voice, entrapped in another memory of herself sitting in this very room, with him sitting next to her. One of the few treasured memories she had left of him.
“Because you’re my sister, and I love you.”
No matter how much she messed up, he had always been there for her. And the only time he hadn’t… he had been trying to protect her.
“Sorry I ruined our birthday.”
An almost painful feeling was building in her throat, yet somehow, her own tears still eluded her.
“You’re not my mum, alright? I can take care of myself!”
It still hurt. And she still didn’t know why. She had realized afterwards that he had only said it to keep her from getting involved. Even though she was supposed to be the one to protect him. Yet in the end, he once again had had to rescue her instead.
“It seems that Dumbledore has a lot of explaining to do.”
Iris blinked. She had almost forgotten.
Who had that man been? She had never even seen him before. And yet he not only seemed to know Dumbledore, but also had been doing Merlin-knows-what in their house. Of course, she couldn’t have cared less at the time. Still didn’t, really. But in her magically-addled state of mind, she couldn’t help but find things to focus on. Other things.
Should she ask her aunt and uncle what that had been about? Did she even care?
The instant answer to both was no. However, her mind still kept coming back to it anyway, being barred from what it wanted to actually think about.
With everything that had happened, she wished she had never talked with Dudley, never talked with Luna, never talked with Greengrass, never talked with Snape. She wished she could have just continued on for another year, until the ritual would have sealed her fate in blissful ignorance.
But she had. She had wanted to know. And now she did. And she wished she didn’t.
The shadows slowly came alive around her once more, and she didn’t bother to push them back. She just let them creep up the folds of the sheets, under the bed, underneath herself, feeling their familiar tingling sensation on her skin. The glimmering light of her still floating orb of color clashed against the oppressive darkness of the eldritch horrors at her fingertips, light and dark warring for dominance, all while she couldn’t care less about either.
Dumbledore had a lot of explaining to do. Whatever that meant. Would he still be at Hogwarts? Was he still looking for Harry? Had they found out anything?
Her eyes fell back onto his trunk. The only things he had left in there were some robes, some books, the Map, and the Cloak. One she couldn’t use, and the other she had no use for.
Somehow, the things that remained of their father were still more significant than anything that he had left behind. Anything save for Hedwig.
Anything save for herself.
Only of her mother did she have even less to remember her by. Nothing but her name. The name she had passed on to her. What would she think? What would she think of what had happened? Of what she had become? Would she hate her as much as she did herself?
She definitely should.
Iris had no idea where his wand had gone. Last she saw it, Lockhart had had it. And of course, before she had thought to ask him about that… Her gaze drifted over to the Daily Prophet, playing that same scene on repeat again and again. Yet her own mind was still trying to play an entirely different scene.
And that scene refused to let her go. What if it all was just another trick? Yet another fake memory? She really should know better than to get her hopes up like this.
But still. She had to be sure. She had to… she had to go and check. Somehow.
She knew. She knew she wouldn’t find anything. That she was just deluding herself. But she didn’t care anymore. She had to do something. Doing nothing meant giving up on Harry.
Mind made up, she reached for her night stand, and pulled out Dudley’s old laptop. The worn device had seen its fair share of use, although mainly not by its owner. Both Harry and Iris would sometimes ‘borrow’ the laptop whenever Dudley wasn’t around, and after their last birthday, she had more or less requisitioned the thing completely. Not that she could use it at Hogwarts, but it had made their summer just a little more bearable. But that was last summer.
Popping open the search engine once more, she began to look up the route to King’s Cross. So far, Vernon had taken them there by car, and never mind the fact she didn’t have the route memorized, she needed to take an entirely different route now, anyway.
Unlike the Leaky Cauldron, this one was rather easy to find. She hit navigate to burn the public transport route into her mind up to wherever would match up with the closest place she could get to the Tube from the outskirts of London. It would be a lot easier if she could just take the laptop with her, but technology seemed to be especially volatile in the presence of her shadows; she had no idea what would happen if she tried to take a battery-powered device to the shadow realm.
Her path set, she closed the laptop, and got up, once again moving with purpose. Inch by inch she began to peel off the still damp clothing, and for the lack of anything else to wear that wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb where she was trying to go, she put on her Hogwarts robes. Finally, she pocketed her wand, pulled her hood over her face, and stepped forward.
Usually, she would focus on her hatred for either her relatives, the Dark Lord, or more recently, herself. But right now, there was no need to focus at all. Instead of a conscious effort to draw the shadows forth from where they slumbered, she just… let them go. Stopped holding them back.
In essence, she cut out her light. And the shadows did the rest. From all the corners, all the edges, every single fold of her sheets, even the tiniest speck of shadow grew more pronounced, darker, more vivid. Eagerly they gathered, flowing and licking together in a single spot—the darkest corner of the room. An electric shiver permeated the air, as the shadows grew beyond the point even the most dubious of books on polarized magic considered safe, and finally, once the space was fully saturated, folded inwards.
Walls, space and depth lost their meaning as the shadows overwhelmed the barrier between realms, and what was once a window, became a gateway. It was impossible to tell where the shadow ended and the void began, yet it was still clear that at the center, there was no more room, no more space, merely a path, a rift into realms where unspeakable horrors resided. Yet the girl felt no unease or fear at this prospect. For she did not fear the monster that lurked in the dark—nor did it fear her.
She was that monster. She had just refused to see it.
Iris took a step forward into the shadows, and beyond. She felt herself slip, up and down, as the walls, the floors, and the concept of solidity lost all their meaning. Even the last specks of light were drowned out by pure blackness, and one moment later, she was elsewhere.
If she had to describe the shadow realm with one word, it would be inverted.
A mirror image of the real world, made up almost entirely of darkness, except in the places where there were supposed to be shadows. Every single shadow in the real world was represented here—as a rift of sorts. A gap in the darkness, through which she could peer out into the light. A place that was not made for humans to inhabit.
So when she had entered here, she had become… something else. In here, all she could see was a vague creature made entirely of blackness. She could not speak, or touch anything, but she could move—in fact, rapidly so—as long as there was very little light. Yet she did still cast a shadow of her own. But in here, that shadow was just like the others, yet another window into the real world. And out there… well…
Iris made her way over to the window, pushed against it and felt herself slip through to the other side. It was still a strange sensation every time. As it was still dark outside, there was no need to slip through the sewers this time. She made her way onto the road, braced herself, and took a step. Rifts were blurring past her, the streetlights flickering in her wake as she went. During the day, she could only move quickly along or through shadows that were already there, but now, it felt like the entire world was one single shadow, was hers to explore, open and vast. Yet she had no idea how to get to Hogwarts, at least directly. But, she figured, if she could make it to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, she could just follow the rail all the way to Hogsmeade if necessary.
Down the road, through the neighboring town and underneath the bypass road, just like the last three times, except now that she was at the surface instead of in the sewers, things went much faster. All too soon she found herself at the familiar entrance to the outmost stop of the Underground. At this time of day, the escalator stood almost empty. She guessed now that it was nighttime, she could have also taken the route above ground instead, but the car route had seemed a lot more complicated, so it was just as well.
Neon lights lit up along the tunnel as she brushed past, every single step taking her almost half the length to yet another station. She didn’t even have to take a turn this time, the line led her all the way to King’s Cross directly. Of course here, despite the hour, there was still a bustling mass of people traversing the station. She quickly slipped past, causing only a few confused shouts as some people were literally jumping at shadows.
Up the stairs, under the pass, and through… There. Platform nine, platform ten. So then… somewhere here… Iris slipped towards what was supposed to be the barricade, even if she could only see a faint rift showing the reflection of the track next to it. Pushing herself against it had absolutely no effect. And unlike with most closed doors in the shadow realm, she also couldn’t make out anything beyond it, well, apart from platform ten.
Maybe it was somehow protected? Similar to how she couldn’t slip into the Gryffindor common room? Iris craned her neck, but she could only make out images of rails everywhere, but nothing that looked even remotely similar to the Hogwarts Express, and she had a strong suspicion that she wouldn’t find it either, unless she took the intended entrance somehow. It seemed that some rules of Magic still trumped something as incomprehensible and other as the shadow realm.
So instead, she made her way back down the stairs, along the tunnel, until she found a small room that was mostly covered in darkness. To her, that made it look like she was standing in the middle of a dizzying mirror maze, a sort of tesseract where each wall as well as the floor and ceiling were a window into the room from the respective wall. The room was filled with electric appliances, tubes and pipes, and the whirring noise of some sort of ventilation machinery. Oh, well. Hopefully she wouldn’t cause too much of a mess.
Iris pulled the shadows together, dragging them inwards, all into one single corner, where the reflection grew vivid, more colorful, gaining edges and details she hadn’t realized had been missing, until at last, it stopped and started to shiver. With one silent breath, she took a step forward, and her whole world dissolved into tingles. A blinding flash of white light as her body passed from this realm to the next, and reshaped accordingly. Flooded with reawakened emotions, she struggled to rein in her thoughts, summoning her Mindlight swiftly to stave off the looming panic attack. Not that it made her thoughts any less rampant.
Iris vaguely noticed a burst of sparks from the metallic box at the end of the room, and the neon light fixture at the ceiling gave a defeated snap and came crashing down, causing her to have to take a step back to avoid being hit by the shrapnel.
Shaking herself off, she once again attempted to refocus her thoughts onto the task at hand. She had to find a way to get to the platform. Trying the door, which was expectedly locked tight, she instead produced her wand, and carefully lit it up in a soft, yellow glow.
Alohomora.
A flash of light, and the lock clicked open, and luckily, she had even managed to prevent the spell from unlocking the hinges as well this time. She pulled her hood deep into her face, and stepped out, through the tunnel, and up onto the platform. So far, she couldn’t make out anything or anyone remotely magical. Which was good, she guessed. But also, since there were a lot less people here in general, she was sticking out like a sore thumb in her green-trimmed Hogwarts robes. Better get onto the platform quickly, then.
This proved easier said than done. Unlike the first two times she had been here, this time, the barrier between platform nine and ten simply wouldn’t budge. No matter what she tried, pushing, running, hitting, or even knocking, it stubbornly refused to become anything other than, well, a wall. But she definitely had the right place. It was exactly the same spot the Weasleys had shown them, and more importantly, the wall was still very distinctly… pretty. Perhaps it was just locked when the track wasn’t in use?
Now there was an idea. As with any and all things locked—from Professor Vector’s office door to Dumbledore’s gargoyle staircase and even Dudley’s laptop—the one stop shop solution was the very spell she had just cast. She had yet to encounter anything resembling a door that she hadn’t been able to overcome using that spell in one way or another.
Iris brought the Yellow light back, jabbed her wand, twisted clockwise, and thought Alohomora!
A flash of yellow, some amount of sparks, and then it was over as quickly as it had started. Had that been it? Iris hesitantly approached the wall and pushed a hand against it. Nope. Apparently, it wouldn’t be that easy.
But as with most obstacles she had faced, if she couldn’t outsmart them, there was a good chance she could just power through them by throwing a blinding amount of light at the issue and hoping for the best. Iris was perfectly aware that it was exactly this kind of thinking that had led to her current situation, yet right now, she couldn’t care less. Harry came first, everything else second.
Beginning to draw up light once more, she forced it brighter and brighter. Her obsidian wand grew warm and started vibrating in her hand, as the crystal at its top turned into a pocket-sized star, the Yellow light far beyond anything that would have gone unnoticed, as Muggles began staring from platform nine, ten, eleven, more and more at the magical display that went quickly past pretty and into worrying. She could feel the heat on her face, on her arm, and especially on her hand. Tiny wisps of yellow lights began circling and converging around her wand, trailing faintly glowing lines through the air as they went.
Finally, once she couldn’t make it go any brighter if she tried, she jabbed her wand forward, feeling a heavy resistance to her motion, and then, as if she was turning a large rusty iron key, she twisted forty-five degrees clockwise.
“Alohomora!”
A blinding bolt of Yellow light shot with an echoing crack and slammed into the brick wall. The gaps between the bricks began glowing yellow, spreading from the point of impact, and then the wall started to shake. A deep humming sound reverberated through the platform, and all of a sudden, there was a sound of shattering glass, as the yellow flashed for one final time, and the brick slowly crumbled apart; not like a wall, but more like a window.
Slowly the dust started to settle, accompanied by confused and panicked shouts all around her, and finally revealed the opening of a large arched tunnel in the brick wall for all to see. Deciding not to stick around until anyone could show up and catch her in the act, Iris pulled her hood down a little lower, and dashed through the newly opened tunnel.
The dust compacted more the further she traveled until it became almost an solid darkness, before she finally emerged on the other side through the familiar brick wall inside the archway on Platform Nine and Three Quarters and came to a halt. A sudden shiver ran down her spine. Iris slowly turned to her left, and found herself face to face with the tip of a gnarly dark wand. A wand held by another hooded figure, standing in the corner behind her. Iris froze in place, and the blood in her veins turned to ice as her gaze slowly drifted up only to be entrapped by the face, or rather, the white mask concealing it. She had only ever seen these in Professor Lupin’s class, but never in person before.
“Well, well, well… what do we have here?” crooned a male voice from beneath the Death Eater mask, dripping with sadistic amusement, as he began to stroll from the corner until he was standing right in front of her. “Bit far from home, are we?”
Think! She had to think! Whoever this was, he was out and open in Death Eater regalia in the middle of Platform Nine and Three Quarters. And given the fact he was taunting her, he had probably not seen what exactly she had done to get in here. And just from that fact, her mind immediately produced three even more damning conclusions. He could not allow her to get away, and possibly alert someone. He would have no qualms about killing her right then and there. And perhaps worst of all, he almost definitely was not alone.
“Drop it, girlie,” the masked figure sneered, “before you hurt yourself.”
Shit, shit, shit! Not good! Iris’ wand was still clutched at her side, uselessly aiming at the ground, while his was pointed straight at her face. Before she would even manage to half-way raise it, he would have long since blown her head off. Which he still would, if she didn’t drop it. Every single fiber of her being was shivering, screaming in terror, demanding her to fold, to drop the obsidian wand and beg to be spared, so that maybe, just maybe she could live to find a way out of this. The Aurors would probably be on their way, if only for the light show she had put on outside. Maybe she could stall for time long enough for them to find her?
But that cold hard voice of reason disagreed. She knew that the moment she let go of her wand she was as good as dead. He couldn’t risk her getting a spell off, before he could cast his curse, and possibly alert someone. Hence his demand to drop her wand, instead of just taking her head off right then and there. But that still left her completely stuck in place. Attack was out. Escape was out. So the only option left was to do what she did best.
“Move aside,” she whispered her demand.
As quickly as she could, hopefully before the man would be able to fully register her shock, she schooled her features into a disinterested frown.
“Huh, he… hehe HA! AHAHAHAHHA!!” the figure broke into chuckles, then uproarious laughter.
Iris suppressed a wince as bright orange sparks shot from the tip of the wand in tiny bursts as he laughed. The glistening hot was burning her skin, though at least, he hadn’t cast any spells yet. But the gnarly wand was still right in her face, almost boring into her cheek. She fought against every instinct to shrink back from the man, run and hide from what was most definitely one of the infamous followers of the Wizarding World’s boogeyman. Instead she stood her ground, refusing to move so much as an inch, even as he stepped close; so very close that she could feel his breath on her face. She had to keep it together, keep her back straight, and let not even an ounce of uncertainty show; and bury any hints of worry at her failing bluff. Instead, her mask of disinterest morphed into one of disgust.
“Now,” Iris hissed, doubling down. “I won’t repeat myself again.”
“Just who do you think you are, girlie? You’re pretty, I’ll give you that, but you’ll be even prettier once you…”
He slowly trailed off, as he noticed the shadows. It was a desperate attempt, she knew, but it was her only card left to play. From all the edges, all the corners, the folds of his robes, the very ground she stood upon. All the shadows slowly grew darker, deeper.
“What are you doing? Stop that! One more move and it’s your last,” he hissed, jabbing his wand painfully into her cheek.
If he had fully been thinking clearly, he would have struck her down right then and there, but he seemed hesitant at her demeanor. Iris stood her ground, not moving an inch, as the shadows slowly, ever so slowly, kept growing. All while she was fighting a losing battle against her instincts which screamed at her to do pretty much anything except for exactly that.
Her housemates would have already long since folded at this point, but this was an adult; a Death Eater at that! What the hell had she been thinking trying to scare him off? Her bluff really was just that, it wasn’t like she could cast any spells like this without raising her wand or her hand—or producing her orb—much less within the blink of an eye before he could take her head off. And while it did get him to hesitate, it hadn’t changed anything about her situation. The wand was still right there, its tip glimmering in a faint orange glow. And she was still fucking dead, if she didn’t manage to think of anything right now. Just what on earth could she say to make him— Suddenly, a memory flashed through her mind. Of a face, as ugly as could be, sticking out the back of her Defense professor’s head.
Maybe it was a bad idea to play around with that kind of magic right next to her eyes. But then again, she wasn’t really trying to cast a spell. For the first time, all she wanted was the color. And also, right now, she didn’t really care. It was the only thing she could think of.
“I said stop! Look at me!” he demanded, a faint hint of unease entering his voice, but yet his wand remained, the shaky burning hot tip boring into her skin.
Iris focused, and slowly began to draw the faintest shimmer of Red into her eyes. She forced it brighter and brighter, until she could barely still see without blinding herself. Finally, she raised her head to meet his gaze from underneath the hood of her robes, and morphed her lips into a cruel smirk.
The man staggered and fell to his knees. “M-My Lord?! I… I had no idea! Forgive—”
Before he could disabuse himself of his misconception, Iris drew all the gathered shadows into her wand, combined it with a blinding Blue light, jabbed her wand and shouted, “Depulso!”
The sizzling bolt of a simple schoolyard jinx corrupted by the Shadows smashed straight through the man’s hastily cast shield and slammed him back against the outside of the Hogwarts Express. The metal chassis groaned as the corrupted curse pinned him in place with a constant force, the pressure rendering him unable to move or even breathe. This, of course, quickly drew the attention of all the other occupants of Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Iris frantically turned, trying to make a break for it and cut her losses while she still could. But instead, she smacked face first into the barrier, which had closed up behind her yet again. No matter how hard she pushed, she could not get back through to platform nine.
With her adrenaline running high, and dangers approaching from all sides, she finally found that elusive sensation again, and her surroundings began gradually shifting into the red, as she took a peek out of the archway. She noticed two masked figures to her right begin coming towards her, wands lazily drawn. Another one to her left who looked distinctly female in shape was beginning the motions of a spell, causing her wand to begin to spark and quickly spew a bright orange flame, which started to coil around her in a terrifying display of magic and control she had never seen before. She had known. She had known that the Dark Lord had returned over half a year ago now, but until now, it hadn’t really… happened? She had only known because of Harry’s dreams. This was the first time she was seeing it with her own eyes. And if she did nothing, it would quickly become the last sight she’d ever see.
Iris turned towards the closest two to her left, and quickly swiped her wand through the familiar pattern.
Lapsus. Pulsare!
The trusty one-two combo lashed out, the friction-reduction jinx engulfing both of them, yet before the follow-up shockwave of air could land, the woman had aborted her flame spell to meet her with a shout of “Pulsare!”
The two circular blasts of air collided in the center of the platform, rattling the windows of the Hogwarts Express as the spells canceled each other out, and left their wands firmly in their hands.
“Auror!” yelled the female voice, and in an instant, their entire behavior changed.
The other two of the wizards on the platform began raining down a volley of spells, that forced Iris to dive back into the arch. Did they think she was an Auror in disguise? Why? Was it because of the spell chain she’d learned from Susan? Was that an Auror-thing? Fuck!
Ugh. Way to go, Iris. She shook herself and carefully peered out of the arch, to notice the first two, who were now doing something entirely different. The woman was pointing a red glowing wand at her, and a large red circle slowly materialized around it, that caused the air to start to shiver, and a cold feeling began to creep up her spine. Her partner was frozen in place, feet firmly planted, his wand clutched in front of him with both hands, which seemed to slowly begin projecting a brightly glowing round shield in front of both of them, comprised of wildly spinning colors that looked almost solid. Finally, she noticed the two standing atop the train, one of which was casting a shield like that as well, while the other swung up his wand high into the air and shouted “Tenebris!”
His wand echoed out a call, and the shadows answered. She had never seen it being used like this, but she instantly understood what the point was. He was going to cast a polarized spell—a spell using the shadows. A lot of shadows. And not just any spell. No. He was going to cast an Unforgiveable. And thanks to the damn shield, there was no way she could stop him before he could gather the necessary amount of darkness. Well, that was, if she didn’t manage to do the same first.
With grim determination, Iris reached out and pulled at the shadows.
But for the first time, they didn’t respond.
What? What was going on? It wasn’t all that bright here, there should be no issues summoning the shadows like this, and lately, it had become almost effortless. Yet somehow, the very horrors that had accompanied her all this time now refused to heed her call. She could feel them. The Shadows where there, as was the Light. But somehow, her control had been cut off. Iris began flaring her Mindlight, forcing her brain through analyzing the situation.
Her old Defense professor had told her something about this, when he had gone on one of his tangents during her detentions in first year. Apparently there was a channeled spell that could bind the creation of polarized magic in the first place, Light and Shadow alike… Her eyes snapped down the platform onto the other two Death Eaters who were doing much of the same as the ones on the train, except with no noticeable effect save for a brightly glowing red ring, and a shiver in the air.
Her mind kept whirling around, desperately looking for an out, but to her currently magic-infused brain, the situation seemed clear as day. This was it. They had her in checkmate. They could have just tried overwhelming force, and likely would have succeeded, but instead, they had a strategy. A defensive strategy that had locked her in here and left her unable to do anything but hide or shield until the time ran out, until they would strike their literal killing blow; a spell that couldn’t be blocked or dodged. She had to get out of here! But she couldn’t even enter the shadows as long as this spell was active. Nor could she cast a polarized Depulso to break their shields. And she very much doubted that her regular Depulso would be able to get through either of the massive channeled shields the two wizards were holding, they looked nothing like a regular Protego. She couldn’t go back the way she came, and if she tried for another Alohomora, by the time she’d manage to get the spell off, they might have already cast the curse, and even if she’d just make it, she had no idea how much distance would be enough to avoid the Killing Curse. Just getting a wall in between herself and the caster had absolutely no effect after all. It was more of a ritual, than a spell. And the ritual had already begun.
Iris had to do something, and fast. The mass of shadows atop the train had already grown deep, about half of what was required to cast the Imperius, unless she’d be lucky enough that they went for the Killing Curse instead, in which case, she’d have a little more time.
There was a flash of blue, and Iris stumbled, slipped and fell. Scrambling, she tried to get back to her feet, only to realize that the ground—while still looking exactly like the solid stone it was supposed to be—had apparently lost all friction. Iris rolled to the side, desperately spinning in place, trying to get as far out of the line of fire as possible. If only she could cast the damn Finite spell. But that would never be an option with her broken magic. It never had been, ever since the attack on Halloween had fractured her magic beyond recognition. No matter what she’d tried, spells without color, without aspect, had been simply beyond her.
Explosions rocked the ground as the two remaining Death Eaters kept bombarding her hiding spot with spells of all colors, and a blistering wave of heat washed over her face, almost burning her skin. She was so fucking dead.
There had to be some spell, any spell she could cast, that could turn the tables, or at least allow her to get out of this! So much of her power relied on her ability to control the shadows, it wasn’t even funny. There… there had been one spell. She had never cast it herself, but thanks to Myrtle, she knew about it, enough that she could maybe pull it off. But it would take a massive amount of light. And she had no idea what would happen if she couldn’t control it. But at this point, she didn’t have a choice. Iris scrambled to shaky feet as the friction-reduction jinx finally started to wear off. She brought her wand up, held it high above her head, and began to release Orange light. Brighter and brighter, the air grew hot and cold at the same time, as the power of raw elements started to engulf the entire archway in a blinding light, and her wand was somehow freezing cold as well as burning hot at the same time. She began the motions of the familiar raw elemental pattern, swipe twist swish, twist swish flick, repeating it over and over, constantly inscribing the air in its circular ferocity. More and more light, she drew it tighter, into a ball, as the air began to shiver and tiny wisps of orange started circling around her wand, around her entire body. She had no idea if there was anything else to it, she had never read about this spell, she had just copied what she had seen, what she remembered—except a lot longer. Her hair began standing on end from static electricity, and finally, when she couldn’t hold back any longer, she performed the final jab and cried “TEMPEST!”
And as if magic had answered her prayer, it took. In an instant, all of her gathered raw and unshaped magic was given purpose. The temperature on the platform was plunged by several degrees in a single heartbeat, the entire building turned from dark and clear to foggy, and like an explosion, the entire platform was engulfed by a wall of pure hurricane. Thunder cracked, water poured, and lightning flashed as the storm raged inside the building, more ferocious and merciless than any real weather phenomenon could ever hope to match. She had but a single second to appreciate the magic she had wrought before she was swept up by the storm and found herself flung back hard against the corner of the archway.
From the ground she could make out the two wizards on top of the train, desperately clinging to the metal frame, until the wizard who had been summoning the shadows lost his grip and was flung off into the distance, his silhouette quickly lost in the rainstorm. She tried to get to her feet, yet the ferocious winds tore her right back to the ground. With a desperate plea, Iris tried to command the spell, to force it to spare her while attacking the others, yet this was a spell of raw elements, with not even a sliver of Control contained within. The spell wouldn’t budge until it had run its course. Instead, Iris slowly began to gather more Blue light yet again. She had to try. Maybe, just maybe she could either get through the shield, or maybe hit one of the wizards attacking her directly. At last, with a final thunderclap, the spell shattered; and as if it had never happened, a semblance of normalcy returned, as the final raindrops came down to the ground. Iris didn’t waste a second and jumped from her hiding spot, wand still aglow, whirled towards the group to her left and shouted “Depulso,” intent on taking out the witch binding her shadows.
The bright blue spell bridged the gap, closed in on the witch still pointing her wand at Iris, but just before it could hit her, the shield from the wizard next to her shifted to cover his partner once more, and the spell hit the colorful shield with a resounding gong, as it shattered apart in a circular shockwave. The shield held.
Iris eyes darted across the platform, trying to assess the damage. As she turned, she only barely noticed a flash of red, and threw herself to the ground once more, only avoiding the angrily sizzling spell by an inch. A bright flash and a deafening blast sent crumbling pieces of clay and debris across her face, and something tore painfully through her cheek.
She wasn’t quite sure if she had seen correctly, but it had looked like all the others except for the one wizard on the train had managed to hold their positions, and had resumed their attack, except with the wizard on the train now being the one pinning her down while the two on the right were instead summoning the shadows. The problem with that was that he was in a much better position to be able to hit her, even when she was hiding inside the archway.
Iris noticed a bright purple spell bursting from his wand atop the train, and with an angry sizzling noise, barreling right at her. It was close. Too close to dodge.
Reiecto!
Out of options, she cast a reflective shield, silently praying to match at least one of the possible colors of the spell. A bright orange shield emerged, comprised of her two desperate choices of Red and Yellow. It was a game of Russian roulette using nothing but colors, and her life as the wager. Except that even with all her practice, she’d only ever been able to produce two colors at once, but the incoming spell could contain up to three out of any of the possible seven colors of the rainbow. The way the spell sizzled in the air, she wasn’t sure if a regular Protego would have managed to stop it at all.
Not that she could even cast that spell in the first place.
The spell met her glowing hexagonal shield, and Iris couldn’t believe her luck as the spell split, reflecting a bright red bolt back while a sizzling violet continued past the shield and smacked into her thigh.
A sharp jab of burning pain lanced through her lower body, and she found herself stumbling to the ground yet again. Gritting her teeth, she tried to blink through the pain. Iris only barely managed to avoid another red spell by nudging it just far enough that it missed her face by an inch, causing it to instead smack into the wall behind her in a shower of dust and clay. Finally on her feet again, Iris desperately began gathering more blue light on the tip of her wand, hoping to maybe get a lucky shot in before they could cast the Unforgiveable.
There was a flash of green to her right. Iris barely noticed a pair of figures emerge from the fireplace right next to her, and she whirled to face them, her wand still aglow. A man in grey robes with short brown hair, and a nondescript face, next to another man wearing a dark green suit and a tie that didn’t quite match with the rest of his outfit. with a face that was just as unremarkable.
The first man swung his wand at her, but froze just in time for her to be able to get off another Depulso. Her spell burst forth, but it didn’t even manage to get half-way before the man swirled his wand and caused a very familiar circular blue shield to materialize, which upon impact, simply reflected the spell. However, the return spell that Iris had expected never came. He had reflected the spell at an angle, in fact, right at the final Death Eater on the roof of the Hogwarts Express, who was taken off-guard and knocked off the train as well.
“Unspeakables! Withdraw!” shouted the witch who had been casting the spell that had been suppressing her shadows, and as one, the remaining four Death-Eaters gripped something inside their robes with their off-hand, and in a sudden blur, vanished into nothingness.
The oddly dressed man in Muggle regalia turned to the other man in grey robes and gave him a look, and with a nod, they both began to approach Iris, their wands still held aloft.
“Reveal yourself!”
Iris quirked an eyebrow. It wasn’t like she was hiding, but— oh. He meant her face.
Well, that was a bad idea and a half. Iris gripped her wand tighter, still aimed towards the man. He had instantly reflected her most powerful direct attack spell, so she wouldn’t be taking him by surprise like that. But, Iris realized, the Death eater who had been suppressing her shadows was gone. If it came down to it, she could cast a polarized spell. Or maybe just escape through the shadows. Although Lupin had told her that letting anyone else see that little trick was a very bad idea. She had no idea what an Unspeakable was, but she was pretty sure that the only reason they hadn’t attacked her, even when she had attacked them, was that she was wearing her Hogwarts uniform.
She nervously rolled her wand in her fingers, causing the crystals at the tip and within the handle to glimmer in their iridescence. The man in the grey robes stiffened.
“Iris?” he whispered.
Her breath caught in her throat. This was bad. Depending on who they were, and what they would think she did, she’d be in massive trouble. She had blatantly broken the Statute in front of a crapton of Muggles. She might have to… The man lowered his wand, then suddenly moved it up high, all the way to his face. His features shimmered, and his face changed. Well, it didn’t really change, it was more like… her mind finally managed to register its features properly. And the face was very familiar.
“Professor Lupin?”
“Iris! Godric’s Heart!” he said. “What are you doing here?”
Iris stood, slowly lowering her wand, as she stared into the shocked expression of her History professor.
“I… well…” Iris began, desperately racking her brain for words.
Lupin approached her, and began to look her over. “Are you alright?”
Only now had she realized that she was still shaking. The adrenaline hadn’t quite worn off, and her vision was only slowly shifting back out of the red. In the end, she only managed a nod.
“Why are you out here? And how did you get in here? Did… did they take you here? Or did you…” His worried eyes darted over to the man standing next to him, who raised his wand to his own head, which quickly resolved into a visage she had never seen before, but a hair color that she very much had.
She met Lupin’s eyes once more and opened her mouth, trying to come up with an excuse, something she could say, yet after some painfully long seconds of her thoroughly jumbled mind drawing a blank over and over, she gave up and went with the truth instead. “I was… trying to get to Hogwarts…”
His eyebrows raised in confusion, but just a fraction of a second later, his eyes widened in comprehension, and a pained expression crossed his face for a moment.
“Merlin’s beard, you’re Iris Potter!” the second man exclaimed. “Arthur Weasley. My son’s been talking about you all summer.”
Iris stared helplessly at the enthusiastic man who was in all likelihood Ron’s father, and was now somehow shaking her hand, completely at a loss as to what he’d be doing here together with her History professor.
Lupin exchanged a look with the other man, and then replied, “I assume you know about the Order?”
The Order of the Phoenix, the group of people Dumbledore had put together to oppose the Dark Lord again. Slowly, she nodded.
“Professor Dumbledore thought it better for You-Know-Who to think it’s the Unspeakables who are after him, rather than revealing that the Order knows about his return.”
So… not Unspeakables, then. Not that being caught by Dumbledore’s Order was much better in this situation.
“You really shouldn’t have come out here alone. You know what is happening, Merlin, now you’ve lived it,” Lupin said, as he pinned her under a stare.
She knew that… now… Well, she had known before, but… yeah. But still. That didn’t matter. She had to get to Hogwarts.
Apparently, her expression had betrayed her, as Lupin approached and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Iris. I know this must be hard for you. But you have to believe me that we are doing everything that we can to find him. Professor McGonagall stayed over the summer to keep searching the castle, and the whole Order is on the lookout in case…” he trailed off, one sentence too late. She had gotten the gist of his implication. But at least, his words had finally managed to jolt her thoughts into some sort of coherence, enough to guide them back on track towards her path.
“I have to,” Iris said, leaving no room for argument. “I have to check for myself.”
Lupin was staring at her wearily, until he finally sighed. “And I suppose nothing I say is going to convince you to return home instead?”
Iris gave him a look. “I’m going. You know I can. You can’t stop me.”
Lupin threw yet another worried glance at what was apparently Ron’s dad, then hesitantly turned back to her. When Hermione had gotten trapped in the shadow realm during her first year, Lupin had been there, he had likely seen them get her back out. Back then, he had told her that he’d inform anyone who needed to know, and that they shouldn’t tell anyone else about the shadows. She’d have guessed that if anything, that’d include the Order. But judging from his looks whenever the subject of her shadows came up, maybe he hadn’t.
Finally, he sighed. “I can, at least, offer you a safer alternative.”
Iris quirked an eyebrow, as he turned, stepped back up to the fireplace, reached into his robes and threw something inside, and in an instant, the empty fireplace roared in the bright green fiery glow she knew to be Floo powder.
He stood in front of it, and firmly said, “Hogwarts castle.”
The fire blazed a bit brighter, then turned red. He raised his arm, stuck his wand into the flames, turned it clockwise, and after a second, they turned green again. Finally, he stepped to the side, gesturing an inviting hand towards the open fireplace. “After you.”
Iris warily stared at the green flames. She had only seen it used before; she had never used Floo powder herself so far. “Do I… need to do anything?”
“Just watch your elbows, and remember to get out once you see the castle,” Lupin helpfully explained, which all things considered, wasn’t really very helpful at all.
But she guessed she’d figure it out as she went. In the end, this seemed a lot safer, and even quicker than somehow trying to find her path all the way to Scotland through the shadow realm. As she stood before the flames, their warmth licking across her skin, she couldn’t help but eerily be reminded of her first defense lesson. Iris took one final breath, steeled herself, and stepped into the flames. She just hoped that this wasn’t one of those things that wouldn’t work right because of her broken magic.
A second later she found that in fact, this time, she was not burning at the stake. However just a second later, she wasn’t much better off. Iris was whisked off her feet by the flames and flung through a long tunnel of fire, smoke, chimneys and soot. On and on she was dragged, spinning up and down, in all directions for what felt like hours, wanting to throw up, yet finding herself unable to. In retrospect, she really should have tried with the shadow realm.
What felt like an eternity later, she found herself tossed head first out of a chimney grate and tumbled to the ground in a mess of arms, legs, hair, and soot.
The fireplace flashed green once more, and Professor Lupin entered behind her in a distinctly more composed manner. Looking around, she found herself in a familiar room. It was the main office of the headmaster. So much for avoiding talking to him. From down one of the open doors, she could hear voices. One man was arguing loudly, almost shouting, while Dumbledore was being mostly silent, only occasionally responding. She threw a look at Lupin who had suddenly become a lot paler than he usually was.
“…Nothing! Absolutely nothing until the letter. Instead, they’d get punished! It’s a miracle none of them have turned Obscurial!”
Iris slowly made her way closer, and peeked into the open doorway into what looked like a smaller office containing a cozy desk, a cabinet holding what looked like a Pensieve, and an unending wall filled with books of all colors. A tall man with black hair was shouting at the headmaster, who currently looked every bit his age.
“They had to sleep in a cupboard, Dumbledore! A cupboard!”
Iris froze in her tracks as the words registered, just at the same time as she recognized the man. He was the same man who she had seen at their house earlier. He… he knew? How?
“A… what?” Lupin whispered next to her, standing in the middle of the doorway, his voice having lost all color. Iris shrank back, wanting to be anywhere else right now.
“Remus,” the man growled, as he spotted Lupin standing in the doorway. “Did you know? Did you know what those disgusting Muggles did? What Dumbledore did to them?”
“Sirius, I…” he said, but couldn’t manage any further words. “I had no idea…”
“You had no idea…” the man, who was apparently their godfather Sirius, echoed with a snarl. “Has it never occurred to you to… check up on them? Never once have you thought to try and go see them?”
She hadn’t imagined Lupin’s face could have gone any paler at this point, yet he somehow managed it. Iris had been mostly apprehensive about the black-haired wizard who had been shouting accusations at the man who she had come to respect, come to like as a sort of surrogate uncle, but the words still hit close to home. Why exactly hadn’t he?
“I was in Azkaban! What’s your excuse?!” Sirius roared, as he stepped up to point an accusing finger at Lupin.
Iris wasn’t sure if he had even noticed that she was there yet, or if he just didn’t care. On the one hand, her insides clenched at the sight of Lupin, who had shared all his memories of their parents, had helped her with her magic, who was now being shouted at and accused by this man she had never seen before. But on the other hand… The words Sirius was saying kept making sense in the worst way possible. Word by word, they began shattering this image she had built of her History professor, and that was only exacerbated by the fact that Lupin didn’t even seem to be making an effort to refute them.
At some point, Lupin had entered the room, and the two men were now facing off in the center, with Dumbledore silently sitting in his chair wearily, while Iris was still hiding behind the doorframe.
“Sirius… I… I’m so sorry. I’ll do anything that I can to—”
“Your apologies are wasted on me, Remus,” Sirius said, causing Lupin to sag.
“You want to do what’s best for them?” Sirius snapped, then stepped up to Lupin and drove one finger into his chest. “Why don’t you just do what you do best and stay out of their lives.”
What? No! There was no way he’d agree to that! She’d made him promise! He had promised he’d keep teaching them!
“You’ve done enough. Which is absolutely nothing.”
The two men stared at each other as the tension kept building, neither of them making a move. Finally, Iris gathered herself, and made to step around the corner, intent on giving both of them a piece of her mind. Before she could however, Lupin whirled, and stepped away from her, towards the far end of the room, and before she knew what was happening, he had tossed a handful of Floo powder into the second fireplace behind Dumbledore’s desk.
Finally, the headmaster made to speak up. “Remus, I—”
“The Leaky Cauldron,” spoke a wavering voice, and with a bright rush of green flames, he was gone.
Notes:
Welcome to Shadow of the Rainbow, the second book in the Rainbow series.
SPOILER WARNING — Please read this to avoid spoilers!
If you just stumbled upon this fic and this first chapter managed to catch your interest, you are probably wondering how Iris ended up in this situation. In this case, you'll be happy to know that there's already an entire finished book one out there, which follows Iris all the way from her first Hogwarts letter to this very moment. I've done my best to keep this chapter mostly spoiler-free for the first book, to allow it to serve as a sort of teaser that is more in line with the description and the main themes of the rest of this second book—basically, the whole reason you clicked on this fic in the first place. If this story has piqued your interest, I'd highly recommend you read the first book, Colors of the Rainbow—if you haven't already—and then return to continue from here.
If you're very much not a fan of the Potter twins trope, or generally more happy stories focused on magical exploration, friendships and eleven-year-old protagonists, then you're free to skip book one and continue reading this one right away. This story is very different from the first book in those respects. Most of the plot will be explained along the way, although you'd probably miss some pieces of the greater puzzle, not all of which I might get to revisit in this one.
If you're itching to skip right into the action, go right ahead. Be warned however that there will be MAJOR SPOILERS for the first book the moment you hit "Next Chapter" here.
But if you are curious just how exactly things managed to get this messed up, click here to find part 1 of the series.
As always, any sort of criticism to help me improve is very welcome, but I'm also just happy to hear if you enjoyed it of course :)
Chapter Text
"Sirius..." the headmaster began wearily.
"I know," the other man said.
"That was perhaps not the wisest—"
"I know," he repeated. "I lost my temper. I'll go after him."
Sirius took a deep breath, then whirled to face Dumbledore. "And don't you think I'm through with you yet. We will be talking about this later."
Iris was still mostly in a daze from what had just happened, yet she still wanted to talk to this man, who had apparently been wrongfully imprisoned for eleven years when he should have been there for them, but also wanting to talk to Lupin, but mostly... mostly she wanted to do what she came here to do.
With one breath, she took a step into the room, just in time to notice the fireplace flare once again, and with another shout of "The Leaky Cauldron," their supposed godfather was gone.
Dumbledore slowly turned back from the fireplace to look her way, looking every bit his age, and only now did she realize that of course, he had known she had been here the entire time.
Slowly, she approached his desk, neither of them saying a word until she sat down.
"It is sometimes our best qualities which cause the most harm in those we care about."
Iris was staring back at the old man, unsure what to reply to that.
"I presume you have come here in search of your brother?"
Well, in a way, she had. Iris swallowed, and nodded. She had to know.
"To my shame I have to admit that we have yet to find any further clues to his whereabouts. Minerva has been restlessly searching the castle ever since he disappeared, and Remus only aborted his search because I asked him to do a very particular task that only he could do. I, myself, have been in search of any additional means of locating him, but to my deepest regret, I have yet to succeed in finding anything substantial..."
Yeah, she hadn't really expected anything else. The only other person who had known anything more was well on his way to becoming a Lethifold, and probably already long gone.
"...But you have," Dumbledore said, his voice trembling with a desperate intensity that Iris had never seen before. "Did you remember something? You must tell me! It is of utmost importance! More than you could ever possibly imagine rests on finding him!"
What was she even supposed to say to that?
Iris kept staring into the wide blue eyes behind his half-moon glasses for what felt like ages and didn't manage a single word.
Nor had she needed to. With every second, the expression on her face told deeper tales than any words ever could. In front of her very eyes, Dumbledore seemed to visibly age far beyond his deathbed. The bright and intense spark that had filled his eyes moments before was visibly fleeting, fading into a dull grey, until it was gone for good. Finally, the old man sagged back down onto his chair.
"Are you sure?" his voice came—a desperate plea, barely a whisper in the air—but judging from the tone, they both already were on the same page.
The silence kept stretching, only pierced by the soft whirling, ticking and bubbling of the countless tiny magical contraptions scattered throughout the room.
"No, I... I thought..." he finally whispered.
Then his eyes widened. "It was... But it wasn't your brother he has been possessing..." It had not been a question.
"I suspected it could be him when Severus told me about what he assumed lay beneath your memory charm, but... if you are correct... if he really..."
Neither of them could say it, not wanting to make it real.
"How?" Dumbledore finally asked in a whisper.
Iris swallowed, words unwilling to come forward, but finally, she replied, "It was a diary."
More clicking, more whirling.
"His diary. Except it had the soul of Myrtle Warren bound to it. A soul that contained a part of himself. A part that was in control."
Iris' gaze fell to her feet, as Dumbledore took a sharp breath.
"Harry destroyed it. He destroyed it with the same basilisk venom that in the end—"
Iris broke off again, the words unwilling to leave her lips. She just stood there, staring, as the old man seemed to fall apart in front of her very eyes. Yet, even if only through her Mindlight, something about what he had just said didn't add up.
"How... how did you know? That it was him?" There was no question which him he had been talking about. Not that he would have been able to say the Name, had she asked. But how did he conclude that it had to be him, just from the fact that Harry was—
"I suppose now that it has run its course, there is no more point to it..." muttered Dumbledore, his mind clearly someplace else.
Iris kept staring at him, waiting for an elaboration.
"Before you were born... a Prophecy was made," Dumbledore said.
Okay, that wasn't what she had been expecting.
"A Prophecy that could have applied to either of you," he continued, every word bearing an intangible weight on its shoulders.
"What did it say?" Iris asked, unsure if she wanted to know the answer.
Dumbledore raised his gaze to finally meet hers, and somehow, his expression fractured even further. "I cannot tell you."
Iris narrowed her eyes, and whispered, her voice gaining a faint edge, "Why not?"
Yet the answer was so simple that it took the wind right out of her sails. "Because it contains his Name."
Oh. Well...
"And words of Prophecy are fated to be misinterpreted unless they are heard in their entirety."
"That won't be an issue," Iris finally said.
Slowly, Dumbledore's eyebrows began to raise. "You... broke the charm. You broke it in its entirety."
She just kept staring back blankly. The angry red moon was still alive and pulsing in the back of her mind, only pushed back by her constant repeated efforts.
"How did you survive the Name, while knowing nothing of Occlumency?"
"I didn't," Iris replied slowly. "Know nothing of Occlumency, that is."
In explanation, she raised a hand and produced a fist sized orb of pure Mind aspect. The dark shimmer of Indigo reflected back in the headmaster's glasses, and the expression beneath slowly fell into yet deeper sadness.
"Do you realize what it is you have done to yourself?" he said.
"What does it even matter anymore?" Iris replied.
Dumbledore closed his eyes, but didn't say anything.
Iris turned towards the fireplace, then asked, "He's not coming back, is he?" Slowly, she balled her still glowing hand into a fist. Iris cut out her light, and turned back to look at Dumbledore.
"Are you sure about this? I would very much advise you to not underestimate his Name."
"I can handle it," Iris said. "Show me. You owe me that much."
Dumbledore hesitated, as if considering. Finally, he closed his eyes again, and a moment later, he rose from his desk and approached a cupboard behind it, which seemed to contain a Pensieve. He retrieved a small glass bottle from one of the drawers, uncorked it, and wordlessly began pouring it into the silvery bowl. The surface shifted, and resolved into the face of a woman with unruly hair and large rounded glasses which she had sometimes seen sitting at the staff table.
The woman took a deep and raspy breath, until she started to speak in an echoing, unnatural voice.
"The One with the power to vanquish Voldemort approaches."
The words seemed to hold power, but one did so first and foremost among all the rest. The niggling feeling in the back of her mind grew, as she felt the red moon begin to attempt to claw its way back out of its tomb.
"Born to those who thrice defied him; born as the seventh month dies."
Iris pushed back hard, and managed to once more seal the Name well enough to no longer hear its echo.
"And V̶̛̪o̸̰̍l̶͇͂d̶̘̓ȩ̸͋m̵̝͊o̶̱̒ŗ̵̇ţ̶̈́ will mark him as his equal, but he will have power that V̸͍͉͕̯̌͊̈́ọ̷̡̅l̷̤͗d̶͍̭̳͍̙͋̈̌̔͝ẹ̴̭̥̰͋̒́̀͠m̵͎̞̱̾ỏ̴̩r̵̮͊t̶̰̙́̿̇̋ knows not."
Each mention of the word slamming through her mind like a battering ram, undoing all the work she had just done, and causing the letters to strike out with ferocity. V̸̩̰̩̆̉̓̄̕͝ơ̷̡̨̢̛͔̠͖̜̄́̿̂͘͜l̷̻͈̹̲̟̯̈́̑̉̀̄̕͠d̶̨̬̫͙̓̀̈̐̍̒ę̴̤̪̘̥͕͙̏̎́͐m̷͍̤̖̑̈o̵̼͒̆r̷̼̘͚̣̥̂t̴̫̩͓̟̓̌͐̄͘.
"And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives."
Iris barely registered the next line of the Prophecy, as the Name began echoing louder and louder.
V̷̬̮̘͎̝̻̗͕͛̀͐̂̓o̴̜̹̖̤̣͚̩̓́͑̃̿l̵͎͖̣͎̈d̴̖̂̈́͆ḙ̸̢̹̥̟̣̔̍̑͐̽͆m̷̦̳͇͓͎̬͓̅̀̇̅̿͌̉̿͠͝ờ̷͙̭̯͍̰̋r̷̡̯̩͉͚͐͌̔͌̓̕t̸͕̫̟͚̆̈͗̐͗͂̃̔͛͘.
Flaring her Mindlight as brightly as it would go, she forced every little bit of power she had left to bring the Name down. This was her mind, she wouldn't have someone else's name run roughshod all over it.
"The One with the power to vanquish V̵̳́͂ȏ̸̺͙͖̔ͅl̸̗͆̔ḓ̸̤̉͝ḙ̵̛͎̯̊m̸̨͎̓ȏ̵͚͇̊͊r̴̙͋̕ť̸̡̧͗̇ will be born as the seventh month dies."
Yet the final nail in the coffin proved to be too much. V̷̺̦̓͗o̸͍͎͔̳̐͒͑̿̀͂̆̃͑͘ľ̸̛͙̼͖̰͖̬̩̘̲̖̙̺̦̦͎̃̽͋̎͊̋̈́̔̉͑̃͂͐͝d̵̪̝̫̯̒̉̒̈̈͗̅̿̚͜é̷̢̩̰̝͓̬̘̘̭̩͔̹͜ͅm̶̠̬͔̺͋̓̑̀̋̋̇̀̒̊̇͒̑͝o̷̱̜̪̙̙̪͊͌̋̅͋̍̅̄̈́̔̓͌̉͋ͅͅȑ̶̙̫̲͉͔̟̌́t̸̨͚̲̬̎̿̽͘.
The Name began echoing louder and louder, and she found herself flung back to the time when Greengrass had accidentally broken the seal on her mind. The red moon had completely torn through the ground, and the walls, and was now projecting its angry glow across the sky. The only thing that seemed to be able to stand up to it was the other moon. She hadn't even thought about the green moon much, it had kind of always been there, even before the red one.
V̸̢̛̛̠͕̹̰̣͖̙̰̗͍͇̥͇̞͖̣̠̲͕̟̾͗̏͗̑̈́͑͛́̂̽̓͒̕̚͘͜͝ͅơ̶̢̰̖̙̳̭͎̿̈̈́̈́̃͐̀̽̀͂́̿́͐̃́͊̇͑̋̏̚̕͠͝͝ͅͅl̴̡̢̨̜̬̫̲̙̯̘̰͍̟͔̣͙͖̠͚̮̭̤̯̖̺͚̖͔͕͚͕̥̬̤̳̖̊̊̒͂̃̇́͗͒͑͂̋͆̋͂͋͒͘̚̕̚̚͜͠ͅd̸̛̛̞̮̘̩͕̠̰̖̩͚̝̪̳͕͉̙̩̻͉͎̓̾̀̔̎̈͐̓́̓͌̈̓̅̈́̐̐̆͂͂͒̚͘͘̚͜͜͝͠͠͝è̴̢̝̳͚̠̲̱̠̲̰̫̭͍͓̣͆̈́̈̍͒̒͌̇m̶̨̹̹͉̹͍͑̐ơ̸̢̠̩̯̤̙͖͔̞̫̯̝̳̹̳̫͓̠̗̲̠̓́̓̌̀̑̉͐́̈́̇̄̈̅͐͆͘̕͜͜͝͝͝r̵̢̢̛͉̥͎̬̭̻̗̟̜̫̞̦̰̟̤͉͉͚̟̼͎͚̫̘̗̱̞̓̄͌̈́̃̊́͗̀̍̊̃̐͌͛̅͗̊̀̀͛̾͊̍̄̇̅̓̿̐̋͘ͅt̶̬̪̲͓͕̠̮͇͍̥̭̹̽̏̓͋̐͐̄̊̈́̓͘͝!
An old man was in front of her, shouting something, but she couldn't make out his words in the deafening silence.
V̸̢̢̛̺͔̪̜͔̙͚̘͔͍̝̩̬͇̭̽͑̐͒̓͋̋͊͌̌̆̆͑̈́͝͝͝ͅO̴̡̨̱͍̱̤͉̮̘͓͔̣̪̺̒͜L̸̺̪̲̝͍̭̼͍̝̳̭̪̬̺̯̳̻̫̙̀̿́̔̐̉̌̂͆̐̓͘͜͝͠͠͠Ḏ̶̙̗̬̎͐̀́̈́̽̄̏̓̅̔̽͆Ȩ̴̬͇̳̖͚͍͇̪͎̟̒̓̍̅̂͝M̴̢̙̠͔̟̹̖̙̲͈͍͚̝̗̗̰̱̰̎̈́̉̀̏͋͊̂̚̚͝ͅO̴̡̨̤͉̭̩̘͈̒̏̋͂̆̔̅̈́̈́́̈͆̒͑̈́̔̈́̎̚̕̚͠R̴̢̛̭͙̘̫̗̜̹̦̯̺̖̪̈́̊͌̾̓̒̄̀̐̑́̾̂͛͒͐͑́͘̕͝ͅT̴̛̮̭̿̆̾̈́̓̃̈̓͂͑̀̉̐̀͝!
"IRIS LILY POTTER!" he yelled, the words somehow piercing the haze of her mind, and suddenly, the green moon flared to life.
That's right. That was her Name.
She reached out a finger, rested it on the red sphere, and pushed.
Kicking and screaming the angry red was dragged back underground, further and further, buried beneath meters of stone, until it once more rested dormant in the darkest corner of her mind.
Still standing frozen, with her eyes closed, she forced the first clear thought through her mind and out of her mouth. "The power he knows not... what's that?"
There was a short pause. "I have spent countless hours pondering this exact question," Dumbledore said. "But in the end, the only answer I ended up with was the poetic one. The same power that brought him down the first time around, a power that could destroy even the likes of one as terrible as him."
Iris slowly opened her eyes to meet the reluctant gaze of the wizened headmaster right in front of her, still clutching her shoulders in worry.
"Love," he finally said.
Iris kept staring into his eyes blankly, trying to find an answer to that. No. If anything, it was Love that had been Harry's downfall.
She firmed her expression, and finally said, "I'm going down to the Chamber. I have to see what happened for myself."
There was no reply, and there was no need. She turned, and he followed. He would be coming along, and there was no point arguing that fact.
~V~
Having made her way down towards the second-floor girls' bathroom, she spent some time utilizing her Mindlight to recall the exact memory she had gained from Myrtle when she had opened the Chamber in this very spot, and after several attempts, managed to produce the exact hissing noise required in order to unlock the entrance.
They had made their way down into the bowels of the castle, through tunnels, stepping across molten skeletons, led down the dark by her floating orb of light—neither of them saying a single word the whole way.
Some part of her still held that tiny spark of hope, that she'd find something else, anything else, or maybe just even nothing at all. Maybe it really all had been fabricated. But she didn't really believe that.
A few more hissing attempts finally opened the large round iron door as well, and with one final exchanged apprehensive glance, they stepped through into the Chamber.
It was just the way she remembered it. Large, gloomy, lit in a greenish hue, tall serpentine statues lining the walls, and deformed, vaguely humanoid skeletons littering the floor. The very same skeletons she had dismissed every time she had seen them before.
Slowly, Iris broke into a run for the center, that one place right in front of the statue of the old man who was apparently the founder of her Hogwarts House. Right where she had woken up.
There. On the ground, looking exactly like the others, even if slightly smaller, another partially molten skeleton.
Except it lay in exactly the same place that she remembered Harry had collapsed in, before her memory had ended.
"H-Harry?" Iris whispered, unwilling to believe it, unwilling to make it real.
Iris fell to her knees, looking, desperately looking for any hint, any proof that it wasn't true. There were no clothes, no wand, no friendship bracelet. Nothing had survived the acrid venom.
Dumbledore had come to a stop next to her, but he wasn't saying anything. Maybe there'd be something left of his scar? She reached for the head trying to turn it, yet hesitated as she was about to touch the skull. This felt all kinds of wrong. Was it true? Was it all fake? How could she be sure?
A glint in the faint glow of her own floating orb of iridescent light. There was something, right underneath the skull, and—
Finally, she reached out, feeling a shiver as she touched it, and gently nudged the bone to the side.
And her own heart froze in her chest.
What stared back was a set of glasses that was so familiar she could have drawn it from memory. The inorganic material had survived the venom; the only thing left of him that had remained intact.
Reaching a shaking hand, she gripped the metal frame in her fingers and pulled it free. There was dried blood clinging to the dark metal, and the left glass was cracked in three.
There was no questioning what she was seeing. But what if he just dropped his glasses during his fall? Maybe if she kept looking—
Her eyes drifted over to the old man who had stopped in front of Harry, and knelt down over a small pile of ash resting on the ground. He drew a large and ornate wand and held it above the pile. The wand began to glow in a faint green.
Iris watched as he just knelt there, hunched over the small grey pile, his eyes closed, and his lips silently moving as if in a prayer. Slowly, the pile of ashes began to emit a faint wisp of smoke. Small orange specks of embers lit up, dotted the pile all over, more and more, and a faint sound of a softly crackling fireplace, until all of a sudden, the pile lit up in a brilliant orange flame.
Iris gasped. The flame just kept burning, brighter and brighter, almost engulfing Dumbledore's hand, and Iris kept staring. She had no idea what exactly was happening, but it was the prettiest thing she had ever seen.
Dumbledore collapsed onto the ground, falling to the side, breathing deeply, and in an instant, the flame winked out. Her eyes turned back to the small pile of ash. What had that accomplished?
Then, a sudden shiver, a sudden motion. The pile crumbled slightly, its top moved. And from the ashes emerged a tiny, ugly, crumpled baby phoenix. Iris just stared at the tiny Immortal, as it gave a weak little chirp, and Dumbledore slowly reached out a hand to it.
Finally, her gaze slowly drifted back over to the other side, where Harry's skeleton lay.
No. This was real. She hated it. She wished that it wasn't. But it was.
No matter how much they kept looking, they would find nothing.
Because Harry was dead.
He was dead, and it was her fault.
Iris clutched his glasses in a death grip, as she forced her thoughts into order. Another glance wandered across to the newly reborn phoenix, then down to the glasses in her hands.
Harry was dead, and he wouldn't be coming back.
That was, unless she had anything to say about it.
Unless she did what she'd always do, and found a way to fix it.
~V~
Lucius Malfoy was gripping his cane like a vice as he stared down the table at his assorted so-called friends. The wide table in the main hall of the manor—his manor—which was currently playing host to not just all of his inner circle, but the Dark Lord himself.
And therein lay the problem. He had been on parchment-thin ice ever since his blunder, ever since he had returned, and immediately discovered his betrayal. That Lucius had violated the highest order he had ever given him, had given away the one thing he had sworn to protect above all else.
He seemed to have been granted some sense of leniency, based on the fact that while he hadn't been able to recover it, the diary had obviously still been active, and if it could achieve his plan, it would have worked out in the end, and he still had a chance to recover it after all. But ever since that day, he had basically been a prisoner in his own house. Except nobody but his wife knew.
Narcissa.
With a throbbing feeling in his throat, he shot a glance at the most beautiful woman to ever walk the earth sitting at the corner of the table, projecting the perfect image of calmness, when they both knew that she was anything but.
He had failed her. He had failed both of them.
And he could only hope that he would be able to pay the price for his failure, lest they had to pay it for him.
If he were anyone else, he was sure that he would be long dead and buried already. But he was, after all, the wealthiest man in Magical Britain. The silver tongue behind the Minister's ear. The pride of his son Draco.
Except none of that mattered in face of the man sitting across from him at the table, in the very spot he should be sitting in.
The man he had once placed his faith in, along with most of his allies. The man he had long since realized had anything but their best interests at heart. The man who had been firmly on the path beyond humanity, comprehension and sheer insanity long before he had ever returned from the dead. Not a man. A monster.
Not that anyone would dare to say that to his face.
The newcomer sitting on the other side was speaking again in a deep voice.
"It is as you suspected. The disappearance of Harry Potter was indeed related to the Chamber of Secrets."
His face was obscured by a cowl. He didn't know his identity, and he didn't need to. Whoever he was, he seemed to hold the Dark Lord's trust. And that was enough for everyone here.
"Indeed?" Spoke the voice, incomprehensibly sweet and yet horrifying. He couldn't even really pin down its pitch anymore.
"However, it would seem that that's not all there is to it, Master."
The Dark Lord waved a pale hand, allowing the man to continue.
"It would seem that what you seek has been in possession of the boy's sister. And that it was destroyed, this time, for good."
Lucius could practically feel every single cell in his body plunge in temperature at the words.
Across from him, the utterly alien yet somehow human being barely did so much as grip his cup a little tighter. But every single one of them could feel that he was far from calm right now. At least, everyone bearing the mark.
"But that was not all that was destroyed that night," the deep voice continued, seemingly unbothered by the oppressive presence in the room.
The pendulum clock at the end of the room finally dared to utter another tick.
"Continue," he whispered.
"The same venom that was responsible for its destruction also took the life of the one wielding it in the same breath."
Several sharp intakes of air across the table as people began to parse that statement.
But the figure spared them the musings, and uttered his final words. "Harry Potter is dead."
~V~
Finally having been dismissed, he got up, trying to make his way back to his 'cell'. He still couldn't believe it. His blunder had not only ended in the worst way possible with the Diary actually being destroyed, but he had cost him the chance to kill Harry Potter himself.
He saw Narcissa leave through the side entrance leading to their sleeping quarters, and quickly made to follow her. He wasn't sure he would get another chance to—
Lucius pulled the door shut behind him, and the moment he heard a click, he realized that he was not alone. In the space right in front of him, where one blink of the eye before there had only been the empty room, there now stood the man.
"Lucius," he said cordially.
He faintly noticed his wife at the end of the room, approaching the door, trying to open it, and finding it locked.
Looking the other way, there sat his son Draco in a comfy armchair, raising his head with an annoyed expression, then freezing as he realized who was in the room with them.
"My Lord," was the only reply his lips could form.
"You see, I have been thinking..." began the voice, somehow way too high, and yet sounding utterly perfect.
In the next blink, he found himself sitting on the leather chair couch next to his son, with Narcissa sitting in the other chair.
"Your decision, your... betrayal... You see," the voice came from somewhere behind his ear, yet he found himself unable to turn around.
"You took something of mine that was very... special..."
He could feel the words, as if they were fingers running along his cheek.
"I have been... lenient... so far, but I think, yes... I think this requires... an example..."
In a blink, the face was right in front of him again, and he was standing in the middle between his gathered family.
"You need to learn... your lesson... after all," the voice purred, as he ran a finger along his own chin, as if pondering.
The two armchairs standing next to each other, the man was suddenly standing behind them, one hand resting on each.
"Very few things you hold dear in life, Lucius. Very few. Much like myself."
"You took something I hold dear," he said, his voice dipping an octave too low.
"But, I shall be lenient," he continued, rubbing his hands along the top of the armchairs.
"So, I will let you choose."
Lucius had known exactly what he was going to say, before he had even said it.
Leniency.
The love of his life, his all and everything, the only woman he could ever see like that stared back at him, her impenetrable mask firmly cracked, pure terror written across her features.
And in the other chair, his son. His pride and joy. The only thing he had ever done right. His eyes staring back, staring... in anger.
"If you do not choose... I'm more than happy to do it for you..."
He seemed to glide forward, until he was right up in his face again, and Lucius felt his pale hand on his cheek.
"One must die. Your wife, or your son... which will it be?"
A barely contained sob from Narcissa shattered through his heart, and he knew. He knew what she wanted him to do.
And for once, he agreed. There was no point in even offering his own life in exchange. The Dark Lord's words had been clear. He was giving him a chance to spare one of them. He met her eyes for one final time, a single moment that seemed to stretch into eternity as unspoken words of love passed between them.
He never thought this was a decision he would ever have to make; that he would ever be able to make. Yet in this very moment, he didn't even have to think about it.
Narcissa nodded, and he nodded back. Swallowing, summoning every last bit of courage, he finally whispered.
"My wife."
"No!" came a yell. "You can't!"
His son had stood up, and was now yelling, eyes stained by tears. "I won't let you!"
The man tilted his head across his shoulder, somehow bending a little too far, and he raised his finger to his lips in a shushing motion. His son's voice died down in a second, yet Lucius could tell it was not a silencing charm, nor had he stopped shouting.
Dead set on doing what was necessary to protect his son, even at the greatest of all prices, he steeled himself for one final time, and said, "I have decided. Do it."
Nothing else mattered.
Slowly, the head turned back around, until the blazing red eyes met his own, and he felt a prickling sensation run down his spine.
"Oh, no, you misunderstand..."
Lucius breath caught in his throat, his eyes entrapped by the infernal angry red.
"I'm not going to do anything to them."
Dare he hope? Did... did he pass some sort of test?
His hand reached out, he pulled up Lucius' own arm, and suddenly, he found his own wand, resting in his sweaty palm. The Dark Lord gently forced Lucius' fingers to enclose around the dark wood, then held his hand for long seconds, as his mouth twisted into a small smile.
"That honor belongs to you."
~V~
Iris hadn't managed to stick around after that, unable to stare the inevitable reality into its empty sockets any longer. She had thought having proof would change things. That she'd be angry, shocked, that she'd finally be able to cry, but now that she had, she only felt numb. Nothing had changed. She had known all along. In a way, she had known ever since she had woken up in the hospital wing. It had felt like a part of her had been missing since that day, the bracelet on her own hand remaining cold and inert ever since.
But instead, something kept niggling at the back of her mind. An idea, seeping like a poison, and for the lack of any other thoughts in opposition, it began to spread. A terrible infection of the mind, giving her the one thing that could break down even the last vestiges of reason.
A fleeting spark of hope.
Her magic-addled mind was at work all on its own, with her being forced to helplessly watch, as it tried to come up with plans on how to do what she knew was categorically impossible.
In an attempt to distract herself from the intrusive thoughts, Iris began parsing through the words of Prophecy she had learned, replaying them carefully through the use of her Mindlight. Would that mean that the Prophecy was fulfilled? Harry definitely was the one who was marked as his equal. And if Myrtle had just been doing Voldemort's bidding, then that would certainly count as having died by his hand...
She wondered what that would mean. If Magic required that either must die at the hand of the other, would that mean that only they could kill each other? Was it now possible for someone else to kill him, now that the Prophecy had come to pass? Was there only one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord? Could the prophecy now apply to her instead, even though she hadn't been marked as his equal? Did her shattered Magic count as a mark? Did his Name? Or had the Prophecy run its course already?
Whatever it would mean, she wasn't sure that it would be up to interpretation. Magic had a mind of its own, and it would make up its mind without anyone else getting a say. Just like it did when a ritual concluded.
Iris followed the aged headmaster all the way back up into his office, who seemed to be just as unable to find any words to say.
Why exactly couldn't she?
She knew it was impossible, hell, she had tried it before. But she had also done the impossible several times already. Iris knew she was deluding herself again, her mind desperately coming up with new ways of denying what had happened.
But under the influence of her Mindlight, her own thoughts read like her science book.
She wasn't denying what had happened, not anymore. She was just denying the outcome. Which was the one thing that even Magic would insist upon. Not even Lockhart had been able to change the outcome, he had only been able to alter the story, the chain of events that had led there.
But then again, it's possible that this was because it only worked if people believed his books were true, and they wouldn't believe it if the outcome they could see contradicted what was written in the book.
Also, it wasn't like Magic was enforcing this outcome either, she realized. The phoenix had taken the Killing Curse for him. Magic didn't want him dead, Fate did.
No matter how badly things had gone wrong, she had always managed to fix it. Except that one time. But with Draco, Magic had already made up its mind. Not that she had really tried, she realized.
Why should Magic be allowed to get the final say, anyway?
But the truth was still freshly seared into her mind. It had been exactly this fallacy that had led to Harry's demise in the first place. Thinking that things would always work out for her, that she could achieve anything she set her mind to, and that the impossible was merely another stepping stone. That she had to do it all by herself, because she wouldn't make the same mistakes that others would.
Yet right now, what she wanted to do, what she had to do, it was not only impossible, but it would require her to do it all by herself yet again.
Across from her, Dumbledore seemed to be speaking in a low and tired voice, but the words simply whizzed past her in a blur.
The ritual she had tried to bring back Salem. It had both worked and also not. It had gone incredibly right, and still incredibly wrong. Maybe, it had been the Thing who had been at fault. Maybe it had been the fact that the sacrifice had only been adequate to bring back a body, but not a soul. Maybe, it simply was impossible.
But that was something she refused to accept.
If anything, she had learned that with Magic, the limits were your imagination and creativity. Not all things were immediately possible, but so many things were, that in combination, you could achieve pretty much anything.
Voldemort had done it. Dumbledore had too. So why couldn't she?
Louder and louder the thoughts grew, taking up everything, making noise, making a mess, and worst of all, making sense.
STOP IT! SHUT UP! HE'S DEAD, ALRIGHT? LEAVE ME ALONE!!!
She forced her Mindlight as bright as it would go, pulsing it in a deep indigo glow, tearing her from the headmaster's office and thrusting her onto that all-too-familiar dark and rainy mountain road, illuminated by the ever-present green moon. Looking around in apprehension, she hesitantly followed it. On and on, along the road, all the way down to the mountain’s base. This time, instead of the warning sign, she encountered a crossroads.
What her Magic was trying to tell her could not have been clearer.
Straight ahead, the trail followed a river. On this path, she would rebuild what had been destroyed, attempt to save what is left, and live the life she should have had. It was the path Harry would have wanted her to take—he had sacrificed his life for it. Down this path awaited her friends, her future, everything she had ever wanted. Everything except Harry. This route, however, was shadowed by the ominous glow of the red moon burning unchallenged in the night sky.
To her left, a steep, arduous climb back up the mountain awaited, step by painstaking step. This was the path of duty, where she would take up Harry’s torch, attempt to fulfill the prophecy in his stead. It was fraught with danger and potential loss, but it promised vengeance against the one who had orchestrated Harry's downfall, even if she was ultimately to blame.
But to her right, a third path plunged further down, into depths unknown. On this route, she would willingly forsake the lessons learned to delve deeper, explore every facet of magic, and leave no stone unturned. She did not know where it would lead, or what it might cost. But she knew, that even if it led to nothing else, it was the one path that might—just might—bring him back.
Notes:
Surprise Halloween chapter!
Also, if you'd like to discuss the story, theories, plot, magic or anything else really, I started a Discord server which you can join using this LINK
Chapter 3: Resolve
Chapter Text
The tiny brass gear tumbled down the metallic staircase, each step hitting an ever-descending note.
Cling cling cling cling cling.
A choice. Was this even a real choice?
It toppled to the side, glowed white, and transformed into a molten blob.
Would she have to choose at all? Were they mutually exclusive?
The red glowing blob floated upwards, like a soap bubble, hitting an inverted slide, spiraling around the outside of the Thingomagic.
Couldn't she just do... all of those? None of those?
The inverted drop of metal hit the white surface at the top and hissed, as it solidified.
No. Because the Paths didn't represent outcomes. Or even specific actions.
A small white cylinder plunged upwards, stamping down onto the solidified blob of brass with a sound of a tiny hammer striking metal, and when it retracted, it was in the shape of a gear again.
Taking the first path was to do what was easy. To do what Harry would have wanted her to. To live, to be with her friends. To put herself first.
The cylinder tilted, and the gear slid off, and tumbled back onto the staircase.
Taking the second path was to do what was right. To do what everyone else expected her to. To put the rest of the world first.
Cling cling cling cling cling.
Iris kept staring at the pointless magical contraption, as if it would hold the answer to all the world's questions.
Taking the third path... was to do what was impossible. To do what no one expected her to. To put Harry first.
The gear came to a stop and toppled once more.
Even if the actions weren't mutually exclusive, or even the goals, the methods were; the mindset was.
The gear melted into a red blob and began floating.
She didn't know much, but she knew that magic that dealt with Death, magic of the Soul, rituals of that nature, all of those were some of the darkest and most forbidden magics there were. Lock you up in the Department of Mysteries and throw away the key kind of forbidden. Back when she had done her failed ritual with Salem, the Aurors had seemed deeply disturbed just at the memory of what she had left behind. And that had been without them even knowing for sure what had happened there, and what had actually come back.
The red drop began spiraling along the slide, round and round.
Only Voldemort ever had the audacity to perform magics of this kind, sometimes using Inferi in the war, not to mention bringing himself back to life. Not even Grindelwald, for all the terrors he had wrought, had ever dabbled into such magics. At least, as far as the history books were concerned.
The molten brass impacted the top, and with a hiss, solidified once more.
If she were to embark on this path, to learn what she needed to learn, do what needed to be done, nobody could ever know.
Nobody.
The cylinder slammed into the tiny drop and forged it into gear shape once more.
Because once she embarked on this path, there would be no turning back. What this path required of her, that was mutually exclusive with the principles of either of the others.
The cylinder tilted, and the gear once again braved the staircase.
If she went down this path, she would do so alone. For the rest of her life.
Cling cling cling cli—
The tumbling gear was arrested mid-motion by the wrinkled fingers of her headmaster.
"I know how you must feel. I know much better than almost anyone, I imagine," Dumbledore said softly, his blue eyes shadowed with old grief.
Iris’ gaze dropped to the floor; her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. Of course he wouldn't understand. How could he understand? She had gotten her brother killed, in her reckless search for more power, all while trying to protect him.
Dumbledore took a step closer, his gentle voice slowly beginning to speak. "Iris, blaming yourself is a natural response to loss, especially when you believe your actions led to it. But I need you to understand something very important. No matter how much we wish it, we cannot change the past. We cannot bring back the dead."
Instead of tears, or sorrow, anger rose. "What would you know about that?" she snapped.
The old wizard’s face grew more somber. "There is no magic powerful enough to truly bring back the dead, Iris. Trust me, I know. I have searched for it myself, long ago, after my sister Ariana... passed."
Iris looked up at him, startled. She had never heard Dumbledore speak of his family before. "Ariana?"
Dumbledore just looked back; his eyes distant. "She died because of a foolish duel between my brother, a friend, and myself. I have spent a lifetime grappling with the guilt of that day, wondering if there was something I could have done differently. But trying to change the past, to reverse death... it leads only to darkness, despair, and inevitably, even greater loss."
"So what am I supposed to do? Just pretend like nothing happened? Just... accept it and move on?" Iris hissed.
Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You honor his memory by living, by continuing to fight for the things he believed in. Harry’s sacrifice was not in vain. He died to protect you, to protect all of us. His legacy lives on in you."
She slowly looked back up and stared at him, until she finally said, "He didn't deserve to die."
"Neither did she," Dumbledore said. "Grief is a powerful emotion, but it does not have to consume you. I implore you, do not allow yourself to make the same mistakes I did. Instead, allow yourself to feel it, to mourn. But also allow yourself to heal, to find strength in the love and memories you shared with Harry."
Iris nodded slowly, the weight of his words settling over her like a heavy blanket. Her memories of him. If only she still had them. "I’ll try," she whispered.
"That is all anyone can ask," Dumbledore replied, his voice gentle. "And remember, you do not have to face this alone."
Oh, she would try, alright. But he was wrong about one thing.
She turned to look back over to the perch, where the newly resurrected phoenix sat; the living antithesis to everything he had just said.
She did have to face this alone.
Because nobody could ever know.
Not until she had succeeded.
Dumbledore gave her one final look that seemed to convey a lot more than just worry, but she had already decided.
"I hesitate to bring this up in light of what we have just learned, but since you are already here, there is another matter we need to discuss."
Really?
"I presume you know who the man was that you so unfortunately intruded upon before?"
Iris swallowed. Yeah. Sirius Black. Their presumed godfather, who had been unjustly imprisoned because everyone had believed he had committed a crime that had in truth been committed by Scabbers. She wondered what had become of the man who had been hiding as Ron's pet rat. Presumably he was already in Azkaban?
"As you have witnessed, he has been released from his rehabilitation program and cleared to be of sound mental health. Additionally, he has approached me with an offer to take over your guardianship."
Right, he had written something about that. At the time, they had both been hesitant, unwilling to believe that someone would actually take them in, that someone would take them away from the Dursleys. At least, they wouldn't get their hopes up until it actually happened.
And now, now that it seemed to be becoming a reality, she couldn't help but let out a hollow chuckle.
It was some sort of ironic cruelty of fate that they would finally get the chance for a normal childhood, only for Harry to be robbed of that, permanently; just a week before it would have become a reality.
"I was hesitant about this at first. You see, the reason why I sent you to live with your aunt and uncle in the first place..."
He did what?
All the time, she had assumed that they had just fallen to them by default, as the Dursleys had been their closest living relatives. Had he really just said that? He had placed them there on purpose?
"...the protection that Lily provided through her sacrifice would be strongest if tied to her blood, so naturally, it would be the best decision to send you to live with her sister, in order to strengthen her protections as much as possible. The sacrifice would prevent You-Know-Who from even so much as touching him, as long as he stayed true to her blood. I have placed a great many protections around that place, but by far the strongest is the one provided by your mother's sacrifice."
God damn it, why did it have to make sense? Sometimes she hated her intuitive understanding of magic.
"...Additionally, there was the issue that your own magic was grievously damaged during the attack, and we came to the realization that the best chance for your magic to recover would be to grow up in the Muggle world."
Ah, and there it was. At this point, she had almost expected it. He had been dancing around it, but it turned out, it had even been her fault that Harry had been stuck at the Dursleys.
"However, since the protection had been tied to him, and not to you, I suspect they will be fading in due time. So if you wish it, I can arrange to have your guardianship transferred from your aunt and uncle over to Sirius instead."
Well, she'd be damned. He was actually giving her a choice. Although he was probably expecting her to jump at the chance in a heartbeat.
"Do I... have to decide now?"
But today had changed things.
Yes, eleven-year-old Iris would have jumped at the chance with a tackle-hug. Even twelve-year-old Iris would have quickly agreed, even though she had already pretty much neutered their home-situation through the targeted use of a polarized curse and implied bodily harm.
But her current almost-teenage self had different priorities. On the one hand, there was a possible father figure. He might prove a good guardian; he might continue to affirm his first impression. But one thing he wouldn't afford her was the freedom that her current situation with her relatives did.
Then on the other hand, there were the Dursleys. The same people who had done their very best to ensure that Harry and her were unloved, and that they knew it. Although ever since their last birthday, they had been almost bearable. They pretty much left her completely alone, gave her food and drink and shelter, and she was free to wander about London, use magic as needed, and study in peace.
If she had learned any lesson from what had happened, it was that she couldn't afford to keep acting reactionary. If she wanted to bring Harry back, she would have to take matters into her own hands. And in that moment, Iris Potter made a decision that her younger self would have her checked for Polyjuice and declared clinically insane for. She would turn down an offer of actual guardianship, in exchange for willingly returning to her hated relatives.
But how to play this? Dumbledore already suspected that she was thinking about doing something like trying to bring him back, which she very much was. She knew she wouldn't be fooling him with any lies, deflections or trickery. He was very much like Harry in that regard. And the only way she had ever been able to bullshit Harry was by telling the truth, and letting his emotions fill in the gaps.
"If you do agree, you will never have to go back to Privet Drive. Even if Sirius isn't here just now. After what he told me earlier... I couldn't in good conscience force you back," he said, his voice increasingly wavering towards the end.
Her eyes widened slightly. Right, she had almost forgotten. That would make this harder. But also... maybe she could use that.
Iris looked down and squirmed in her chair. "Could I... I don't know... Well, it's just... I don't really know anything about him... and he's been in Azkaban all this time... what if... what if he..."
Dumbledore took in a sharp breath. "Iris... did... your relatives, did they... They didn't... touch you... did they?"
Her eyes went wide. She hadn't been going for that. Apparently, she had played her part a little too well.
Iris quickly shook her head. "N-no! Nothing like... that... Well, they... They only ever punished Harry... even if it was my fault. Also, well..."
Iris paused, unsure if she should tell him that much. But she had to, if he suspected they did... something like that... there's no way he'd let her return back there.
"Last summer... we had a talk. They haven't bothered us since then," she said, trying to make it sound like it wasn't really that big of a deal.
"I... see..." Dumbledore said, then he fell silent, seemingly pondering.
"Iris, I can only imagine what the two of you must have gone through due to the decision I have made twelve years ago—a decision which I could never apologize enough for—but I do want you to know one thing. Sirius has my complete trust."
Iris did a little mental jig. She slowly looked back at him, then hesitantly said, "But... didn't you say that... you believed him to be guilty until last Christmas?"
There was no good answer to this question, and they both knew it.
Iris let the moment stretch a bit more, and then asked, "Could I maybe... meet him first? After I've had some time to... you know..."
She looked to the side, then down again. "Right now it's just that... With them, I know what to expect... With him? I... I don't know what he'd..."
The headmaster was wearing a pained expression, but he still continued to let her speak her mind.
"I... I just think with everything going on, I'd be less worried... if I stayed for now... at least until I get to know him..."
Technically the truth. One look at his face revealed an expression of heartbroken resignation.
Had it worked? Had he bought it?
"I had been hoping that he'd be back by now," Dumbledore said to himself.
"But I think that yes, it is perhaps for the best if the two of you spend some time to get to know each other before committing to a major decision like this. And perhaps, after he has had some time to come to terms with what we have just learned as well..."
He still looked torn, but apparently, she had won him over.
"I will inform you by owl about how we shall proceed, and once you are ready, arrange a proper reunion for you and your godfather."
Iris met his eyes, and finally gave a grateful nod. She just hoped that he hadn't picked up on the real reason behind her words in the end.
~V~
For the second time that night, the quiet of Privet Drive was disturbed by a loud noise. This time it sounded like a backfiring car. Which, in a way, it was. A massive triple-decker bus materialized out of thin air and swerved into the street at a speed that even the most adventurous of drivers would consider unsafe, and slammed its brakes, causing it to come to a screeching halt in front of No. 4.
This time, strangely, none of the neighbors showed even a hint of annoyance at the noise. Nor did Mrs. Olsen even raise an eyebrow as the door creaked open and revealed a man in shabby robes, wearing a large metal contraption around his neck, as he waved his goodbyes with a grin to the girl who had just gotten off the bus.
Said girl didn't even look back at the man who was still waving until someone shouted at him from behind the window, and he reluctantly pulled the door closed. With another bang, the bus began barreling at break-neck speed once more, and one second later, it was gone.
Iris took a deep breath, as she beheld the pristine suburban home. After all those years, after everything they had gone through here, when she finally had the chance to get away, she had turned it down.
All for a chance to pursue her goal in peace for one more summer.
She'd better make it count, then.
Finally glowing with purpose again, she directed her thoughts towards doing exactly that.
Step one, she'd have to find some way to get information, research materials. Most likely, she'd have to get to Diagon Alley, although there was also the possibility of following her original plan and sneaking into Hogwarts to try and get to the Restricted Section. But, she figured, if anything, she'd put that off until the start of her third year, she'd be at Hogwarts then anyway, and also, she was trying to avoid Dumbledore's suspicion first and foremost. If anyone would figure out what she was up to, it would be him.
Step two, look up stuff. More specifically, anything to do with healing, rituals, souls, death, maybe even Death with a capital D. This time, she'd do it properly. This time, she'd know what she was doing. There was no way she'd risk bringing Harry back if he would end up as another Salem in turn. And only then, she'd decide on what or how to actually go about bringing him back.
Step three, Voldemort. She wouldn't delude herself and assume she even held a fleeting chance of defeating him now that he was fully resurrected—which once again, of course was her fault—not after what she had witnessed during the time she had been inside his thoughts due to the Imperius. The problem was that she might not get a choice. If he knew about the prophecy—and wouldn't that explain why he personally came to attack them in the first place—then he might draw the same conclusion as her, and try to come after Iris as well, just to be sure the prophecy was fulfilled the right way. So she'd at least have to get strong enough to be able to escape and avoid him—or at least his followers—until she figured out the situation with Harry. She couldn't rely on Dumbledore to protect her either, because the whole point was to avoid Dumbledore as well. The same went doubly so for the Ministry. No. The only one she could rely on here was herself. And wasn't that an encouraging thought?
Step... four? She wasn't sure if there was any point to ordering them anymore... Anyway, step four, her friends. She had no idea what to do about them. She obviously couldn't tell them, so that really left only two options. The first was to pretend like nothing was wrong and continue on how they would expect. This would at least leave their friendships intact—at least, until they figured something out anyway. And a part of her very much craved that little detail. But it would also leave them at risk of being dragged down with her. So the obvious solution was to push them away, to willingly isolate herself in order to protect them.
But that left another issue, once again in the shape of Dumbledore. If she suddenly pushed away all her friends, at some point, he was bound to notice. Yes, she could initially explain it away by having to deal with what had happened, but the longer it went on, the more he'd feel like there was something wrong, the more likely he'd be to stick his nose where it didn't belong. So, no matter how much she hated it for putting her friends at risk as well, and how annoying it would be, she wouldn't do that. In the end, Harry was all that mattered. And if anything, she'd choose the path to bringing him back that had the highest chance of success. It was all she could do as his sister. So actual step four, she'd have to slowly reconnect with her friends, put on a front, and prevent people from noticing what she was up to.
Iris pushed open the front door, and paused at the sight that met her.
"You have some nerve, barging in here like you own the place at an hour like this," growled her uncle, lounging in his armchair in front of the TV as usual.
Iris slowly closed the door behind her, pondered for a moment, and nodded.
Step zero, clarify where she stood with her relatives.
Iris slowly approached the living room, not saying anything, then entered and came to a stop in front of the sofa, just staring him down. Petunia over to the side, had stopped ironing the laundry mid-motion and was just staring hesitantly. Iris stopped for a moment, simply holding their gazes, as she pondered what to do.
Finally, Iris raised an eyebrow. "Do we need to have another chat, uncle?"
His beady eyes darted over to where Petunia stood, but he didn't reply. When she had chosen to willingly return here, Iris had been counting on the fact that the last time she had demonstrated that she could and would use magic in their house—if they didn't leave them alone—would suffice to keep them off her back while she did what she had to. But apparently, a whole year of having the house to themselves had eroded the message to the point where they were falling back into their old patterns. So this time, she would have to make sure that it would stick, at least, for the span of the next two months. Iris mentally gathered herself, and finally put on her most innocent of smiles.
"Because... I think we're going to have one anyway."
She skipped over to his armchair, and before he could say another word, plopped down on one of the armrests.
"What the hell do you think you're—"
"Shush," Iris said quietly, as she raised a single finger which lit up in a blue glow.
Uncle Vernon made to get up from the chair, fear and disgust clearly written on his face, but she held the finger in front of him, causing him to freeze. That smile still locked on her lips, she slowly reached out, until her finger touched his chest. She didn't use any spell, really. Just some application of Force aspect, given direction by her intent.
As if moving a chess piece with her finger, she pushed, and forced his body back into the chair. Petunia had dropped the iron at this point, and Vernon was staring at her wide-eyed.
"You see..." Iris began, and then decided to drive the point home, why not go all the way.
Suppressing a shiver, she shifted off the armrest and onto his lap, pointedly facing to the side towards Petunia. Iris overrode her internal revulsion at the motion, knowing that if it felt this wrong for her, it must be ten times worse for them.
Which was the point. They needed to realize that she could do whatever the hell she wanted, and that they were powerless to do anything about it. The last thing she needed was her chance of bringing Harry back being ruined by her relatives poking their noses into her business, or worse, alerting anyone from the magical world about it. Especially if she could have prevented it.
"I probably won't be coming back here next summer," she continued, as if talking about the weather.
"So this'll be the last time we see each other..." Iris whispered, still resting that one blue glowing finger on his chest. Vernon's face had gone past pale into purple now. But he still hadn't tried to speak.
Unlike Petunia. "You're crazy! I knew—"
"Silencio."
Iris clicked the fingers of her free hand while flashing in the yellow glow of the Control aspect. The resulting spell was massively unstable, and collapsed after barely a second, but it did manage to interrupt her tirade before it had even started.
"You should take a page out of Uncle Vernon's book, Auntie," Iris said brightly, as she turned away from him to face her. "He at least figured out when it's better to shut up."
"If you think I'm going to..." said uncle growled behind her, but she didn't even turn to face him.
Instead, she spread the blue glow from her finger down her arm, and quickly covered her whole body in a very faint blue. Then, she slowly gave it direction—downwards.
His words cut off on a choked sound as her weight seemingly increased tenfold and he found himself pinned to the chair. Iris tried her best not to jump up and flee at the sensation, but she persevered, being able to see the fruits of her labor in the horrified look on his face. They did call her a creepy freak all her life, it was only fitting she gave them exactly what they asked for.
The chair groaned under the combined weight, and Petunia looked like she was about to speak up again, but Iris beat her to it.
"Today I got an offer of guardianship from my godfather, who just got out of prison by the way..." Iris helpfully explained.
She let her gaze wander between the two of them, but it seemed they had finally given up on trying to speak, so she lowered the Force a little.
"That means, most likely, by next summer, I won't be returning here again... But it seems I'm still stuck here for another two months."
"Get. Off. Him. Right. Now!" Petunia hissed, clutching the ironing board in a death grip.
Iris turned to Petunia again, and her smile widened into a grin. She slowly and deliberately raised her hand again, and made it glow green from the combined aspects of Force and Control.
"Accio."
The steaming hot iron glowed blue, then rose off the board before Petunia realized what was happening. It began to float towards her, tearing the cord from the socket in the process with some sparks. Iris caught it in her hand and gave Petunia a meaningful look. She could almost see the gradual horror of the realization eclipse her face inch by inch, and her smile widened into a grin. Slowly, but inevitably, she began to turn, the iron still clutched in her fist, resting her other hand on his chest again, as she moved it closer and closer to his face.
"No! Stop it!" yelled her aunt from across the room.
Iris pushed the round button at the handle, causing a gust of steam to billow from the still hot device, despite having already been unplugged.
"Aahhrrg! Stop! Please! Don't!" croaked Uncle Vernon, as her aunt instead descended into incoherent screeching.
She held it there for a few more seconds, until she slammed it down, hard.
The leather of the armrest began hissing and sizzling from the boiling hot water that escaped. Iris let it sit there, until even Petunia calmed down enough for the room to descend into silence once more.
"Here's the deal," she whispered.
"I have things to do while I'm here. And you're in the way. So here's what you'll do."
She lifted her hand off the still sizzling iron, and raised a finger. "One, you won't go into my room, ever. You'll ignore anything that happens there, and you'll know nothing about it."
Then she added a second finger. "Two, you'll give me food, water, and otherwise pretend I'm not here."
Finally, she raised a third finger. "Three, you will let me do... whatever. the. fuck. I want."
Iris tilted her head, and her smile widened. "Because if you don't..." she trailed off, then reached out, and raised the iron off the leather armrest, revealing the charred surface beneath. "If you're lucky, that... could be one of you."
Her uncle just stared at the pyrolyzed leather and finally turned to look back up at her beaming smile. "...And if we're not?"
"Well..." Iris turned away from him and pointedly inspected her nails, like she'd seen Pansy do sometimes. "I'm sure you can figure it out."
His eyes snapped up the staircase towards the other upstairs bedroom, likely imagining something far worse than she'd ever even consider.
"So for the next two months, you'll do nothing, and if anyone asks, you'll tell them nothing. And if you somehow manage that... by the end of summer, I'll be gone. For good," she added with a wide smile.
She turned back to face Vernon. "So... What do you say? Sounds reasonable, doesn't it?"
Vernon nodded so quickly he had probably sprained his neck. Iris slowly turned an expectant gaze towards Petunia whose lips were so thin they might as well be non-existent. She stared back with an indecipherable mix of revulsion and loathing.
"You really are just like her... except somehow even more insane. I knew you were—"
"You know, I still haven't heard an answer yet..." Iris interrupted, absently-minded pretending to raise her hand to look at her non-existent wrist watch, while accidentally moving the iron still held in said hand closer to Vernon's face.
"Stop that! Absolutely mental... Fine. You'll get your way. Just like she always did."
"There we go. Did it physically hurt to say that?" Iris replied, and slowly and pointedly set the iron down on the armrest, the hot side still facing Vernon.
But she had to be sure. She needed to be firm, but by pushing this far, she was running a very good chance of just pushing them towards finding help from the magical world to deal with her. So there was one last act to this little pitch. She had the carrot, the stick, a heck of a lot more stick, and now, she had to cut off their escape as well. Iris was pretty sure Vernon had taken her message to heart, but Petunia...
Iris focused and carefully brought a faint amount of Indigo to her eyes, just enough for it to be barely visible, and met Petunia's eyes.
...that thing in my house. I should have gotten rid of her years ago. Lily was a freak, yes, but that girl... is a monster. Just like her, smiling all the time, getting everyone to dance to her tune, thinking she can do whatever she wants with her magic. But at least Lily still pretended to be human. I wonder what those freaks would say if I told them...
"Oh come on, Auntie, now that's just mean..." Iris said, cut out the light, then turned back to look at Vernon.
"She thinks I'm not human enough for her," she told him with a pout. Then, her expression turned conspiratorial, and she leaned closer to whisper, "Also, she was thinking about telling the other freaks about what I've been doing..."
Vernon's eyes bulged, and there was an audible gasp from across the room.
Iris tilted her head and her smile widened. "Would you mind telling her what you think about that idea?"
"Tuni... please..." he gasped under the pressure of her weight.
Iris turned back to meet Petunia's eyes to finally see her mask of loathing firmly cracked, staring back like a deer caught in the headlights. There. Mission accomplished.
Swinging her legs up, she cut out her blue light, pushed off her seat, and got to her feet.
"Anyway, it's been a nice chat and all, but I'm like really busy, so I gotta get going," she said and began to turn towards the door, took a step, but then turned back.
"And this time, I suggest you remember it." She gave a pointed look at Vernon, and finally Petunia. "Because we will not... be having a third one."
Deciding to add the cherry on top, she flicked her hair back, and began to skip from the room, applying a final wandless Depulso with her orb to slam the door shut in her wake. Only once she was safely back in her own room did she finally allow her smile to shatter.
Chapter 4: Holiday reading
Chapter Text
Iris collapsed onto her bed, and began rolling around in the sheets, her body still shivering.
She had overdone it again, hadn't she?
Just like with her housemates, both the first and the second time they had ganged up on her. When she was confronted with someone like that... someone she thought deserved it, and she felt she had the power to do something about it, especially when she really shouldn't have...
Somehow, despite everything that had happened since then, she had fallen right back into that moment in the corridor in front of her common room, when she had confronted her housemates. Once she had started, she had just kept going. At least, she had managed to keep to the initial plan of not actually hurting any of them, but... she had still kind of gone overboard in the end. All thoughts about Harry, about her situation, about the consequences, they all had taken the back seat.
She had really gotten into it. And wasn't that a worrying thought.
But in the end, she had been doing it for her goal, hadn't she? It had been part of the plan. They needed to give up on any ideas of opposing her while she was here, and rest their main hopes on the fact she would be gone forever in two months' time. It wasn't like she had actually hurt any of them this time.
Whatever. She couldn't allow herself to dwell on inconsequential things like that. The time to worry about consequences was past. Not that she had ever done much of that to begin with. From now on, she'd only worry about things that affected her goal first and foremost.
Also, it had been kind of refreshing to break out of her spiraling thoughts for a minute...
Another shiver ran down her spine at specifically what she had done, that dizzying unease of deliberately invading his personal space so thoroughly to make a point. Yeah, refreshing wasn't exactly the word she'd use.
A faint knocking sound from the window alerted her to the fact that Harry's owl had returned from her trip and was demanding entrance to their bedroom.
And she hadn't come with empty talons.
Iris pulled open the window, allowing Hedwig to swoop inside, and drop another Daily Prophet on her desk. Usually those would arrive in the morning, not the middle of the night...
Getting curious, she approached, and unfolded the newspaper to begin to read.
Dark Wizards attack Kings Cross Station!
Barely twenty-four hours have gone by since the tragic passing of one of our most fabled heroes, and it seems the forces of Evil have only been spurred by his demise. Tonight, at ten p.m. a group of masked wizards attacked a beacon of safety right in the center of our treasured community.
Platform Nine and Three Quarters, a gathering point for magical children of all ages, which was supposed to be the safest path to Hogwarts, has been proven anything but! Luckily, according to reports, the platform had at the time been locked down and empty, the only injuries had been to nearby Muggles as well as the Aurors which showed up in response to the situation. It is unclear what the aim of the attack had been, but sources in the Ministry suggest that they were preparing some sort of trap or ambush for our children on the first of September.
A large number of Muggles have witnessed one of them forcefully breaking open the sealed entrance to the platform with a terrifying display of magic, which has kept the Obliviators busy well into the night. Luckily, they managed to account for all the witnesses before they could spread the message via their electronic devices. The struggle to maintain the statute is a permanent and ever-growing one, especially with the rise of technology, and it is incidents like this that remind us just how fragile the balance of our world can be at times.
Iris frowned as she put down the newspaper. She hadn't even considered that, but it made a lot of sense. Magic didn't work with technology. At least, nobody else's seemed to. Therefore, all they could do was run damage control with the people who were there, and if necessary, destroy the devices, but in the end, if the message were to spread over the internet...
She had no idea if or how magic would help with that.
And what if the statute would crumble? If Muggles found out about the Wizarding World? For one, they would be vastly outnumbered. Especially in Magical Britain, there were maybe ten-thousand magicals in total, probably less. Then, given the fact that Voldemort was on the rise, it seemed almost inevitable that breaking the statute would at some point lead to war. It was one thing to try and hide from the Dark Lord and some of his Death Eaters, Dumbledore and the Aurors while doing her research, but from billions of Muggles as well?
Yeah, if anything, that would make things ten times harder, if not impossible. So going forward, she'd have to be very careful. Breaking the statute could jeopardize her goal, so she'd have to be taking extra care to avoid that.
Placing the newspaper down on the desk, she reached in the bag to feed Hedwig some owl-treats, then pulled out a pen and paper, and got to work. Letting her mind run wild, with the help of her Mindlight, she began brainstorming for any and all approaches to look into in order to achieve what she needed to do.
The main one was, of course, free ritual. You could do anything with free ritual so long as you could symbolize it, and if the sacrifice was adequate. Lockhart had been the best example of that—literally rewriting reality to conform to his books. But there was the major snag of her having already attempted the very ritual that she needed to do before, except it had gone horribly wrong. After her cat Salem had been run over, she had pretty much without thinking gone on a Hail-Mary attempt to bring her back and had set up an impromptu free ritual using a defibrillator as a focus, and her old diary as the sacrifice.
A friend for a friend.
Iris swallowed. That was a part she hadn't even considered yet. One she really didn't want to think about.
But unless she found another way to do what needed to be done...
But... but there was no way. She had sworn to herself that she wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. Except back then, she hadn't considered just what anything might actually include.
No. There had to be another way. It was just one of many avenues, after all. With magic, anything was possible.
Right, so, other ideas.
...Other ideas...
Whatever Voldemort had done?
She knew he had sacrificed something, a piece of jewelry that contained a part of him that was somehow making him immortal. Actually, thinking about it, that sounded kind of similar to the diary that Myrtle had been bound to. Would that mean that there were only three things left making him immortal now? And he had thought it would be quite some time until he could make another one, so apparently it wasn't that easy. From what Myrtle had said, she had placed her life in his hands, and he had taken it. Maybe that was the requirement for this? Not just taking a life, but a life that had been willingly placed in his hands?
Actually...
No. That made too much sense. That had been what he had been trying to do in her first year. And possibly with Greengrass and Malfoy as well. Iris shivered at the thought. He had been trying to get her to trust him, to place her life in his hands, so he could bind a piece of his soul to hers and preserve it like that. Suddenly, she was glad that the year had ended the way it did. Because she could have even seen that working, if Harry hadn't intervened.
On that note, back to Harry. Voldemort had somehow regained a body like that. But would that work for her? He had done pretty much the same ritual, she guessed, except with two major differences. Whatever he had done to make himself immortal meant that his soul was already there when the ritual started. And also, he wanted immortality, so he sacrificed part of his immortality. That wouldn't work for her. She didn't want immortality, she wanted Harry.
And at this point, she wasn't even sure if sacrificing herself would achieve the desired effect. She was kind of doing that anyway. And if it didn't work, she couldn't try again afterwards.
But then, there was still the matter of his soul. Both the ritual she had done, as well as the ritual the Dark Lord had done proved that it was at least possible to bring back the body. Or maybe, at least, create a new one.
But other than that?
Maybe whatever Dumbledore had done with his phoenix? She had no idea how the supposed immortality of phoenixes did actually work, and how that would interact with something like the Killing Curse. So this was definitely on her research list.
Anything else?
Maybe something with Death itself? From what Myrtle had said, rules did not apply in the presence of the being, the purple-eyed Grim. Everything became symbolic. Would that mean that maybe she could make a deal with it? Or maybe just do something entirely different?
Definitely another thing to look up.
Letting her mind wander, she decided to move on to other research topics for now. The first thing that came to mind was what had happened on Platform Nine and Three Quarters. She never wanted to be that helpless again. Somehow, they had bound her polarized magic, and she had found herself entirely out of options. She had somehow managed to delay with the Storm, but in the end, it hadn't changed her situation, and she'd be long dead and gone if Lupin hadn't showed up.
There had to be some way to counter this spell, or at least, their strategy. It seemed like they had assumed she was an Auror, possibly because of the two spells she had opened with, which she had copied from Susan. Maybe she should avoid that next time.
She didn't think that Aurors would either utilize the shadow realm, or even the Killing Curse probably, so the spell to bind her polarized magic must have had some other purpose. And yes, thinking back, her old Defense professor had mentioned that. One of the ways to disperse gathered polarized magic was to cast a burst of the opposite type of polarized magic, most commonly by using a polarized spell that shatters on impact of their shield.
So they had been trying to stop her from interrupting the Killing Curse, except not in the way she had thought.
Still didn't change much of how to deal with that kind of situation. But there did seem to be a major weakness here. Both the Death Eater summoning shadows as well as the one suppressing her polarized magic were left defenseless while channeling their spells, so they needed to have someone else defend them.
And they had been using heavy shields that would probably block anything short of polarized spells, but also left them unable to cast anything either. Therefore, this strategy would only work with five people or upwards. Otherwise, she could just smash through their shields with an overpowered Depulso, or she'd be left free to attack them with nobody being able to cast back.
So the main way past this for now was to avoid encounters against five or more opponents while she was alone. Actually, she'd probably have died even against the first Death Eater, if she hadn't tricked him into thinking she was literally Voldemort. But no matter how good she got, she didn't really see a way out of their strategy, assuming she was alone and unable to otherwise escape.
She supposed she could return with the same spell to prevent the one casting the Killing Curse from gathering even more darkness, but A: that would leave her defenseless with one or more others still attacking her, and B: That spell sounded very much like it would require White light, which meant she'd be unable to cast it.
Alright, enough pondering, time for some action.
Iris flipped her notebook closed, put it in her bag, grabbed a bag of galleons from her trunk and pocketed that as well, and finally shouldered her bag and turned towards the darkest corner of the room.
By now, the way to Diagon Alley through the shadow realm was very familiar to her, allowing her to make good time to London and through the tube, until she found herself once more inside Flourish and Blotts.
The bookstore seemed to be closed at this time of the night, but this was only to her benefit. Even better, it seemed to be entirely empty of people, allowing her to move about the place as she wished. It was completely dark, the only light seemed to be coming from a number of faintly glowing red crystals embedded in the walls. She moved towards the corner in one of the darker sections, causing the crystals to flicker and emit a high-pitched humming sound. Only after she stopped did the sound gradually die back down. It hadn't been loud enough to hear over a distance, but still concerning none the less. She didn't remember seeing those things the last time she'd been here.
Finally, she shook herself, and reached out to peel the shadows open once more. And immediately, the nearest red crystal began pulsing and emitting a loud high-pitched noise, almost like an alarm. Except it seemed to be reacting to the shadows. Fuck.
She quickly abandoned all attempts to draw forth shadows and held her breath as she watched them slowly ebb away. It seemed to have been building up to something, and she really had no intention of finding out what that was. Only once the last specks of shadows had vanished did the crystal slowly calm back down.
Iris glared at the red magical device. This was probably her fault, wasn't it? Of course, they wouldn't just do nothing after she had blatantly attacked Lockhart from the shadows in the middle of the store like that.
That would make things very annoying.
Iris stared down the rifts of the aisles, looking for another spot. If anything, she'd have to find a spot as far away from any crystals as possible and hope that it would be enough. But that would also mean that if someone did enter, she couldn't just quickly disappear into the shadows, at least not without raising a massive alarm, and thereby ensuring that next time, the defenses would be even greater.
Well, now she wanted to slap herself. She had the perfect solution to that, but she had left it in Privet Drive, having assumed that her shadows would provide adequate cover to any situation anyway. But next time, she'd definitely bring their father's cloak.
But for now, while she was already here...
Iris dashed through the space, red crystals angrily humming in her wake, until she found one familiar room. It was the back-office, the one where she had confronted Lockhart and cast the Imperius on him. And as far as she could tell, there didn't seem to be any crystals in there. She could only hope that it would be far enough away from any of the others to trigger them when she peeled open the shadows.
Carefully reaching out, she began to slowly drag them together in the furthest corner, listening intently for even the slightest sign of any of the crystals going off. The rift grew wider and clearer, slowly gaining depth, as the shadows gathered. She could hear a faint humming in the distance, some of the crystals were beginning to react, but it would be fine. She was almost there.
Finally, the growing gap stopped and started to shiver. There. Iris took a quick step forward, and with a sharp tingling sensation, and a bright flash, she was once again flesh and blood, accompanied by a high-pitched humming from outside the door, that thankfully seemed to be slowly descending in volume. That had been close. Once all the shadows finally had safely ebbed away, she reached out and tried the door handle. Unexpectedly, it seemed to be unlocked.
Iris stepped through the door and came right face to face with one of the red crystals, softly glowing on the wall in front of her. She had a sinking feeling that she'd be seeing a lot more of those things in the future, especially if she wasn't careful with her shadows. What she wouldn't give to take one of the things with her to study it a bit... But if they reacted like that just being in the vicinity of shadows, she didn't even want to imagine what would happen if she tried to take one of them to the shadow realm.
Just another thing to look up, then.
Speaking of which, she'd better get to work. Iris started to comb through the shelves, began categorizing them by topic, and began to narrow down specific ones that could contain anything related to her bullet point list. She quickly found some books on dueling, as well as most of the advanced charms books for the coming years that she hadn't been allowed to buy yet, but the longer she looked, the more she came to realize the biggest, and most obvious flaw in her plan.
If magic that dealt with the dead, as well as free ritual was illegal, then of course she wouldn't find books on it freely available in a general magical bookstore. Hell, she'd probably have better luck in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library, but she doubted that even that would contain the darkest of texts that she sought.
But where to go from here? She didn't really know any other magical bookstores or had any idea where else she might find books like that.
Iris spent some more time pocketing any and all advanced texts on spells, magical theory in general and the very few books that even mentioned polarized magic or ritual, and finally admitted defeat. She would need a new plan. And she had two more months to come up with one.
~V~
Borgin peered through the grimy storefront window of his shop, watching the flickering streetlamp cast long, eerie shadows in the night along Knockturn Alley. Business had been slow today, but Borgin knew better than to complain. Less traffic meant fewer potential threats and less interference from the Ministry. He idly polished a tarnished silver goblet, his eyes narrowing at the sight of a young girl in the distance. As she approached, Borgin felt a twinge of unease.
The bell above the door jangled as she stepped inside, the sound unnaturally loud in the oppressive silence of the shop. Borgin squinted at her, taking in her youthful features and unassuming appearance. While undeniably pretty, the face framing her bright green eyes had a very definite mark of youth that was not the sort that witches strived to maintain, but rather a sign of a girl who had not quite grown into herself yet. She couldn't have been more than fifteen, and that was stretching it. What could a girl like her possibly want in a place like this? Especially at a time like this?
"Hello?" came a hesitant voice.
Borgin was about to do the girl a favor and kick her out of this place, and Knockturn Alley along with it, but something about her expression stopped him.
She definitely seemed to be out of her depth, eyes darting every which way, a mix of worry and tension on her face. But there was also something about her—an underlying current of power that made him wary. A shadow behind her smile that he didn't like. All his years working in this field had made him especially sensitive to dark magics of all sorts. And this girl reeked of it. Either something had been done to her, or she had done something to someone else.
"Can I help you?" he asked gruffly.
She carefully approached his counter, eyes darting between all the things on display, but lingering on him every second in between. He slowly lowered his right hand down the counter, keeping it as close as possible to his wand without raising suspicion.
"Uhm... Well, I'm looking for something..." she began, and he couldn't help but shoot her a deadpan look. Was she some sort of Ministry plant?
"Well?" he asked impatiently.
She shuffled in place for a bit. "Yeah... I'm not sure what yet, exactly..."
"This place isn't a candy store, you know?" Borgin sneered. "Nor is it cheap."
"I know that!" she replied indignantly. "And I have money."
"So?" he demanded. "If you don't even know why you're here, then you better do yourself a favor and get out."
Borgin didn't like this one bit. Something was off about her, and usually, either people mistakenly ended up in his shop, or they knew exactly what they wanted. That, or they were from the Ministry. What possible reason could the girl have for coming specifically to his shop, despite seemingly knowing barely anything about it, and not having the slightest idea of what she needed to buy?
"I... well, the thing is, I'm looking for a gift... for Draco..."
For... Oh.
Oh.
Well, he'd be damned. He was suddenly glad that he hadn't followed his first instinct. If she was a friend of the Malfoy brat, and looking for a gift... most likely, since she seemed to have no idea why she was here, she had been pointed here by his father. That would have been really tough to explain to him the next time they met.
"Is that so?" he replied, slowly raising his right hand again to pick up the silver goblet and place it back into the glass counter.
"Uhm... do you... have any... I don't know... suggestions? I... I really don't know much about... well..."
Merlin's nutsack, this one was just too precious. He gave her his best attempt at a smile, and replied, "I might have a thing or two that he might enjoy..."
Borgin turned towards the display on the wall behind him and opened the tiny glass box containing one of the more expensive yet in truth useless artifacts he had on display. Oh, yes, if the girl really had the money—and he'd assume she did, if Mr. Malfoy sent her here—then he'd be able to make a very pretty Galleon off—
He suddenly felt a shiver run down his spine. Something was wrong. No, something was very very wrong.
The darkness he had been sensing, the taint, the magic, before it had been like a gentle cloak surrounding her, but now, it was a raging storm. He dropped the silver amulet he had been holding, and whirled, stumbling his own steps, as he fumbled for his wand at his side. His fingers closed around the handle, and he drew, as his eyes met—
An abyss of shadows, the likes of which he had only ever seen in his presence. Borgin froze in place at the sheer terror, and it was that very second of hesitation that cost him.
The shadows were drawn inwards, into the glowing wand the girl was holding, aimed right at him. Desperately, he began to cast the strongest shield he knew, but he knew that it wouldn't be enough. Kaleidoscopic rays of a deep blue and yellow began to burst from her wand, dancing rapidly around the tip, painting the entirety of the dusty shop in a hypnotic onslaught of shapes and color.
"Imperio!"
Oh. Well.
Borgin stared down at the wand in his hand, unsure what to do with it. His hair was dangling across his face, and he found himself annoyed by the motion. He really should have cut it a long time ago, but he just couldn't be arsed to do anything about his appearance these days.
What was... right. He was supposed to tell her about the books on dark magic. That sounded easy enough.
"We do have a number of books on all sorts of dark magics, but if you're looking for the really dark stuff, you'll probably have to look in the libraries of all the Pureblood families. They don't really hand out those kinds of books to anyone, Merlin, I bet most of them don't even know the stuff they keep around anymore. The only ones that you're going to find are the ones from the families that got wiped out in the last war. Other than that, you'll have to look abroad."
Abroad? What did he mean by that?
"It's where I got all the books that aren't from some family library or another. But most of those are in foreign languages."
He wondered what she wanted with those kinds of books. Most of them really weren't worth the hassle after all.
Also, he realized, he was supposed to tell her where he got the books abroad, and how she could get there.
"There's a place in Germany..." his mouth just kept moving on his own, he wasn't even listening to the words, and still, it was all he could think about.
"Right, anything else?" he asked, wondering what else he was supposed to do.
"Show me the ones you have here," she said, and he nodded.
"Follow me."
Borgin made his way towards the back, opened the secret compartment behind one of the storage shelves, then opened the hidden floor inside that room as well. On a single shelf, there sat a small collection of tomes, his proud collection he had accumulated over years. Some he had sold, others he had bought. And now he would hand them all over to her. And he'd do so without question.
Oh, and he'd tell her about any hidden curses or traps on the books.
"Just the ones at the end, the red and the blue one. Don't touch those without Dragonhide gloves."
Well, that seemed easy enough. Also, he was supposed to tell her if there was anything else she should be aware of, any way for someone to track the books, or herself, if she took them, or another way she could get hurt.
"Of course, if you're stupid enough to cast the spells in there, you'll probably get hurt..." he replied with a deadpan voice.
He supposed that was good enough.
Borgin watched her as she slowly gathered up the books and placed them inside her magically expanded bookbag.
Right, now for the final part. Just like she had done with Lockhart.
"I order you to forget anything that happened here today."
Ah, yes. Well, there was just a slight issue with that.
"Can't do that, missy," Borgin said.
"Why not?" she replied.
He sighed and scratched his head. "Don't know the Obliviation charm."
Well, that was an issue.
It certainly was. He was supposed to forget, but he couldn't just forget, especially after the Imperius ran out. Still, he wanted to forget. But even running through all the items he had in the shop, there was nothing here that would help him forget.
How was she supposed to make him forget? If she couldn't cast the charm, and he couldn't cast the charm, was there any way that wouldn't kill him? And there was no way that she'd do something like that. Not after what happened to Lockhart...
But that was a great idea. It would neatly solve the problem. The dead wouldn't remember anything, after all. And he was supposed to forget.
"Don't worry your pretty little head about it," he said with his best approximation of a smile.
He slowly raised the wand he was still holding, moved it up higher, and finally, stuck it to his neck.
"Wait! No! What are you doing? St—"
"Reducto."
Chapter 5: Zwischenhalt
Chapter Text
Dudley frowned as the TV began to flicker again. He had begged his dad to get him one of the new flat-screen TV's exactly because of issues like this, but somehow, this new LCD thing seemed to be just as wonky as the old one, if not more so. Even if it mostly started during the night. He reached for the bed, grabbed one of his pillows, and tossed it at the screen, but sadly, that didn't fix the issue. It wasn't even the reception; he was playing on his XBOX for crying out loud.
Probably the Freak's fault anyway.
His mind wandered over to his cousin, and he began to blush again. He had no idea what to think lately, if he was honest. She was just the same as always, just as creepy, just as wrong. And the fact that her brother was gone had just meant that she had stopped hiding it.
But he had still found himself staring. Talking. And he hated that. He didn't understand it.
She was just the same, yet so very different now.
The TV flickered once more, and suddenly went dark. Dudley groaned. The game had already been lost anyway.
"Stupid shit."
He tossed the controller to the other side of the room, then got up and left for the bathroom. He was tired as hell. He'd annoy Dad into fixing it tomorrow.
Having done his business, he went over to the sink to give his maximum effort of brushing his teeth—which was thirty seconds tops—then rinsed out his mouth, and froze. His head still stuck underneath the tap; he heard the door click. Someone had just entered behind him, and... for some reason, he felt a shiver run down his spine.
There was a strange metallic scent in the air. And also a soft dripping noise, that wasn't coming from the sink.
Slowly, he turned off the tap, and despite his better judgement, began to turn.
And there she was. Clearly visible against the white bathroom lights, he once again found himself staring. Except this time, for an entirely different reason. His mind took a while to understand what he was looking at, but he of course recognized it—he had played too much Gears of War not to.
Blood.
She was covered from head to toe in splatters of blood.
It was dripping all over the bathroom tiles.
Dudley just stared. He had no idea what else to do. No words came to his mind, and even if they did, he was sure that he didn't have the courage to say them.
What. the. fuck.
"I-Iris?"
"Go to bed, Dudley," she said.
That was all she would say? After... after... what?
At some point, he realized that he wasn't breathing. But somehow, even with that realization, his mind couldn't do anything about it.
He found himself pinned under her gaze, those bright green eyes somehow becoming terrifying all on their own, while the rest of her body was painted the same color as her hair.
"Now," she added with a flick of her head towards the door, causing him to jump.
Falling over his own limbs, he shuffled to the side, towards the door, careful to keep as much distance from the... the thing... as possible. He almost stepped into a small puddle at the door, and flinched back from the door handle, when he noticed that was covered in red as well. Nudging the door open wider while avoiding touching the handle, he finally managed to squeeze through, and without looking over his shoulder, he bolted for his room, locking the door behind him.
Holy fucking shit!
~V~
Iris shut the door to her room behind her, and then collapsed against it. She had spent the last few days looking for any hints, any traces on where to continue her search, and when she had finally gotten lucky, it had immediately gone horribly wrong. At least with Lockhart, there was the benefit of a doubt as to what had happened to him, but here? She had just made a man kill himself. And she hadn't even intended to.
It had taken almost an hour to get all the blood out. Somehow, all her cleaning charms had failed the task. So in the end, she had had to do it by hand. And even if her body finally felt clean once more, her mind was anything but. Over and over it played in her mind, even if she turned off her Mindlight. A word, a flash, and a shower of red.
Faster than she could react.
She had wanted him to forget. And he had. Except not in the way she had intended. Like an NPC; simply following commands, no matter how stupid they were.
Unable to think, she had fled the scene, diving right into the shadows, and only re-emerging once she was back here.
This was the path she had chosen. And she hated it; she hated herself. She had been stupid and reckless again. Just because she didn't care about consequences to herself, didn't mean there wouldn't be consequences to others.
And she had known this. She had known that she would make mistakes, just like everyone else. She had known things would go wrong. But she had decided to push down this path regardless. She had willingly refused the reality of being fallible, because to accept it would mean giving up on Harry. And now she was facing the consequences of that decision. Yet her decision remained unchanged.
There might have been a better way. And next time, she would find it. She couldn't allow herself mistakes like that. Not when they would affect her chance of bringing him back.
Iris just sat there, staring down the empty room. Hedwig was probably out hunting again. She envied the owl for being a creature of the night, because she knew there was no way she was getting any sleep now.
Deciding she might as well use the time for something productive, she opened the bag she had brought, pulled out a book, and sat down on her bed to flip through it.
Useless.
Useless, useless, useless!
So far, she had found a book that dealt specifically with curses designed to inflict the maximum amount of pain—which she had no idea why anyone would bother with if there was already the Cruciatus—another book mostly focusing on bloodline curses, a similar one that explored curses of the mind, one book that went into detail on polarized magic—which fine, was useful, but also not what she was looking for—and finally another book that dealt with the creation of cursed artifacts. Nothing she had found so far was of any use to her goal.
She had just killed someone; and it had been for nothing.
Iris sagged back down onto the bed, the old tome tumbling from her grip. This hadn't really helped her state of mind. If anything, it had only served to highlight just how twisted and cruel part of the Wizarding World could be; a part that she would now inevitably find herself involved with.
If anywhere held the answers that she sought, it would be in the very darkest corner of that world.
Just what had she expected when she had chosen that path? That she'd be able to coast by as she had been; avoiding any greater consequences by sheer dumb luck?
Things had gone wrong. And things would continue to go wrong. Things would get a lot worse, before they would get better.
She had accepted that. But that didn't mean that she had been prepared for it.
Her gaze drifted over to her desk, where the ever-growing pile of untouched letters sat. Was it time to finally reply? She didn't think she'd ever feel in the mood to actually sit down and write them, not unless she managed to bring him back, and even then...
But still. It was part of the plan. She needed to, at some point, otherwise people would get suspicious.
With a sigh, she pulled herself upright again, made her way over to the desk, pulled out a piece of paper and a pen, sat down, and—
What the hell was she supposed to write? She couldn't just tell them about... about Harry. No, if anything, she felt that telling them he was dead was like admitting defeat. Like accepting it. Harry wasn't dead, she just hadn't found a way to bring him back yet.
But then what? What else was there to write? If she wouldn't tell them about Harry, what else could she write but hollow lies?
Was this how Lockhart had felt when he wrote his books? Thinking about what to write that people would accept, that would pass suspicion, and simultaneously achieve his goal?
Except she cared about the very people she was trying to lie to.
Which made this all the more complicated. The ones that she wanted to write to the most, were the very same ones she was the most reluctant about. She had only just repaired her friendship with Tracey. Theo still was trying to keep his distance, so there was no point in writing him. Neville would probably entirely fall apart if he ever found out what she was doing—he had already been scared of her and had still been trying to be her friend regardless. Susan was the most dangerous, if only through her connection to the ministry. Luna was... well, there was a good chance that Luna would see right through any lies she might come up with. Unless she came up with a convincing alternative story behind the lie that sounded too interesting and fantastic not to be true, she guessed. And Ron...
Well... As bad as this sounded, but Ron was probably the safest... target.
God. What was wrong with her?
Hi Ron,
Sorry I haven't been replying, but well, you hit the nail right on the head. I've been very busy. Can't say more in a letter, you know how it is.
It's been... a mess. But I'm doing better. How are things going at your place? Is Ginny doing alright?
Thanks for the Cauldron Cakes. I'm not gonna tell you to stop sending them, but please don't feel obligated to... you know.
Hope to see you soon.
—Iris
Well, so much for that. Somehow, even with Ron, she hadn't been able to bring herself to outright lie about Harry, so she had basically avoided the topic altogether. Some Slytherin she was.
Iris turned to look over at the stack of Cauldron Cakes with a pang of guilt. How long would these even last, anyway? She hoped that he took the hint and stopped sending them. She really wasn't in the mood, no matter how much she loved those things.
A ferocious growl from her stomach begged to differ.
When was the last time she had eaten a proper meal, anyway?
Well, there was nothing for it. Iris wrapped up the letter, and handed it over to Hedwig, deciding to put off the other letters for later. With that done, she reluctantly made her way downstairs to have an early breakfast, even if she'd have to force herself to actually eat a proper amount. She'd need her strength; Germany wasn't just around the corner, after all.
~V~
Iris had to double her usual breakfast until her stomach finally quieted down, but in the end, she had finished up before any of the Dursleys had even gotten up. Even if they left her alone now, she tried to avoid them just because of how awkward it felt to see them scurry away from her at a mere glance.
She had things to do. Plans to make. First on the list was to learn two very specific spells. Spells she would need for her trip, and spells she should have learned long before, since they would have saved her a lot of trouble. After all, doing something as flashy as casting the Imperius just because someone asked to see her ID seemed a bit... Well, with what had just happened, suffice to say she wouldn't be casting that curse again any time soon. Unless it was absolutely necessary. Enter the Confundus Charm. This one seemed easy enough. Mind plus Illusion. A few tries and a very confused Dudley later, she declared that one a success.
The Obliviation charm in turn seemed a lot harder. The Confundus was more of a general impression to confuse someone and making them think a certain thing, where their own mind would help come up with the details. The Obliviate spell in turn was like a scalpel. Mind, and Destruction. You could use it to specifically carve out very precise sections of someone's memory, or you could just lash out and stab right into it, taking as much as possible while leaving only destruction in your wake. The first one required a lot of control, something which she was still not the best at, and it was also the type that could be easily reversed, the same way Greengrass had done with her. The second one would leave behind only scorched earth. Even the most skilled of mind healers might struggle to reverse a brute-force Obliviation, depending on how it was done. But it would also be blatantly obvious what happened.
This was the reason why she hadn't attempted that spell on anyone yet. She knew she was not exactly the epitomy of control, and it was one thing to threaten her relatives into silence—if necessary, she could even alter their memories later—but to do something permanent would sooner or later inevitably come back to bite her.
She had still given it her best effort to practice as much as possible without actually casting the spell. She figured she'd get to that when an opportunity presented itself. But for now, the Confundus Charm should be more than sufficient. Especially, if it was only against Muggles.
In all of her life, Hogwarts had been the furthest Iris had ever been from home. And she had never actually left the country before. But she had spent some time on the internet researching, and following that, asking Vernon all the things that still didn't make sense. He had been only too happy to oblige, once he realized that it meant she would be out of the house for a few days.
She had looked up the path to the place in Germany that the creepy shopkeeper of Borgin and Burke's had mentioned, and once again had decided to go with the train route. Except this time, she'd actually take the train.
Iris guessed she could just wait for nightfall and attempt to follow the tracks via the shadow realm, but some further inspection on Google Maps showed that unlike the singular track of the Hogwarts Express, this would get really confusing. By far the easiest, if not the fastest method seemed to be to just buy a ticket and try her luck with the Deutsche Bahn. What could go wrong?
Magical means of travel were a no-go. If anyone would ask questions, it'd be wizards. And if anything went wrong there, her chances of being able to escape or confound her way out of the situation were much lower. So she'd have to take the Muggle route.
The only major snag that wouldn't just go away by throwing some money and patience at it was the border between the UK and France. Technically, they were all supposed to be within the EU, and there should be no border controls, but of course Britain just had to be special. And of course, the Dursleys had never felt the need to go and get her an actual passport. Not that it would be a good idea to embark on a trip like this using her real name, anyway.
That's also why she had decided to go by train instead of anything else. By airplane or by bus would send her through a massive border control checkpoint upon entering the country that would be much harder to weasel through without a passport. And if something went wrong there, she'd be stuck in a foreign country, in a completely unfamiliar situation. Iris wasn't even sure if she'd recognize any possible magical border guards there; she had no idea if the odd fashion sense of wizards was something just unique to the British Isles after all. Also, taking her magical belongings onto an airplane sounded like one bad idea and a half, if you weren't even supposed to turn on your phone during the flight.
She could just bypass that entirely through the shadow realm. But then she'd have to find her way on her own on the other side; she couldn't just continue by bus or plane, and there were just too many unknown variables. But on the train, she just had to bypass the entry border checks in Kings Cross through the shadows, and possibly confound the train attendant. The train wouldn't even stop at the border. Seemed easy enough. Also, on the train people would probably ask the least questions. She was even legally old enough to travel on her own; all she needed was a permission-slip from her guardians. Not that that would make much of a difference without a passport. But that's what the Confundus Charm was for.
If something went wrong in Kings Cross, she could just abort and make a run for it. And the way back would even be a lot simpler, if the Internet forums were to be believed. Apparently, she could just buy a ticket from Brussels to Lille—which didn't require any border checks to enter since it was entirely within the EU—and then just... not get off the train.
Finally, having secured some pounds from Vernon, and a lunch box from Petunia, she returned to her room to pack her bag. There was no need for any books or other utensils. She brought some Galleons, her Muggle money, her old primary school student ID—not that that was worth much, but in combination with the Confundus very much so—and finally, her father's Cloak. She couldn't bring the laptop since she planned to sneak past the border checkpoint in Kings Cross via the shadow realm. Instead, she'd printed out as much of the route as possible, including all the stops in between, departure times, and the print-out tickets she had bought with Vernon's credit card. After some pondering, she also packed a thermos filled with the one batch of Wiggenweld she had brewed during Snape's class, just to be safe. Even if she could just buy most of the stuff she needed, as with many things magic, there was nothing quite like something you'd created yourself.
Finally, after some rummaging through her stuff, she put on the least tattered-looking shirt she could find. And it was still almost too small for her now. With all the time she'd lamented being too short, her body now seemed to be making up for it twice over. At this point, almost none of her old clothes would still fit her, neither Dudley's, nor the ones they had reluctantly bought for her when she had grown a bit too old to just wear boy's things to school. She really should have bought some properly fitting ones already, but clothing had been the last thing on her mind over the past year. Still, at this point, it was almost getting ridiculous. With the black t-shirt on, she began squeezing into the only pair of jeans that would still fit. Yeah. Maybe another thing to add to her trip, then.
Everything firmly in place, she shouldered her magical backpack—which was just her expanded bookbag inside a regular backpack—pocketed her wand, and once again stepped into the shadows. She had a train to catch.
~V~
Once again following the path to Kings Cross for the second time that week, she finally found herself in front of the familiar train station. At least, as far as she could tell. During the day, the shadows were incredibly sparse; it was pretty difficult telling where she was through the occasional faint rifts she could spot, as compared to the vastness of the nighttime shadows. This time, however, she wouldn't enter the station directly. Rather, her path led her into the one right next to it—St. Pancras International.
At the surface it looked kinda similar, if a lot more modern, but the major difference was that the whole building was designed in a way to prevent anyone from doing exactly what she was about to do. In the center, in front of a row of escalators leading up to the tracks, was a large border control checkpoint blocking off the entirety of the passage. She was just peering from the shadows in the corner, trying to make out anything out of place. And there was. Right next to it, over to the side, there stood a group of security guards, and right in between them, where he couldn't have been more out of place, was a flip-chair, upon which a man in grey robes sat, looking half-asleep.
Apparently, she wasn't the first one to have had this idea then. Luckily, so far, wizards seemed to have been wholly unprepared for anyone infiltrating pretty much anything through the shadow realm—except for those strange red crystals, she guessed. But she didn't see any of those around here. With a mental shrug, Iris slipped right past, causing two of the large metal detectors to begin beeping. She made her way up through the hall, snuck into one of the bathrooms behind the checkpoint, and quickly peeled open the shadows again.
Iris straightened her shirt, checked over her bag one final time, and then set out to start her trip. Out the bathroom, through the bustling hallway and up the escalator. At last, as she rose the final steps, she was greeted by a bright blue train bearing the Eurostar logo.
There was a train to Brussels already primed and waiting for her, the door standing open invitingly, and nobody in sight to ask any questions on whether she should even be here. Perfect. Now she'd just have to find her seat. She had booked one, after all, even if only using a fake name. But that shouldn't be an issue, since she was already past the point where her identity should have been verified.
Down to the third wagon, and into the... ah, there. A small display above seat 65 right next to the window showed the name Lily Blackwood. She'd Tipp-Ex'd her name from her student ID and re-printed it with Vernon's printer by taping it down on a sheet of paper in the right spot. It still was slightly off-center, but it would have to do.
Chucking her backpack into the empty seat next to it, she sat down, pulled out the most inconspicuous-looking of all the books she had liberated, and began to read.
~V~
Somehow, throughout the entire thing, not a single person had asked any questions other than whether she would like to have a cup of tea. Iris had gotten all the way through the book on polarized magic, and had gotten started on the one on spellcrafting, which was detailing the structural integrity and coherence of spells. She suspected this would prove necessary if she wanted to do what Myrtle had suggested and attempt to disassemble spells mid-air.
While not as immediately useful as polarized magic, this one was somehow incredibly interesting. She hadn't been able to put down the book once, until the announcement that they would be arriving in Brussels managed to snap her out of the zone. She had often fallen into this state of focus when something was really interesting, but ever since she had begun using her Mindlight, this had gotten a lot easier, and at the same time a lot worse.
Iris took the final sip from her cup—which had long since gone cold by now—pocketed her book and left in search for her connecting train. And as promised, not a single person stopped her or even so much as looked at her the wrong way on the way out. Was it really that easy to bypass the Muggle borders? Well, other than the fact she had cheated with the shadows. She'd have to see how well her plan for the way back would work out.
After some looking, she found a large display showing all the departing trains and their respective platforms. There, and according to her travel plan, there should be... What?
In twenty minutes, there was supposed to be a connecting train on platform four headed to Frankfurt. But there was an entirely different train listed. Oh. Was that it? ICE to Frankfurt on platform six. Checking the train number against her ticket confirmed that. Alright, so far, so good. The train seemed to be five minutes delayed, but she guessed it could be worse.
~V~
She just had to jinx it, hadn't she?
The train had left as announced, but then had stopped in a town called Aachen, and just... not continued. At first, she hadn't even noticed, being too engrossed by the book on spell theory, but a gruff and fuzzy announcement in German which she was pretty sure she wouldn't have understood even if she spoke the language had broken her from her thoughts, and made her realize that she was still in the second to last stop. And according to the clock at the end of the compartment, they should have already arrived in Köln by now.
Great. She just hoped that her connecting train would be delayed as well.
~V~
And as luck would have it, that should indeed be the case. In fact, it wasn't just delayed; it was cancelled entirely. At least that's what she guessed that the word Ausfall printed next to half of the trains on the display board meant.
Fan-fucking-tastic. She really should have just tried her luck with the shadows, she guessed. Pulling out her route plan again, she checked the rest of the path ahead.
Well, not exactly what she would call a straight shot from here, even though she wouldn't have to switch any more trains. She had no idea whether that would be one single track, or have railway points in the tracks, and then she wouldn't know where to turn. After some wandering, she found herself in front of a counter decorated with a big blue letter 'i'.
"Guten Tag," said the elderly man clad in a white shirt and dark blue vest, topped off with a red tie.
Iris tried to push down her annoyance and worry, and put on her trademark smile. "Uhm... sorry, I have a ticket for the train to Berlin, but it's... cancelled, I think? Is that correct?"
The man gave her a wry smile that his face seemed to have become very accustomed to.
"It is ausgefallen, yes. There was an axident in ze Stellwerk, but it should be soon fixed. You can tehk ze next one wif zis ticket. Just tell ze Fahrkartenkontrolleur."
Iris took a moment to parse through that. "Okay...? And... when is the next one?"
"At... ääh... zree quarters four."
Uhm...
"How long is that, exactly?"
The man checked the time table again, and gave her a nod. "Zree and half auers."
Iris slumped. Great.
"Apologize for ze issue, but zere is nofing zet can be done. But you are welcome to visit auer beautiful town in ze meanwhile," he added with a kindly smile. "But don't go too far, you need to wotch out zet you are beck at zree quarters four, yes? Better ten minutes before."
~V~
For the lack of anything else to do, Iris had done exactly that. At first, she had considered to just plop herself onto a bench in the waiting room and finish her book, but then she figured if she was stuck here anyway, she might as well go and get some things done. Like the one thing she had been putting off for over a year now. Her wardrobe.
Only after she had entered the first store and looked at the price tags had she come to the painful realization that obviously, none of these stores would take either Galleons or Pounds. In the end, she had found a shabby metallic box next to the train station that claimed to be a currency exchange, and after leaving there with a feeling of having thoroughly been ripped off, she had reluctantly gotten her shopping done.
Iris wasn't quite sure what to think of the results. She had never gone and picked any clothes out for herself before. Somehow, no matter what she tried, they just didn't quite work together, but she had no idea what would. And unlike at Madam Malkin's, where the assistant had basically guided her through the entire affair, in this store she was apparently supposed to just... pick out what she liked and see if it would fit by herself. In the end, she had picked function over form, and just bought some properly fitting t-shirts and shorts. And after basically almost an hour of that—over half of which had been wasted just trying to find a bra that would actually fit—she was already so done with the entire thing. Some girls supposedly enjoyed this stuff, but she really couldn't see why.
In the end, after the clerk had spent five minutes packaging up all her stuff so neatly, she hadn't even bothered to take it back out and just stuck with the slightly ill-fitting attire she had brought with her for now.
And now, she was back outside, in the middle of the sweltering summer of Köln, which even the recent British summer weather couldn't hold a candle to, and had no idea what to do with her remaining two and a half hours.
Maybe there was a magical district somewhere in this city as well? Some of these buildings looked pretty damn ancient, after all...
There was the main issue of finding it. And Iris had no idea how to even start with that. It wasn't like she'd just randomly stumble upon—
Whoa.
Okay, now she wasn't sure how the hell she had missed this earlier. It was pretty damn hard to miss; at least to her eyes.
Half-way across the city there was... a tower. A strange tall concrete tower, that looked like it was made to broadcast TV signals or something, but also held another purpose. It was one long conical concrete pillar all the way up, except at the top there was a ring where some sort of circular building was attached to it, covered in glass windows, and above that, what looked like a large antenna and a bajillion other things. But that wasn't what was strange about it. The really odd thing was that above it, in the air, where there was nothing—and should be nothing—there was very definitely something.
Something... pretty.
Even though she couldn't quite see it. But something was there, hidden from the human eye. Something circular, massive, floating over the top of the tower. Yep. She was definitely checking that one out.
~V~
Somehow, she had even managed to get all the way to the top without the use of any magic. Iris was still hesitant to try anything—being in a foreign country and all—but she figured sooner or later there wouldn't be a way around it anyway.
There was a restaurant here, also a very nice view across the city. And right in the middle, there was a door—for all intents and purposes looking like it was supposed to be there. Except it was very definitely pretty. And above the door, a simple metallic sign proclaimed:
Astro-TV GmbH
Iris raised an eyebrow, wondering what this place was supposed to be. She took a breath, pushed the handle and stepped inside. A melodic wind chime sounded as the door swung, and Iris blinked as she took in the room. There were screens, machines, buttons, levers and microphones. To the side, a room painted in eye-searing colors, containing a table and an assortment of crystals adorning it, none of which looked even remotely magical to her eye.
What on earth? This looked... well, the way Muggles would expect some magical things to look, a bit like some of those esoteric TV programs she had seen, except it seemed to be an actual TV studio dedicated to recording these? What was it doing at the top of this tower? And more importantly, why was the door covered in actual magic?
And what the hell was the gigantic circular invisible thing above the tower?
None of these things seemed to be remotely magical, and also, all the technology seemed to be working? Iris approached one of the screens showing a recording of a middle-aged man with wild grey hair and round glasses sitting in that very room, holding one of the crystals imprinted with a strange symbol. She didn't understand a single word, but from what it looked and sounded like, it reminded her very much of the fortune-teller in the park next to St. Grogorys. In other words, complete and utter hogwash.
And yet...
"Einen wunderschönen Tag, bitte entschuldigen Sie die Wartezeit, ich—"
The voice broke off, as the man who had just entered from the door on the other end of the room found her standing in front of the monitors and realized what he was seeing.
"Na sowas. Ich war sicher ich hab die Antiflachsenbannzauber angemacht," he muttered to himself.
It was the man from the TV show. Except he wasn't wearing the ridiculous colorful getup, but instead a neat light-blue shirt, jeans, and had his long hair tied into a ponytail, instead of having it splayed all over.
Also, instead of the boring round plastic glasses from the show, he was wearing strange metallic ones that seemed to have several lenses of all sizes and shapes. And even though he was still wearing a kind smile, Iris' eyes widened as she noticed he was reaching a hand into his back pocket, and started to pull out a wand.
Before he could even blink, Iris had her wand up and aimed right at his face.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Iris said
"Oh! Scheiße, äh... I... Apologies, I thought you were one of the Flachsen," the man said.
Iris raised an eyebrow. "Flachsen?" she repeated incredulously.
His eyes darted back and forth, but he still hadn't let go of his wand, even though he hadn't drawn it yet.
"Flachsen! Ääh... You know, Flachseher!"
Iris just stared back at him uncomprehendingly, and slowly lowered her wand, but she didn't let go of it either.
"Ich mein," he began. "You know... the people without magic. You're..." he broke off, and sighed.
Then, his look turned skeptical. "What are you doing here? You are a bit too young to be here without your parents... Especially if you're not from here. Also, there are no tours this week."
"Tours? Uhm... what exactly is this place?"
"You don't know? How did you get here, then?" he asked suspiciously, still eying her wand.
Iris backpedaled. "I just wanted to see what the giant thing on top of the tower was."
"The... you saw the lens?! Scheiße, ist der Zauber kaputt?"
The man abandoned all attempts at wariness or carefully palming his wand, and instead dashed for the window, tossed it open and peered outside, and upwards.
"Heilige Scheiße, don't scare me like that!" he exclaimed. "The Magiesicherungsdienst is still on my ass from last time..."
Iris sheepishly looked down, while internally scolding herself. Yeah, being able to see magic wasn't exactly common. She really should be paying more attention to what she was saying. Iris used the moment of distraction to awkwardly pocket her wand again.
Finally, he seemingly managed to calm down enough to remember their conversation, and pinned her under a curious gaze.
"How did you know? If you don't even know what this place is," he asked, this time with unbridled curiosity.
Iris pondered for a moment. She guessed it couldn't hurt to tell him that much, she went under a fake name anyway, and probably would never see the man again.
"I can... kinda see magic," Iris said. "Well, some of it, at least. And there was a massive circular magic thing above the building. Is that what you called it, the lens? What does it do?"
"Truly? Fascinating!" he said, seemingly dipping a bit deeper into his accent, but was still leagues more comprehensible than the employee at the information counter of the Deutsche Bahn.
"Richard Stern. I run this little... business. You're from England, right?" he asked. The man seemed to have entirely discarded any suspicion and was now excitedly holding out his hand.
Reluctantly, Iris reached out a hand, and made to shake the larger one. "Yeah. Lily Blackwood," she replied, feeling a shiver run down her spine. Saying the name out loud definitely felt odd. She had no idea what she had been thinking.
"You're here on your own?" Mr. Stern asked curiously, but was distracted by the screens having started to flicker for a moment, but they seemed to calm down after a few seconds.
Iris sighed. "I'm travelling through here, but the train to Berlin got cancelled, and the next one leaves in over two hours..."
"Ah yes. Welcome to Germany," he replied with a nod.
Was that supposed to be the famous German humor?
"Anyway. What this place is... well, it's a little bit difficult to explain," he said, and slowly made his way over to the row of monitors."
"This," he said, gesturing at the screen, "is Astro-TV. You probably never heard of it; we only broadcast in German."
"It looks like a scam," Iris replied dryly.
"Because that's what it is," Mr. Stern confirmed with a nod.
Iris raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate.
"To the simple people, this is all real. They love it, watch it, everyone knows about it," he said, picking up one of the large blue crystals.
"To the smart people, this is all obviously fake, and blatantly so," he continued, trailing a hand along the table. "Nobody questions it, as it is obviously not worth their time."
Iris slowly nodded.
"But in reality, it has an entirely different purpose," he said. "And whether simple or smart, none of the Flachsen would ever bother to look into it."
He turned to the far wall, where a large electric box sat, tiny switches and lights, as well as what looked like a large circuit breaker.
"During the day, this is exactly what it is. TV. But during the night, after the broadcast ends, and after we shut down all the electronics..."
He pressed a button at another panel and the roof slowly began to slide open. "That is where the Astro part comes in."
Iris looked up, then further up. What she was looking at seemed to be the inside of the top of the tower. A long, cylindrical metallic shaft extending up and up, except it was filled with lenses. Large glass lenses of various shapes and sizes, framed in heavy brass rings, extending all the way up to the top, where the tower opened into the sky. And all of them seemed to be glimmering in different colors, which she was pretty sure only she could see.
"We forge Artifacts here. Magical artifacts. This place is what I lovingly call the Sternenschmiede."
Iris stared up at the infinite reflections, the light gathering through all the lenses and focusing on a single point on the ground, where a solid metallic platform slowly began to rise.
"You're... you're using the power of the stars... to create Artifacts..." Iris said in awe.
The man's smile widened. "Very good. Mitarbeitsplus!" he replied excitedly.
Iris eyes widened. "But that's not all there is to it..."
Mr. Stern rose a surprised eyebrow. "Oh?"
"The symbols... The symbols on the crystals... And all the other things..."
Somehow, his excitement only visibly grew. Iris' gaze jumped from the engraved symbols on the gathered objects, over to the screen still showing the man presenting said symbol to the gullible masses.
"You're not just creating artifacts... you're creating symbols as well."
"Quite the observant girl you are, Miss Blackwood... although, to be honest, I thought ritualcraft was banned in England..." he said with a mix of excitement and suspicion.
Curious. "Is it not here?" Iris asked.
"Well," Mr. Stern said with a shrug. "Legally, it's a gray area. But everyone uses way too many products that in some way rely on it for them to actually be able to change the law now."
"Really?" Iris asked. "I've never seen any magical things that seemed like they'd use ritualistic magic in a way..."
"Yes, usually you wouldn't, as it is very unpredictable," Mr. Stern said. "But there is a little trick to that. You go to Hogwarts, yes?"
Iris just shrugged and nodded. At this point, there was probably no use denying it, given her age and the fact she didn't think there were any other magical schools in Britain.
"Your new history Professor, ääh... Mr. Lupin, I think. He bought the magical overhead projector here," he said.
That thing? The crystal contraption with symbols that somehow seemed to be able to project memories? A bit like a Pensieve, except very different...
"So... you give the symbols meaning using your TV show... then you use them in small rituals to apply their properties to your artifacts?" Iris asked for confirmation.
Mr. Stern wandered over to the desk containing the pile of gemstones, picked out one with a symbol she had never seen before, that looked like a mix of a snowflake and a spiral. Then, he put on a heavy German accent for show, removed his hairband, raised up the crystal and began to speak.
"Zis is ze Mark of Frost! It channels astral powers right from the stars, into your home, using the might of the mystic to keep you and your house cooler in the summer. And if you call now and order immediately... you can get the Mark of Flame in addition for free!"
Iris nodded and couldn't hold back a grin. It was genius, in a way. Somewhat similar to what Lockhart had done, except instead of malicious and self-serving, it had been turned into a business. A business that its owner could be proud of, if the free tour she was getting was any indication. And also it was probably a lot more powerful, given the difference in numbers between Muggles and Magicals. For something as simple as creating an artifact related to cooling, she was pretty sure the sacrifice would be minimal, if any would be required at all. And if it didn't work, they could just start over. But if it did work... Rituals were permanent after all.
"But... one thing doesn't make sense..." Iris said. "You're creating symbols to enchant the artifacts, and you're focusing the power of the stars to create them? How does that work together? Wouldn't the symbols just work on their own?"
Mr Stern nodded, having tied his hair back once again. "Indeed, but as I'm sure you know, free ritual can be very unpredictable. It is by using the power of the stars we can work around that. In this case, the symbols only guide the magic, the intent. The power solely originates from the stars."
Iris turned to stare up at the array of lenses, marveling at how the sky reflected in all sorts of shimmering colors, and how even just the blue of the empty sky seemed to be focused to a blinding dot. It was amazing, really. Both the way they would capture the light with a giant invisible floating lens, and how they would craft entirely new symbols to guide it, but she didn't quite see how it would all tie together. "Why would the power of the stars make rituals more stable?"
"Do you know where our magic comes from, Miss Blackwood?"
Iris froze, feeling a shiver run down her spine at the question. No, she didn't. Nobody did, right? It was just there, all around you... At least, that's what the books said.
Slowly, Iris turned towards the man, eyes wide, having been totally unprepared for the question. Apparently, that fact could be read on her expression like a children's book.
Mr. Stern gave a small smirk, raised a single finger, held it there in front of him, until he finally said, "Look up."
Iris looked up.
And she kept looking. Apart from all the lenses, the metallic tower, and the circular window surrounding it showing the rest of the sky...
What was she supposed to see there?
Other than the... sun.
"Oh..."
"Indeed..." he replied.
"But... how? If that was the case, why don't people know about it?" Iris asked.
"Because there is no way to directly use it. Unlike the rest of the stars, the sun is our home, it is so close to us that it affects us just as we affect it. But it only does so as a collective. It gives magic to the world, and some of us can use it, make it our own. But by virtue of this closeness, I suspect the magic of the sun has gained a sort of... will of its own. Call it... a collective unconscious. It is that which you deal with when performing free ritual—the only way we have of interfacing with its magic directly. Any other attempts to harness its free magic are bound to be met by failure, due to all the conflicting intent."
Iris took a second to process all that.
"Of course, this is just my theory, but I have been doing this for over eighty years now," he added with a shrug, then wandered over to the computer next to the row of monitors, clicked a few buttons, and brought up what looked like a star chart.
"The stars out there however are entirely untouched by our will, by our intent. They are raw magic. Very difficult to give shape, but also pure, no room for interference or possible conflicting intent."
Iris perked up. "But the effect the stars have are influenced by the position of the planets in our solar system! So you can use that to... achieve a specific effect somehow? Combined with the symbols you created?"
"That is part of it, yes. But mostly, other than power, no matter how the planets bend it, the stars offer us very little in terms of useable intent, or meaning. The biggest effect they have is on the magic we already have here, it influences the outcome of potions, rituals, all sorts of arcane applications. But this is mostly the arithmantic influence they have. And ritualistic symbols like the ones we create here only act to limit and refine the magic, they can do very little to shape the entirety of something as monolithic as stars. But there is another sort of influence, which is a lot harder to predict, at least, it is usually."
He was now staring at her expectantly, almost as if hoping she would figure it out for herself. God, wasn't she supposed to be on holidays? Not that she was complaining, mind you.
The stars were distant, nothing we could do would influence them directly, they were nothing but raw light, raw magic. But the planets in our solar system aren't. And if the collective human minds could affect our magic, our sun, and our sun could also affect our planets, then in turn, the effect our planets had on the stars could also be tied to...
"You wouldn't happen to be running an Astrology show as well?"
Mr. Stern was now clapping.
"Are you perhaps interested in an internship, Miss Blackwood?"
Iris blinked. She... what?
What was she supposed to say to that? If she was being honest, this all sounded rather fascinating. Exactly the kind of stuff she knew she'd enjoy doing. But...
"I'm sorry. I really need to go back home in a few days..." she replied with a forced smile.
"What a shame. But feel free to send me an owl or an E-mail if you do change your mind at some point," he replied, as if he had been expecting nothing else.
~V~
After spending some more time marveling at the monument to magical ingenuity, she had finally reluctantly had to call it quits. She needed at least half an hour back to the train station, unless she ran the whole way, or used the shadows. Both of which she really wanted to avoid. So far, she still hadn't cast any magic, and the longer it went on, the more irrationally worried she grew what would happen if she actually did.
Finally arriving at the train station, she quickly found the monitor and groaned. Of course, it was delayed again.
After grudgingly biding her time while finishing her book in the waiting area, the ICE to Berlin finally actually showed up, and even left as announced. Iris spent some time flipping through some of the other books she had brought, but nothing managed to catch her interest as the book on magical theory had done, and also, her mind was still whirling with all the revelations of the last hours.
With what Lockhart had done, and what Mr. Stern was still doing, she wondered what else could be done, if you could get enough people to believe something. Maybe it even had something to do with why V̷̰̘́̔ō̷̦͉͋ļ̷̏d̸͔̗̍͠e̴͖̼̓̓m̷̆̚͜ò̸̦̈́r̶͚̐͊t̷̤̂̇'s name was so powerful... Gah. Thinking the Name still gave her the shivers, but thinking of her own name seemed to help hold it at bay mostly.
Iris glanced out of the window, and up. The brightly glowing sun was staring back.
She had never noticed it before, but she wasn't sure how. Probably because it hurt to look directly at it. But through the blackened windows of the train, yes. It was very definitely pretty. So pretty it hurt to look at.
"Unser nächster Halt ist: Bielefeld Hauptbahnhof."
Finally.
Chapter 6: A town that does not exist
Chapter Text
Iris watched the train slowly roll into the platform which was decorated by several signs confirming this to indeed be the destination she had been trying to reach.
She quickly packed up her book, wolfed down the last sandwich she had bought, and shouldered her backpack once more.
Aside from the few things that the creepy shopkeeper had told her, Iris knew basically nothing about this town. All she had heard was that there was apparently a magical community here, and that there was one particular bar or something that could grant her entrance to the sort-of black market that was supposedly part of it.
Strangely enough, looking on the Internet for information had somehow resulted in more questions than answers.
At least one of them she could answer for herself now; since as far as she could see, Bielefeld did, in fact, exist.
But also, as she kept looking, there were no obvious signs of any magical civilization anywhere. Rows and rows of large and cleanly painted buildings, not a single brick wall in sight. Parking garages, parking lots... Mc Donald's, some store chain called Aldi West, that same clothing store she had visited in Köln, and...
Iris froze, then turned back. A boy had just come out of the regular boring old supermarket she had just passed; the boy himself looking just as regular and boring. Muggle clothes, muggle backpack, baseball cap, except... He was carrying a broom. And definitely not the cleaning kind.
It looked pretty damn different to the ones they had in Britain. For one, it wasn't made of wood. The handle was metallic, a silvery color engraved with lines leading all the way down the shaft, shaped into a neat comfy shape, the top of the handle coated in rubber like the handlebar on a bike, and at the end... Well, it was definitely broom-shaped, but she had no idea what the metallic thing at the end was. But it was moving. Also, he was carrying that thing in plain view of all the Muggles, yet nobody seemed to pay him any attention?
Thoroughly intrigued, she changed course and entered the store labeled Aldi West. The door slid open and revealed a store that looked for all intents and purposes like a regular supermarket. Had she been mistaken?
A building about half the size of the Great Hall, by far not as tall, and filled with rows upon rows of metallic wireframe crates and shelves containing all kinds of things. There were some people all about the store, but they looked just as regular as the boy had.
Iris turned towards the first shelf on the right next to her and inspected the signs. No. She was in the right place. Because the price tag wasn't listed in Euros.
Einwegzauberstab
2G 16S
Dauertiefpreis
Galleons and... Sickles? At least that's what she hoped. Upon further inspection, she noticed something else. It hadn't been immediately obvious. Usually, she'd just see directly whether objects would be pretty or not, and could just tell if they were magical instinctually. In this case, she had gotten foiled, quite literally, by the fact that every single product was wrapped in plastic or cardboard packaging, even if it was entirely unnecessary.
Iris shot a glance around the semi-empty store, then carefully reached out and peeled open one of the long blue cardboard boxes at the top. Out tumbled what was most definitely a wand. Except it looked as if someone had taken the textbook definition of what a wand was supposed to be, and had done just that and nothing else. No decorations, no intricate designs, just a stick of wood and a black handle, and a small sheet of paper containing an onslaught of tiny printed words in German.
Was this a wand shop? Well... Not really? She looked to the next shelf where entirely different things sat. Carefully, she put the wand back in the box and continued exploring.
A row of metallic cans was labeled with Florfliegen (eingelegt). Next to it, another row with Bubortublereiter.
Oh... were those potions ingredients? Why the hell didn't they sell them like this in Britain? This seemed so much more convenient!
...Yes. Yes, they were, if the row of copper cauldrons in the metallic box across from it was any indication.
Kupferkessel (unbeschichtet)
4G 16S
What was it with all these prices just being one Sickle below the next full Galleon? Did they really think people were that stupid? Although, admittedly, it was pretty goddamn cheap. At least, compared to the shop in Diagon Alley.
Iris turned towards the next shelf and goggled.
DIN A4 Pergament (100 Stk.)
1G 16S 27K
Okay, now it was getting ridiculous. Were they somehow trying to be smart by not going all the way to 28 Knuts?
Also, this was somehow twice as expensive as the parchment in Britain. But then, right next to it, they had the same thing, except using regular old paper, which was only 5 Sickles 26 Knuts.
Wandering aimlessly, Iris found a shelf containing three different types of Brooms, one looking pretty regular, one looking a bit more stylish, and then the metallic one that she had seen the kid from before buy. She found a shelf containing all kinds of magical contraptions, the uses of which she couldn't even begin to guess at from their German names, another shelf containing snacks and sweets of all kinds, including actual Chocolate Frogs—but somehow none of the other sweets she knew from Britain—and another shelf containing what looked like a smaller and sleeker version of the Wizarding Wireless.
Unsure what or even if she should buy anything, Iris made her way towards the cashier by the entrance, and stopped in front of a small shelf right next to it containing a small assortment of German literature. There was a stack of what looked like a newspaper, branded with a bright red logo bearing the name Portrait. Next to that, a thick and heavy book with the title Gelber Grimoire.
Iris flipped through either. The first one seemed to be making an effort to imitate all the worst qualities of the Prophet, except with none of the Style, and the second one...
Oh. Apparently, it was a... phone book? Except not really. More like an address book. Most of the entries didn't mean much to her, but she could definitely make out things related to magic, and in the section B she found a long list of these all located within Bielefeld. That would make things a lot easier.
Staring at the price tag in exasperation for a second, Iris finally shrugged and picked up the yellow book, and took it over to the cashier. The old woman was wearing a blue shirt and pants, similar to Mr. Stern. Did wizards in Germany just entirely go with Muggle attire, or...
No. Upon further inspection, there were slight differences. The main thing seemed to be the material. This definitely wasn't cotton. It seemed silky, if anything. Also it was flowing, for the lack of a better term. A bit like robes, except properly fitting, at least. Something in between then?
"Faust verschone, junges Fräulein," said the old lady in a paper-thin voice, while cracking a wrinkly smile.
Iris returned the smile hesitantly, and placed the book on the conveyor belt. The book slid all the way over to the other side, and the lady pressed a single button, resulting in a loud mechanical Ka-Ching! sound, as the metal cash register clicked open.
"Eins, Sechzehn, Achtundzwanzig, bitte."
And of course, Iris handed over two whole Galleons. But at least, she got a single Knut back, so that was something?
~V~
After that, Iris had picked up a second lunch at McDonald's and began to wander the town in search for the one place that the shopkeeper in Knockturn Alley had mentioned. It had been listed in the magical Yellow Pages, but so far, none of the Muggles she had asked had known where she would find the Greifenstrasse, including the one Taxi driver she had come across. Or rather, the ones that had been fluent enough in English to even understand what she was looking for. She had been hoping that since English was the language of the Internet and all, there would be more people who spoke it to a sufficient degree to allow her to get by just using that.
Would she actually have to attempt to learn German for this?
Or...
Slowly, a smirk made its way onto her face. There was no way that would work, right? That shouldn't work. But also, it really should. Thoughts were less words and more meaning after all.
Before Iris could further think about it, her mind had acted all by itself. She brought a faint glow of Indigo into her eyes, this time careful not to blind herself again, and she looked. Now she just needed someone speaking the language, and—
There, on the corner of the street, a man in shabby clothes was shouting in German.
"Ihr versteht das nicht, nein, ihr alle seid blind! Der Himmel bricht auf, die Sterne fallen, und die Welt versinkt im Chaos! Die Reichen haben ein Geheimnis, ein finsteres Komplott! Die Bielefelder Verschwörung, ja, das ist erst der Anfang! Der Great-Reset wird uns alle einholen! Die Echsenmenschen sind unter uns, Politiker, Geschäftsleute, Menschen wie du und ich! Die Erde wird beben, und nur die Erwachten werden überleben!"
Uhhhm...
Her brain was spinning. This had been a bad idea, hadn't it?
What the hell were lizard people? And what did they have to do with the Bielefeld conspiracy?
Iris shook her head, and pointedly continued down the road. She felt like she had just accidentally met the male and homeless version of Luna. Note to self, never try to read Luna's mind.
But rolling it back, she felt like she understood... some of it? Most of it? In terms of what he had been trying to say, at least, even if the contents seemed to make no sense whatsoever.
The words stuck in her mind; had some meaning associated to them, but unlike the little French she had learned in St. Grogorys, it wasn't a translation to English words. More like... she had to think about what it meant, and then try to find an English equivalent. That was odd. It felt a bit like learning a second mother tongue, if that was even a thing. But it probably wasn't a great idea to learn it from a crazy homeless person of all things.
Also, she only learned the words that he had used. If she wanted to learn an entire language like that, that would be a... process.
Iris continued down the road, found an outdoor Cafe, and spent some time inconspicuously sneaking through the tables, trying to eavesdrop and meet as many eyes as possible.
From what she had picked up so far, apparently the literal translation of the street she was looking for was grabbing road? She really hoped that it wasn't the first thing that had entered her mind at that. But she wouldn't let that stop her.
Once more trying her luck with a taxi driver, Iris had to make use of the little German she had picked up so far.
"Entschulding, wissen Sie wo ich die Greifenstraße finden kann?" Iris asked.
"Greifenstraße?" echoed the aged man who was wearing round glasses.
Iris nodded, but her Mindlight had connected a dot in that moment that provided the missing link. She knew his answer before he even said it, but Iris had gotten another, much more important answer on her own.
"Die gibt's nicht," he said.
"Sicher?" Iris asked, just to be sure.
He frowned, then tapped a few buttons on his onboard navigation system, and shook his head again.
"In Bielefeld? Nein," the man confirmed.
Well. Of course. Now that she understood, it made sense none of the Muggles would know about the street she was looking for.
Greifenstraße wasn't supposed to mean grabbing road, it was supposed to mean Griffin road. She just hadn't known that word before. That would mean that it was in all likelihood part of some magical district.
But that still left the issue of finding it. But, she supposed, now at least she knew who to ask. If all else failed, she could return back to Aldi West and ask someone there, but by now, she was already half-way across the city. But she had a feeling that she'd find other magical locations, if she just kept looking. There was something about this town; if only the fact that there were enough conspiracy theories about Bielefeld that Luna would probably be able to hold a TED-Talk on the topic from memory. And given the fact that there was a magical district here, she had a sneaking suspicion that the two were somehow related. She wished she could have just asked her. Or someone. But given what she was here to do, it would be extremely foolish to let any of her friends know that she was here. Luna already knew too much about what happened with Lockhart. She hadn't told her anything, but simply the convenience of the timing would definitely raise suspicion with someone like her.
Wandering throughout the street, she began to notice even more things that were off. Above the street, wires spanned the distance between the buildings, suspending small rectangular streetlights in the center of the road. But something was off about these. They definitely should be off at this time of day. Still, a soft yellow shine was emanating from them, and also a faint... Indigo? Violet? Something was definitely magical about them. And judging by the colors, something to do with Mind or Illusion? They seemed to be spread all over town, but as far as she could tell, they weren't really... doing anything? Other than glow during the day. Although, that might just be visible to her eyes, now that she thought about it. Maybe the yellow glow was just the Control aspect?
In one of the side-alleys she found a lamppost instead of a wire-mounted one, which was shimmering in exactly the same colors. Upon further inspection, there was something... At the top, right next to the light, there was a tiny letter A engraved into it, inside a small misshapen rectangle. She had seen that before—the Astro TV logo! These were made by Mr. Stern? What the hell did those things do?
Staring at the lamp for a bit longer, she tried to decipher its purpose just from her senses and intuition. It felt a bit like... something she had seen before... something pretty... with graffiti on it...
Iris engaged her Mindlight to its full brightness and kept rummaging through her memories. Yes! The chunk of wall that would lead onto platform Nine and Three Quarters! So did that mean this was some sort of secret entrance?
But... where? How? And also... even if this lamppost was a secret entrance, the suspended streetlights looked exactly the same, and she didn't think even wizards were stupid enough to suspend a secret entrance in mid-air.
Iris frowned, and finally continued her exploration. She was brought up short by a large skeletal horse wandering down the alleyway entirely unconcerned by the Muggles and even cars bustling around it. A Thestral? What?
Iris had looked up these beings after the start of last year and to her relief had realized that she was, in fact, not going crazy. Apparently, those things could only be seen by those who had seen Death. And while it did make sense that she saw it now, she had no idea why she had been able to see them a year ago already. It also made sense that people seemed mostly unconcerned, but nobody? Could Muggles just... not see them at all?
In a daze, she followed after the creature, as it took her back the way she had come from, but her path was cut short by the same kid she had seen before—now riding his metallic broom—flying down the road above her. In plain sight of everyone.
And yet, nobody seemed to bat even so much as an eye. Was the Statute not a thing here? Or was...
Her eyes flashed back to the still glowing streetlights. Oh. Well, that would explain a lot. It had felt familiar from the barrier on Kings Cross, not because it was a secret passageway, but because it was charmed for Muggles to ignore anything unusual about it.
Had... had they somehow... charmed the whole city? As a way for Magicals and Muggles to openly live together, without the Muggles knowing about it?
How the hell would that work with technology? How would they prevent someone from just taking a picture...
That...
One of the strange conspiracy theories she had read was that there didn't seem to be any pictures of Bielefeld on the Internet. Nor were there any people who were from there, had been there, or knew anyone who had. And of course, any pictures that would show up were supposedly fake. Almost as if the town didn't even exist where the Internet was concerned.
Maybe they somehow... prevented cameras from working entirely? Or even the whole Internet? And the Muggles just didn't care as the city-wide ward prevented them from noticing anything odd?
Did that... did that mean she could do magic here, and the Muggles wouldn't even notice?
Iris knew she really shouldn't. She was tempting fate, doing something unnecessary and reckless again. But she didn't care.
Reaching out her right hand, she called her orb of iridescent light, poised to make a run for it at the slightest hint of anyone even so much as looking at her the wrong way.
Color burst forth, and drenched the brightly lit street in dancing shapes. Iris' eyes darted between all the people on the road, looking for any hint, any trace, a shout, something. Yet everything continued business as usual. In fact, the eyes of the passing Muggles seemed to almost glaze over as their minds were making a concerted effort to look anywhere but at what Iris was doing.
A small, silly grin spread onto Iris' face.
Then, she blinked, cut out her light, and slapped herself.
Stupid. If it hadn't worked, she'd unnecessarily risked the Statute again. She really had to be better than this.
Right, back to work. She had a Greifenstraße to find.
"Wunderschen! Sowos kennt ma jo von Durmstrang garned!"
Iris froze.
Split evenly between an impulse to either pale and blush, they somehow cancelled each other out and she managed to do neither. Iris turned around towards the matronly voice which had come from right behind her.
A heavyset woman who was wearing a blue and white apron, had curled dark blonde hair and a gentle smile on her face, was standing in the entrance of one of the small shops she had passed.
"Uhm... Hi, I well... Sorry," Iris quickly stopped herself, and tried to switch back over to German, but it was too late.
"Gertrude, dear. But they call me Gerti," the woman said in a heavy German accent with a gesture at the wooden sign above the shop which read Gerti's Feinstes.
Iris carefully engaged her Mindlight, trying to build some goodwill.
"Hallo, uhm... was ist das für ein Geschäft?" she asked curiously, the words merging together oddly, but still feeling correct, even if the translation she worked out afterwards didn't.
The woman's smile somehow brightened even more and she switched right back to German, although apparently somehow with an even heavier accent than she had in English.
"Na du bis ma wea..." she replied with a chuckle. "Wos wiads scho sei? A Bäckarei!"
Her mind rebelled against itself, trying to parse the words into what she had already learned. Most of the people she had eavesdropped on had been speaking more or less the same type of German here—even the crazy homeless person—but this was an entirely different dialect. Almost what Scottish was to English, she guessed. It felt... less refined? More... laid back and... friendly? But also unfriendly at the same time? It made no sense whatsoever.
Also, it really didn't sound like a good idea to learn that as well with her Mindlight. If she got lucky, she'd end up with an entirely separate language that she'd understand even less of. And if not, she'd mess up what she learned so far and end up with a hybrid dialect that didn't sound like either, which would prevent her from even trying to fit in with the locals.
So, reluctantly, she switched back to English. "Sorry, uh... my German isn't that good yet..."
The woman called Gerti smiled warmly and stepped back, allowing her to peer inside the shop.
"It's a bakery, dear," she repeated in a heavy accent.
And that, it was. A small cramped wooden store held two tiny tables and chairs in the corner, but the majority was taken up by a large glass counter displaying a dizzying assortment of baked goods of all types.
Krustenbrot, Roggenbrot, Vollkornbrot, Dinkel-Bio-Alraunenwurzenbrot, Sonntagsbrot, Kesselbrot, ...
Who the hell needed this many different types of bread?
One of the baskets was just labeled Bernd. And whatever was inside of it appeared to be moving. And speaking. And unbelievably depressed.
Thoroughly bewildered, Iris was about to make up an excuse in order to leave, but her eyes were entrapped by the other half of the glass counter. And so was her nose.
Pastries. Chocolate, cinnamon, marmalade, it just didn't end. And it smelled so good!
The woman called Gerti noticed the direction of her gaze and her smile widened.
"I wood recommend my speshellty, Drachenkrapfen," Gerti said.
Somehow, her Mindlight came up with several possible translations for that word.
The woman gestured towards a small podium front and center upon where round-ish dark brown... things... pasty-cake-something, with a chocolate glazing, suspiciously shaped... no.
What the hell was actually wrong with wizards?
This looked like... looked like...
But why did it have to smell so goddamn good?
Okay, No! Stop. She had some standards, okay? There was no way she'd be seen eating something that looked like—Nu-uh. Nope. No, no no no, no way, not happening.
Nope.
~V~
God damnit.
Okay, in her defense, it had somehow tasted even better than it had smelled. No matter how disgusting its appearance had—No, you know what? No.
Screw that. If anyone asked, she had turned around, without a word, and left.
And she definitely hadn't bought a second one.
Got that? Good.
Heroically managing to keep her blush to a minimum, Iris made her way down the street—following the short description that the woman had given her towards the Greifenstraße, while she had definitely not been stuffing her face.
Iris still had no idea what the hell was wrong with wizards, but it sure as hell wasn't a lack of baking skills.
In the end, she had to slap herself once again. She had walked straight past this street, but she hadn't been able to read the ancient street sign declaring this to be the Greifenstraße, and she had immediately dismissed it on account of there being cars parked inside it. But it was so obviously magical that she had no idea how she had managed to look at this and decide that, yep, there was nothing to see here.
It was just there, one right turn from the main shopping street she had been walking down, basically in plain sight. Except all the Muggles just seemed to be walking past it.
And inside, the place was bustling with people, and all kinds of things. The street was stretching out into a right turn in front of her, and right in the corner there was a large building labeled with a gigantic metallic rotating cube displaying a large blue letter N on all sides. It also had glass walls. The rest of the street had more regular looking houses and storefronts.
Directly to her left, a store labeled Volksbesen, displaying a large assortment of brooms of all kinds, including the strange metallic ones. Further down, a smaller wooden storefront shoddily labeled Präzisionszauberstabwerkstatt Gregorowitsch; which was mostly covered up, only displaying three plain wands to the outside.
In the middle of the road, there was a large stone statue of something that looked a bit like the Gryffindor house crest, except somehow less majestic and instead more disturbing. A large... whatever the hell it was, standing atop a podium of large stone bricks. She thought it was supposed to be a Griffin, but it looked more like a cross between a Griffin and a Thestral.
To her right, there was a sort of open market, several vendors displaying all sorts of ingredients—probably potions ingredients—openly in crates along the street—okay, really, how had she missed that? And right on the corner—where she wasn't even sure if it was still part of the magical street or not—was a small takeaway in a tiny metallic box labeled Döner Kebap.
She kept staring for a bit, but then Iris noticed something else. Or rather, she noticed something missing. The place the shopkeeper from Knockturn Alley had mentioned. What was it again... right, number thirteen. So, to her left was... number one... next to it, number twenty-seven?
Great.
Iris began to make her way down the road, trying to take in as much as possible. Yeah, as far as she could tell, there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the order of the street numbers. Which meant, she'd have to comb through the whole thing manually. She really didn't want to just ask, she had no idea what a Basstronomie was supposed to be, and had no idea if just asking about the place would cause suspicion. But it was listed in the magical Yellow Pages just like the creepy shopkeeper had called it, so she supposed it had to be somewhere around here.
Except she had now made her way up and back down the whole street twice, and found no trace of either a number thirteen, or something even resembling the name in the book. Maybe it didn't exist anymore? Had she come all this way for nothing?
"Danke, Meister! Kommst du wieder!"
Iris turned to look as a middle-aged man stepped back from the takeaway, a sandwich of sorts in hand, and turned right back down into the Greifenstraße. Was this a magical place after all? Or was it just... very conveniently placed? But if it was, maybe this was the least... risky place to ask? With a frown, she stepped closer.
"Hallöchen, schöne Frau! Was darf's sein? Schöner Döner mit Alles?"
A young man with black hair, large bushy eyebrows, and a thick neatly-trimmed black goatee greeted her behind the small metallic counter with a smile.
"Äh... also eigentlich habe ich eine Frage..." Iris began awkwardly, trying to ask directions.
"Bist du neu in Bielefeld, oder? Ich haben Spezialität für dich!" he said, completely ignoring her request.
He turned towards the back and pointed at the large sign that read Schöner Döner. Then he leaned back in and whispered conspiratorially, "Diese Döner macht wirklich schöner!"
A... sandwich... that would make you prettier? What the hell. So... it was a magical takeaway? Or was it just marketing bullshit? She still couldn't see anything pretty about it...
"Uh... ich suche die... Basstronomie?" Iris asked again, trying to get back on track.
Suddenly, the young man broke into a wide grin. "Basstro! Gehst du? Geilste Klub in ganz Bielefeld!"
So he did know about it. "Aber wie komme ich da hin?" she asked for further directions.
"Basstro macht erst um Zehn auf, Eingang ist dann direkt bei die Statue."
Oh. Okay? So it was not really a bar? And it was right here over at the Griffin statue? But she couldn't see anything there... Maybe the entrance would only show up at ten pm once the place opened? Great. Now she had to wait for another four hours.
Suddenly, the man leaned far out of the window and waved her closer conspiratorially. "Brauchst du Ausweis?"
Iris blinked. Did he just offer to sell her a fake ID?
His grin widened. "Kannst mir nicht erzählen du bist Sechzehn."
Iris had to try very hard to prevent her Mindlight from imprinting the awful broken German that the man was using. Also, no, she obviously wasn't sixteen. Did that mean they wouldn't let her in without an ID to prove she was sixteen years old? She did have a fake ID herself, but on that one she had kept her original age of a few days short of thirteen. She hadn't thought it would be an issue, since the train only required her to be twelve years old.
Well, if all else failed, she could attempt her luck with the shadows, she guessed. But there was no way she'd have this random street-food vendor procure an ID for her, he'd probably need a picture, and then do God-knows-what with it. No, if anything, she'd use her remaining four hours to try and fix her own ID, or maybe find another way inside.
~V~
In the end, she had found a public printer in a library, and re-printed her ID for the second time to show herself to be sixteen and a half years old. It wasn't her best work. The PC that she had found had used a different program, and no matter what she had tried, the font just hadn't looked the same as the rest of the ID. Deciding that this was the best it was going to get, Iris finally gathered up her stuff again, went to find some dinner, and returned back to the Greifenstraße right in time at ten on the dot, where she got to witness something... magical.
A bright ray of light pierced the night, originating from the base of the podium upon which the stone Griffin-Thestral sat. Another followed, in a different color. More and more beams of light, shining in all directions, until they suddenly began to move across the night sky. The ground began to shake with a deep vibration, and the Griffin-Thestral came alive, leapt from the podium, sat down on the edge, as the rest of the stone platform slowly began to descend. Deeper and deeper it went, breaking into chunks along the gaps in the stone bricks, as it began forming what looked like a staircase, leading down.
The reverberating sound pulsed yet again, and the lights along with it. Iris could feel the ground shake underneath her feet. Someone bumped into her shoulder from behind her.
"Tschuldigung!" mumbled a boy, as he shoved past her, and began his descent down the staircase. Iris turned back to see where he had come from, and realized that something was different. The Muggles, right outside the street were no longer simply passing it. There now seemed to be smaller groups, mostly younger ones, that broke off and turned deliberately into the Greifenstraße. They just continued past the closed up magical storefronts without a second glance, and headed straight for the staircase.
Was this a club for Muggles as well as Magicals?
She supposed... if the whole city was charmed to have Muggles ignore anything odd...
Yet another heavy beat shook the ground, then another, and another, slowly picking up in speed, until it settled into a regular rhythm.
"Eeyy! Jez wird Party gemacht!"
Iris turned to the side and noticed the street-food vendor from before, grinning and pointing finger-guns at her from the window of his shop.
"Hoff du hast gute Ausweis, die prufen bei Eingang, weist du?" he added in a lower tone.
Iris swallowed. Yeah. Her ID was anything but good. Here was hoping that if they were Magicals checking it, they wouldn't be able to understand her Muggle ID. Maybe she could just entirely pretend to be Muggle, if they did allow Muggles inside anyway? She at least had the clothing to match...
Iris stared at the entrance for a while, the regular deep bass emanating from the ground like a heartbeat underneath her feet, making her feel a strange tingly sort of anticipation. More and more groups of Magicals and Muggles alike made their way down towards the entrance, and even the vendor from the Döner place seemed to be closing up shop.
She wondered for a moment how the residents were even able to sleep with something like this in front of their door, but then again, that's what magic was for, she guessed. It'd probably be a lot more problematic to have this place within a Muggle area.
But slowly, all thoughts of worry, pondering and hesitation took the backseat. Like a moth drawn to a flame, the rhythmic beat in tune with the dancing lights just seemed to lure her in. Instead, they made way for unbridled curiosity, and palpable anticipation. Iris took a step forward, then another, down the large stone stairs, into a tunnel illuminated by colorful lights lining the walls that seemed to come from nowhere at all, and were distinctly... pretty.
As she descended, the muffled beats echoing throughout the walls grew louder, now even shaking her knees slightly. A small queue of people was gathered in front of her, quickly dwindling away. At the end, there was a small room, dilapidated concrete walls on all sides, with a blank metal door at the end. And in front of it stood two men, who looked for all intents and purposes, scary. And very Muggle. Large, burly, black hair, muscular and wearing black suits. The one standing right in front of her was wearing a lazy smirk, and the other one standing right next to him was wearing sunglasses indoors.
Iris swallowed. The man in front of her caught her eye, and raised an eyebrow. Crap. He was already suspicious. Should she try and confound them? Or—
Bad idea. One of them had just drawn a wand and waved it over the proffered ID of the older girl who had been waiting in line before her. He then nodded, waved her through, and suddenly, Iris was standing in front of the two towering men, both glaring down at her, and all three of them obviously knew that there was no way she was supposed to be here. Even if she had grown a lot, she still did look a bit younger than sixteen. She was in so much trouble. What the hell had she been thinking?
Iris didn't move, standing like a deer caught in the headlights, until the one in front of her spoke up in a gruff voice, "Ausweis?"
Fumbling her hands, Iris almost dropped the slip of paper that was so obviously fake that she almost bolted the moment it left her fingers. The large man took the proffered piece of paper, raised it up, and snorted.
Iris was blushing as red as her hair now. She'd just leave. If she managed to get away with just some stern glares, she could maybe try her luck through the shadows instead.
The man raised his wand again, waved it over the piece of paper, and Iris couldn't help but stare. It was... definitely some sort of revealing charm. Destruction and Illusion. And also... it felt like... it was looking for something specific... Something... magical?
The wand flashed for a second, then went out. Without so much as a second glance at her horribly fake ID, he held it back out to her. Iris reached a shaky hand, picked it up from his fingers, and looked down at it. Then back up at the man.
"Alles in Ordnung," he said in a matter-of-factly voice, and jabbed his head towards the metal door.
Wait, what?
He knew! He obviously knew! Yet he was letting her in anyway? Why? And what was the magic detection spell all about then?
Unsure what the hell was going on, or what to do, Iris did the only thing she could and began to awkwardly shuffle towards the door, and finally slipped inside.
The moment the door clicked shut, she was plunged into utter darkness.
Iris stumbled back, trying desperately to reach for the door again, but it was gone. She couldn't see anything, feel anything, and the only sound she heard was the steady rhythmic beats, the vibrations now tingling across her whole body. Louder and louder they grew, until she noticed something else. In the distance, a small, tiny white square, almost infinitely far away. It seemed to pulse along with the beat, but it was so tiny and microscopic, she had no idea how she had even noticed it in the first place. With every pulse it grew bigger and bigger, small rectangular shapes pulsing around it in all the colors of the rainbow, bouncing and jiggling, larger and larger, big as a planet, then even bigger, growing incomprehensibly large, until the music suddenly changed.
One heavy beat that seemed to go on and on, reverberating deeper and deeper, sending the small rectangular shapes wild, growing faster, coming flying at her, until they arrived and began zooming past her in a maelstrom of colors, plunging the darkness into a dizzying dance and torrent of colorful geometry. So close, yet still miles away all around her, it almost felt like an electric shiver running over her skin as they kept blurring past her, a long infinitely stretching tunnel of spinning colorful rectangles, until it came to a stop.
A heavy harmonic and electronic sound pierced her ears—almost deafening—causing all the rectangles to flare up and begin to spin around her, and the ground to softly light up in a faint violet, which was apparently several hundred meters below her WHAT
Another chord; an even fuller spectrum of electronic sounds and harmony, reverberating through her entire body, causing her bones to begin singing as she felt a very distinct tingling sensation move down her spine along with the note. The floor lit up and large rectangular pillars as tall as skyscrapers glowing in a dull blue burst from the ground, plunging up into the sky, completely frying what was left of Iris' brain.
A third note, the final crescendo, as it built up to something. Her entire body was shaking, every single cell vibrating along with the chord. All the pillars moved, crashed higher up into the dark sky, only to descend back down, moving like gigantic audio indicators along to the sound. From the ground below her, countless rays of light, lasers of all colors burst forth, crossing over in the nothingness beneath her feet, and piercing into the infinite void above her. Only now Iris noticed that she was apparently standing on nothing, right in mid-air, somehow. The buzzing electronic note grew louder and louder, more distorted, as the lights began to flicker, and the rectangles grew wilder and wilder as they zoomed past her, blowing her hair in the wind, until with a snap, the music cut, and everything plunged into darkness once more.
A dull, rhythmic beat began sounding from somewhere in front of her, slowly growing less and less muffled. Colorful lights began flashing in the distance in front of her, shapes, rays and motion, all of it pulsing and dancing along to the steady beat. Something was approaching, and fast. The lights were growing bigger, brighter, closer, and something was in the middle, a long and flat shape, just at the level where she was standing, moving with a paralyzing speed, it was going to crash right into her—
With a final snap, all the dullness vanished from the sound, and she could hear the music clearly. Iris blinked.
Things had stopped moving. Because they had arrived. She looked, and looked. And looked. Something bumped into her from behind her. And she barely registered it.
Iris was standing in the middle of a large crowd of people, presumably cheering and shouting, as they moved wildly, jumping and dancing in sync to the deafening beat. The floor was a dizzying shape of rectangular panels, flashing in all sorts of colors. The room around her was still an infinite open expanse, but all the dancing lights, shapes, and lasers seemed to be focused on the comparatively insignificantly small dancefloor that she now found herself upon. She noticed that the rectangular shapes in the floor had a slight curve to them, as the whole room seemed to revolve in a large circle around a central podium. All the lights were converging onto a single point—a floating half-sphere—upon which a silhouette of a man emerged, an almost completely black outline against the blinding lights, who slowly raised what looked like a microphone to his face.
"Guten Abend, Bielefeld!"
Chapter 7: Unraveled
Chapter Text
Iris had been under the Cruciatus. She had explored Pensieves, her own Mindscape, and had summoned an eldritch horror into the body of her cat. Until now, Iris had had no idea what the expression sensory overload actually meant.
Every single part of her mind, one after the other, had punched out for the weekend and left. Her body was moving, swaying, aimlessly drifting through the crowd. She really didn't know what to do, how to act, or feel like doing anything. It was so bloody loud that she was sure she wouldn't be able to understand a single word even with the use of Legilimency. At some point she had caught herself starting to bob along with the crowd, hypnotized by the dizzying surreal shapes which made up this place. She wasn't really feeling it, but the steady beat of the music, and the herd mentality of the wild crowd made it hard not to follow along. Even if only to stand out less.
She had tried several times to get a mental map of this place, understand where she was and where she had to go, but it seemingly kept changing with each and every song. Anytime the music shifted, so would the stage, the dancefloor, and the infinite void of colors around them, reconfiguring into an entirely new shape that would fit the new song. On the one hand, this was completely awesome. On the other, this made it a nightmare to try and get anywhere. Twice she had tried to make her way through the crowd over to the bar to at least try and ask directions, but before she had made it half-way there, the song had ended, and she had found herself on the other side of the room.
It didn't help that Iris—while now somewhat tall for her age—was still easily a head shorter than most of the crowd of older Germans—even most of the girls. The dancers pressed around her, constantly jostling and bumping into her. Hands brushed her, not all of them accidental. And somehow, especially around her arse. She tried to twist and catch a glimpse of whoever it was, but it was useless—they were swallowed by the throng of writhing bodies before she could make sense of anything. She really had to get out of here. At some point throughout all this, Iris realized that somehow, when she had entered this place, her backpack had disappeared, and she hadn't even noticed.
Getting desperate, Iris focused as hard as she could—which was an achievement in of itself in her current state—and slowly began to wrap her body in the blue glow of the Force aspect. She didn't point it in any particular direction, really, she just used it to dampen any outside Force whatsoever. Basically, to increase her own inertia.
And boy, did that work. As if she weighed as much as her food intake would suggest, Iris began to shove through the crowd, and this time, it wasn't her drifting, it was everyone else. Closer and closer, people were sent stumbling, falling—at some point almost like dominos—as she pushed on the mass of bodies, and it gave way.
Finally, Iris bumped another large boy out of the way, and reached the safety of the bar at the side of the dancefloor. There was a girl behind the counter. And she was wearing... uhm...
Blushing, Iris leaned over the counter and tried to get her attention. Maybe they had a map for this place or something? It couldn't hurt to ask. The older girl met her eyes, smiled and leaned in, and all of a sudden, all the noise around her seemed to deafen into a dull drone.
"Was darf's sein?" the girl asked with a smile.
Iris swallowed and tried to gather herself. "Ich bin neu hier. Gibt es hier... eine Karte?"
The blonde grinned and pointed at the large glowing sign suspended above the bar displaying various items and prices.
What? That wasn't what she'd asked for. Iris shook her head. "Nein, ich meine, eine Karte, wo es hier was gibt? Ausgang, Toilette, und Dinge wie das?"
In return she got a grin and a wink. "Nein. Einfach immer der Nase nach!"
Just follow her nose? Iris stared back incredulously.
"Hier findest du nicht dein Ziel, es findet dich!"
And with that, the deafening bass suddenly returned, and the girl moved on to serve the next customer.
So her destination was somehow supposed to find her? However that would work. She'd chalk that up to magic, she guessed.
Iris made to get up but suddenly a finger nudged her shoulder from the side, and Iris looked up and found a familiar face.
"Schwester! Hast du rein geschafft! Krasse Bude, oder?"
It was the young Kebap vendor, meeting her with a friendly grin, shouting something at her. She barely understood his words at all; wouldn't have understood anything if not for her Mindlight.
"Es ist Wahnsinn!" Iris yelled back.
"Waaas?" came the expected reply. Why did they even bother? It was so bloody loud they wouldn't be able to understand each other with hand signs in here.
"Hier!" he yelled with a grin.
Iris blinked looking down. He was holding out a long glass filled with colorful liquid that seemed to have several layers of color all the way down, a metallic straw, lemon slices and some other sort of greenery floating on top, and stuck to the rim of the glass. Also, the metallic straw seemed to be coated in something crystalline, and pink.
"Is fur dich!" came another yell, as he kept dangling the beverage in front of her.
Why? Why was he... did he buy that for her? Iris threw a wary glance over at the girl at the bar, who grinned and threw her a thumbs-up.
What... eyes darting between the two of them, and the glass in front of her, Iris' mind failed to compute. She was completely out of her comfort zone. And the sensory overload wasn't helping. Wasn't she supposed to... God... what was even happening. She looked back down and realized that somewhere in her musings, she had taken the glass from his grip, and was now holding it with both hands.
She didn't want to be needlessly rude, but she had other things to do. And it wasn't like she really cared about this boy at all, he was more like... well, he had been really friendly to her, for no reason, other than to maybe sell his Kebap...
No. Using her last two remaining on-duty braincells, she took the glass in one hand, and made to hand it back to him. Something clinked against it.
The older boy had an identical drink in his hand, and had just clinked his glass against hers with a blinding smile.
"Wochenende!"
And with that, he raised his glass, and began to drink.
Iris stared back down at the swirl of fruits and colors. It did have a very nice smell to it. Just a sip couldn't hurt, right? And then she'd leave.
~V~
"And you think he'd learn his lesson, but nooo. The year after, he rallies up like fifteen people, and they lock me in the dueling ring! And of course he starts grandstanding. Like actually, like some cheesy Mafia film."
Iris flicked her fingers to summon her glass from the small table, and took another sip. The mental image of Malfoy dressed up in a black suit and fedora caused her to giggle and almost choke from the delicious fruity sweetness.
A long sigh of pure contentment left her lips as the taste washed over her, and she looked back down to meet the eyes of the girl she had been talking to. Iris had no idea what her name was, it hadn't seemed all that important. But she was pretty, and she had asked her... well, something, probably, and they had somehow started talking. To be fair, Iris had probably done most of the talking.
"Like actually... Why don't we see what that reputation of yours is really worth... Have you ever heard anyone talk like that? I mean—"
Iris broke off into giggles again.
"Yeah. Not that that Oscar-worthy performance helped him any," she grinned, and leaned closer towards the black-haired girl, staring into her brown eyes. "Wanna know what happened next?"
The girl didn't reply, but Iris was sure she was eager to know the answer.
"I took them out," Iris said with a grin, then leaned closer. "All fifteen of them. Slapped into the ground with style! One. After. The. Other."
The girl seemed to jump with each of her words, obviously excited to hear the story.
"Crazy, right?" Iris giggled. "But they had it coming. I just hope they learn their lesson at some point... I mean I've already burnt down the whole corridor, banished him to the shadow realm, and torn apart his little rag-tag assault force, I'm kinda running out of ideas... You got any ideas that don't involve just outright murder?" Iris chuckled at her own joke. "Sorry. Must be Theo rubbing off on me."
The black-haired girl stared back, seemingly just as clueless as her. Iris' hand flashed green again as she sent her glass back to the small table, causing the girl to jump and gasp—apparently still in awe every time she did it. Idly, Iris twirled her finger to play with the sound dampening charm she had placed around them, which was distorting the music so they'd be able to talk. If she just increased the lowest frequencies in small pulses, that kinda sent shivers through her body. Oh, and the girl could feel it too, she was squirming... Merlin that was cute. Iris tugged a little harder, causing her to jump a little.
"You like that? Feels funny, doesn't it?"
That earned her a muttered. "N-no?"
"Yeah, funny is not quite the right term, is it?" Iris mused, scratching her neck.
She tugged a bit more, then she had an idea. Iris called some blue light into her hand, then spread the Force aspect throughout her body. But this time, instead of dampening Force, she amplified it.
"Ooohhh..." Iris cooed. "It's like a massage... A bassage, hehe..."
Iris swirled her finger, shivering from the resulting sensations.
"Mmmhh... I could do this all day... Wanna try it too?"
Iris scooted even closer towards the girl who had at some point moved all the way into the corner of the bench, until Iris was almost sitting in her lap. She reached out a hand and set it down on her leg, slowly spreading the blue light all over her body, causing the girl to squeak.
"Don't worry, it's just light, it doesn't hurt at all! Well unless I want it to, of course," she added as an afterthought. "But you get a pass. You're cute."
Iris shaped the magic to amplify Force again, then raised a finger of her other hand and tugged at the sound dampening charm.
"Eeep!" the girl gasped, and scrambled to the side, squeezed past her and tumbled over the small table, almost knocking over Iris' drink.
"Hey, watch out! Wait, where ya going? I haven't even told you about last summer yet!"
Iris stared after the pretty girl who made a beeline for the dancefloor and disappeared into the crowd. Oh well. It probably wasn't a good idea to talk about that part, anyway.
She spent a few more minutes idly playing with the sound dampening charm, until she realized that her drink had run dry again. Also, she was hungry. Well, more than usual. Okay, just as usual. Still.
To sum it up, she had to get to the bar. But that was right now on the opposite side of the dancefloor. And there were a shitton of people in the way.
Well, she'd just have to bulldoze her way through again. Iris pulled the blue light back into her own body and spread it out, dampening any external Force once more, but then she got an idea. Iris bent her knees and jumped.
"Whooaaaaaaaa—"
Iris left the ground and soared, in a wide arc, shouting excitedly, which quickly turned to confusion and then flailing. She sailed over their heads, tumbling upside down, until the music suddenly dropped and the stage vanished. The rectangles were back. And they were back with a vengeance. An infinite maelstrom of colors, shapes and sounds exploded around her in every direction, and she wasn't sure if she was even still falling anymore. She just felt like she was floating... somewhere in this unreal space of music and light, the dancefloor or any other physical objects nowhere in sight. Iris called her orb of light just to bring some order to the chaos. Or rather, some more familiar chaos to this completely unfamiliar insanity.
Her iridescent orb materialized, and it began sizzling and humming. Whoa, that was cool. It felt like something trying to pour in, and something piercing right back out, what was it? It looked so damn pretty! Iris pulsed it a bit brighter, and the air began to shiver around it, distorting the shapes behind it, and an electric buzz accompanied a breathtaking shiver, a palpable feeling of power. With a gleam in her eyes, Iris pushed again, eager to feel it once more. It felt like some part of the room was flowing into it, more and more the space directly around the orb began to distort, causing Iris to gasp in awe. Could she make it even bigger? It felt a bit like the magic was colliding with itself, inwards versus outwards. But perhaps if she gave it a slight spin in just the right way, the magic could just flow past itself in both directions, maybe for a much cooler effect?
Iris reached out towards her orb and twisted, then flared it once more.
All the rectangles shuddered and froze in place, as a shivering shockwave burst out of her orb of color, drenching the entire infinite void, and seemingly distorting space itself. The music broke, tearing itself apart, as the blinding glow of iridescent colors asserted total dominance over the space she found herself in, and overrode the laws of what had previously existed. The edges of some of the geometric shapes seemed to be caught in her ball of light, and much like when she was casting polarized magic, began to be sucked inwards. Iris tried to let go of her orb, but found that she couldn't. More and more shapes, colors, light and space were drawn towards her wildly spinning orb, which seemed to almost have caught fire with blinding colors and magic. An infinite maelstrom of magic tearing this reality apart, the music now nothing but low distorted electronic screeching, as the miniature star hungrily devoured unending amounts of color, shapes, and magic.
The air was shaking, vibrating with an angry hum of power, Iris clinging onto the blazing orb for dear life, her hair whipping across her face in the storm, as the resonance cascade seemingly tore apart existence itself. With desperation, she clawed at it, trying to will it away, somewhere, anywhere, pull it back within her, but it wouldn't, it couldn't...
Iris desperately reached for her Mindlight, flaring it as brightly as it would go, and in that moment, it felt like a storm blowing across her mind, tearing through the haze, and leaving only crystalline thoughts.
This space only existed as an illusion; a spell. And her orb was capable of interfering with magic, of distorting and dispelling area spells especially. Somehow, the orb seemed to try and destroy the illusionary space, causing it to collapse inwards, and in turn the unleashed magic fed back into the orb. She had to interrupt this cycle somehow, but—
That was it!
Iris reached into her magic, into her orb, and forced it to turn Violet.
Her orb detonated in a blinding flash of Violet; a circular shockwave erupting and rippling through the void. There was a heavy sonic boom, as all the trapped magic was flung back and released into the space, flooding it with all the captured aspect of Illusion. Space itself seemed to bend back outwards, shiver and flicker, then turn black. For several seconds, there was nothing but silence, and utter darkness. Suddenly, the entire void flashed Red, then Green, then Blue, and then White, before turning black again. A single white rectangle hung in the nothingness below her, the only object in this space other than herself, and her still sizzling orb. Iris focused, and finally managed to dismiss the orb once and for all.
Then, she noticed that the rectangle was coming closer. No, in fact, the rectangle wasn't moving, she was. She was still falling.
Like an old tape recorder, the music slowly began to play again, very deep and distorted, but gradually gaining speed, and pitch. The square came closer and closer and closer. Just as it was about to take up her entire vision, it flashed brightly, suddenly in all colors at once, as the music snapped back into full swing, and the rectangle below her revealed itself as the dancefloor. And she was about two seconds from crashing into it. Fuck!
Out of options, and with her wand firmly stuck in her pocket, she desperately called blue light and flooded her whole body with it. Then she gave it direction—upwards.
Iris impacted the dancefloor on one knee, with one hand on the ground. Upon further inspection, she hadn't landed exactly on the dancefloor, rather, on the raised podium in the center. Whoops.
As she got to her feet, she was met with wild cheers from the crowd. Getting up this quickly caused her to stumble a bit, the haze returning with a vengeance. Right, she had cut out her Mindlight...
What was she doing again? Oh yeah, the bar. But—
The music dropped once more, and the lights flared and focused onto the floating half-sphere, as the floor reconfigured itself once more. The platform she was on sank into the ground, and she suddenly found herself right in the center of the wild crowd.
~V~
Holy shit, this was fun!
Iris had no idea how to dance, how to move, what to do in any sort of way, other than to jump along with the beat. But that alone was somehow... so incredibly satisfying. Exciting. Just to let go, move, turn off her brain and forget about the...
Iris stumbled, and collapsed. People were still moving around her, but she barely noticed it. How had she forgotten? She was out here, dancing... drinking... while Harry was... Harry was...
Somehow, for the first time since he had died, she found herself giving in to tears.
"Harry!" Iris wailed. "I... I'm sorry!"
Her words lost in the deafening sound around her, yet it was all her mind could think about. "It's m-my f-fault!" choking out the words, Iris clawed at her eyes, her tears flowing freely for the first time.
Her vision was slowly turning dark. And the moving and bumping had stopped. But Iris just sat there, crying onto the colorfully illuminated floor.
No, it wasn't turning dark. But the shadows had returned. And people were noticing. This... this probably wasn't good.
Iris slowly stumbled back to her feet, shadows still wrapping all around her, and began to shuffle over towards the edge of the dancefloor. She didn't have to use Force, or even nudge anyone. People were already giving her a wide berth before she even approached them, as if they could sense the darkness without even looking.
What was she even doing? Wasn't she... crap... that's right...
Iris fired up her Mindlight and began to slowly and gradually clear the haze from her mind once more, allowing her to pull back the shadows for good.
Fuck.
What the hell had she been doing? She had known. She had known what alcohol would do, but as always, she had assumed the rules wouldn't apply to her. And she had gotten what she deserved.
Iris' mind reeled from the rollercoaster of all the things she had done over the past hour. She slowly began to roll back her memories, and had to beat back a blush.
She should probably apologize to that poor girl. But then again, she'd likely freak out if Iris came hunting her down again after all she had done. Better to just leave her alone entirely.
Alright, eyes on the task, Iris. There was a job to do, a reason why she was here. And thinking back with a clear mind once more, there was one idea of how she could get there. This place really seemed to be only partially real, and if what the girl at the bar had said was true, then she could probably get to the hidden black market just by wandering the place and focusing on her destination. After all, her destination would find her, not the other way around. She supposed it was a pretty neat way to hide something like that, if it actually worked, that was.
Iris began wandering along the edge of the dancefloor, turning into the void filled with shapes, passing places, more bars, smaller floors, bathrooms, and random doors, until she suddenly found herself in another black room. The music was extremely muffled, seemingly even more than it had been outside the building.
Looking around for a moment, checking for anything magical, suspicious, or generally... pretty, she finally swallowed and approached the single round wooden door in the center of the room. Reaching out a hand, she tried the handle, only to find it locked. Well, well, well.
With a shrug, Iris withdrew her wand, drew a blinding amount of yellow light, jabbed and twisted fourty-five degrees clockwise. The piece of wood seemed remarkably unimpressed by her efforts. But it hadn't been her spell, she had seen it catch. It just hadn't found anything to unlock. Which was odd.
Maybe the door was somehow barricaded? Or it was just as unreal as the rest of this place?
For the lack of any other ideas, Iris reached out a hand, took a breath, and knocked. From inside of it, she could hear a muffled voice.
"Nein, danke! Wir brauchen keine weiteren Besucher, Gratulanten oder entfernte Verwandte!"
What the... That sounded like someone lived here! Someone very grumpy, who really didn't want any visitors. Or... distant relatives? Why would someone— No, hang on.
She knew this. She knew this! Except only in English! But Harry had made her watch the movie one too many times not to know it by heart. But that couldn't be it, could it? Was it a joke? Or was it some sort of... passcode? No matter. There was only one possible reply here.
"Und was ist mit sehr alten Freunden?"
Iris held her breath, staring at the wooden door, as no reply came forth. Was it the correct translation? What about very old friends? Or was it a different line in the German version? Seconds ticked away. Iris let her gaze sweep around the room in worry. Suddenly, the door seemingly swung open, only for the entire room to turn white.
~V~
Iris didn't know what she had expected. A shoddy bar like the Leaky Cauldron, a dusty shop with sleazy employees like the one in Knockturn alley, or at least just an assortment of stalls, sellers, cloaked figures lurking all around the place, maybe even a shady library filled with mad researchers.
Somehow, this was even more unsettling.
It was white. And empty. Nothingness in all directions, no shape, no color, even the music had gone quiet.
But somehow, this infinite emptiness was scary all on its own. There was a certain suspense about it. A feeling as if there might be someone around her, as if she were not alone, but she couldn't see anyone else. And somehow, her backpack had reappeared on her shoulders. Iris really didn't like this. She was painfully aware of the buzz still permeating her mind, only held back by the constant glow of her Mindlight. If she'd lose focus here, especially if there were other people around... Iris gathered herself and forged onwards into the void.
Only after walking for a few seconds, shapes had appeared before her. Two door-shaped rectangles; and upon further inspection, they were labeled by small black letters floating in mid-air.
To the left it read VIP Bereich. And to her right was another rectangle labeled Selbstbedienung.
Wait... Huh? Did she translate that correctly? A self-service... black market? Or was she even in the right place?
Only now did Iris realize that maybe she should have done something about her appearance before coming here, on the off chance someone recognized her. Oh, well. She was in a foreign country anyway. Still, it couldn't hurt to try the self-service door first.
Iris stepped forward, through the rectangle, and ended up in the white void again. Except this time, there were rows and rows of things here. Small floating black squares at around her chest height, containing various things, with a small floating black text above them.
Amulets, tools, cauldrons, skulls, other things, and most importantly, books. Yes!
This was it! How would this work? If anything, she'd have expected a black market to work based on trust, where you'd talk to the vendor, get to know each other a bit, make sure there was at least some level of mutual understanding, haggle the price and vanish again, where you wouldn't even get to deal with them without some sort of recommendation or collateral. But this place seemed to go entirely in the other direction. Full anonymity. She had no idea who was selling the stuff here, and probably whoever it was had no idea who was buying it either.
If anything, she'd have expected a black market to be more... black?
The question was just how it would work. Iris was pretty sure she couldn't just snatch up whatever she liked and make a run for it. Either there were spells on the things itself, or more likely, this illusionary place wouldn't even let her go unless she paid what she owed. That, of course, opened the question of whether she could attempt to steal stuff from here through the shadow realm.
Well...
Maybe, if there were any. But probably not even Voldemort would be able to summon shadows within a perfectly white void. So that idea was out. First, she'd have to see if there was anything here she wanted in the first place.
Getting curious, Iris approached the first book to her right, which was labeled Kraft der Gestirne, and picked it up. Or rather, tried to. Instead, her hand was stopped by an invisible force just about a few inches shy of touching it. Well, she supposed there wouldn't be much point to buying the book if you could just read it here without even buying it.
Then, she realized that the moment she had tried to touch the book, a second row of text had appeared beneath the large one.
Richard Stern, 1864
50 G
Holy shit, this was written by Mr. Stern! What was it doing here, then? Wait... it said 1864, not 1964. There was no way he was that old, right?
Well... at least they rounded up the price this time. Also, looking at the price made Iris realize that perhaps she should have brought a bit more than just two hundred Galleons.
Moving on to the next book, past some strange amulets and an entirely black mask, Iris approached the tome and read the title.
Sünden der Väter - Generationenflüche
Curses for entire family generations? What the...
Iris froze as a noise pierced the silence. A faint mumble, humming, something. She whirled around, letting her gaze sweep the area, trying to find the source. It seemed to be coming from nowhere at all. Meaningless words without any coherence, barely audible, but coming from everywhere all at once. But as she kept looking, all she saw was the white void, and the items on display.
"Hello?" Iris whispered carefully.
No reply came. Instead, Iris tried Revelio. This only caused the entire white void to glow purple for a moment, before settling back down again.
The mumbling just continued, the source seemingly just as unable to see her as she it. Iris really didn't like this, but she had no choice but to continue. The alternatives were either leaving or doing something reckless, both were not an option if she wanted to get what she came here for.
She glanced along the rectangles, and noticed what looked like a golden necklace, with a sign displaying the words Amulett des Todeshauchs.
Well, she had been looking for things related to Death, so... Iris reached out and touched the barrier.
Verwesungsfluch - Unaufspürbar
2,500 G
Her eyes almost popped out of their sockets at the price tag. The heavy bag of almost two hundred Galleons suddenly felt light as a feather in her pocket. But also, if she had translated this correctly, this was probably... a cursed object? Enchanted with some sort of... withering curse? Also, it was supposedly undetectable. She wasn't quite sure which parts of these claims justified the insane price tag, but also, this really wasn't why she was here, so she didn't particularly care.
Turning around, Iris froze.
Der Todeshändler
Wait. Was this book about... She didn't know the exact word, but if she split it apart, the first half meant Death. She guessed it could translate either to something like weapons merchant, or... it could be a book about bargaining with Death.
Iris bolted across towards the small floating black rectangle, and inspected the old black leather book resting upon it. A touch revealed the additional words.
Friedrich Grimm, 1825
140 G
Holy crap, this would eat almost her entire budget! But then again, this was exactly what she had come here to find, wasn't it? Well, if it actually was the latter. But... if it was just about a weapons merchant, would it be that expensive?
Decision made; Iris stared at the book. But what to do next? How did she actually... buy it? Well, it was magic, so...
With her hand still resting as close as it could get to the book, she declared, "Ich möchte das hier kaufen."
The book flashed yellow, and suddenly, instead of the book, there was a large set of shiny golden scales, tilted towards the left, whereupon the book rested. The right tray was left empty. It seemed pretty obvious what she had to do. Also, it looked like there would be no haggling the price here.
Since she had spent most of the money in her pocket on fizzy drinks, Iris reached for her backpack and pulled out the bag of Galleons she had brought. She began piling them up one by one, the clinking of each coin piercing the void, and overshadowing the muffled mumbling noise. Slowly, the scales began to tilt towards the center. Only once she had piled exactly 140 galleons into the tray, the needle met the center line and flashed yellow.
Cool. And now what? Hesitantly, Iris reached out, and tried to touch the book again. And this time, there was no resistance. She gripped the leather and slowly lifted it from the scales. This caused the scales to tilt all the way to the right until the tray filled with her Galleons sunk into the black square and disappeared. After a second, so did the entire square. Iris stood, staring down at the book she had just purchased. Had it been worth it? Flipping it open revealed the text to expectantly be entirely written in German. She supposed learning the language would pay off after all.
This place was still giving her the creeps, and also the voices slowly seemed to grow louder, so she quickly shoved the book into her bag and shouldered it once more. Should she cut it there and make off with what she had? Or try and find another book to spend her remaining fifty-something galleons on?
It couldn't hurt to look, right?
Yes. Yes, it definitely couldn't.
Raising the Dead for Dimwits
Emmanuel van Rhodeus, 1325 — neu übersetzt 1944
30 G
Wait, what? Was that what she thought it was? If her theory from first-year held, this was actually written by Emeric the Evil. And it was even in English. But why was it that cheap?
Well, she'd never find out unless she tried it, she supposed. Piling almost the entirety of her remaining Galleons into the scales again, Iris quickly snatched up the book and flipped through the first pages.
Well, at least it started off promising, with what looked like a detailed explanation on how to create Inferi. Pocketing that book as well, she turned to idly scan the remaining squares, in the knowledge that she probably couldn't afford anything else anyway. She moved past an assortment of books on Gegensatzmagie. Whatever that would— Oh, that had to be polarized magic! Damn it. And all of those cost at least fifty Galleons. Maybe she'd come back here some other time again, if she still hadn't managed to bring back Harry by then.
Glancing towards a set of blood-red chalices, she moved past a small golden amulet, only to be forced to do a double-take.
Zeitumkehrer
Below the bold black floating letters rested a small golden round device. It looked a bit like a pocket watch, except it held what looked like an hourglass embedded within the surface, rather than a watch face. Shivering, Iris reached out to touch the thing.
Voll funktionsfähig, Zeitsperre manipuliert, max. 1 Mond
10,000 G
Her hand rebuffed by the invisible force, Iris stared at the price tag. Then back up at the title.
A time-reverser? As in time travel? That was...
That was an option?!
"Holy shit!" Iris whispered.
She had never even considered something like this. It had never occurred to her, because it should be categorically impossible. All her physics books said so.
And yet, she was staring right at it. With her hand this close to the golden hourglass, she knew this was the real deal. Iris had never felt anything like this.
Fucking time travel was real. And wizards could do it.
The past wasn't set in stone after all. She could go back in time. Go back and change it. Go back and save Harry.
If only she had brought ten thousand fucking Galleons. But... if she read the description right, it would go a maximum of One Moon, which was around one month. If that indicated the possible time span, that meant she still had over two weeks. She could leave and come back with the money in a few days.
Iris shifted on her feet in front of the golden thing, staring at it with the intensity of a drowning man in front of a rescue ring. The voices had grown almost deafening now, distinctly female, and instead of random words, seemed to have a certain mantra to them, a repeating phrase, over and over.
But could she afford to let this chance slip her fingers? What if someone else bought it before she came back? Also, did they even have that much money in their vault to begin with? She just remembered seeing that pile of gold that had seemingly filled the whole room, she had no idea how much that actually was in numbers. For all she knew it could be way more than enough, but it might just as well amount to barely a fraction of this ridiculous price tag.
No. It was right there! The one thing that could save Harry, before he even died in the first place. There had to be a way to get it.
Iris knew this was a bad idea. And that she probably still wasn't thinking quite clearly from all the alcohol, but she didn't care. After weeks, this was the first thing that looked like it might actually succeed! Everyone and everything told her that bringing back the dead was impossible—including her own experience on the subject—but she wouldn't have to perform any resurrections, if Harry never died in the first place.
Alright, time to do the impossible again.
Iris cracked her fingers, stepped forward, held her hands above the black square, and closed her eyes. Was it just Force? A physical shield? Iris called blue light, and tried to reach out to nudge the small hourglass, but found herself firmly rebuffed. Opening her eyes to inspect the colors, she saw mostly a firm glow of Yellow, flaring up whenever she tried anything. So it wasn't a spell preventing her from moving it, casting magic or doing specific things. It was Control. It fundamentally prevented theft. That would be an issue. Also, there would be no use confounding it, since it didn't have a mind of its own.
Maybe she could override it then, using a pure Control aspect?
But what spell to use? There was nothing to unlock here. Silencio wouldn't help much. Some spell... that would symbolize her taking possession of this thing. Imperio wouldn't work, both because it didn't have a mind, and because she couldn't summon shadows here. For the same reason, she also couldn't use a dark polarized Accio. Should she try a freeform spell? Like she had done when she had made the defibrillator work...
The mumbling was no longer mumbling, it was words, and distinctly sounding more and more urgent. For a lack of any better ideas, Iris withdrew her wand, pointed it straight at the device, and began to call yellow light.
"Do... don't... Not... Don't... go... do not... away..."
Was this some sort of anti-theft charm, warding her off? Also, why was the voice sounding so familiar?
Well, no matter. Iris took a breath, pinned the hourglass underneath her gaze, and with determination declared, "Mine."
Her wand flashed yellow, and so did the hourglass. A deep rumbling echoed, shook through the room, and the hourglass began to glow and vibrate. A flaring, echoing sound quickly rose, until all of a sudden, the entire white void flashed yellow, and Iris felt an oppressive feeling bear down on her, tear apart her spell, her Control, causing her magic to shatter.
In a blink of an eye, it was over, the room returning to white. The voices quieted down, but they were still there.
Damn it. So it wouldn't be that easy.
But then in the end, the problem wasn't whatever spell was on the device, it was this space itself. And that meant...
Iris held out a hand, and called her orb of iridescent light into it.
A palpable sound of sizzling plasma, of arcing electricity, accompanied with a deep hum drenched the white void, as space itself began to distort around her orb. The room started flickering. All the other squares and objects began distorting into their respective colors in a dizzying real-life display of chromatic aberration.
Iris held her breath. The time-reverser was still sitting there, resting innocently on the black square which was distorting wildly under her chaotic light. Holding the orb right there, she carefully reached out a shaking hand, moving closer and closer until she met the point of resistance. And she pushed right through, as if it weren't even there.
Iris felt her fingers enclose around the cold metal, and a rush of joy flooded her body, only to be immediately drenched by an onslaught of tension and anticipation. What would happen once she let go of her light? Would she have to keep it up all the way out of here?
With shaking hands, she held up the tiny golden hourglass to her face and inspected it. It seemed to be on a sort of swiveling apparatus, allowing her to turn the entire thing within its casing, using the knobs at the side. Should she... try and use it now? Maybe to escape and confuse the magic of this place?
"Do not... Don't DON'T DO IT... go away... don't!"
The voices certainly seemed to disagree. But she had come this far. This was her best shot at saving him.
Moving almost as if on instinct, she drew the chain of the device around her neck, letting her orb float directly in front of her. In this moment, she knew what to do. It was an hourglass, so one turn would be one hour. That meant she'd have to turn it at least three hundred times to be safe. That would be quite a ride. What was the worst that could happen?
"Don't... do not... Stop... NO... DON'T DO IT... Don't—"
Iris finger touched the knob, and she twisted.
If she had thought that this space was surreal before, it was nothing compared to what she saw now. As she kept turning, the hourglass started spinning and flipping in several directions inside the enclosure, and the room began to expand... into a fourth direction. Iris saw herself, countless versions of herself, scattered across time—past and future—each holding an hourglass within the distorted, shimmering void, all staring at it, flipping it endlessly. Everywhere she looked, she saw herself, yet all were standing in exactly the same space.
The tiny hourglass seemed to grow to an incomprehensible size within her hands, filling the void until Iris stood amidst a vast landscape of gears and clockwork, all rotating in a distinct counter-clockwise motion.
The Iris next to her looked up, gasped, and took off running.
So did the one to her other side. One after the other, all the Irises kept dwindling away, until it was just her, standing inside this space of gears and clocks surrounded by a white void. Except the void was no longer white. It had slowly started to dim, and distort. The gears began to creak, and started to slow. Iris looked between her surroundings and the tiny hourglass still in her hands. She desperately kept turning and turning, but the gears ground ever slower, until they came to a screeching halt, and with them, the void had turned entirely black. She could only make out faint shapes of stilled gears in the soft glimmer of her orb, now looking somehow old, worn and rusty.
The sizzling noise of her orb slowly grew in pitch, growing erratic, starting to fling sparks, until in an instant, it was snuffed out, and she was left in absolute darkness.
Someone was here. She didn't know how, or who... No, worse. She did know who, but not how she knew.
In the depths of her mind, the red moon began to flare to life, tearing up the ground, and causing the buildings rested atop it to start to crumble. The green moon responded in kind, both the moons burning in a blinding light, screaming their message into the void, even though Iris refused to hear it.
A pair of blazing red eyes opened before her.
The sole light in the darkness.
She could barely make out an outline, but even that told her that no matter how good the light, she would never be able to comprehend it. Perfect hair, silky smooth skin, and a completely unreal and ethereal body shape upon which no flaws would be tolerated by definition. And yet she could not even make out its gender.
But she knew exactly what it was. Who it was.
"Time... such a curious thing..."
The figure moved, its presence shifting around her in impossible directions. Iris was frozen to the spot, unable to breathe, as the Name began echoing through her mind unrestrained.
"It has been... quite some time..." spoke a voice that defied explanation, originating from somewhere behind her.
Iris felt a gust of breath in her face.
The figure now stood directly before her, reaching out a hand. It stopped inches from her cheek, disappearing into thin air just before contact.
"And I would love to have a chat... But, ironically, it seems we don't have... the time."
Iris felt her grip loosen against her will, her fingers betraying her mind's commands.
She blinked, and in that instant, the time-reverser was gone from her hand. The figure held it, inspecting it curiously before letting it dangle from the chain.
"I shall be... keeping an eye on this... until we meet again."
The hourglass flashed yellow, and with a deep rumble, the gears began moving clockwise. The figure almost smiled. "I'm sure you'll understand."
Faster and faster, the room began to blur around her, all the Iris-copies re-emerging and converging back into her until with a snap, it was over. Iris collapsed onto the ground in the white void, an empty black square looming before her. The voices were gone. So was the figure.
And with it, her best chance of saving Harry.
Chapter 8: Forgotten Letters
Chapter Text
What the fuck had just happened?
Iris was still breathing erratically, panic clinging to her chest. Had that... had that been real? Had it been an illusion? Had it really been V̷̰̘́̔ō̷̦͉͋ļ̷̏d̸͔̗̍͠e̴͖̼̓̓m̷̆̚͜ò̸̦̈́r̶͚̐͊t̷̤̂̇?
Even though the figure had never introduced itself, it hadn't needed to. The Name had reacted all on its own, worse than it ever had before. And while it had vanished the moment she had left that strange dimensional space that the time-reverser had brought her to, it had still felt... too real not to have been real.
And the matter of the fact was that the time-reverser was gone. Right out of her hand. She had let go of it—completely against her will—entirely unable to do anything about it.
What was the point? Had he known all along what she was up to? That she was here? Why would he show up now, only to rip that one chance from her fingers, and disappear again? Did he do it just to spite her?
What the hell could she even do against someone like that? Apparently he could just show up in the middle of fucking time travel—inside a fourth dimension or whatever—rip her one chance of saving Harry from her grasp, and then just leave without even so much as casting a single spell at her?
Maybe she had just imagined it after all? Was it an effect of this illusionary space? Maybe in combination with his Name? She had been trying to think of what the worst thing that could happen was, but... But then where had the time reverser gone? If it hadn't been real then... But then why was she back where she had started? If it had actually been him, why wouldn't Voldemort just leave her stranded... wherever? Whenever? Or... was she even back in the present? How could she tell?
After religiously repeating her own name over and over under the green light of the other moon, she had finally managed to silence his Name once more. Only then did she dare and get up from where she had been sitting in the white void.
The moment she had returned, the mumbling had ceased entirely. And this was another thing that creeped her out to no end. She wasn't sure if she had imagined it, but the more she thought back, the more she felt like the voice hadn't just sounded familiar, it had sounded like her own voice. Although hearing your own voice from somewhere else always felt somewhat odd.
Had it been an effect of the time-reverser? Either herself, or her other selves, on the way back to the past? Was that why she had heard it before using it, but not after?
Had she been trying to warn herself? But from what? Voldemort? He had shown up anyway, but hadn't even done anything to her, well, other than take Harry from her once more.
Once she had finally managed to gather herself, Iris had decided to make a break for it before this space would actually collapse in on her or someone discovered her here. Her heavy backpack on her shoulders once more, Iris ascended the stairs past the burly security guards, trying her best to appear as inconspicuous as possible. Almost mechanically, she took step after step, slowly putting meter after precious meter between herself, and whatever the hell had just happened, the dull muffled beats growing more and more quiet with each one. Apparently, the sun was already rising. Somewhere, somehow, she had lost about five hours in the white void. But at least, according to the newspaper she found, it was still the same day. And somehow, nobody had found out so far. Only once she finally made it back onto the train to Köln did she manage to get her pulse to calm down.
She had gotten everything she had come here for. But she couldn't really feel happy about that. Because she had lost something she hadn't even known she had wanted here. A chance to actually save Harry, before he would have died in the first place. And once more, it had been ripped from her by V̸̄̈́ͅȍ̸͙̍l̸͓͋d̵̨̪̕ę̵̭̓m̴̙̉̅o̶̯͂r̸̞̗͌t̶͇͎̒͗.
And he apparently hadn't even cared at all about the fact she was still working on getting stronger, on reviving Harry, or even that she might be a possible subject of the prophecy. He seemingly had done it just to spite her. And then had just left. If it really had actually been him.
Iris was still very much at the top of her own list of people she hated, but Voldemort was making a good attempt at contesting that spot.
~V~
Somehow, her plan to buy a ticket from Brussels to Lille and just stay on the train until London had worked without a hitch. She had just illegally re-entered her home country by train without the use of any magic. And all it had taken were a few pointed Google-searches and a twenty Euro train ticket. She guessed she'd take her small victory for the day.
Once safely back in London, she had wasted no time to return to the shadows and after a quick and familiar trip along the tube and the bypass road, finally collapsed back on her bed in Privet Drive. From somewhere downstairs, she could hear Vernon loudly ranting about some sort of financial crisis, which she quickly cut off by flinging another Silencing Charm at the door. A soft hoot announced the arrival of Hedwig through the window, carrying yet another letter, no doubt from one of Harry's friends. Yet, she couldn't help but smile at the snowy owl. Iris reached for the table to retrieve some owl treats for her, then picked up the letter she had been carrying.
Hey Iris,
I'm not really sure how to start this, or if it's even my place, but I heard about Harry. It's... I don't know how to put it into words. It is my fault. All of it. And now, before I got the chance to fix it, he has paid the ultimate price for my decisions.
You know, I would do anything I could to change it, give it all up in a heartbeat, if there was any way. And I'm sure you feel the same. And that just makes it worse knowing that there just isn't. I understand if you hate me. I very much feel the same.
I also found out you've gone back to those Muggles. I get it, I really do. Meeting me, someone you've probably only heard about in whispers, after Azkaban—it's a lot. And not the good kind of a lot. I can’t blame you for choosing what you know over... well, whatever you might think I am.
I guess I just want to say that I'm here, if you ever want to talk or anything. I know we don't know each other, and after everything, maybe you don't want to. That's okay. I just... I want you to know there's a place for you here, to have someone who will just listen, try to understand, and never judge. Or just to have someone to blame.
Look, I'm not good at this. I don't have any right answers, just a lot of messy feelings and this awkward attempt at reaching out. But you're a Potter, and that means something. You've got a lot of strength, even if you don't see it right now.
I'm not sure what else to say. If you ever feel like it, just send me an owl. If not, that's okay too. Just know that I'm here, and you don't have to do this alone.
Take care of yourself, Iris. And if you ever need someone, well... I'm here.
Sirius
Iris collapsed back onto the bed, the letter tumbling from her grip. She had expected him to reach out at some point, after what she had told Dumbledore, but... it was another thing now that it was right in front of her.
Somehow... between all of her friends, and even Dumbledore, this man... even though she had never properly met him... Well...
His letter read like he was in a very similar headspace to her. Which did make sense. He blamed himself for not being there, for mindlessly charging after Pettigrew instead of protecting them twelve years ago. And in a way, he was right. But also, it really had been Iris' fault.
It really sounded like he could relate. Except that he had given up on Harry. Or rather, that he didn't believe that it could be done. Which was something Iris would never accept.
Maybe he knew something she didn't? Or maybe, he was just stuck with the same preconception as the rest of the wizarding world?
That also left another question. Would he agree to help her with her plan, if she told him about it? Or would he react more like Dumbledore had?
Could she even risk it? What if he told Dumbledore instead?
Yeah. Right now, she knew pretty much nothing about him. For now, she'd continue as planned. And if they ever ended up reconnecting in the future, she'd get to that when she got to it.
Iris reached over to the pile of letters on the table and fished out another one.
Iris,
What the hell is going on?!
My mum just had a mind-healer come by and he said that I have been under a compulsion charm making me think Harry was alright. What the hell happened? Did they charm you as well? Do you know what is going on?
Something happened to Harry, hasn't it? He's been gone ever since that last attack where Lockhart defeated the heir! Do you know what happened? I know you won't stop unless you find him, and I'm gonna be right there with you. No, don't argue. You know I
Do you have a phone number? Or an email? I want to help! I'm sure we can figure this out together, and I know you like to keep these things to yourself, but to quote your own words, right now is really not the time! You agree that Harry needs all the help he can get, right?
Write back. Please. Don't do this alone.
Love, your bestie.
God damnit, Tracey.
What the hell was she supposed to do now? Tell her? Lie to her? Ignore her? Sooner or later she would find out anyway, but...
They had been pretty good friends, she guessed. Tracey did have a right to know. But just telling her in some letter felt... wrong. But so would over email or over the phone. But so did telling her in general, especially when she was still working on bringing him back. At the latest she'd tell her on the train.
But could she really wait that long?
Yeah. Probably a bad idea. Even if it would complicate her plans, but on the one hand, she really needed to reconnect with her to avoid suspicion, and on the other, well, she was her best friend. And even if her plan would benefit from it, she really didn't want to lose her as a friend if she didn't have to.
Unsure what to do, Iris picked up another letter and flipped it open.
Hello Iris,
bet you didn't expect to hear from me again. Listen, I'm sorry for what I did, but you understand, right? It's not like I had much of a choice. Yeah. I'm a shitty friend, thanks for reminding me.
Point is, things have changed. You know the thing in the Prophet, about the attack at King's Cross? Yeah.
My father got arrested that night.
Just from what I read of the eyewitnesses it almost sounds like you might have had something to do with that. If you didn't, I guess it's just proof that I've definitely gotten too used to your particular brand of insanity.
But if you did...
Then I'm in your debt.
If you did, thank you.
I understand if you can't trust me anymore. But if you'll have me, I'd like to resume our deal where we left off. As friends. And this time, it'll be up to you.
—Theo
Iris read and then re-read the letter again. What the fuck else had happened while she had been ignoring all of her mail for the past week? With her luck, the next letter would be from Luna, demanding to know if she kept the Lockhart-Lethifold as a pet in her trunk or something.
Merlin, she just had to jinx it.
Hello Irisistible,
I sent you some in-game mail. And some Skype messages too. Are you not getting them? It is about the last thing we were talking about. Daddy is writing a new article. He has found something massive! It's a whole giant conspiracy! We need to talk. Would you be okay with doing an interview for the Quibbler?
Also, Daddy and me are looking into what happened with Harry. Something about the story that Dumbledore told us, and what's written in the Prophet definitely doesn't add up. I think we're on to something here, and I think you'd be very interested in what we found so far.
P.S.: It has to do with the other thing!
Yes, I know, you are supposed to put these at the end of the letter. But this feels more correct.
Write back, or get online, please, when you can.
MOOnSpiraC
Well, at least she didn't sound all that suspicious. But maybe that was just to bait her into an interview? God. Now she was being suspicious of her own friends. Again.
She really had to get her shit together.
Iris,
there's no easy way to say this.
I was memory charmed. I told everyone that I met with Harry right after Lockhart returned, but that's not true. I never saw him that day, and I suspect Ron hasn't either.
My aunt has been talking to Dumbledore, but if he doesn't find something soon, she'll force him to allow the Aurors back into the castle to find out what happened. Also, there is an investigation into Lockhart now. I don't know much, but apparently, they found Harry's wand at his house.
I'm not supposed to tell anyone about the ongoing investigation, but I really thought you ought to know.
Have you heard anything about Harry? I'm really worried about him. And about you as well.
Please write back. If I don't hear from you by the end of the week, I'll assume someone is messing with your mail again.
Yours, Susan
Great. Now she didn't even have the option of not replying, if she didn't want trench coat guy and Not-Snape to come poking into her business as well. There'd be no point to staying with the Dursleys as opposed to Sirius if she'd have to deal with the possibility of Aurors showing up here.
Hey Iris,
you can't stop me from sending you Cauldron Cakes. Fred and George have secured a supply route right underneath mum's nose so don't worry about me running out. Also, right now, you need them a lot more than I do.
Are those Muggles treating you alright? Harry never talked about them much, but I know it probably wasn't exactly Honeydukes over there, I'm not that dense, you know?
If you do wanna talk, or need some help, just send me an owl. Fred and George got something figured out.
Also, did you get a letter from Hermione as well? She's almost worrying me as much as Harry, mate.
Mum says Dumbledore's got it all figured out, apparently they've been meeting a lot over the past year for some reason, but nobody tells us anything. Please tell me if you find out something, alright? We all wanna help. And we all want Harry back.
Enjoy the Cauldron Cakes.
—Ron
And of course, there was not one, but two chocolate Caudron Cakes attached to the letter. That bloody git.
Hi Iris,
sorry if this letter is... you know. Awkward. You don't have to reply, I just—
I know we haven't talked much lately, and you probably don't want to be friends anyway, hell I know I'm just slowing you down. But I just, I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. We didn't talk much ever since you switched potions partners, and no, I'm not complaining, also it was Snape's decision anyway, but I still... you know, notice things.
Sorry if that's awkward. Towards the end of the year, something happened with your friends. You haven't talked with your friends in your house, something happened with Harry as well, and then we both got petrified as well.
I hope you still had at least someone to talk to.
But regardless, I guess I just wanted to say that I'm here. If you ever want to talk, or just... you know.
Sorry.
Just forget it okay?
I just hope you are doing well, and that Harry is too.
Neville
Iris stared. She hadn't even realized it, but now that he had said it... She really had been in a bad spot. It had all come together in the worst way possible. All of her friends had been cut off for one reason or another, all except Susan, she guessed, but they hadn't been all that good of friends anyway, and Luna, but she had been the main suspect at the time.
Oh, yeah, and Ron. She still saw him as Harry's friend in her mind, even after all he had done lately.
She had been completely on her own, unable to sleep, unable to think, and when it had come down to it, when she saw that chance for that extra bit of power, that just might give her the edge and allow her to protect Harry, she had dismissed all caution and reached for it, in the end achieving the exact opposite.
Never again.
She needed to think clearly, to make decisions that would actually help Harry, no matter how dire the situation around her. That was what her Mindlight was supposed to do. But from the way she had achieved it, while it really did boost her thoughts, it was no help in trying to steer them, or preventing herself from dwelling even further on Hows and Whys instead of trying to think of a solution. Maybe she really had to start working on how to actually empty her mind...
Dear Iris,
I am writing you this letter in regard to Harry.
It was my fault.
It was my stupid plan, it went wrong, and the heir went after you because of it to get back at Harry. And now he's missing; looking for you. I'm not asking you to forgive me. I know better than that. But I am asking for your help.
I may or may not have found a way to track down Harry, and it may or may not involve a certain field of magic that would fall within your expertise, according to Harry. You know I can't write more in a letter. I tried to come by your place, but you weren't there. I live in Hampstead, the address is on the back of the envelope. If you do have the time, I would really appreciate if you could come by to make sure I got it right. If you don't, that's alright. I'll wait until his birthday, that should probably have the best effect.
Yours sincerely,
Hermione Granger
Well, shit. They just weren't giving her a break, were they?
Now she not only had to figure out what to tell everyone, but also make sure Hermione's ritual didn't blow up half of Hampstead trying to find someone that could not be found.
Should she just ignore it? She might be fine, she might mess it up, but that wouldn't really affect...
No. It was one thing to do what was necessary, but that certainly didn't include letting her friends get hurt just because she couldn't be bothered to spare a few hours to help them. Even if Hermione wasn't really her friend. But she was Harry's friend. And working under the assumption that he wasn't dead—that she'd bring him back at some point—that still meant something.
There was one letter remaining.
Just how bad could it really be?
I am sorry, Iris.
I am so very very sorry. I know what you said, I remember all of it. But I also remember what Sirius said.
He was right. I am useless. I haven't done a single thing right by the two of you.
James would have told me the same. And Lily wouldn't have told me anything, she would have probably just killed me herself.
And even after everything, knowing all that, I couldn't even bring myself to tell you this in person.
I have done nothing for all of your childhood. I have done nothing while you were facing off against You-Know-Who. I have done nothing while you were taken to the Chamber, and while Harry was killed trying to save you.
I am cursed, Iris. Cursed in more ways than one.
And the only way to deal with a curse is to expunge it.
He was right. It is better for everyone.
—
Iris' mouth felt dry as a desert.
The letter was not signed. But it didn't have to be.
Iris couldn't think. There was no way...
Did he mean that he was going to stay out of her life, or did he mean—
Iris clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes still glued to the parchment.
No... No. No, No!
Fuck!
No. She wasn't even going to go there.
He would be alright. And she'd work with that assumption until she had definite proof one way or another.
She had gone through a rollercoaster and a half reading all of the letters, but somehow, the end result left her only feeling numb. So much had happened without her being there for it that Iris was kind of scared of just reading the next Prophet.
What was she supposed to do now? She still had no idea what to tell her friends, what to tell Sirius, or what to do about Hermione. And it was only complicated by Dumbledore having asked her to keep the fact Harry was dead under wraps until he managed to spread the message in a way that wouldn't cause complete panic and collapse the government or whatever.
Not that she really cared about that much where her friends were concerned. But he was also right. If the ministry fell to Voldemort in a panic, it would be much harder if not impossible to do what she had to.
After lying on her bed for what felt like forever, she finally gathered herself enough to get up, collect the discarded letters and move over to the desk. Iris paused. There, between the table and the bed, in the narrow gap on the ground, rested another forgotten letter.
Potter,
we need to talk.
Come find me next to the streetlamp on the mountain road in the place where the barrier was.
And yet another unsigned letter. And somehow, this one was even more ominous than the last one.
Iris of course knew what the letter was talking about. She wasn't likely to ever forget. And consequently, she also knew who it was from. But the implication of what it said sent a shiver down her spine.
Did that mean... she was still in her mind? Even now? Or was this another thing about her having to agree to something?
Crap! Yeah, she had permitted her to enter that part of her mind. And she had never put any time-limit on that agreement. Fuck!
Did that mean... the vision with the crossroads, had that also been her? Had she been trying to influence her decision? Or do... something, she didn't know. What else had she done while she was in there? Iris couldn't think, but she was also suddenly reluctant to fire up her Mindlight to try and figure it out.
What had she gotten herself into this time?
But in the end, she had to know. The alternative was to just let it sit, ignore it, and possibly let the girl do whatever the hell she wanted in her mind.
No. No matter how much she disliked this, she'd have to go and see for herself.
Iris took a breath, and slowly called the Indigo back into her brain. Brighter and brighter, as she focused on that familiar mountain road, the dimly lit orange streetlights, and that exact place where there had been the giant yellow warning sign, before they had recklessly torn it down along with the barrier.
Slowly, her room, her body, and the real world took the backseat as the image in her mind became more vivid, more real, until she was all but standing on that very road, feeling the loose gravel crunch underneath her feet, her hair whip in the storm which still raged to this day, and saw her vision tinged green by the familiar moon burning in the sky.
Iris slowly made her way down the road, until she reached that exact spot where the barrier had originally resided. There were still marks of scraped asphalt on the ground where she had pushed it down the road. Behind her, however, the scenery had changed. This was where the new and improved crossroads lay, two of the paths blocked off by traffic cones by now.
Tense with anticipation, Iris turned to inspect the streetlamp right next to her. What would she do if she found nothing? Or worse, what would she do if she found... something?
Looking up and down the tall green metallic lamppost, Iris couldn't spot anything out of place. All just regular ordinary Muggle—
Oh. It wasn't the lamp. But right next to it, looking just as Muggle, and blending in with the scenery perfectly, there was an orange emergency roadside telephone station.
Iris held her breath, and carefully approached the small metallic device.
It looked like a regular telephone. Well, almost. It had a bright orange receiver hung on a cradle at the front, and it had some buttons. But they were all labeled with random numbers, without any sense of order to it. And every time she looked, the order seemed to be different.
So... what now? She supposed she could try to give her a call? Iris hesitantly picked up the receiver and held it to her ear, only to be met with a bog-standard dial tone. After staring at the buttons with increasing frustration, she shrugged, reached out and began to push random numbers.
She was met with three sharp ascending tones, followed by a female voice. "The number you have dialed has not been recognized."
Well, no shit, Sherlock. Okay then, it was time for a more arcane approach.
Iris pushed down the cradle for a second until the dial tone returned, took another breath, and closed her eyes. Then, she began pressing buttons, while mentally spelling G-R-E-E-N-G-R-A-S-S.
"Well, it's about time."
Iris whipped around at the unexpected voice, dropping the receiver she hadn't quite raised to her ear yet.
Standing in the middle of the road was a girl—slender, with long black hair and piercing eyes that seemed to waver between blue and indigo. Her usually impassive face showed a trace of weariness, her cheekbones looking sharper than usual—almost gaunt—as if she'd been taking tips from Aunt Petunia's book of questionable dieting advice. Clearly, she wasn’t having the best week.
Greengrass raised an eyebrow. "You're not exactly winning any beauty pageants either, you know."
Iris couldn't help but notice her own bedraggled appearance. Her ill-fitting and sweat-soaked muggle attire, her sticky hair trying to emulate Harry's bird's nest, and the almost palpable bags under her eyes that probably had their own postal code by now. She hadn't planned on leaving her room today, much less dealing with... whatever this was. Also, was Greengrass reading her mind again?
Iris shot her a deadpan look. "I'd rather not end up with another migraine today, thanks."
Greengrass' expression tightened briefly, remembering the last mental feedback loop fiasco. Neither of them was keen on a repeat performance.
"So... what the hell is this, Greengrass? Why are you poking around in my head?"
The girl shrugged nonchalantly. "You invited me. I'm just a friendly guest."
Yeah, fuck you too.
"When hell freezes over, Potter."
Iris met her gaze and brought a faint glow of Indigoo̵͎̒͂̔̔͝ö̶͚͚̳̖͋̑͗͋̈͝o̶̲̺̥͍̩̒̅̒̎̉̀̈́͒̈́̓̄́ơ̸̧̝̬̤̜̹̼̥̺̖͈͉̓̐͛̒̀̽͗̚̚O̷͕̞̐̃̅O̶̥̠͎͖͔͂̑̄̅̄̃̅̑̕Ö̸̢̨̩̏̍͌́͗͂̿̕O̷͍̍̿̈́͆̈́̎̍́́̽̃̃͌̌̕͠O̶̢̢̢̱̹͇̼̞̫̺̹̺̹̖̝͂̐̆̀́̇̎͑͆͑͐́̿̑̀̏͆̈̐̑͘̕̕͝͝͠Ơ̷̧̧̡̡̛̮̰͈̺̹͙̙̰̖̗̮̺̣̠͈̒̎͐̈́̽̊̉̐̌͋̔̇̑̓͆́̈̕̕͠͝͠Ǫ̷̛̪͂̎͒̾̒͝Ö̸̘̼͔̪̦͈̬̠̙̯̫̠́͋͊̆̓̃͗̊̃́̆̿̔̿͝͝͠Ỏ̴̪͉̻̯̙̰͉̗͓͕̙͙̤̮̘͙̓̾̌͐̂̾͒͛͊͝—
She stumbled to the ground with a gasp from the mental backlash, her brain still ringing like a bell. Yeah, that had hurt like a bitch. But that delicious groan of pain from Greengrass made it all worth it. Iris picked herself up, shooting her a defiant glare.
Greengrass straightened up, brushing invisible dust from her Hogwarts robes with an air of annoyance. Her eyes locked onto Iris', and for a moment, the intensity sent a chill down her spine. But Iris held her ground. "Was that really necessary, Potter?" Greengrass snapped, frustration lacing her voice. "We need to talk, not spar."
As if she hadn’t been messing with Iris' head just moments ago. "Then spill it," Iris snapped back, trying to stay composed. "What do you want?"
The black-haired girl sighed, glancing away momentarily, as if gathering her thoughts. "I needed to speak to you," she said quietly. "There's something you need to know, something... important."
Iris crossed her arms, keeping her distance but intrigued nonetheless. "And you couldn't just send an owl? This isn't exactly... normal, Greengrass."
The girl's lips quirked in a wry smile, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Since when do you do normal, Potter? I was starting to think you didn't know the meaning of the word."
Iris raised an eyebrow at her. "What's with all the sass? You found a personality while rummaging through my head?"
Greengrass shot her a glare but didn't reply. After a moment, she brushed it off, and continued in a serious tone, "This isn't something that can be put in a letter. It's too dangerous, too... personal."
Iris swallowed. Did she know? How?
The girl turned away and began pacing along the road.
"Yesterday, Malfoy was invited over by my sister," she said, almost growling the last words.
Okay, that wasn't where she had seen this going. Iris hadn't even known that the girl had a sister. "What did he do?"
Greengrass visibly gathered herself, then continued talking. "Nothing. It's nothing he did, nothing that happened. It's something he knew."
The girl shot her a meaningful look. So Greengrass had poked around inside his head as well then? That girl really didn't give a toss, did she?
"Apparently, the Malfoys are currently hosting a long-term guest at their manor," Greengrass continued, then met her eyes again. "A guest with a Name that we both recently learned."
Iris drew in a sharp breath. V̷̛̖̳̓͘o̴̹͆̄ͅl̶̟̖̿d̵͑̀̎̚͜e̷̖̊͗̊̑ṃ̵̗̭̹́ò̵̝͈̚ͅr̸̭͆̊̆t̴̰̰̮̱͗̎. Shit.
"In addition, they are holding gatherings of his closest followers. Gatherings to which little Draco, of course, is not allowed. But he still overheard things. And also..." Greengrass trailed off there, turning to pace down the road again. "Never mind."
"Anyway, there is one tidbit in particular that he was privy to, which had apparently been shared around accompanied with both celebration and worry."
Was this about something else after all?
"It's about your brother," Greengrass said quietly.
No, she really was going there. But how could they know? The only ones who knew were Dumbledore, and probably some of the Order... Well, actually, Voldemort had apparently known, since he had showed up to stop her from undoing it, so he had probably told the rest of them then. Had he somehow found out through Myrtle?
"I know." Iris replied, her gaze dropping to her feet. "I found him."
The girl kept staring at her for a while. The storm was silently raging above their heads, tousling their hair, her shirt, and Greengrass' robes. After what felt like a minute of silence, the only word she managed was, "Oh."
"Thanks anyway. For... you know... trying to tell me."
She stared back at Iris for a while, before speaking up again. "There was... another thing... i wanted to talk to you about."
Of course there was an ulterior motive. Iris met her gaze and raised an eyebrow. "Go on."
"It's about our deal," the girl said bluntly.
Iris gave her a deadpan stare. "You really expect me to hold up my end, after you almost got me killed?"
Greengrass met her with an inscrutable gaze. "I admit that... things may not have quite gone to plan..."
"Trying to extradite Grindelwald overseas didn't quite go to plan. What you did was just plain stupid," Iris sniped back.
She was perfectly aware that she was one to talk, but she was also perfectly capable of ignoring that fact when it suited her.
"I know that... now..." Greengrass admitted, almost taking the wind out of Iris' sails. "I thought it was a curse... That I could study it... And I was wrong."
"Would it kill you to actually apologize?" Iris helpfully sprinkled in.
Greengrass, of course, had been momentarily placed under the curse of Babel. "My point is that I failed on my end, even if you ultimately achieved what you set out to do. So, I would like to propose an altered deal."
Iris raised an eyebrow and held her gaze expectantly.
"You were right, I do need help. But so do you."
The girl turned, and surveyed the part of the street that led down the hill, ending up in that familiar crossroads.
"Given the change in scenery, I think I can take a guess at what you plan to do with the information I came here to share."
Iris froze, suddenly realizing the reality of the situation. How much did she know? Was there a good excuse? What could she tell her to lead her thoughts onto another track that wouldn't end up in—
Greengrass tilted her head to meet her gaze over her shoulder. "Please. Your thoughts on the matter couldn't be more obvious; even without me risking another migraine."
She slowly turned to face Iris again, then began to approach her, step by step, until she was almost right in her face.
"You are planning to do something that is impossible," Greengrass stated matter-of-factly.
And yeah, she was right on the money. Was she really that easy to read? Did Dumbledore know? Or was she just reading her mind again, despite implying to the contrary?
What was she supposed to do about her now? Was Greengrass blackmailing her? Could she even do something about her here? If this space just existed in her mind, Iris had no idea if casting any magic at her would actually do anything. Well, except for Mind Magic, that was. But that was the one area of magic where Greengrass very much had the upper hand. In fact, she was so far beyond her it wasn't even a contest.
"And as luck would have it, so am I."
Iris' mind was spinning. Was this where it was going?
"You... you are trying to bring someone back?" Iris couldn't help but ask, only too late realizing from the smirk on the girl's face that she had just accidentally confirmed Greengrass' suspicions.
"In a way," she replied, tilting her head.
What the hell was that even supposed to mean?
"My point is, we will both soon run into the same kinds of problems. And as you put it, I might need help, but I can't involve anyone else. And the same now goes for you."
Iris pondered that for a moment. "So, what do you suggest?" she finally queried.
Greengrass gave a nonchalant flick of her fingers. "Think of it as a... silent partnership."
Iris shot her an incredulous look, waiting for elaboration.
"We assist each other as needed, cover for each other when possible, keep each other's secrets, and share only what's absolutely necessary to avoid compromising ourselves," she enumerated, ticking off points on her fingers, mirroring Iris' previous gesture back then in the bathroom.
Right. Of course she still wouldn't tell her what it was all about. This didn't sound any better of an idea than it had a week ago. Even worse, actually, seeing how she had treated their last agreement, when she had strayed from the plan and almost gotten both of them stuck as mental vegetables from learning V̵̹̩̺̈͝ò̸̟̥̩l̵͚̺͎̄̒ḏ̷͚̳͒ë̶̼́m̶̢͍͈͗͆͜o̶̩͍͆̄̃́r̷̢̢̤̝̎͑̀̾t̴̫͒̿͌͆'s Name.
But then again, now the scales had shifted. Greengrass knew about her mission, and there wasn’t much Iris could do about that. While Iris had some dirt on Greengrass, like her dabbling in Mind Magic and likely using it on her roommate, it paled in comparison to what Iris was planning. Greengrass probably didn't know much, except that she was trying to bring Harry back. And she was up to something similar herself. Whatever that meant.
As much as Iris hated it, she didn't need to know more, as long as the girl would help her bring Harry back. Sure, Greengrass could betray her, run to Dumbledore, but she already knew enough to be a threat. Their deal meant Iris wouldn’t have to divulge anything more, but she might learn enough along the way to balance the scales.
Iris faced a choice: agree, potentially advance her goal while risking betrayal, or decline, still risk betrayal, and continue alone. She could find another way to handle Greengrass later, but not immediately.
Another thing to consider was the fact that she had originally agreed to help her. And mutual agreements could be finnicky where magic was concerned, especially Mind Magic. She had no idea what would happen if she willfully broke it, but then again, it probably wouldn't be too bad, or else the girl wouldn't have made this offer at all. Back then, they had just been standing in the bathroom, and Iris hadn't been using any Mind Magic whatsoever. But right now, they both were within an entirely fictional space. And here, agreements like that would mean something. This time, she probably couldn't easily go back on it, if things went wrong. But most of what she'd said really didn't sound like all that much of a big deal. Except the keeping each other's secrets part. That... she'd have to watch out for that.
No, thinking again, this was likely the main reason she was doing this here, now, in the first place. She wanted to trick her into a binding agreement that would protect her secrets. Well, Iris supposed, she could work with that; the agreement would work the other way around just as well.
But all things considered, Greengrass really could prove a valuable ally—if only for her skill in Mind Magic, an area where Iris was still sorely lacking. And she didn't even have to trust her, unlike last time there would be no need to further let the girl poke around in her mind.
"You'd better stay away from her." Once more Neville's words echoed through her mind. She hadn't seen it back then, but right now the reality was staring her in the face with an intensity that required a lot of mental effort not to break the gaze.
Iris was probably going to regret this, wasn't she?
"Fine." Iris took a breath, and held out her hand. "It's a deal."
Greengrass stared at the proffered appendage with an amused expression, before turning serious. She reached out to grab it, gave a firm shake, and withdrew again.
Iris slowly turned back towards the emergency telephone still innocently sitting beside the road, the receiver dangling to the ground by the cord. Iris reached down to pick it up, resting it in her palm, inspecting it for a moment.
Then, she turned back to meet the girl's gaze once more. "Don't call me, I'll call you."
In return, she received a faint smirk. "Next time, try not to call in your underwear."
Iris slammed the receiver onto the cradle, causing the black-haired girl to promptly fade into thin air.
"It's Muggle streetwear; not underwear," Iris replied to the empty road, definitely not blushing.
Chapter 9: Condemnation
Chapter Text
Tracey Davis stared down at the letter in her hand, her fingers almost tearing the parchment from the strength of her grip. Who the hell did that walking contraceptive spell misfire think he was? After what he pulled last semester, he suddenly sent a letter like this and expected everything to just be okay? If it was just up to her, she'd send it back to him with a note telling him exactly where he could shove it.
But she also knew that Iris would probably agree, if his arguments were sound. As much as she regularly made emotional snap decisions that more often than not caused everything to go to shit, with stuff like this she was sometimes scarily calculating.
Tracey knew it probably wasn't a good sign that her best friend got like this when other people were concerned, despite wearing her heart on her sleeve with most of everything else. But that was just Iris. And Tracey wouldn't have her any other way.
She was more worried about what she'd be up to. Tracey still hadn't gotten a reply from her. And she still hadn't heard anything from Harry either.
Tracey had been kind of looking forward to the summer, even. You wouldn't expect it, since she'd be stuck at home, instead of being able to see him directly. But just the thought of exchanging long, sappy letters like that had gotten butterflies going in her stomach. The mental image of a bright blush wiping that mischievous smirk off his face had made her feel giddy all on its own.
That had lasted for all of a week.
And then Harry had gotten hurt in his attempt to trap the heir, and before she could even visit him in the hospital wing, Tracey had found herself petrified instead.
And now he was missing. And nobody seemed to care. And even worse, apparently someone was invested in making sure that nobody would, either.
She already had three whole letters all written out, each of them too long to fit on any less than three pieces of parchment. Yet she hadn't sent a single one of them.
Every morning Tracey would get up, out the door, down the stairs, find her mum's owl Scoobert, and check if there were any letters. If he wasn't there, she'd sit by the window until he'd return. Only after she was sure there weren't any letters once more, she'd make her way back upstairs to brush her teeth and get dressed.
This time, there had been a letter. But it had been far from the one she'd hoped. A part of her was still happy to hear from Theo. The three of them had been pretty much inseparable for an entire year. But the way he had just cut them off had hurt. And even more so that he hadn't even deemed her important enough to try and tell her in person. Instead he had just told Iris—as if she was the only one who mattered—and then pissed off without a single word to Tracey.
And now he thought he could fix it all with one stupid letter?
But Iris wasn't doing a much better job of being a friend either. Sure, she was probably busy looking for Harry, but despite the many many times Tracey had tried to drive the message home that she could tell her things, Iris had gone off by herself again and hadn't replied to a single one of her letters so far.
It still hurt, thinking back to the time where Iris had all but accused her of being the heir, thanks to her once again keeping everything to herself. Looking back on it, yeah, Tracey could have probably been less stubborn about telling her what she had been doing in the library, but at the time, the kiss was still fresh in her mind, and she had had no idea how Iris would have reacted to that.
She had all but told her a week later, after Lockhart defeated the heir, but Iris had gotten hung up on something else again and had not even properly processed her words. What else was new.
And now, after the Compulsion Charm had been removed and she had fully grasped the fact that Harry was missing, she couldn't bring herself to try and actually tell her either. Whatever was going on, Iris was probably having at least as rough a time as Tracey, likely much worse. And a little detail like that would only cause her unnecessary additional worries.
Still. No replies from Iris, no idea what was happening with Harry, and Theo was being a complete asshat. It would be nice if at least some of her friends still talked to her. A glance towards the far wall caused yet another stab of forgotten grief. There hung a picture of a very young Tracey, sitting under a tree next to a black-haired young girl, both with flowers in their hair, both smiling brightly.
A soft hoot from the window alerted her to the fact that Scoobert had returned from his trip, and this time, bearing no new mail. Tracey sighed, fed the owl an extra treat, and began to trudge her way back up to her room. She should probably get dressed; it was already getting close to lunchtime.
Tracey pulled the door to her room shut, turned towards her bed, and froze. She was not alone.
~V~
Okay, this was awkward.
"Uhm... sorry. I can come back?" Iris began hesitantly, as she beheld Tracey's half-dressed state.
The brunette just stood there, hand still on the door handle, her eyes as wide as saucers. Maybe she should have written a letter beforehand after all?
Slowly, Tracey lowered her hand to face her completely, not saying anything. She took a step, another step, until she was standing right before her, with Iris still awkwardly standing next to her bed. Iris couldn't read Tracey's face, it was an onslaught of emotions all at once, and she wasn't sure if her Mindlight might improve the situation any at this point.
Iris' gaze got caught in the shimmering hazel staring up at her, which made her oddly conscious of the fact that she was now quite a bit taller than her Hogwarts roommate. After a very long and uncomfortable second, Iris opened her mouth to say—
Iris stiffened as she felt herself being forcefully pulled into a hug. She really should be used to this from Tracey by now, but the events of the past week really hadn't done her mental state any favors. Slowly and hesitantly, she raised her hands and returned the hug, squeezing the shivering mop of brown hair against her chest.
"Hey, Tracey..." Iris said, unsure what to do.
The girl, in turn, kept squeezing her tightly, holding on for dear life.
"You okay?" Iris asked softly.
At first there was no reply. Then, after several long seconds, the brown hair slowly shook left to right.
"You didn't write," whispered Tracey in a paper-thin voice.
Yeah. As if she didn't already feel guilty enough. First, she had been in no headspace to reply, still looking for Harry. Then, once she had found him, she had had even less of an idea of what she could actually write, and it wasn't like she could just put something like this in a letter, anyway.
"Sorry," Iris replied.
Tracey squeezed her once more, then slowly lifted her head to meet her eyes.
"What about you? You don't write, Harry is missing, and... I..." Tracey broke off, then slowly gathered herself and asked, "Are you... doing okay?"
No, she really wasn't.
She couldn't be in much worse of a Mindspace if she tried. Or at least, she definitely had been there. And part of her really just wanted to let go, to break down on the bed and let it all spill forth, to cling onto that one shred of normalcy left in her life. Just like she had after Malfoy had accidentally turned himself into a magical Nazi, using the ritual she had inadvertently pointed him at, and torn apart their friendship and her innocent soul along with it.
But despite what her heart wanted, she couldn't; she wouldn't. She needed to endure. Iris would bring him back, and then it would be alright. Only then could she allow herself to give in.
"Please," Tracey whispered. "Tell me what's going on? Did you find him?"
"Tracey, I..." Iris said, unsure how to even begin.
"Do you know something? Something happened, didn't it? He's not just missing; someone doesn't want him to be found! Someone doesn't want people to look into what happened, someone confounded me right after— Wait, are you telling me it was Lockhart? Did it have something to do with the chamber after all? Did you manage to talk to him before he... He... Morgana! That was you, wasn't it? You... you..."
Tracey choked in her ramblings, staring at Iris wide eyed, slowly backing away until she collapsed onto the bed. Iris stared back helplessly, still no words forthcoming. There was no point denying it, Tracey knew everything about the shadows, she could figure it out for herself.
"It was an accident," Iris admitted quietly.
Tracey goggled at her, as Iris slowly sat down on the bed next to her. "You... accidentally... ate him?"
"What?" Iris choked; her mind unable to compute. "No! I took him to the shadow realm!" she exclaimed, then cut off, realizing what she had admitted.
Tracey perked back up, then frowned. "But then where is he now?"
Iris gave her a helpless look. "He kept running away... And then we got caught in a Patronus charm from an Auror and..."
Iris broke off, unsure what else to say. She sure as hell wasn't going to tell her about Hermione's theory of what was happening to her when she was stuck there and had slowly lost her mind, and Iris' own extension of that suggesting that all Lethifolds were in fact just people that had been trapped in the shadow realm.
"I can't find him anymore. I wouldn't even know where to look," Iris said.
Tracey just stared back at her, and Iris wasn't sure if she was trying to be comforting or judging.
"I didn't have a choice, okay? I had to stop him from donating the revenue of his book!"
Tracey's expression had now definitely turned incredulous. "Come again?"
"Have you read his latest book?" Iris instead asked.
Tracey shot her another dubious look, but then hesitantly replied, "Well, yeah. The ending was amazing, but half of the things that happened in-between weren't even true!"
"Neither was the ending," Iris said.
Tracey gave her a confused look. "But then what—"
"What he was doing," Iris said slowly, "Was a massive ritual. The books were his symbol, they perfectly represented what he wanted to happen, or rather what he wanted to have happened, after the fact. And that's why he kept donating all the revenue of his books as well. It was a sacrifice."
"Wait, hold on," Tracey cut in. "You are saying he... made up his books after all? And that he used them as a ritual to somehow make them true? And that's why you ate him before he could donate all his money? Do you know how insane you sound?"
"I didn't eat him!" Iris groaned. "Also, yeah, that's basically what I'm saying," she said awkwardly. "If I hadn't, the ritual would have twisted the past to make the books become true, which would mean none of us would remember what actually happened, and this time, there'd be no way to restore the memories. Nobody would even remember anything that would help with... finding Harry."
Tracey kept staring, then staring some more, until she finally groaned and let her head drop into her hands. "Could you for once not have an explanation for everything? How the hell did you make this make sense in my mind?" Tracey ranted, then sighed and mumbled into her hands. "This is my life now. It's a mad fever dream, and I'm actually locked in the mental health ward of St. Mungos. At least, that would sound more plausible than half the stuff that comes out of your mouth."
After some more time spent ranting, Tracey gathered herself again, and turned to look back up at Iris once more, this time looking concerned. "Are you doing okay though? Really? After... well... whatever that was?"
Iris just looked back, only barely managing to hold her gaze.
Tracey swallowed.
"I... well, I haven't really... thought about it much," said Iris. "I kinda had... more important things on my mind back then..."
Tracey averted her gaze. "Right..."
She was wringing her hands in her lap, until she suddenly froze, and her gaze snapped back towards Iris. "Back then?"
Oh no.
Slowly, Tracey's eyes widened, and her mouth opened a sliver. Iris felt her insides tear as a palpable expression of hope and longing began to spread over the girl's features, as if all the worries of the past week were blown away by a radiant sun, piercing the fog of tension and despair and lighting up her brown eyes.
"You... you found him?" a hopeful whisper in a paper-thin voice, from the girl who was holding her breath.
A particularly strong gust of wind tore through the neighborhood, causing the wooden home to groan.
Iris had never hated herself as much as she did right now. The way Tracey was looking at her—as if her entire life had been falling apart and Iris had just pulled out that one roll of spell-o-tape that would glue it all back together—tore apart the shattered remains of her heart in the knowledge that she would now have to do the same to her.
Worse, Iris couldn't even soothe her friend with the one piece of knowledge that was somehow holding together her own mind; that she was still working on bringing him back.
"...Iris?"
Coming here had been a mistake. With every second of the stretching silence, Iris could see Tracey's expression waver.
"Talk to me, Iris. Please..."
"Tracey, I..." Iris began weakly, but couldn't find the words.
Iris wanted to tell her everything, that it would all be alright, that she had a plan, that she shouldn't give up. But doing so would jeopardize that very plan.
Nobody could ever know.
It was bad enough that Greengrass knew, but there wasn't anything she could do about that. And even without considering all the other issues with telling her, as she had found out for herself, Tracey had no way to protect that knowledge in her mind. Iris herself wasn't much better, but at least her Mindlight seemed to be doing... something. If anything, Greengrass seemed to have only been able to read her surface thoughts, and even that she could stop by giving herself a migraine.
"Iris, you're scaring me..." Tracey whispered, her voice teetering on the edge of breaking down.
She was still trying to deny it, desperately trying to look for a way out, but no matter how much her eyes darted across every feature of Iris' visage, they couldn't find the salvation they sought. The truth was written all across her face.
"Please..." the brunette croaked, but Iris just shook her head, still unwilling to strike that final nail and make it real. "Tell me what happened..."
"Tracey—"
"No! Tell me!" Tracey demanded. "You're not doing this again! Tell me what happened! Tell me you know where he is! Tell me... tell me he's alright—"
Iris held her gaze. Her vision lingering on the hazel eyes burned her stomach with the searing fire of guilt and self-hatred, but she endured, knowing that looking away would make it magnitudes worse.
"I wish I could, Tracey..." Iris spoke, her voice completely devoid of color. "I wish nothing more."
Tracey's expression now looked like she had checked again, and the roll of spell-o-tape had turned out to be a dagger.
"Iris," she half-demanded, half-pleaded, her voice cracking under the weight of dread. She grabbed Iris by the shirt, pulling her close, her hazel eyes searching desperately for any scrap of hope, any hint of a lie that could save her from the truth that was battering down the walls of her sanity. "Tell me what happened!"
"Basilisk venom," Iris spat, her voice dripping with loathing—loathing at the world, at herself, at the truth that she wished she could erase. "He was already dying, Tracey. And with his last breath… he saved my life."
Iris could all but feel the dagger she was plunging into her best friend's heart, but her self-hatred won out and she found herself twisting it.
"And if he hadn't saved me, he might have lived."
Tears soaked Iris’ shirt, but they weren’t her own. Frozen in place, she didn't dare to even try and soothe her best friend. Iris didn't deserve the comfort that she herself would leech from the contact.
"It should have been me," she whispered. "It was my fault. I was the heir; I was the one attacking people."
She didn’t know why she was confessing this, why she was tearing apart their friendship with the truth. It wouldn’t bring Harry back, and it would only make Dumbledore more suspicious. But in that moment, Iris needed Tracey to hate her. She deserved it.
"W-what?" Tracey’s eyes were wide with shock, her mind struggling to process the confession.
"All the things I asked you about," Iris said, the words just spilling forth. "Someone entering your life, trying to get you to open your emotions to them, and losing track of time around the attacks... All of those things were happening to me. You remember Myrtle? And the diary I was apparently carrying everywhere?"
"You.... you..." Tracey was a whirlwind of emotions, none of which Iris could decipher.
"I kept asking her for more. More knowledge, more power, all in order to protect Harry," Iris chuckled darkly. "And it worked. I grew stronger, and I kept coming back. I gained so much knowledge that in the end, he died from it."
"But he couldn't even properly hate me for it," Iris whispered, clutching the bedsheets so tightly that her hands were turning blue.
"Instead, he sacrificed himself for me. He paid the price for my mistakes, and he did so with a fucking smile on his face."
Tracey didn’t respond; there were no words that could touch the depth of their shared grief. Instead, she broke down completely, her tears spilling onto Iris’s shirt as her body shook with sobs.
Tracey had told her for years; she had warned her of this, had begged her to tell her things. Iris stared at her best friend desperately, drowning, longing. Longing for condemnation.
She knew this was all her fault, knew it was her reckless decisions that led to this tragedy. But she also knew she had to keep going, to push further down the dark path ahead, to willingly continue to make the same mistakes, if she wanted to set things right.
That was why she craved Tracey's hatred. To continue this path after what happened felt so wrong, she wasn't sure she could do it if her friends wouldn't despise her for it. It was one thing to throw it all away, but it was another to have her friends do the same for her sake, when she really didn't deserve it. When they didn't deserve it. This was her burden to bear. And hers alone.
Tracey was still crying, desperately clinging to the front of her shirt, barely able to breathe between heart-wrenching sobs.
"I- I was... I thought..."
Iris had never heard Tracey sound this... helpless. Not after Malfoy's ritual, not even after her fallout with Greengrass. Yet she needed more. She needed her condemnation.
"Harry is dead, Tracey. He is dead, and it's my fault," Iris said coldly.
"No!" Tracey cried.
"I saw it."
"NO!" Tracey exclaimed. "You're not saying that! Not you! I know you; you wouldn't ever give up on him like that! There has to be something! Something you missed! Something we can still do! I— I wont..." Tracey was right in front of her face, her bloodshot eyes grasping onto hers in a desperate last-ditch effort.
And yet, Iris had to grab that last fleeting spark of hope, and feed it to the shadows. It was the only way. She had to lie. Lie to everyone, lie to the world, lie to her very best friend. All to fulfill her own ambition. In the end, she was worse than Lockhart.
Wrenching every ounce of control over her facial expression she possessed, Iris dove into her Mindlight and reached for that tiny, shivering morsel of empathy, and crushed it. Instead, she dredged up years and years of carefully putting on all sorts of faces and masks for her relatives, her classmates, her teachers, and occasionally Harry.
"There is no magic powerful enough to truly bring back the dead, Tracey," she said.
Dumbledore's words thrown back in her best friend's face.
For all the time she had known Tracey, the girl had worn her heart on her sleeve. In that regard she was somewhat similar to Iris, at least on the surface. But Tracey had been like this through and through. Although sometimes morally flexible, and occasionally even cunning, at her core she was a good person. Just a cheerful girl, always seeing the bright side of life. She had had her childhood friend torn from her, and had been joking and learning together with Iris not even an hour later with a smile on her face. She had endured isolation and mockery, becoming an outcast for her sake. And yet, at the end of the day, she had been smiling.
And yes, even right now, Tracey was smiling. Or at least, Iris assumed that's what it was supposed to be. A visage as if someone who had never known anything other than despair had read in a book what a smile was supposed to look like.
A shaky hand reached out and closed around her own. And Iris understood. Tracey wasn't smiling. Usually, she would smile, whether genuine, or to hide what was going on inside her. But right now, she was trying to smile, just for Iris' sake. Trying, and horribly failing.
"Iris..." the girl croaked, looking up from their hands.
Iris couldn't watch this. She wanted to look away, to turn and run, to call the shadows and sink into the ground on the spot.
"No matter what... you know I'll... That I'll... be there for you, right?" Tracey said, sounding more like she was trying to convince herself.
Iris' hand stayed loosely clasped within Tracey's own. She wouldn't dare return the gesture. Could she actually do anything right? Tracey was supposed to hate her. But Iris hadn't even managed to do that correctly.
Iris let out a deep breath. No matter how much she craved it, she needed to rationalize. Keeping her friendships would prove beneficial to her plan. She had been over this. No matter how much she deserved to be hated, Harry came first.
"Right..." Iris said.
Somehow, actually accepting her friend's consolation made it feel even worse.
"Thanks, Tracey."
~V~
Alright. So far, so good. The book hadn't gone into specifics of how to set this part up, but she was pretty sure she had managed to piece something together from the descriptions of other past applications from other books.
This was the worst kind of magic, in her humble opinion. There were absolutely no rules to this. Books were useless. Logic was meaningless. It was an abomination; a slap in the face of everything she believed in. But it was still her best and only shot.
As far as she understood, the intent would be solely guided by the current perception that people would have of the symbols she used. And that would obviously change over time. Which made it basically impossible to provide a consistent step-by-step instruction in a book like with Potions.
There was no correct way to do it, and this irked Hermione to no end. Sure, there were wrong ways, and even worse ways to do it. The list of possible mistakes one could make was basically half of the entire book. But it was one thing to just... try to avoid mistakes, but then she still had no idea where to even start without a proper guide. Or at least she hadn't, when she had started looking into this. Her original plan for the summer had been to keep pestering Professor McGonagall on her ridiculous arbitrary restriction, but the events at the end of the school year had thoroughly thrown those plans out of the window.
First, of course, she had tried a variation of the Point-Me Charm. That had quickly resulted in a terrifying letter from the Ministry Office for the Misuse of Underage Magic, which she still had nightmares about to this day. Not that the spell had worked, anyway. But despite every fiber of her being protesting the idea of trying something else, and possibly being expelled for it, Hermione hadn't been deterred. Harry needed her help.
So she had turned to the only principle of science that she could apply to a problem like this.
Trial and Error.
Her first attempt had been a close call. She had set up a small ritual to try and find her mother to start with. Just as she had set up everything and had been about to start the ritual—even if she had had no idea how to actually do that, her new cat Crookshanks had burst into the room and nicked the map she had been using as a focus. She didn't even want to imagine what would have happened if he had done that when the ritual was already active.
So for her second attempt, Hermione had locked him outside the room. Then she had spent an embarrassingly long time trying to start the ritual, only to at some point realize that she had no idea how to actually... do that. The books didn't say. It was one thing to put a bunch of symbols together in a certain place, but the books weren't quite clear how to actually make that... well... become a ritual.
She had awkwardly stared at the map, the hand-made Wanted poster, and even tried to say several phrases. Even trying to place her wand to it did nothing. Only in the end, she had accidentally figured it out, after she had given up, removed the Wanted poster, and let Crookshanks back inside. Or rather, tried to. Instead, she couldn't find him. And in her desperation, she had grabbed one of the combs she had used to try and tame his unruly hair, and placed it on the map, while begging the Magic to help her find her new friend.
And without a second's hesitation, the regular Muggle-printed map had zoomed in, and a small symbol of a brown cat had appeared on the crossroads two streets down. Her symbolization had been by far worse as it had been with her mother before, but the core ingredient had been missing back then. Intent. She had asked Magic for help. Which seemed distinctly different than making her own magic do certain things.
Hermione had been angry at the books for not explaining it like that, but the more she had thought about it, the more she had to grudgingly admit that she would have no idea how to describe something like this, either. You just had to... do it.
So next, she had tried with her mother again, which had also worked. Somehow, this seemed almost too easy. If it were that easy, why wasn't everyone doing it? And why was it banned?
But, at least, the Ministry didn't seem to be able to detect her attempts at free ritual so far. She hadn't received any further owls bearing any more sternly worded letters, much to her relief.
Hermione wasn't sure about this.
The one part that she was dreading the most hadn't been relevant so far. The sacrifice. The one thing all the books had been clear about. You needed to sacrifice something you valued similarly to what you were trying to achieve. The more inadequate the sacrifice, the more likely it was to fail. Whatever that meant. Failing because a sacrifice was inadequate would result in the ritual either partially not working, or not working at all. It wasn't like there was some sort of punishment to it, but if there was one thing that all the books had been clear about, it was the fact that repeatedly trying with inadequate sacrifices would just yield worse and worse results.
But what on earth could she sacrifice to equal something as invaluable as Harry's location? It wasn't just his location, she wanted Harry back. He was her best friend in the world, well, maybe along with—
Oh.
But how would that... how could she sacrifice a friendship? Write a letter with all the things she had always wanted to say to him? But even that would probably just get him to nag her back, but not break their friendship... make up some insane excuse or a lie to break it off on purpose? But if there was one thing she read over and over, it was that trying to cheat a ritual sacrifice was a bad, bad idea. So it couldn't be anything she could just reverse after the fact.
God. What was she even thinking? No. There had to be another way. All the things that came to mind to actually achieve that... those were things she could never do. If she did that, she would never be able to look herself in the mirror, much less face Harry ever again. There had to be something... Something else...
A sharp knock at her door caused Hermione to jolt out of her thoughts. One second later, a cold shiver ran down her spine.
There was nobody at home. And she hadn't heard the downstairs door either.
There was another knock. For a moment, Hermione imagined dust crumbling off the walls from the sound, like in a horror movie. Holding her breath, she scrambled for her desk, ruffled through her bag, and fished out her wand, and aimed it at the door—
The doorknob glowed yellow for a moment, then the key on the inside of her door started turning by itself, until the door clicked open.
"Well, here I am."
Hermione gasped, as she recognized Harry's sister standing in her doorway. "Iris?" she exclaimed. "I almost cursed you! You scared me half to death! How did you get in?"
"Through the door?" Iris replied sheepishly, earning a glare from Hermione.
"No, I meant— Forget it. You received my letter, then?" Hermione retorted.
She tried to gather herself as the dark-red haired Slytherin girl curiously began to inspect her room. Iris' gaze trailed along the sprawled-out map on the ground, and the various Wanted posters of Harry and others in Hermione's best imitation of western movie pop-culture.
"Huh..." she said quietly, picking up one of the posters, and raising an eyebrow, probably at the last name. "Are those... did you already attempt—"
"Well, yes, of course," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "I wasn't just going to do it blind. And the books from the restricted section didn't exactly provide step-by-step instructions..."
"Hermione!" Iris snapped.
Hermione froze, caught in her intense gaze.
"You know how dangerous this is, right? You tried this on... on your mother?" Iris asked.
"I mean, yes... I guess... but I don't really— So what if I get hurt? Harry is missing! If anyone would understand, it should be you!" Hermione tried to justify herself.
Iris was just staring at her silently, then took a step closer, a strange look on her face. "I wasn't talking about you," she said in a soft voice.
"I... I— what do you mean?"
"Just because you are the one doing the ritual does not mean you are the only one that can get hurt."
But, but she... She... Hermione's gaze drifted over from the map on the ground to the Wanted Poster of her mum clutched in Iris' hand.
Oh.
"But... I wasn't even doing anything that... I mean, none of this should be remotely..."
"You made a Wanted poster, Hermione," Iris said. "Even if this one says alive, less than half of all the people in the world can actually read English. You are running a good chance of the ritual interpreting this as dead or alive. And then it's a coin-toss."
Hermione's breath caught in her throat, staring down at the Wanted poster like a deer caught in the headlights. Merlin. What the hell had she done? Was she... was mum alright? The first time hadn't done anything, but...
"Also, all of these letters have different meanings in different languages. This is the whole reason why you don't use written words as symbols in rituals," Iris said.
She had been so stupid. Hermione felt like Professor McGonagall had just handed her back her final exam with a big red letter T scrawled all over it.
"Do you want to know just how badly things can go wrong with symbolization?" Iris asked quietly.
Hermione hesitantly met her gaze, curious despite herself.
"Malfoy," Iris said.
"Malfoy?" Hermione echoed, just as quietly.
"He wanted to do a ritual for good luck. He was forced into a duel with an upper-year Slytherin because he tried to help me. And so he picked out a ritual book from the nineteen-twentys, looked up the main recommended symbol for luck from that time, and did a ritual with it."
He did what? The... main recommended symbol for Luck from the early twentieth century? Many things came to mind, all of which were more general symbols and still in use to day... Four-leaf-clovers, chimney-sweeps... And... oh.
But there was no way he had actually tried to use a Swastika, right?
"W-what happened?" Hermione whispered.
Iris closed her eyes, and said nothing for a while. Finally, she took a breath and spoke up.
"Almost blew up half the castle. I drew the Peace Symbol across it to prevent the War aspect from going all World War Two on us. But apparently, it did nothing about the lingering hatred."
Hermione's eyes went wide. "You mean... he wasn't always like... this?"
Iris sighed, and didn't reply for a while. Finally, she spoke up, "I don't know. He might have always been like this, and I was just too naive to see it. Or the ritual might have done something. Maybe it twisted him into this, maybe it just brought out who he had been all along. I don't know. But whatever the case, any effects of a ritual are always permanent."
Hermione had no idea what to say to that.
Just the thought of accidentally doing something like this to her own mother... Ron had been right. She really was a Nightmare.
"Do... you have any ideas how to fix it, then? I mean... it did kind of work, right? So there should be a—"
"No," Iris cut her off.
Hermione flustered. "I know it's dangerous! But you're here now, I know you've got an idea, you always do! If we could just—"
"No," Iris repeated.
Hermione paused, then grew indignant. "What do you mean, no? It should be possible, right? I did figure out how to make a ritual to find my mother at work, as well as Crookshanks, even if it... Well, anyway. If we can figure out a better symbol, then—"
"The problem isn't the symbol."
That caused Hermione to frown. "What?"
"The issue isn't crafting the right ritual to find a person," Iris began, slowly approaching her with a strange expression. Hermione had always been horrible with expressions.
"Then what?" she asked, confused.
"The issue... is that even something like a ritual cannot look for a person that cannot be found."
Hermione's breath caught. Then she hesitantly asked, "Do you mean... like a spell, trying to prevent someone from finding him?"
Iris stared back for what felt like minutes, before she finally replied, "No, I don't."
No. She didn't. Someone who could not be found by magic, but not because magic was involved. There was enough Ravenclaw within her to unravel that riddle in an instant, but she still spent an agonizing minute looking for another solution, anything else, something that would explain this. It had to be a trick question, right?
Right?
The teachers had said he had gone missing, so she had just assumed...
"But... Professor McGonagall said..."
Yet Iris just shook her head. Just like that.
"I'm sorry."
She... she was...
Harry was...
Hermione had never been one for tears. She had quickly learned to bury such emotions in primary school. She wasn't sure if there had been any time she had cried ever since she was eight. Even when Ron had called her... that. She had just gone and locked herself in her room, and stared down at a book until she had gotten her thoughts in order.
Harry... was...
Hermione wasn't sure if she could even make it that far. One glance drifted longingly across her room towards her bookshelf. Her one escape from reality.
But Harry's sister was still standing across from her, expression mostly blank, not that she could read it anyway.
No. The only time she had been able to let go in years was when Harry had pulled her out of that nightmare, right after he had rescued her from that hellscape of shadows his sister had trapped her in. She had wandered in that dark place for hours, losing herself, until Harry had brought her back. And right now, she felt like she was back there.
But this time, there was no Harry to save her.
~V~
Iris was well and thoroughly drained. She hadn't been able to either just write a letter or not tell some of her friends when she had told the others. So she had gritted her teeth, forced the intrusive thoughts back and made the rounds.
None of her visits had gone any better than the first two.
Susan had reacted much like Tracey, except Iris wasn't all that close with her in the first place, so it had been an agonizing thirty minutes of Iris awkwardly standing there while Susan was losing it in the corner by herself.
Luna had gone very quiet and then vanished, until at some point her father had shown up to awkwardly see her back outside.
Neville had been the hardest. There had been a stark contrast between the things he said, and what his expression betrayed. Apparently, they had been even closer friends than she had thought.
Ron... well, Iris wasn't sure. At first it had seemed like he had taken it about as well as one could expect in that situation. There had been no shouting, no crying, just some awkward silence, and talking about what had happened. Most of the time he had been talking about all the things they did together, the fun they had playing chess, and how Ron was going to join the Quidditch team once Harry inevitably became captain. Iris thought they had left things on good terms after that. He had stopped sending her cauldron cakes, though.
Iris hadn't bothered to go visit Theo. So far, she hadn't even replied to his letter. She'd confront him on the train and hear him out, but until then, he could stew a little longer.
So, yeah. All things considered, Iris was exhausted. On a happier note, she still hadn't heard anything from Sirius. And on a less cheerful one, neither from Lupin. Iris wasn't sure if she wanted to send a letter to him to try and find out; afraid that he wouldn't write back.
The only thing she could bring herself to do was to read. And after having finally read through the last of the interesting books she had liberated from Flourish and Blotts, she figured it was finally time to check out the loot she had brought from Germany.
Iris carefully peeled open the old black leather book with the inscription Der Todeshändler.
On the inside of the cover, there was a large red seal proclaiming International Confederation of Wizards — Prohibited Text — Last Copy
How had she missed that the first time she had opened it? She guessed that would explain the price. And also, now she was getting really curious about its contents. She really hoped it wasn't just about weapons dealers. Iris turned the first page.
And yep. German.
Iris carefully fired up her Mindlight and began to parse through the words. This was easier said than done. She had only imprinted the knowledge of how to speak the language, but not read it. Unlike when speaking it, she couldn't simply understand it. Instead she found that she had to parse through the words, translate them to English, and only then begin to comprehend what was being said.
But slowly, she settled into a rhythm, where part of her mind would just work on translating the thing, and then comprehend it after the fact. It went a lot slower than reading anything in English, and a lot of the words she didn't understand—especially since they seemed to be written in a much older and fancier version of German—not to mention the large and overly stylized font—but slowly, she was making progress.
Settling into the gathered pillows on her bed, Iris flipped the page and began to dive into the foreword.
~V~
Much like many of our stories, this work is based on a tale told to us by our grandfather. I cannot begin to imagine where and how he gets his ideas. Friedrich was a great father, and an even better grandfather. Our father always had nothing but praise for him. All of his stories were so very strange, so very... for the lack of a better term, magical. He had lived a very long life, so long that in the end, we joked to the townspeople that he was in fact Friedrich Junior.
Anyway, I digress. As he aged, he grew increasingly slanted of the mind. He kept insisting his stories were true, that they were all a part of this world just as much as we were, that we just didn't remember anymore. That the world had made everyone forget. That there actually was such a thing as Magic.
Towards his end, his stories grew increasingly disturbing. But diligent writers that we were, we kept cataloging. Some of his stories he had told for such a long time to the people in the church that they were now considered folktales, and the people still wanted to hear them.
But this story is different. It was one of his very last stories, when the fang of time had already buried deep within his withering psyche. He kept insisting that it needed to be heard, that it was a cautionary tale, a warning to the world. And he had done so until the very day he died. But it was so very different from all of his other stories, so very detailed and real, and yet so impossible and fantastical at the same time.
In the end, I could not bring myself to publish it along with our other works, so it will instead remain here, with the family, to be forgotten to all but the very people closest to his heart.
May you rest in peace, grandfather. And may your stories continue to be told forevermore.
Wilhelm
Chapter 10: Death does not bargain
Chapter Text
Once upon a time, in the midlands of France, in a small village surrounded by green hills and lush grasslands, there lived a man without a name.
He hadn't been born without a name, of course. But even as he grew famous and moved to the city of Avignon, he was known to everyone just as the man from that village. He was, in fact, not merely just a man. He was a surgeon. He had dedicated his life to helping others, his time to mending flesh and bone. This, everyone also knew.
What everyone did not know, was that he was also a sorcerer. He did not like to brag about it, because his goal was not to merely be seen as the person helping people. He wanted to heal as many as possible, save any life worth saving. And he was, after all, just one man. So instead of using his power to heal people, he used it to study. He wanted to understand, to find out why people were dying, and not just wave his hand to heal them, but find out what exactly needed to be done so others could do the same.
He was one of very few who held his kind of power, yet the responsibility of healing everyone was much vaster than he could ever hope to manage by himself.
And so he studied. He learned. He experimented. Every day he spent fighting the sickness and ailments of the townsfolk. When someone was beyond saving even for him, he would rend their bodies for all the secrets they held, hoping to learn something that would allow him to save the next person instead.
And save the next person, he did. A young woman of northern heritage, golden hair and a smile as beautiful as the sun even as she lay dying on his table. It had been love at first sight. Her name had been Elizabeth.
Their love had been fast, overwhelming, magical, perfect, and short.
Out of all the ailments, injuries and sickness he could cure, death had never been among them. Once it had set its sights on someone, Death would not let go, and Death would not bargain. Not even magic could change that.
So when the love of his life had been stabbed to death in front of him, he had been able to do nothing but watch the life fade from her eyes.
He had tried, of course, both with all the knowledge of medicine and magic combined, and it had been for naught. Death had claimed her soul as its own. So in the end, he turned his efforts towards the one thing standing in his way. Death itself.
He remembered the songs sang by the Keeper of Tales.
Death was an elusive creature. It would only show when people died, and mostly, only to them. Only when large numbers of people died would it show itself to others as well.
Only then you could make a deal. But even then, it would not bargain. The only terms it couldn't refuse was the price of a soul you had claimed as your own. But the only thing that price would buy was a Name of your own.
But a Name would not help in bringing back his loved one. So he set out on a quest to find the old man again, who had originally sang his tales of wisdom in his old village. And after years and years of wandering the woods, crossing the grasslands, and foraging through towns, he finally arrived in a clearing, in the center of a forest, where he heard the familiar song of the lute.
"Oh Keeper of Tales, grant me your wisdom," he said, once the aged man had concluded his song. "I have travelled far and wide, but I need to know."
"Why do you seek Death, young man?" the Keeper asked, his voice rustling like the leaves in the wind.
"I seek to bring back my beloved," the man replied, his voice thick with sorrow. "I would bargain with Death itself to see her smile again."
The Keeper of Tales nodded slowly, as if expecting this answer. "There have been others, you know, who have sought to bend Death to their will. Would you like to hear the tale?"
The Keeper smiled a knowing smile and, with a twinkle in his eye, began to strum his lute, plucking out a melody that danced like flickering firelight. His weathered voice wove the tale into a tune, as though each word was a note in a song of old.
"In days of yore, when men sought more than names, there lived a king with fiery aims. Alaric, bold, with sword in hand, led his troops across the land. Through blood and bone, through night and day, he pierced the heart of Rome's decay."
The lute's chords grew fuller, majestic, like a hymn to celebrate the march of an army.
"When Rome did fall, and Romans wept, it was Death who in the shadows crept. But Alaric, with a heart of steel, struck a bargain, made Death kneel. No name he sought, no title claimed, but the power of the Empire slain."
The melody swelled, filled with equal parts glory and sorrow.
"A wand he bore, of elder wood, In it, the power of empires stood. Imbued with might, unmatched, untamed, yet even so, Death’s toll remained. For Alaric fell, as all men must, and his wand, it passed like whispered dust."
The lute’s tune softened, its notes taking on a more somber, reflective tone.
"But heed this well, for there’s more to tell, of another tale, of Death’s own spell. A cloak there was, as dark as night, a shroud of shadow, void of light. Invisible to the keenest eye, even Death, they say, passed it by."
The melody turned eerie, haunting, as though the very air grew colder.
"Some say it came from Atlantis’ fall, a city lost, beyond recall. No trace left of a world once great, and though we can't be sure of its fate, they say the cloak alone remained, a relic of a world, unstained. But if it’s true, as whispers say, then Death itself was there that day."
A final, distorted chord rang out, sending shivers down the man’s spine.
"So, seek you treasure or seek you name, remember well this ancient game. For Death, it watches, patient, still, and bargains made are Death’s to fill."
The Keeper's voice trailed off into the silence, leaving the man alone to ponder the words, and the cold truth that lay beneath.
With the song long since faded, the man finally gathered his resolve, and met the Keeper's somber gaze. "Tell me, Keeper, how can I make such a pact?"
The Keeper of Tales sighed deeply, and his voice turned serious. "To claim power over Death, you must be willing to undo the good you have done, to tear down the very fabric of life you would usually work to preserve. You seek power over Life and Death, so demonstrate exactly this you shall, once Death comes to your door. And in exchange for a soul, you shall trade a name. But beware your words, for Death does not bargain."
And the man without a name understood, that if there was any way to pierce the veil of Death, to bring back a soul from even underneath its watchful eye, it would have to result from a deal with Death itself. And it would not suffice to simply trade a soul. He would need to create an artifact of his own, one that wielded the power of Death itself.
So one day, when a plague came and ravaged the town, when people began to die in droves, and Death came to watch, he made a deal. Instead of healing the dying man in front of him, he demonstrated what he wanted, the power over death itself. He placed every single curse he knew, every single ailment, all his knowledge he poured, anything he could think of to not heal but instead worsen his condition, all onto a small black stone, and tied it around his neck.
And still, Death would not bargain. Instead, it had accepted. The man, ravaged by the sickness, wasted away in front of his very eyes, his body blackening and crumpling, as Death wordlessly watched.
Once the body was gone, the stone was left behind, free of magic, free of curses, only holding what was promised. The power to bring back the dead. And so he took the stone, and turned it over.
"Death! By the power of this stone, I beseech you. Take my name, but give her back!"
And in that moment, he saw familiar eyes, familiar hair, a familiar face.
“Elizabeth!” he cried, reaching out to her.
It was her, but it also wasn't. Her body was gone, and only her suffering soul remained. Her voice trembled as she spoke, “Who are you? Why have you brought me back?”
"It is me! Your love!" he called out, but unable to recall his own name, she could not recognize him. "Let me rest! This is not life!"
“I cannot lose you again,” he cried, tears streaming down his face. “I will find a way to restore you, to give you life once more!”
But no matter how many times he tried, each time he summoned her, she was only a shadow of her former self, a spirit trapped between life and death, and each time, she suffered more. At last, Elizabeth’s pleas broke through his grief-stricken heart. “Please, let me go,” she whispered, “I beg you.”
With a sob, the man threw the stone far away, abandoning it in despair. He took one last walk through the city he had sworn to save, the city that had come to love him, the city he had betrayed for a foolish, selfish, hopeless endeavor. He strode along the path, towards his deathbed, eager to finally join his love in death again, yet he never made it there.
As he wandered the streets he saw sickness. All around, every single one of them. Blackening skin, blistering wounds, coughing, asphyxiation, all bearing symptoms of the very man he had sacrificed.
Death had not bargained. It had simply altered the deal.
He had wanted the power over Life and Death. Not just over a single life. And Death would claim what it was owed.
Wanting nothing more than to finally end his own life and join Elizabeth, he instead found himself turning right back around, re-opening his doors, and scrambling to treat the sick. Yet for every man, woman and child he healed, two more fell ill all the same.
Only when even the last soul in the city had fallen ill did he finally allow himself to rest, and return to his love. Yet he was stopped a second time. News had arrived from the surrounding towns. The sickness was spreading. And it was leaving Death in its wake.
He was not done paying for his hubris.
Gathering his life's work together, he set out to travel to other cities, on and on, treating the sickness wherever he went, studying it and trying to understand it. Trying to stop it. The sickness reflected parts of himself, all the curses he had layered into the stone, all the ways he had altered the sickness, they had spread with it. And it was taking all that he had just to unravel what he had wrought on one person, but try as he might, he had not found a way to stop the unrelenting curse of his own making spreading the lands.
And still, he kept researching, experimenting, documenting. He would not allow his curse to run afoul these lands forevermore. He would find a way to unravel what he had wrought, even if it was the last thing he ever did.
He would never be able to atone, but he would not be able to live with himself if he stopped.
In his despair, he sought out the Keeper of Tales once more. He found the ancient figure in the very same clearing in the forest, standing beneath the boughs of a twisted oak tree.
"Keeper," the man cried, "why does the plague continue? I have thrown away the stone, I have renounced my bargain! Why must they still suffer?"
The Keeper's eyes were filled with a deep, sorrowful wisdom. "You made a pact with Death, yet you seek to cheat it still. You heal those who fall ill, trying to undo the curse you have wrought. But Death does not bargain, and the price must be paid in full. The plague will not stop until you cease your efforts to save them."
The man recoiled in horror. "But if I stop, they will all die!"
"Yes," the Keeper said softly, "and that is the price you must pay."
Horrified, the man realized the truth. He had condemned not just himself, but all those he sought to save. Reluctantly, he closed his doors, refusing the pleas of the sick who begged for his help.
“I am sorry,” he whispered to each of them, “but I cannot heal you. Not anymore.”
And so, he watched as the plague took its toll, as men, women, and children succumbed to the illness. He tried to make them understand, tried to tell them it was for their own good, but they only understood his betrayal. Their eyes, once filled with hope, now glared at him with hatred and despair. His power, once a gift, now nothing but a curse. The curse of knowing that he could help if he wanted, if not for the others who then would suffer in their stead. They called him a traitor, a monster, cursed him with their dying breaths, but he could do nothing. Nothing but watch. The plague ran its course, and only once it had claimed nearly everyone, the Keeper's words finally proved true. The suffering met a slow, but still steady end, until the sickness finally relented.
Town after town he passed, everywhere he saw the same picture. Death and destruction, all of his own making, the towns getting more and more desolate as he approached his destination. The village, the one he had grown up in, was now left a ghost town. Everyone had perished, nobody even left to lay the blame at his feet. And as he moved on, he found the city of Avignon not much better still. The few survivors that even recognized him now hated the man they once revered. His heart was shattered, and his name forgotten by all, but at last, the time had come for him to join Elizabeth.
He returned to the spot where he had last seen her, at the center of this dying city, his task finally fulfilled. As he lay down on the cold ground, he felt the last of his strength leave him. And a shadow came over him, a figure standing next to his withering body.
“Your time has come,” it said.
“Will I see her again?” the man asked, his voice barely a whisper.
“Perhaps,” it said, “in a place where Death holds no power.”
And with that, the man without a name closed his eyes, his last breath escaping his lips as he finally found the peace he had sought for so long. The village, now a ghostly reminder of his folly, was reclaimed by the hills and grasslands. The town, on the other hand, slowly recovered, the few survivors fighting tooth and nail to preserve what was left, and the tale of the nameless healer and his doomed love faded into legend, a cautionary tale told by mothers to their children in the dark of night.
Chapter 11: Unknown
Chapter Text
Iris flipped the black leather book closed with a frown on her face. That had been... well, messed up, for one. Also enlightening. But then again, not by much. Mostly, it had left her with even more questions.
If what was written in the book was actually true... It could be interpreted that he had actually created an artifact capable of bringing the soul back from the dead, but not the body. Which would be exactly what she needed. But also, she wasn't sure if there was a way to combine the two. And if she brought Harry back into his body, there'd be no point to it if he would suffer for simply existing because Death wanted him back. Also, if the thing was real, she wouldn't even know where to start looking for it. It might just be lost entirely.
But this had also revealed a much more important piece of information. It was possible to make other deals with Death. And from what she had read, they transcended both the laws of Magic, as well as the rules of adequate sacrifice. Between the three artifacts, the only common denominator seemed to be Death itself. The only deciding factor was whether you could get Death to agree. Or, well, given what she had seen from Voldemort's creation, maybe it wasn't even about getting it to agree, just by performing a symbolic act in its presence. Maybe Death didn't even care at all about what was happening around it, it just came to watch and left again, uncaring of the effect its mere presence had on existence itself.
But then again, there had been three artifacts, and the creation of each had been tied to an event of massive scale. The disappearance of Atlantis—if that had actually been a thing—the destruction of the Roman Empire, and finally the worst plague outbreak Europe had ever seen.
Maybe there was a way to do something like this for herself. Maybe, she'd just make things worse. And if the story had even a hint of truth there was room to make things worse. Much worse.
And no matter what her mind kept telling her, no. It was one thing to accidentally kill a sleazy shopkeeper in Knockturn Alley to gain the knowledge she needed, but she had to draw the line somewhere. And causing the actual Black Death was way past that line. There had to be another way.
But there was one realization that had been settling in over the last week, and had finally crystallized into a concrete idea after reading this latest book. Iris was slowly coming to terms with the idea that her project might take a lot longer than she had originally envisioned. Of course she wanted Harry back as soon as possible, but, well, it wasn't like there was an actual time constraint there. He was already dead. All that remained was his skeleton, which wasn't exactly going to decay any more than it already had, if she didn't bring him back right away.
As much as she hated it, as much as every single second of staring at his empty bed was tearing her apart inside, waiting and taking things slow would be to her benefit. If anything, the end of last year had taught her that even she could make mistakes, especially in face of a ticking clock, dangers from all sides, and her growing isolation. At least one of those things she could remove from the equation now.
Oh yeah, and sleep deprivation. Which, speaking of, she'd better take care of that before she ended up wandering the forest with bare feet again.
~V~
It had been a chore and a half to actually fall asleep, but she had stuck the course, and had stubbornly returned to sleep again and again, no matter how many times she had woken up from her nightmares and felt guilty about sleeping while she could be working on trying to bring Harry back.
Not having any specific time where she needed to get up had helped a lot. And after she had finally decided to get up for good, having gotten a solid eight-ish hours—even with several interruptions—she had come to a humbling realization. This had been the first good decision she had made in weeks.
What the hell had her life come to?
A soft hoot from the window seemingly agreed with that sentiment. Iris turned to an approaching Hedwig, the snowy owl clutching what looked like the latest edition of the Daily Prophet.
Her mind was still feeling sluggish, not quite all the way awake yet, but that constant heavy droning was gone. In fact, she had only realized it had been there at all now that it wasn't anymore. Iris absent-mindedly began to untie the newspaper while vowing to herself to make sure to keep at least a somewhat reasonable sleep schedule, no matter how screwed up the situation was. Pretty much all of her issues had been caused by not thinking properly, and forgoing sleep to try and solve those problems was like casting a Stupefy on a rampaging dragon.
Flipping open the newspaper, Iris blinked. Then closed her eyes, shook herself to check if she was actually awake, and then re-read the title.
Boy-Who-Lived Killed at Hogwarts
Albus Dumbledore — Senile or Malicious?
by Rita Skeeter
In a shocking twist that will send shivers down the spine of every witch and wizard across the land, it has now been confirmed that the famous Harry Potter—The Boy Who Lived—did not merely "disappear" at the end of last year, as the staff at Hogwarts would have us believe. Instead, the boy celebrated across all of the wizarding world has met a far more tragic fate than anyone could have imagined.
For weeks, speculation ran rampant. Harry Potter's abrupt disappearance at the end of the school year was met with confusion and fear, but the public was reassured that the Hogwarts staff were looking for him, and that finding him would only be a matter of time. Yet, the truth, as it turns out, is far more sinister. Sources within the Ministry of Magic have confirmed that Harry Potter is not merely missing, but was, in fact, killed—yes, killed—under mysterious circumstances within the very walls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Only weeks after the sudden death of our greatest hero, his protege would be found to have met the same tragic fate—likely even before Gilderoy Lockhart himself. But as horrifying as this tragedy is all by itself, it does not end there. No, dear readers, it gets worse. I, Rita Skeeter, have uncovered chilling evidence that raises serious questions about the role Dumbledore may have played in this tragic event.
Let us consider the facts. The attacks in the Chamber of Secrets, which left the school in a state of terror, were linked to an ancient monster said to have been unleashed by the Heir of Slytherin. Who but Dumbledore, with his vast knowledge of Hogwarts' darkest corners, could have possibly known the truth about what was happening within the walls of his own school? Who else would have been in a better position to recognize the pattern, and put a stop to it? And yet, he remained silent, returning the school to business as usual, allowing the students to continue to be put in grave danger, leading to more and more preventable attacks, culminating in the ultimate horror: the death of Harry Potter.
But Dumbledore’s involvement may go deeper than mere negligence. My investigation into Ministry records has uncovered a disturbing detail—one that Dumbledore would undoubtedly prefer remained hidden. The official student registry for the upcoming school year reveals a glaring omission: Harry Potter’s name is nowhere to be found. This, my dear readers, is incontrovertible proof that Dumbledore knew all along that Harry Potter was, in fact, dead. And yet he chose to conceal this fact from the public, even from Harry's own friends and allies. Even from his own twin sister.
Why would Dumbledore do such a thing? There can be only two explanations, neither of which bodes well for the venerable headmaster. Is it possible that Dumbledore has simply lost his wits? Could it be that the pressures of his long tenure, the weight of his many secrets, have finally driven him to madness? The idea of a senile old man, wielding immense power and making decisions that put countless lives at risk, is terrifying in itself.
Or is the truth far more sinister? Could it be that Albus Dumbledore, long revered as a beacon of light in the wizarding world, has been harboring a secret agenda all along? The evidence suggests that Dumbledore may have had something to do with the events that led to Harry Potter's death. After all, why else would he go to such lengths to hide the truth? What could he possibly gain by keeping the wizarding world in the dark?
Perhaps Dumbledore feared that the truth would reveal his own involvement in the dark happenings at Hogwarts. Perhaps he had something to do with the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, with the summoning of the very evil that caused the petrification of four students, three Muggleborns and one teacher, and possibly took Harry Potter's life—and would have taken his sister's life along with it if not for the heroic intervention of the late Gilderoy Lockhart. Or perhaps he saw Harry as a threat to his own plans—plans that have yet to be fully uncovered.
One thing is clear: Albus Dumbledore is no longer the wise, infallible leader we once believed him to be. His actions, or lack thereof, have led to the death of an innocent boy, and his subsequent actions which to me all but reek of a cover-up raise serious questions about his fitness to lead. It is time for the wizarding world to demand answers. It is time for us to ask ourselves: Can we really trust Albus Dumbledore? Or has the man who was once our greatest hope become our greatest threat?
The tragic death of Harry Potter must not be in vain. One man's action or inaction has left a nation without heroes, a generation without their friend, an orphaned sister without her last remaining family. The truth must come to light, and those responsible must be held accountable—no matter how powerful they may be. Albus Dumbledore’s reign of secrecy and deception must come to an end before more lives are lost.
The wizarding world deserves better. We deserve the truth. And I, Rita Skeeter, will not rest until it is brought to light.
What. The fuck.
Iris only barely managed to restrain herself from letting her magic have its way with the bloody rag that called itself a newspaper. So much for releasing the message in a controlled manner that would prevent chaos. In fact, this couldn't have come out much worse if she tried.
Yeah. There was no way this was mere coincidence. The fact that it leaked now, and in a way that would severely torpedo Dumbledore's reputation... this reeked of Voldemort. He had somehow known that Harry was dead, and had turned that piece of knowledge into a dagger thrust into his mortal enemy's gut.
If Dumbledore came out with the news of Voldemort's return now... Not only would it send those who still believed in him floundering, but it would just confirm to everyone else that the Prophet had been right about him, especially if it was revealed that he had known this fact all along as well.
And it was all because she had tried to do the right thing and told Dumbledore.
Anything she did only seemed to make things worse. Maybe she should just go back to bed and stay asleep until it was all over.
Iris kept staring down at the crumpled-up newspaper. Her gaze drifted over to the vacant bed. If anyone should hate her, it'd be him. Yet he was the one person who had always forgiven her in the end, without question. Eyes drifted across the room, ending up on the stack of forbidden knowledge she had acquired through ticking off felonies like it was a Merlin-damned bucket list, only to yield no tangible results so far. And any good spirits she once had from her initial successes had been thoroughly crushed when she had gone to visit her friends.
She really couldn't call herself their friend anymore, could she? If they knew how she had lied to them, what she had done, what she had considered doing...
Iris idly lit up her finger with a mix of Force and Control, and began to flick the crumpled waste of printer-ink across the room.
The fact she still thought of them as her friends, even after doing all that, even after thinking that...
Iris kept bouncing the ball of paper off the walls, letting it zoom across the room and smack into the same spaces over and over again. She didn't think she could feel any lower than she did right now.
She just wanted a break. She needed to reset; to stop thinking. Things kept piling up, everything was just getting worse and worse... And if she kept pushing, something was inevitably going to break. And a part of her was scared shitless about that. Not about herself snapping, about her mind giving in, or whatever might happen to her, but about what would be left behind.
A final flick sent the useless rag sailing right through the open window, never to be seen again.
Her eyes came to rest on the laptop sitting at her bedside table. And just like anytime she had felt suffocated, trapped inside her own world, and with nobody but Harry to ground her, she flicked it open and escaped into another world.
Before she could even open the game, she was caught off guard by something else entirely. Apparently, Dudley had been using the thing while she was gone. Because right now, the screen was filled with a full screen browser window, containing some website, at the center of which there was a paused video. She had no idea what it was, but she recognized the odd drawing style from the weird wallpaper that Dudley had set on the thing. And despite better judgement, she hit the play button.
Iris just sat there for a while, having no idea what was going on, with no context to the strange scene playing before her. A bunch of teens with crazy colored hair jumping around and embroiled in a fight of sorts, except using swords and knifes and such. Of course, it was completely unrealistic, but it also looked sort of cool, she guessed. But the more she watched, the more it instead reminded her of something else.
The holographic Pensieve, the magical overhead projector, or whatever it was they had been using in Lupin's class. Or more specifically, the memories of the last goblin rebellions. This strange cartoon had some odd similarities between how the goblins... moved? Fought? How they'd just pull giant bloody battle-axes from nowhere and swing them around like a butter knife. How they would move, strike and slash faster than she could blink, several times all at once, in a way that made no bloody sense whatsoever, but still looked sorta cool. Was this inspired by a bloody Goblin rebellion or something?
Not the exact technique, or even the weapons they used, but just the way reason seemed to take a backseat, how time seemingly slowed down at the most impactful moments, how there was always just enough of a break to finish witty banter between attacks...
But then the show suddenly took a turn from the strange to the very strange, and she found herself reflexively closing the window with a blush. What the fuck, Dudley. Whatever, this wasn't what she'd wanted to do anyway. A few clicks found her navigating to the familiar game, and once the progress bar had finally met the end, she let out a breath, and started moving in a random direction. She just went through the motions, almost on auto-pilot, before she remembered something else. Almost scared to check, she finally opened her friends list, and sagged. 0 Friends online. Of course.
Luna still hadn't responded after their talk. She had no idea what to do with her, if she was honest. Iris wasn't any good with this kind of stuff. She had no idea how Luna really felt; what would cause her to act like this, or what to say to make it better. Except for the truth. Maybe, at least one of her friends actually blamed her like she deserved?
A particular icon caught her attention, and as had been her habit, she approached and opened the Mailbox.
Hello Irisistible,
since the mail takes a bit to arrive, and I can't be online tomorrow, I'll send this ahead of time, hoping you won't check it until tomorrow, since you're busy looking for Harry. I hope you're still getting all of these messages at least, even if you're not able to respond right now. But that's alright. I know you'll find him. Just remember to make some time for yourself, too. Especially today.
Happy Birthday!
MOOnSpiraC
Iris blinked as she stared at Luna's awkward attempt at cheering her up.
Oh.
In hindsight, she probably felt about as awful about having written that as Iris now felt reading it, knowing what she knew now. It wasn't like there was any way to un-send mail, after all. As if on autopilot, her cursor drifted down towards the unfamiliar icon.
Delicious Chocolate Cake
Use: If you spend at least 5 seconds eating you will become Very Happy for 1 hour.
She'd become very happy. At least, for an hour. Yeah. If only. But real life didn't work like that.
Iris moved her cursor over the icon, and clicked. As her Night-Elf began eating the cake, a burst of fireworks erupted all around her. And, as promised, after five seconds there was a new buff icon bearing a smiley face.
Very Happy
You feel great!
Duration: 1 hour
What the hell was she even doing? Sure, that stupid ingame cake would fix all her problems, why hadn't she thought of that before?
Iris sagged, causing the laptop to begin sliding off her lap and tumble to the ground as it slammed shut. She was incredibly tempted to try and at least replicate the effect with the use of her Mindlight, but she had read and seen enough about drugs on the internet to recognize that as her worst idea yet. No matter how fucked up everything felt right now, if she tried to use magic to force herself to be happy, there was a good chance that she'd lose the ability to feel happiness without it. She supposed there was a reason why the Cheering Charm was heavily regulated.
In the end, she wasn't even asking for all her problems to be magically fixed. If she was being honest, all she wanted was to talk to someone. To truly talk to someone. The same way she had used to with Tracey in her first year. Just to get her thoughts in order, to work through everything that was going on, or at least pretend like she wasn't all alone.
But sadly, that wasn't an option.
No, she'd have to see this through to the end, until she brought Harry back. Then, she could tell him everything. And he'd forgive her, just as always. No matter how much she didn't deserve forgiveness.
She really had to get her shit together, Mindlight or no. Iris still didn't quite understand what it actually did, but thinking about it, she felt relying on it too much might not be such a great idea in the end. With the way Dumbledore had reacted when she had told him...
Maybe she should actually finish reading that book on Occlumency first?
Iris' gaze wandered over to the other stack of not-quite-as-illicit books she had only liberated from the Restricted Section. Yeah. Once again, thinking properly was a primary objective. This was the way to go. Iris pulled out the book from Q. Goldstein, and began to read the start once again, slowly making her way through all the parts she had skipped.
Somewhere from downstairs, a sound of a ringing landline phone jolted her out of the zone. Iris sighed. Petunia was still straight up refusing to get a mobile phone. She wondered how long that was going to last. Speaking off, maybe she should actually look to get one of her own? At least, she'd be able to contact Tracey and Hermione, she guessed. And maybe Luna. Also, lugging the laptop around for everything wasn't really practical.
Deciding to put that off for later, Iris focused her thoughts back on the book. These latest chapters had thrown up some pretty worrying questions about the implications of how she had achieved her "Occlumency."
Also, would someone please answer the bloody phone already?
Iris blinked. Slowly, a shiver made its way down her spine. No way.
She carefully fired up her Mindlight and turned her gaze inwards.
BRRRRRIIIIIINNNNNNGGG!!!
It was the emergency roadside telephone.
Iris swallowed. Before she knew it, her hands were resting on the metal receiver still lodged in the cradle, but just at the last second, she hesitated.
The orange device echoed another wavering metallic ringing sound, sharp and crisp, yet somehow sounding more discordant than should be possible by mere physics alone.
She swore to God if she was just here to mock her about her choice of attire again...
Iris took a breath, firmed her expression, turned to face the road again, and lifted the receiver. "I told you not to call me."
"Life is not a wishing well, Potter," replied the unperturbed black-haired girl, now standing across from her on the mountain road. "We need to talk."
Iris took a deep breath and sighed, trying her best to not let the unease of the situation get to her. "Fine. What's this about?"
"You've read the Prophet?" she asked.
Iris' face twisted into a scowl.
"I suppose that answers that. What are you planning to do about it?"
Iris raised an eyebrow. "What's it matter to you?"
Greengrass returned her gaze, but didn't deign her with an actual answer. "Humor me."
Iris sighed. "No idea. But the situation is fucked. Part of me is still hoping that people aren't stupid enough to believe that drivel at face value—"
"They are," Greengrass interjected.
"Yeah. And I'm sure that bodes well for anyone hoping to prevent the Dark Lord from just waltzing into the ministry without resistance. I'm thinking maybe I could... I don't know... make like a public statement, tell everyone that I was the one who told Dumbledore about Harry. That'd undermine their whole argument."
Greengrass gave her a look she was pretty sure was supposed to be condescending. "And now you tell me what's wrong with that idea."
Iris glared back but then took a breath and decided to humor the girl. "It might...raise questions to how I knew?"
"For one, yes, but that's not the main issue," she shrugged.
"People might turn around and call me a liar or in league with Dumbledore?"
"Possibly, but again, missing the point," Greengrass said.
Iris frowned. "It... might draw attention to the fa—"
Greengrass cut her off. "It might draw attention, period. You have a goal. So do I. And both of these require, absolutely require as little attention to be pointed our way as possible."
Fucking hell, she hated that the bitch was right.
"You will do nothing," Greengrass said. "You can do nothing. This is Dumbledore's issue to deal with. We will deal with it if and only if it affects what we are trying to do."
The Gryffindor part of her mind was screaming in fury, wanted to lash out at her and call her out for the cold-hearted bitch that she was. It was sort of her fault, so of course Iris wanted to fix it. But she was painfully aware that the girl was basically echoing her own past thoughts about her own goal. There was some biting irony about the fact that she instantly recognized what was wrong with this sort of thinking when others did it, yet had completely dismissed it as necessary when she did it herself.
Deciding to change the topic before she did something she would regret, Iris finally asked, "Was that why you were here? Just to mock me for my bad choices?"
"No," the girl replied. "I'm here because I need your help."
Iris' gaze turned back into a firm glare. "You still haven't done anything for me, other than completely bugger up our first deal. If you want me to help, you will... show some good faith."
Greengrass, of course, was completely unperturbed. "Fine. What do you need?"
"Two things, actually," Iris said.
"You get one. Then you do one for me. And then you get another."
Iris rolled her eyes. "Fine."
She pondered for a moment what to start with. There was this one issue that was still fresh on her mind, given what she had just read, but she still wasn't sure if she could trust the girl with something like this, even given their deal. So Iris decided on a trial run instead.
"I need to learn the Obliviation Charm."
Greengrass didn't even blink. "I could give you some pointers, but with that charm, there won't be a way around actual practice. It's mostly a question of control."
"I can't just go around obliviating random people just to learn a spell," Iris replied incredulously, as if that should be obvious.
Greengrass gave her that look again. After a second, she shrugged. "Fine. Cast it on me instead."
Sure, why didn't she think of that. Just one question. What. The fuck.
Iris held the gaze of the black-haired nutcase, but the girl didn't blink. Somehow, she was getting the impression that Greengrass hadn't been kidding.
"Come again?"
"I want you to try it on me instead," Greengrass repeated matter-of-factly.
Iris returned her gaze incredulously. Finally, she carefully said, "You're that confident in your ability to block it?"
There was no way Greengrass would go along with this if there was even a chance of Iris actually obliviating the girl.
"You could always go and practice on some random Muggle in the streets..." Greengrass said with a shrug.
"You..." Iris said, then mulled over her words. She was so very tempted to just try it and let the girl deal with the consequences of her own making. But once again, despite better judgement, she asked to clarify, "You do realize that spells cast using pure aspects sometimes can achieve things that they normally shouldn't?"
The black-haired enigma mirrored her own slightly condescending look. "This isn't Charms class, Potter. It's the Mind Arts," she said, as if that explained anything.
When Iris didn't let up, she sighed, and finally, deigned her with a sort of actual answer. "The Obliviation Charm, much like the Legilimens Charm, is but a crutch. An attempt to let the wand do, what the mind should."
Wow. This girl was almost worse than Dumbledore and Snape combined.
"It is one thing to craft a spell with a predetermined command to enter the mind and perform its task. But it is a different matter altogether to penetrate into the deepest layers of a fully formed mind. With sufficient skill in Occlumency, once you have achieved a material mindscape, penetrating the Mind with anything that does not bear a mind of its own becomes all but impossible."
Greengrass had somehow managed to sound both helpful and condescending at the same time.
"The only way to achieve what the spell should, once the target has mastered Occlumency, is to use Legilimency—true Legilimency—not a wand, and match them in a battle of wits on their own home turf," she concluded.
The girl's gaze swept across the scenery of the mountain road, and towards the tall and surreal buildings looming in the distance.
"Take this abomination that you call your Occlumency for example. A spell could enter here like any other, but the moment it does, it transitions into this realm. It is confronted with rules that it does not comprehend. While this place wouldn't stop a flobberworm with true Legilimency, just the fact it is so different from what the spell expects would cause it to majorly malfunction on its own. I suppose if someone tried to cast the Obliviation Charm on you in this state, it might not fail outright, but you would still retain the majority of your memories."
Well, there went her backup-plan of just obliviating Voldemort if it turned out he was actually immortal.
"Okay then..." Iris finally muttered, but then realized the problem with that. "But if you're just going to block it, then how do I know if it worked?"
The girl didn't even blink. "Fair point. Then how about this."
"What the f— Who is that?" Iris exclaimed.
A girl with long blonde hair had just materialized out of thin air next to Greengrass, after her eyes had glowed in the eerie deep blue of the Mind aspect for a second.
"That..." Greengrass said, as if talking about the weather, "...Is your target."
"Nine, Fifty-two, Thirty," said the blonde next to her in a snooty voice.
"Who is she?" Iris repeated.
Greengrass sighed. "A construct."
"But who—"
"Nine, Fifty-Two, Forty," interrupted the new girl.
Iris studied the girl for a moment. She was a bit shorter than either Iris or Greengrass. Her long blonde hair seemed meticulously maintained, braided in some places and not a single strand out of place. She seemed to have gone heavy on the eye-liner—not that Iris would know much about that—and generally her face looked like she spent more time in front of a mirror daily than Iris and Tracey did combined in a year. She was wearing long and thin golden earrings, a robe that seemed to absolutely scream upper-class, and high-heels that had no business being on a girl that young—in fact, she'd probably be a lot shorter compared to them without the heels. This girl looked like she had taken Pansy as an idol and then never figured out how to stop.
For a simple construct, this was a heck of a lot of details that seemed anything less than random.
"Nine, Fifty-Two, Fifty."
"Is that... all she does?" Iris wondered for a moment.
Greengrass flicked her fingers. "Pay it no mind. Try beginning with a span of a few minutes. Do you know the spell specification?"
"Yeah, but—"
"Nine, Fifty-Three, Zero," the blonde interjected.
Oh. She was... announcing the time? Yeah, but... Oh.
Iris raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure about this?"
Greengrass had begun tapping her foot impatiently. Finally, Iris relented and sighed, as she drew her wand. Which, huh. She wondered how this would compare to doing it in the real world. But then again, if anything, mind magic was the one thing that should definitely work in a non-real place like this.
"Nine, Fifty-Three, Ten," the unnamed girl announced haughtily.
"Well, don't say I didn't warn you," Iris said with a sigh.
She focused, drew a mix of Mind and Destruction to her virtual wand, and performed the first stage of the pattern. Memories went backwards, so she focused on the starting time—which was now—until the left of her wand lit up in a purple half-circle. Then she performed the second stage, and focused on five minutes ago, which lit up the right half of the circle. Finally, she began to pull it back together. Once she felt the intent imprint into her wand, she performed the final circular swish and incanted, "Obliviate."
A flash of purple light, Iris felt something catch. The spell latched on... swept her mind in search, sunk in and wrapped itself around something. The blonde stumbled in place. Then she blinked. And blinked again.
"Uh... N... F... Th— Four? Four Thir... No, Four Fo— Four Fifty! Four Fifty and... Something. Four Fifty-Two! I think. Yes."
Greengrass sighed. "How did you picture the timeframe? Let me guess, numbers?"
Iris wasn't really listening. She had thought the girl was just a blank construct, but right now, she was almost acting as if... Had she... had she just... Wait, had Greengrass— Just who was this girl?
"Potter?" Greengrass had clicked her fingers in front of her face.
"Mind magic doesn't really do numbers. Especially in combination with other factors. I found that it works best when you picture something as far removed from math and writing as possible. Either the actual memories, a spot in time, or failing that, an analog clock. Magic seems to understand those a lot better."
It said something about the situation that Iris just completely skipped over the fact that Greengrass had apparently experimented with this spell to a sufficient degree to know all of that. All of this was messed up. But amidst it all, there was still the path. Her goal. And Greengrass had just provided one useful tip.
Greengrass' eyes lit up once again, and the blonde blurred for a moment, until she was back, and immediately spoke up again.
"Nine, Fifty-Four, Twenty."
Had she just... wiped out that girl and replaced her or something?
The black-haired girl tilted her head and queried, "Try again?"
Fuck this. Fuck all of this. She had to quit thinking about this before she lost the chance to actually learn this spell. She needed this spell. She wasn't going to have another shopkeeper blow his own brains out just because she was too skittish to take what was right in front of her now.
Iris shook herself, raised her wand, performed stage one, pictured the current time on the handles of petunia's kitchen clock, then stage two, and the same time with the minute hand moved one tick back. "Obliviate!"
"Uh... Nine, Fifty... Th... Four! Nine, Fifty-Four, Z... Ten? Maybe?"
"I suppose that was a decent enough attempt," Greengrass concluded.
Iris let out a breath. She was glad that she had managed it in the end, but... holy fuck. This whole situation was so messed up, she had no idea what to think. And she wasn't even slightly reassured by the fact it was sort-of happening inside her own mind.
"Well, you've achieved the scalpel, let's see if you can handle the dagger."
The... oh.
The blonde blurred again, reformed, and then blinked. But this time, she wasn't counting. "Oh. Who are you?" she said, as her eyes met Iris', and her face warped into a grimace of disdain as she took in Iris' appearance.
"I—"
"Just ignore her," Greengrass cut in.
Iris turned her gaze towards the black-haired girl instead, her expression demanding an answer.
"Standard Obliviation is very much reversible, as you know first-hand. The only way to make it irreversible without diving into true Legilimency is a full-scale Obliviation. The simplest is to set the end point to infinity, as far as it will go. But that simply wraps the charm around the whole of all memories at once, which while harder to reverse, is still very much reversible by a very skilled Legilimens, despite what the books say."
Oh. So it wasn't as simple as that?
"There is a trick to it, to make the spell do something that even the most accomplished of Legilimens can only do through the greatest effort. Instead of making the spell do one action, carve out one memory, you bend its purpose around on itself. In essence, you tie the starting point to the end, creating a sort of infinite loop, where the spell does not stop after it has carved out a memory, but just keeps going and going, until it runs out of memories."
Iris stared back at the girl who was talking about tearing apart someone's mind like they were learning about the Merlin-damned Lumos charm.
"I realize that this is not exactly what you asked for, but it is what you might need. And also, you asked for a gesture of good faith."
Good faith, huh?
"What are the two of you talking about?" snapped the still unnamed blonde with a tone that reminded her eerily of Aunt Petunia.
It had been creepy as hell before, but the way the girl was acting now... Was there something going on? Was Greengrass testing her somehow? This was all sorts of wrong. But...
A single word, a flash of blue, a splatter of red.
Never again. Iris gripped her wand. This girl was just a construct. Nobody was getting hurt.
She met the eyes of the blonde, who sneered at her, but as Iris held her gaze, the girl's expression wavered.
From what Greengrass had said, she had a vague idea of how she was supposed to do this. Instead of an absolute timespan, she needed a relative timespan. The only thing she could come up with was to use numbers like she had before. But then again, it didn't matter if she wiped out five minutes or five hours.
Iris performed the first pattern, and focused on the here and now. A purple half-circle lit up to the left of her wand. Her wand swiped through the second half, while focusing on going five minutes back again. Finally, the second half lit up. Now came the hard part. She focused on the half-formed spell, and began to tug at the half-circles. She stretched them out, right into left, and left into right. Both circles quickly growing into a full circle each, both merging into each other. The end became the beginning, and vice-versa. Just for extra-credit, she sent it spinning, and finally pulled it all back into her wand, as she finished up the spell.
"Obliviate!"
A flash of purple and Iris felt it catch. Except this time, it just kept going. The girl gasped and collapsed to her knees. Her eyes were glowing, flickering with a mix of Red and Indigo. On and on it went, five seconds, ten, twenty, the spell running through her mind over and over again.
Finally, the glimmer died down, and with one final gasp, the girl collapsed back to a sitting position, where she remained. Iris stared. Vacant eyes stared back.
"You never cease to defy the expectations of reason."
Greengrass flicked her hair out of her face, and almost as an afterthought, the unnamed blonde promptly faded into thin air, as if she had never been here in the first place.
Iris stared at the empty space that was left behind. Fucking hell.
"That... just who was—"
Greengrass once again cut her off. "Satisfied? Good. Because I still need your help."
Iris took another breath, trying to get her thoughts back into order. Yeah, fuck all of that, but she could work through that later. Iris still needed the girl for something else. So she supposed it wouldn't hurt to see what Greengrass wanted.
"Alright. What do you need?"
Greengrass was leaning against one of the lampposts and gave her a smirk. "What I need... is your expertise on polarized magic."
"And what exactly do you mean by that?" Iris replied.
"Ideally, I would just copy the knowledge from your mind..."
"Life is not a wishing well, Greengrass," Iris interjected.
"So instead," Greengrass continued unperturbed, "I require your help. You asked for a spell, so I shall do the same. Whether you can teach me, or just perform it yourself is up to you."
Iris sighed, then pinned her under a glare. "What exactly do you need?" she repeated.
The girl held her gaze for a moment, before she finally spoke in a more serious tone. "I need to either cast, or have someone else who can cast, the Patronus Charm."
Chapter 12: Paradox
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Iris did her very best to not let a reaction show, but she failed miserably. Really? Greengrass had just made a point of letting her know that the knowledge she had been teaching her would be useless if used against herself, and now she was asking to learn a charm that would be a hard counter to Iris' own brand of magic?
Well... Sort of? But she had basically offered her the decision of whether to teach her or just cast it herself, instead of insisting that she'd teach her. There'd be no point if she just decided to do it herself from the start. But then again, maybe that was the goal? Maybe she had framed it like that to make Iris do something again? Something that she wouldn't otherwise agree to... Argh.
It was way too early to play this round of mental wizards' chess with Greengrass again. Assuming that the Charm was the actual goal, that left the question of why. She supposed it could be used to disperse dark polarized magic, but from what she had read and seen, that was one of the clunkiest and slowest polarized spells. The Auror had taken over ten seconds just to summon the Light magic, then another five to actually cast the spell. So probably not related to dueling then. But that didn't leave many other use cases that she knew about. Its main use was to drive off Lethifolds, or rather, most likely herself, and... Dementors.
Oh. Wait, what?! Iris knew the girl was insane, but something like that? Was she actually planning to break into a prison? And why?
She had no idea if there were other Dementors anywhere, other than guarding Azkaban, at least, as far as the books and occasionally Tracey had explained. No. It had to be something else. Nobody was that insane.
Iris was starting to understand why the girl hadn't trusted anyone with this—and wasn't even trusting Iris really, even with what she had just revealed.
But then again, what they had just been doing had definitely been... a gesture. She wasn't sure if it had actually been in good faith or not, but if anything, Greengrass had definitely proven her commitment to their deal. She could have just left out the advanced, twisted, and probably horribly illegal version of the Obliviation charm, and Iris would have been satisfied.
Not to mention she had provided her with a completely messed up but still very much preferable option to actually practicing the spell, that probably nobody else would or even could have offered.
She already knew she was going to regret this.
"In order to cast the Patronus Charm, you need to summon a significant amount of Light Polarized magic first," Iris said. "The issue is that unlike with Dark polarized magic, there is no summoning spell like Tenebris you can use for this. You have to perform this on raw emotions, which is why it can take a lot longer. The second stage should theoretically be identical to casting with Dark polarized magic. You'd have to draw all the summoned Brightness into your wand, and then perform the spell."
Greengrass tilted her head. "I know that much, thank you. The issue lies with both of these. I have not found any information or knowledge on how to achieve the second stage, no matter the polarization. And for the first stage, while I have learned the Tenebris spell, I have yet to produce any results trying either with or without it."
Iris shrugged. "The second part is mostly a matter of control, so if anyone, you should be able to handle it. I might be able to teach you, given enough time. It took me an entire year with him to just learn that part."
"What about the first?" Greengrass asked.
"To do that you'd need to immerse yourself in emotions, your best and brightest memories. You need to feel it all throughout your body, and instead of using your magic to cast a spell, you just bring that into your wand."
Greengrass stared blankly back at her, but didn't inquire further. Iris shifted a little under her gaze. She wasn't really sure what and how much to explain, she did like explaining things, but this girl mostly seemed to mock her whenever she tried to tell her anything that she already knew.
"I... could show you? I never cast the actual Patronus Charm, but I managed to summon some Light polarized magic in Professor Flitwick's office by accident..."
"You summoned... polarized magic... by accident," Greengrass repeated in a deadpan voice.
"Well, yeah. I do it with Dark polarized magic all the time, but that was the first time I managed with Light as well."
"Have you ever looked up the definition of the word impossible before?"
Iris bit down another retort and tried to focus on the task at hand.
Would that even work in this virtual space? Hang on. Myrtle's room had been just as non-real, had it? And she had cast all kinds of spells in there. It was worth a try.
Iris gripped her wand and closed her eyes. She let her mind calm down and tried to return her thoughts to...
...To what?
Which memory had she used the last time again?
Something... something about...
Oh no.
Iris was almost positive that she had been using a memory of Harry. There were just two problems with that. The first being the obvious. Any memories of him were tinged by that very dark undercurrent, that painful awareness that he was dead, and it was her fault.
The second, more pressing issue, was that she couldn't remember. She couldn't be sure, but Iris had a very bad feeling that the memory she had been using had been one of the ones she had sacrificed to the Pensieve.
Iris stood, her mind desperately running through all the options, until she finally sagged.
"Well, damn," she mumbled.
For once, Greengrass didn't comment. The two girls kept silently staring at each other across the dark road for some time. The black-haired girl's visage finally took a new expression, which almost looked like disappointment. Although, Greengrass was no longer looking at her.
On the one hand, it wasn't really Iris' problem. But then again, after the girl had just gone above and beyond to help her, for her to now just shrug her shoulders and declare her request as impossible just because they were both emotionless wrecks didn't really sit right with her.
"Why exactly do you need the charm, anyway?" Iris asked carefully. "Do you need to actually drive off Dementors, or do you just need to get past them?"
Greengrass' gaze perked back up to meet her eyes with a surprised look that quickly turned thoughtful. "What do you suggest?"
What.
Iris tried to keep her face calm, but miserably failed. Her clumsy attempt to hopefully eliminate that insane possibility had—judging from her reaction—instead actually confirmed it. Fucking Dementors. Literal soul-sucking demons. Just what the hell was she getting herself into?
Iris mulled over her idea for a moment. Well, it was a long shot. No, in fact, it was bloody insane. Well, not that much more insane than most of her plans, to be honest. But then again, it had worked with Lupin. And with the books.
"I suggest we take the opposite approach."
~V~
At this point, Iris should really have just rented a hotel room somewhere in London, instead of commuting the shadow superhighway every single day, sometimes even multiple times. But there was still the fact that she was supposed to live here, and if she just moved out, people—read: Dumbledore—might come asking questions that were better left unanswered.
This time, her goal had been a little different, though. Greengrass had told her that apparently, there was a place in London where they kept a single Dementor locked up, and where they could test their strategy in relative safety. Iris agreed that with something like this, they'd better make sure it worked before they dove headfirst into somewhere as insane as Azkaban—if that was where the girl actually wanted to take this, Iris still wasn't sure.
For some reason, they were supposed to meet in a pub. And at five in the bloody morning, of all things. But not the one with a one-star rating. This one at least had two. Iris pushed open the door and was met with a musty smell that almost made her turn around on the spot. She took another step into the crowded dive faintly illuminated by several strings of lightbulbs draped across the ceiling, which seemed to have more broken bulbs than otherwise. Iris only barely managed to stop herself from stepping into what looked like... no, it didn't just look like it... Someone had vomited all over the ground next to the door, leaving only a small space of floor somewhat safe to step on. Iris held her breath and did the Hopscotch dance to try and get to the other side.
Only after the second hop, she felt a hand settle on her shoulder. Iris jumped, whirled, and almost lost her balance. Behind her stood a woman. Tall, slender, black hair and... yeah, she had no words to describe her face. It was, for all intents and purposes, unremarkable.
"Follow me."
Iris' eyes went wide. Was that Greengrass? What? Oh, was that... that charm that Lupin had used? But then what about...
The woman who was possibly her classmate turned and waltzed straight through the mess on the floor, somehow with none of it sticking to her shoes, the bloody cheater. When Iris had finally made it all the way outside, she spoke up, "Gree—"
"Shhh!" she was cut off by the woman placing a finger to her lips.
Iris opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by the sound of a ringing telephone once more. She shot the disguised Greengrass an incredulous look, but then decided to humor her and pick up the receiver.
"Sorry about that. I should have vetted the place before suggesting it."
Iris blinked. Okay, this was really confusing. The girl was standing right across from her saying nothing, yet also standing right across from another her in another place talking to her.
"What the hell is that place, anyway?" Iris queried.
"It is close to our destination."
Okay. But Iris still had no idea what that destination actually was.
"Right over here."
The disguised Greengrass turned to look across the road, but all Iris saw was a blank concrete wall with graffiti on it, and an old red telephone box. Was this another one of those silly hidden entrances?
The nondescript face turned into a smirk.
"It is indeed."
"Would you stop reading my mind?" Iris snapped back. "Don't make me give us another migraine."
Greengrass didn't deign that with a reply, instead, she pulled her into a corner of the street, then started to rummage through her bag for a second, before holding out a tiny vial with lime green liquid to her.
"What's that?" mental Iris whispered.
"Aging potion," Definitely-Not-Greengrass replied in a silky voice.
Iris shot her a suspicious look. "Care to repeat that over the phone?"
The nondescript face smirked, and mental Greengrass shrugged. "You're learning. Good. What's in this vial is nothing more and nothing less than pure off-the-shelf Aging Potion."
"And you promise that's the truth?"
The smirk widened. "I do."
Iris supposed that was the best she was going to get. She still had no idea how far agreements and promises would stretch in a mental space, and what the exact penalties were for trying to violate them. Iris didn't want to risk finding out, but she was banking on the fact that Greengrass didn't want to, either.
Reluctantly, she grabbed the vial from the woman's grip and held it up against the light to inspect the colors. She had only done this potion once, but from what she could tell, it did seem like the real deal. Iris sighed, mentally prepared some profanity for her future self to hurl at her past self, and took a swig.
It tasted like strawberry soda, for some reason. Which was a taste that just didn't work, in her humble opinion. What did work, however, was the potion. A strange feeling started to spread through her stomach, then her lower body, and into her arms and legs. It grew warm, tingly, and for the lack of a better term, full. Iris stumbled and almost lost her balance as her legs, her arms, her whole body began growing. The charms on her Hogwarts robes did their best to try and keep up, yet she was feeling increasingly constricted, her undersized clothes making it hard to breathe. The woman across from her—who was now the same height as her—drew a wand and waved it over her frame, and Iris drew in a relieved gasp of air.
She looked down to inspect herself, well, as much as she was able. Her once green trimmed Hogwarts robes had seemingly been transformed into simple robes that were almost entirely black, except for a distinct silvery metallic seal emblazoned on her chest. She couldn't see much beyond that, since... Uhm...
Yeah. Why the hell had she spent all this time shopping for fitting clothes if this was where she was headed? Also, apparently, she owed Tracey a Galleon in the future, heh.
Iris shifted left to right, testing out her new longer appendages and getting used to this new shape. Everything around seemed... smaller? Or maybe it was just everything about her that seemed bigger in comparison. The weirdest part was that odd feeling of both being too big and at the same time feeling like the world had shrunk around her. Doors weren't supposed to be this tiny. Neither were people. And the telephone box almost looked like she'd have trouble even fitting inside.
She wasn't sure she was all that happy with this shape, to be honest. It wasn't uncomfortable, but also, seeing how she couldn't cast Protego, a lot of her fighting style relied on her being able to dodge most attacks with minimum effort. Iris bent her knees, and did a little jump, then raised a surprised eyebrow. She certainly didn't feel older. If anything, she felt mostly the same, even moving around like this, except that she was just bigger than she should be. She shifted back and forth, onto each foot, and did little skips to test her balance. Some things, especially her footwork, seemed off. Both her legs were longer, but also the ground was further. She felt like she should be treading air, but was, in fact, walking on the ground. She guessed the potion was more of an appearance thing than anything else, otherwise people would probably use something like this to just stay young forever.
"Are you quite done?" mental Greengrass said in a chuckle as if she was watching a kitten chase its own tail.
Iris' not so real body—which was still her regular younger self—gave Greengrass a hopefully vexing grin. "You'll thank me if we end up in an ambush."
"Wonderful, go ahead and jinx it," Greengrass replied dryly.
The black-haired woman then proceeded to draw her wand up to Iris' face, and before she could protest, waved it across her to a very strange sensation. It felt a bit like wearing a mask, except, well that she wasn't.
Iris threw a glance into the reflection of herself in the windows of the telephone box and raised an eyebrow. Someone was staring back. Someone and no one. She definitely recognized the hair, the color, the shade, even the style—namely, that there wasn't one. But the face was completely and utterly unremarkable. This was so strange.
"Should we do something about the hair?" she finally asked.
"We can't. It would interfere with the charm. The Obscuro Charm does not change anything about how you look, it just manipulates people's perception. Any other magic trying to achieve something similar in its direct vicinity is bound to do more harm than good. The Aging Potion is already stretching it, but since the intent of that potion is not to alter your recognizable features, there isn't necessarily a conflict here. This is a weaker version than the one the Unspeakables use. It's not immediately obvious that the charm is in use, but in turn, it is a lot more finnicky and not a perfect protection."
She guessed that made sense. Iris looked over her own reflection in the mirror some more. Okay, sure, the hair was pretty distinctive, but the rest of her couldn't be further from the girl everyone—including herself—had gotten to know. And it really was remarkable just how much she was getting thrown off by seeing an unfamiliar face attached to her own hair color. Iris supposed that it wasn't quite as obvious as she had first assumed after all.
Still. She should probably try her best to avoid any unnecessary attention in this disguise.
Iris sighed and spoke up again. "Alright, so what are we doing here? And what exactly is this place?"
Definitely-Not-Greengrass gave her a knowing smile, but didn't elaborate. Instead, she swept across the road towards the telephone box, and pulled it open, gesturing an inviting hand inside. Iris shot her an incredulous look but followed along. The two of them squeezed into the tiny telephone box, and Iris had a feeling this was a lot more awkward for her than the emotional black hole next to her.
Greengrass fumbled with a coin for a moment, until she managed to insert it into the slot of the old telephone, then dialed a number that Iris didn't quite catch.
A female voice began speaking inside the cramped red telephone box, as if someone else was standing right next to them. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and the reason for your visit."
Iris' eyebrows went sky-high, but before she could say anything either mentally or otherwise, Greengrass had spoken up, a glint of Indigo making its way into her eyes. "My name is the reason for my visit."
There was a pause, until the phone gave a sharp ding, and tossed the coin she had inserted into the coin return. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, please state your name for your visit, and your name for your visit, and your reason for your name for your visit for your name. Welcome, have a nice visit."
Suddenly, the entire telephone box shook and began to sink into the ground.
"What the fuck, Greengrass? Did you maybe forget to mention the teensy detail that we were breaking into the bloody Ministry?!"
The mental brat just shrugged back. "Keep up, Potter."
Iris ground her teeth. She was half-way tempted to just turn around on her heel and... well maybe try and somehow get out of here by herself and leave Greengrass to figure out the rest. But she knew all too well that since their first mental chat, the scales had shifted between them. While she did have some dirt on the girl, Greengrass very much had the upper hand right now. She wasn't going to break their deal, and they both knew it.
Light burst from the outside of the telephone box, and she realized that they had just entered what looked like a massive underground hall, and were now slowly descending from the ceiling. The walls were covered in dark green stone, and windows. At the end of a hall stood a massive, grotesque statue. And the floor was sprinkled with... witches and wizards, apparently. Iris swallowed.
Lower and lower they descended, until the telephone box came to a shuddering halt and the phone gave another ding, as the door swung open. Iris was slapped in the face by a wall of noise.
Despite all the people here, the place seemed pretty empty when compared to its sheer... scale. She guessed at this time of day, most of the ministry employees would still be asleep, which probably was the point. Still, there were already people all over the place, most of them simultaneously looking like they were still half-asleep, and yet vibrating with an urgency to not walk even a fraction too slow. Because apparently, bureaucracy didn't sleep, and waited for no one. The same voice from the telephone box was announcing what sounded like boring gibberish to do with Wizengamot votes over the silent morning bustling of wizards and witches. Over to the side, a vendor was lazily announcing that the waste of ink that called itself a newspaper had a special edition on Harry's death. Iris was half-way tempted to lop a polarized Depulso at the bearded man and try to disappear into the crowd as if nothing happened. Except the crowd was far too sparse, sadly.
"Follow me," mental Greengrass said, as her slightly more real counterpart turned to shove her way down the hall, between people, towards the large gate at the front.
Iris glanced across the hall and noticed that some of the crowd was glancing back. Not in a what are you doing here sort of way, but more in a different way... well... an even creepier way, somehow. At least, none of the looks showed any traces of recognition, despite the fact that her face had been splattered all over the Prophet in a sappy section about the poor hapless orphan sister that Harry had left behind towards the end of yesterday's edition, which Iris hadn't even done the courtesy of looking twice at.
They approached a set of iron counters and gates, where people queued up to file into the hallway behind one by one. When they finally reached the front, they were stopped by a short stuffy wizard with sweaty brown hair manning what looked like a security counter. Iris threw a nervous glance at mental Greengrass, who returned a blank look, but said nothing.
"Good morning. Wands please," the wizard said, while suppressing a yawn.
Definitely-Not-Greengrass actually fucking smiled. "Bobby! Thank Merlin! Listen, I need a solid. You know what you said about your wife last week? I may have kind of a similar... Ugh... screw it. I messed up, okay? I got stuck the whole night figuring out what to do, after what you said, I'm still not sure but, anyway. The problem is Dolores. I completely slept on the Monday report because of that. And you know how she is, right? The moment I stamp in, she'll be there, in front of my desk, giving me that look."
Iris watched wide eyed as Greengrass was talking to that random wizard like an old friend, wrapping him around her finger as if she had popped out her personality cartridge and swapped it with the polar opposite of the psychotic bitch she was. Almost like... Huh.
The black-haired woman leaned incredibly close towards the wizard who had all sorts of emotions running through his face, and was stammering responses sounding just as confused.
"I'm telling you, that woman doesn't sleep. One time, she was there to dock my pay because I had the audacity to deliver the report due at bloody midnight ten Merlin-damned minutes late to the mail drop at her office, like there'd be a bloody difference, right? But no, of course she was there; opened the door up right in my face, just as I tried to submit the envelope. Been saying for years, there's no bloody way that she's fully human, or at least-- Ugh. Sorry."
Was she just openly messing with his brain? Or did she just tell him what she knew he needed to hear by reading his mind?
"Anyway, I mean I had one idea but... I mean ugh... no. Forget I said anything. That wouldn't really be fair to you, would it? Sorry." Greengrass slumped, then turned a defeated expression towards Iris.
"I know. Sorry for getting your hopes up. Should have listened to you from the start, but... I just thought, since it's my fault, and I wouldn't want to drag you into it, I'd... yeah. I'm rambling. Sorry," Greengrass sighed, throwing a heart-wrenching expression her way.
Iris scrambled her wits and tried her best to jump in and play along without any idea of the actual context. "Hey, I told you, don't worry about it. What's done is done. No bad feelings, no matter what happens."
Also, whoa. Was that her actual voice?
"Thanks. Really. Don't know what I'd do without you. But yeah, I guess it's time to face the pink dragon. Anyway," she turned back towards the security clerk with a bittersweet smile. "Lovely chat, Bobby. I'll send you a postcard if we actually do get fired."
Greengrass ruffled through her robes and held her wand out to the clerk, with Iris trying her best to mirror her look of resignation.
The overwhelmed clerk stared down at the proffered wand as if it was a signed divorce contract.
"I... uhm... well..." he stammered for a moment, then looked over to both sides, and leaned forwards. "Listen. If you promise not to tell anyone, how about I skip you in, you get the report done, then return to stamp in in an hour?"
"Really? You would?" Greengrass gushed excitedly, and Iris followed suit.
"Won't you get in trouble?" Iris carefully added.
"Eh... I didn't see anything. Come on through now. Let's talk later," he added with a longing smile, as he waved his wand over the small terminal next to him and the metallic gate clicked open.
"You're the best, Bobby!"
"Thanks!" Iris added with a smile, and followed Greengrass past the dazed guard through the gate and into what he had called the Atrium.
Morgana's fucking tits. Iris still had a lot to learn.
Finding herself grudgingly impressed, Iris followed Greengrass through the large towering hall with what looked like office windows lining the walls all the way up. At the end, a row of elevators awaited. They approached one that was currently arriving and stepped to the side to let out the crowd of wizards that had been crammed inside.
"Who's Dolores?" Iris asked curiously.
"Dolores Umbridge. Senior undersecretary of the Minister. Think You-Know-Who, if he had decided to follow a career in bootlicking and paper-pushing," mental Greengrass answered with a shrug.
They stepped into the metallic elevator, and a large wizard in a black robe and an old lady with a trolley stepped in after them.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please choose your destination."
"Level six," said the wizard.
"Level nine," added the old lady.
"Level twelve," said Greengrass.
The doors slid shut, and the elevator began to move upwards, at first slowly, but then rapidly building speed.
"What's level twelve?" asked Iris.
"It's the archive," replied Greengrass.
"And what are we doing there?" she clarified.
"Nothing," came the enlightening reply.
"Level six, Department of Magical Transportation," announced the female voice, and the doors slid open, allowing the wizard to step off with a nod to them. Finally, they came shut once again, and this time, the elevator plunged downwards.
"Then why are we going there?" prodded Iris.
"Because we need to have the elevator to ourselves," replied Greengrass.
Okay... now she was really getting curious.
"Level nine, Department of Mysteries," said the voice, allowing the old lady to push her trolley off the elevator, leaving them finally alone.
"Department of Mysteries... that old paper-pusher-lady was an Unspeakable?" Iris asked incredulously.
"They don't just do magical research there. They also have a room that keeps copies of every single Prophecy, and a whole area dedicated to divination of anything from the most boring bureaucratic nonsense all the way to critical indicators of the magical integrity of the entire building."
"So... then what do they actually do?"
Greengrass however, didn't reply. Her eyes had turned into a brightly glowing shade of Indigo, her pupils moving, studying something only she could see.
"Level twelve, Archive," came the final announcement, and the doors slid open once again, this time, to an empty hallway.
"Please choose your destination."
"Level thirteen," Greengrass said in a firm voice.
"Authorization required, please state your name."
Greengrass didn't even hesitate. "My name is either none of your concern, or I am not authorized to enter this level."
Iris blinked.
The elevator did not reply. The seconds stretched some more, until Greengrass sighed.
"Please choose your destination."
"Well, so much for that. It seems we're not taking the quick way, then. Level eleven, please."
The doors slid shut, and the elevator began to move upwards again.
She kept staring for some time as the elevator slowly started to ascend, her eyes still aglow, until she spoke up in a voice that somehow seemed to echo with a strange sort of authority. "Begin elevator inspection."
The low white light in the elevator turned into a bright yellow, and the elevator slammed to a shuddering halt in an instant.
"Inspection Mode engaged. Last inspection was performed seven months ago. Runes are in acceptable condition. No incidents reported since last inspection."
Iris shot Greengrass an incredulous look, wondering just what that had achieved. The woman returned a smirk, and spoke up one final time. "Locomotion Test. Direction: Down."
The cabin shook and began to move in an instant, this time, downwards. Iris stared in awe. Her awe quickly turned to frustration as she realized that while the elevator had started moving instantly at speed, it was only moving at that one speed, and it wasn't getting any faster.
The two girls kept awkwardly staring at each other as the bricks slowly crept past them, moving them lower inch by painful inch.
A blue light burst through the grated doorway as they passed the exit of level twelve, and Iris noticed a group of wizards standing all the way across the hall. They both did their best to act as inconspicuously as possible, as they passed them by inch by inch, hoping they wouldn't look too closely at the definitely not normally operating elevator passing them by towards a level that should be off limits.
Finally, the last gap of the exit vanished and they kept descending deeper and deeper.
"So... where are we actually heading? For real," Iris finally asked, now that they were all alone.
"Level thirteen, the Warehouse."
"The what?" she raised an eyebrow.
"You'll see," Greengrass replied.
Finally, at long last, another exit hatch crept into view, and when the door was about aligned with the exit, Greengrass finally said "Locomotion test, stop."
And the elevator came to a clattering halt. However, the door remained firmly shut.
Greengrass met her eyes and raised a hand. "Would you do the honors?"
Iris thought she'd never ask. Closing her eyes for a second, she drew her wand, produced slightly more than the necessary amount of Control aspect, jabbed, twisted and declared "Alohomora."
Notes:
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Chapter 13: Warehouse
Chapter Text
The metal grate flashed yellow and folded inwards, allowing them passage into a dark and dusty hallway.
Iris shot a wary look at Greengrass, who for once didn't appear entirely unconcerned. Apparently, breaking into the actual Ministry of Magic had been the easy part. Great.
They were standing in a long stone hallway, the only light hailing from the yellow glow inside the elevator cabin. The walls were blank, gray, and not a single thing of note in sight except for a large iron door at the far end of the path.
With a shared nod, they began to forge down the path, until they stood in front of the massive door. It seemed strangely out of place. The rest of the building seemed more old and dilapidated, imposing more in its scale and grandiosity, rather than through pristine quality. This door was the exact opposite. It didn't even really fit with the walls around it. Whereas most things in the wizarding world were made of either wood, stone, clay, or brass, this was made out of solid steel.
Greengrass stepped up to it, her eyes glowing for some time, until she sighed. No voice came asking for authorization, nor did anything really happen at all. Apparently, the door didn't have any kind of built-in magical mind that she could exploit. It was just a good old-fashioned door. New-fashioned, really.
"So... what's the plan?" Iris raised an eyebrow.
Greengrass didn't reply immediately. She spent some more time inspecting the door, shifting nervously, until she admitted, "I'm not sure. I... I've never been this far, and I haven't found much information on it."
"Then how about you explain what it actually is?" Iris said. "I can't do much except help you stare at the metal door if you don't tell me what we're supposed to do here."
"You could do the one spell you're useful for," Greengrass suggested.
"That's still one spell more useful than someone else I know right now," Iris said and shot her a smirk. "Probably should start charging by the hour, if you have to keep me around just for that."
"That door isn't going to open itself, you know?"
Iris frowned and turned to look at the door. It wasn't really worthy of that title, if she was honest. There were no hinges, no handle, no lock, no nothing. Just a solid steel frame bolted into the wall.
"I'm not sure if there is actually anything to unlock here..." Iris said. "But I suppose it's all in the eye of the beholder, or something."
She raised her wand and began to draw yellow light. Her wand began to grow warm and started vibrating as she let it build, but something felt off. The light felt—for a lack of a better term—fleeting.
Iris kept pulling, painstakingly drawing it bigger and bigger, until it just wouldn't go any brighter no matter what she tried. Finally, she jabbed, twisted and shouted, "Alohomora!"
A burst of sparks, and the yellow light coalesced into a bright bolt, bridged the gap and slammed into the steel door. It began to rumble and shake, the light spreading out from the point of impact like tendrils, making the surface glow as small cracks of yellow seemed to spread across the solid steel, until she noticed something. The light seemed to be drawn away, leeched off from her spell, down inside the door, disappearing somewhere she could not see. The faint shaking of the ground faded. The spell was still spreading as it slowly kept encompassing the door, but it grew slower and slower, until it flickered, and ground to a halt. Instead of shattering, it was all sucked away, every last wisp of light drawn beyond the door, never to be seen again.
Iris and Greengrass exchanged a nervous look. "What the fuck?" Iris said.
Greengrass said nothing, just standing there with a wary expression on her face, until she met her eyes once again. "I hadn't thought... all the way out here..."
"What. Is. that?" Iris repeated.
"The Dementor. Its influence must be extending all the way to the door. I suppose that is the actual reason for the door; to keep its influence confined within."
Iris took some time to process that. She didn't know much, but from what she had read... Dementors would drain away all emotions, all happy thoughts, trapping you in your worst memories—which was something Iris was secretly dreading—but that wasn't all there was to it. They also affected the weather, and the light. It would grow darker, colder, basically any sort of energy was drained away. Including magic, apparently. Although the books had never mentioned that little tidbit. Why the hell would they leave out something that important? Were they trying to get people killed? Did they just not want people to know about it for some reason?
Iris shook herself and tried to focus on her Mindlight. It might be a superstition thing; it might be a political thing. There was this whole idea of Muggleborns stealing magic, and now, it turned out there were creatures who were doing exactly that.
"Any more ideas?" Greengrass said with a hint of uncertainty.
As much as Iris wanted to enjoy that the girl finally seemed a little out of her depth, she wasn't really feeling it. This was a Dementor. She hadn't really quite comprehended what they were going up against, but now, she was... kind of worried. She was scared of losing her mind to the memory of Harry in the chamber. She was slightly more afraid of having her magic drained away by a creature of darkness. And that wasn't even getting into the possibility of having her literal soul sucked out. But somehow, none of this had seemed as important until now, when she was standing one door away from reality.
But she still wanted to proceed, for two reasons. One, as much as she hated it, she needed Greengrass, and even if she didn't, she couldn't back out of their deal now. And the other was the history lessons from Lupin. During the last war, the Dementors had apparently switched sides and decided to follow Voldemort. And she had no illusions about him just staying quiet this time. There would be another war. And she would have to face them eventually.
So, reluctantly, she turned her mind to the task at hand. One simple idea she had was that she could just pull them both into the shadow realm and try to find a gap to slip through. Possible, but then again, this was less of a door and more of a wall right now. It was completely bolted shut, no visible seams anywhere. And most of the time, she couldn't just slip straight through walls. There had to be some sort of gap.
Alohomora hadn't worked. So that only left her with... Well, maybe trying destructive force to disassemble the door? But that also meant possibly freeing whatever was on the other side. And even more worryingly, alerting the rest of the bloody Ministry to their presence.
But it wasn't just a wall. It was a sort of door. That meant, there had to be a way for people to enter, right? It was supposed to be a warehouse, even if she had no idea what that actually meant.
Iris' eyes scanned the door, then the rest of the room. And she froze. That hadn't been there before.
Lodged in the stone wall along the path they had been walking coming here, a small hidden panel had opened up—possibly from the tremors of her failed spell.
Iris exchanged another look with Greengrass, and they carefully approached. Embedded in the wall, hidden underneath a secret panel, lay a small... electronic keypad.
"Oh," Greengrass whispered in defeat.
Iris stared. Muggle technology? Down here? But how would...
"I suppose it only makes sense..." Greengrass began, "We're still close enough to the Dementor to allow Muggle technology to work despite all the magic of the Ministry surrounding us."
Yeah. And that made it the perfect defense. Placing a Muggle defense in a place where it couldn't be overcome with magic, and using technology which couldn't be controlled by wizardry.
"I'll give them credit. My apologies. I suppose I need to do some more research, then. We'll have to return if I do manage to acquire the code from someone who is in the know."
Yeah. Good luck with that. Whoever worked down here definitely would have to have at least some solid Occlumency, she guessed.
Iris knew she probably shouldn't. She had the perfect excuse to just turn and leave, without Greengrass thinking she was violating their deal, to just keep going with her own goal of trying to bring back Harry.
But...
Yes, she was curious. The same stupid curiosity that had killed the cat over and over, had driven her into the third-floor corridor way back then. But that wasn't all. Even if she could by now mostly ignore that impulse, there were other things that kept dragging it back to the surface. She really needed to face Dementors sooner or later. And also, she was curious what Greengrass was up to, and was hoping to learn something that would balance the scales. But most importantly, while she very much didn't want her as an enemy, the girl could also prove to be an ally in the future. And Greengrass had shown her some good faith with her own request. So now it was Iris' turn to do the same.
"Not so fast."
Greengrass turned back around from the elevator and gave her a confused look.
"You're not giving up yet, are you?" Iris said with a grin.
That yielded a deadpan expression from Greengrass. "We cannot use the direct approach due to the Dementor, and electronic protections cannot be tricked with magic either. Unless you have another bright idea that—"
"Are you sure about that?" she said cheekily.
Iris knew this really wasn't the time, but she'd be damned if she wasted the one chance where she actually had one up on the girl to mercilessly rub that fact in her face.
Reaching back into her robes, she withdrew her wand again with a flourish, and then slowly aimed it at the keypad. The Dementor had sucked away most of the magic before it could encompass the entire door, but she didn't have to charm a whole door, just one tiny keypad.
"What are you doing? You know it's impossible to use spells to interact with Muggle technology. All you'll achieve is to destroy it, and then they'll realize someone's been here," Greengrass said sharply. "Need I remind you that the Obscuro charm is not a perfect protection? Being subtle enough to slip their detection means it's also not strong enough to stand up to—"
"Oh, yeah, impossible. I guess you did say something like that..." Iris began to call some amount of Control aspect into her wand, then turned to shoot Greengrass a cheeky grin. "I still gotta look up the meaning of that word, sorry."
She jabbed, twisted forty-five degrees, and declared "Alohomora."
The keypad lit up in a green light and released a sharp beep.
A second of silence, as they both turned towards the door with trepidation, until with a heavy clunk, all the deadbolts retracted as one. In an instant, Iris felt a cold shiver run over her skin. The temperature in the room noticeably plummeted and even the light in the elevator seemed to dim. A flashing orange light lit up at the ceiling above the door, and after a second, it slowly began to swing open inwards.
Beyond it, a long metallic hallway was revealed, lit up in further flashing lights, leading quite the distance towards another metallic door at the end. Iris took a hesitant step forward, and Greengrass followed suit next to her. With every step, the air grew colder and colder, until she could see her own breath escaping her in a faint mist. At the end of the path, an even larger door loomed. And to the side was another keypad. Greengrass shot her a determined look, and she nodded back. Iris did the familiar song and dance, and with a sharp beep, the keypad lit up, and the door behind them slammed shut. Because of course it did.
There was a hissing sound, and slowly, the large door in front of them unbolted itself, piston by piston. With each heavy clunk, Iris felt the temperature plummet further, until she was sure it was well below freezing. The lights grew dimmer, much like she remembered in Lockhart's memory with the Lethifold. The hissing sounded a bit like—
"Sorry," a hoarse whisper over a backdrop of sizzling venom. "I wasn't able to... keep my... promise..."
Iris stumbled and clamped down on her thoughts hard. She desperately reached for her Mindlight, trying to fight back the memories, and focused on the here and now.
Barely holding on, she wrenched the feelings of terror, of guilt and self-hatred back where they belonged—far under the surface, buried underneath a flimsy facade of purpose. She couldn't allow herself to lose control like that, especially here.
Step by step she forged onwards, towards the door, as it slowly began to swing open. She barely caught a glance of the room beyond.
A large dark hall filled with shelves, crates, and all sorts of things. It was about as tall as the great hall, far taller than should be possible from the mere distance they had traveled in the elevator. The floor was littered in shelves, yet the majority above it was empty space. The ceiling was glowing red. From all over the hall, thin red beams seemed to be emitted upwards from tiny pillars in the ground, with what looked like red crystals lodged at the top. The beams pierced all the way to the top, where they seemed to mingle and stretch into a red glowing surface.
But among all this, one thing stuck out to Iris in particular. There was no sign of the Dementor.
Slowly, step by step, they made their way through the doorway and into the large warehouse. Because apparently, that's what it was. Discounting the strange red ceiling, and the gloomy atmosphere courtesy of the Dementor, it did indeed seem like a place to store... stuff.
To their left, right next to the door, there was a small alcove with a wooden desk and a chair. The desk didn't hold much. A colorful newspaper splayed atop it, some pens and a few sheets of standard muggle A4 paper, and a mug with the label World's Best Dad.
Getting curious, Iris leaned over the paper and began to read the scrawled note.
Arthur,
you can forget your idea to try and prohibit access to these Defibrillators to the general public. The muggles seem to use them all over the place, you won't find many towns that don't have at least one publicly accessible, ready for the taking. We also can't just remove them. Apparently, they use them like some sort of Rennervate charm, except after the heart has already stopped. And yes, I know how that sounds, but apparently it's standard practice, even our healers have some spells like that, although they are used very rarely, since you can only use them within seconds, before someone is truly dead.
I suggest to place them on the watchlist for any further raids, but there's not much else we can do here.
Gerhard
Huh. Wait, was that... because of her stunt last year? Now that she thought about it, somehow, Defibrillators had ended up on the Hogwarts list of banned items after that... The Aurors had seemed quite worried about what had happened, but she had no idea that it would have been that big of a deal.
Her gaze drifted from the note over towards the newspaper which was labeled Quibbler in bold colorful letters. Below that, there was a headline in a far more serious font, strangely reminiscent of the Daily Prophet.
Dumbledore was behind it all!
Harry Potter only the Beginning!
by Xenophilius Lovegood
A Nation is in uproar, and of course, I could not simply idly stand by. No, I had to dig deeper. And, fellow Quibblers, you would not believe how deep the snorkak-hole truly goes.
As a reputable source of news, we of course take the allegations from Ms. Skitter extremely seriously. A headmaster who is both senile AND an evil mastermind? That is some seriously impressive multitasking. But I suppose that is to be expected from someone who holds the office of Supreme Mugwump and Chief Warlock in addition to being Headmaster of Hogwarts.
But much more importantly, the earthshattering deductions of that article have sent us down on a solemn quest, a quest for the truth. What else could he have been hiding for all of these years? And what we found was nothing short of shocking.
Ministry archival records from the Department of Education have confirmed that You-Know-Who's name is nowhere to be found among the student registry! This, dear Quibblers, is incontrovertible proof that Dumbledore knew You-Know-Who even when he was attending Hogwarts, yet not only did he choose to do nothing about it, but he also went out of his way to conceal that fact afterwards! There can simply be no other explanation! This lack of evidence is clear evidence of the fact that Dumbledore is behind it all. Perhaps he even tutored You-Know-Who himself for all we know, only so he could make an even more formidable opponent for him at some point.
But it goes much deeper than that. The Chamber of Secrets was in fact not the first time a secret hidden area of the castle had been uncovered, in combination with a plot that almost destroyed the school. The last goblin uprising (which my lawyer reminds me not to call a rebellion, we don't have those anymore) in 1890, when the whole castle was under siege and only defended by one of the bravest heroes of the 19th century, almost cost the lives of several students, and even cost the lives of one member of staff. And this had not come out of nowhere, no, these events have been coming to a head over the course of a whole year, much like with the Chamber of Secrets. Who else but Dumbledore, with his vast knowledge of Hogwarts deepest and darkest secrets could have possibly known what was going on, and put a stop to it?
No, instead, he claims to have been conveniently absent, learning how to read, write and add numbers at the muggle school in his town. But being a mere nine years old at the time does not excuse a centennial genius like Dumbledore from responsibility, that is just what he wants you to think. No doubt he spent his time plotting and orchestrating these events even from the comforts of his crib. But then again, he may have already been too senile to understand the consequences of his actions. Possibly he had just been thinking about it as moving chess pieces around his playpen, never imagining in his aged nine-year-old brain the impact it could have on the real world.
Iris blinked, tearing her gaze from the parchment, and skipping the rest of the article. Greengrass was giving her an odd look. She was a pretty fast reader, but right now really wasn't the time to get sucked into a book like that due to her Mindlight.
Iris glanced across the hall, down the aisles of shelves and crates. "So... where is the Dementor?"
Greengrass hesitated, then said, "It should be somewhere around here. I suppose it would be locked up or tied down, since it is only required for the effect it has, not as an actual guardian like in Azkaban."
Iris slowly began to wander down the aisle with Greengrass following next to her. "For the effect? What exactly is this place, really?"
"From my understanding," Greengrass said, "This is a place where dangerous artifacts are stored. Not confiscated cursed objects enchanted by wizards, those would be sent to curse breakers to be rendered inert. These are objects enchanted using ritualistic magics."
Oh. And rituals were supposed to be permanent. So they couldn't just get rid of them.
"And the Dementor... is kept here to drain away their magic?" Iris asked.
"Yes, to keep them contained, and ensure they don't... act up... on their own," Greengrass replied.
So things like... her physics book? Wait, was her book illegal? Getting curious, Iris started inspecting the shelves, the various objects resting on them. Next to her, on a small wooden pedestal, tied down with what appeared to be several belts, rested a simple wooden broom. She raised an eyebrow, then read the small sign in front of it.
Cleansweep (Original)
Multiplies and will not stop sweeping until the entire room is clean.
NEVER USE OUTDOORS
Were they for real? With another wary glance at that mental image, she made her way past that thing and let her gaze sweep the shelves. Teapots, ropes, cauldrons, jewelry, stone goblets, furniture, full-body mirrors... Pretty much everything and the kitchen sink was here. And all of it was somehow dangerous, apparently. She guessed a lot of stuff must have accumulated in the past, before they made free ritual illegal. And even then, she had been doing rituals before she even knew what it was, maybe a lot of this stuff was just accidentally created by kids who didn't know better? And since there was no way to disenchant the ritual, or in any way alter its effects... She had no idea what would happen if you actually tried to destroy the object afterwards. Couldn't be anything good.
She turned another corner and raised an eyebrow. "Is that..."
"From our common room, yes," Greengrass replied dryly from some distance away.
Iris sheepishly met her gaze, then turned to look back at the all too familiar fireplace, still burning in a very low yellow flame. She focused her intent on it, and the flames flared a bit higher, even if they could still barely be called that. It was! How the hell did they move the entire fireplace here? And why? Somehow—ah, probably because of the Dementor—the fire was much lower than she remembered, but still very much going. Part of her almost wondered if her physics book was tied to a shelf somewhere around here. But that was silly, she had left that back at Privet Drive. Would they have locked up Petunia's pie too? Or... Neville?
Probably not, this place seemed to be about objects that have gained permanent magical properties, not just those that have undergone some sort of permanent change without any lasting magical effects. There probably wouldn't be any point to that. Possibly only the stuff that was actually dangerous. But why on earth would the Slytherin common room fireplace be deemed dangerous?
A stray thought suddenly took her off guard, and her breath caught. What else could be stored here? Other things that she could need... things that could prove useful... like...
The Stone. No way, right? Was that even a ritualistic artifact? Or was it something entirely different? If the Stone was actually real, would it be kept in a place like this? But then again, the story had been from France, so it didn't seem very likely. But still. Maybe—
Iris whirled as a sudden high-pitched whine pierced the silence, followed by a heavy bang of the metal door they had entered through slamming shut. Iris' gaze snapped towards Greengrass, who yanked her arm out of her handbag as if she'd just been burnt. The painful chime seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. In fact—
The small pillars, the pillars with the crystals! The red crystals—which looked eerily familiar, now that she was up close—flared up brightly, and after a second, the ceiling began to move. The wall of red descended, lower and lower, as the small pillars began to recede into the ground, and Iris braced for impact. The crystals finally winked out and disappeared completely, and the red barrier washed over them, and vanished without a trace.
In that instant, Iris felt like she had just been dropped into a frozen lake. Slowly, with dawning horror, her gaze drifted back to the ceiling. Because now she could see the actual ceiling, past the point where the red barrier had been. And it was there that she saw it.
Dark, floating, like silk blowing in the wind.
"I thought there was supposed to be only one?" Iris hissed.
Greengrass swallowed. "So did I."
Not just one, or even two. Almost a dozen of them. Dementors.
Where Lethifolds seemed more like shadows wrapped into a form, Dementors seemed to be the other way around. Almost like a floating dark cloak, except there was also something underneath. Something... humanoid.
One second Iris was straining her eyes to see it more clearly, the next she regretted her subconscious wish, as the swarm of cloaks halted mid-air, then turned as one and began to converge on them.
"Iris... wake up... you're safe now..."
No. Please.
"Sorry..."
Iris desperately reached for her Mindlight, yet she felt it slip right through her fingers, all of it drained away by the looming darkness from above. Acting on instinct, she clutched her wand, raised it up, and began to draw up the Orange of the Elemental aspect. Or at least she tried to. Instead, her wand remained a cold dead stick in her hand.
Lower and lower, the cloaked figures began to descend on them like angels of Death, spiraling slowly down towards the two hapless girls who had lost their way.
But Iris wasn't really paying attention anymore. Or experiencing anything really. Except for that one moment, that one memory, playing over and over in her mind.
It was her fault. She had failed. She had done everything to avoid this one outcome, and she had done everything wrong. And now she was about to meet the same fate. No! She'd never allow that. She would not let herself die as well.
Her magic was useless. Her colors were useless. Her thoughts were useless. All that remained were her memories, her regrets, and her hatred for what she had done; what she had become.
She reached for exactly that, and finally accepted it.
Shadows began rolling off her in waves, an electric shiver of power trailing up her spine, down her arms, even into her toes. The cloaked demons slowly crept closer, now circling right in front of them, almost close enough to touch.
But the fear, the paralyzing dread, the icy cold burning her skin was all gone. All that remained were shadows. And they felt almost comforting.
And apparently, the Dementors thought so too. The cloaked beings had stopped circling. They were now just hovering there, not getting closer, but also not leaving. Iris stood still, staring, and held her breath. One of them slowly crept closer, and closer. Not towards her, but towards Greengrass. The girl's eyes were wide, her mask firmly cracked, and she seemed torn between getting as close and as far from Iris as possible. The Dementor reached out a long bony black hand towards the black-haired girl's face, its breath rattling like a dying man desperate for a gulp of air. Iris gathered her wits and took a step closer, placing a hand on her shoulder and wrapped them both firmly in shadows.
The creature stopped. It was just floating there, barely a meter from their face, doing nothing. Just like all the others. What the hell?
Seconds stretched on and on, with neither of them seeming willing to make a move, the only noise being the low rattling breath of the floating demons of darkness. Were they trying to bait her? Were they angry? Scared? Happy? Was she just invisible to them? What was going on?
"Just go away already..." Iris whispered hoarsely, the enveloping shadows almost constricting her throat
The tall floating thing in front of them slowly tilted its head. Iris turned to shoot another look at Greengrass but her gaze snapped right back as she noticed motion. The Dementor right in front of her had turned, and slowly began drifting away. She watched the floating dark cloak with wide eyes, its shape shrinking smaller and smaller, while all the others still freely floated around them some distance away. She shot another disbelieving look at Greengrass, and this time, it was returned in full force.
No way that would work, right? Iris steeled herself, cleared her throat since she still didn't quite trust her voice, and firmly spoke up. "Go away."
And go away they did. Just like that.
Holy. Fucking. Shit. Was that how Voldemort had done it?
That look of mixed disbelief and hope from Greengrass quickly turned that moment of relief into an even more ominous realization. It looked like she wasn't getting out of that Azkaban visit after all.
Chapter 14: Facade
Chapter Text
For all the insanity of the first half of her summer, the second half had been a lot quieter. Luckily, getting out had been just as smooth as getting in, even if the intense stare Greengrass had kept shooting her had made the whole thing a lot more uncomfortable than it already had been. And as much as she had wanted to maybe try and keep looking for the Stone, they'd already had lost way too much time, and she had had no idea when the people who obviously worked there would show up, so she'd decided not to test her luck even further. Especially since the bigger challenge lay ahead still. Greengrass hadn't pushed, instead she had claimed that she had some things to take care of herself for now. Since Iris obviously wouldn't be bringing Harry back any time soon, she had happily taken the lucky break to focus on the remainder of all the not immediately do-or-die-things that had kept piling up.
Iris had buried herself in her research, trying to distract herself from the events at the ministry, the implications, and what possibly lay ahead. She had worked her way through all the books she had liberated both from Flourish and Blotts, from Knockturn Alley, and from Germany. And who would have guessed, there had been a reason why Raising the Dead for Dimwits was actually... for dimwits. And why it had been so cheap.
Apparently, Emeric had found a specific ritual using some symbols in a certain configuration that would result in a new kind of Inferi, one that wouldn't just temporarily animate the corpse with a spell or something, but instead sort of put the dead body back to life, except, of course, not really. What he described had something of a Zombie movie, really. No hint of any soul, of any mind being brought back, just a corpse coming to life and sometimes following its creator's will to a certain degree. And of course, since it was a ritual, it wouldn't just decay, and be incredibly hard to destroy.
But it was also blatantly obvious that Emeric had no idea how rituals actually worked. He presented every single step as facts, step-by-step instructions, as if he were brewing a potion. Iris wondered what would happen if someone actually tried to follow these instructions without any attempt at finding more modern symbols to replace what was there. But whatever it would be, she was sure it wouldn't be bringing any dead back to life. She wondered how he came up with this in the first place, or if he even did come up with it by himself at all, if that was his approach to rituals.
After that disappointment, Iris spent some more time practicing her magic, and finally got to finish the book on Occlumency. And yeah. It was bad. Unless she was very mistaken, forcing her mindscape into solid shape with her Mindlight without bringing any sort of order to it beforehand had probably done more harm than good. But she had no idea what exactly that would mean. She suspected that the process of becoming solid made—as the name implied—the whole structure a lot more rigid; resisting change. But who knew what else it might do. Or if it would still get worse.
If Greengrass couldn't help her with that, she'd probably have to ask either Dumbledore or Snape, she guessed. But she realized she couldn't just ignore it.
Yet right now, as the first of September loomed, she found herself in a different mood for a whole different reason.
A week ago she had received another letter from Dumbledore. This one had—with lots of roundabout phrasing and hidden truths—told her that on the first Sunday after their arrival, all students were invited to attend Harry's funeral.
Which yeah. Iris was oh so very tempted to just ditch Hogwarts altogether simply to avoid that. Attending his funeral was the last thing she wanted to do. That was much worse than just telling people, this was outright lying down and admitting that he was dead, and that he wouldn't be coming back. But she also knew she wouldn't be able to bring him back before then. And not attending might make the headmaster even more suspicious.
If only it wasn't for Dumbledore. If not for him she could keep her friends out of this mess, she could dodge Harry's funeral and instead rub it in everyone's face when she "found" him later, after she had spent the whole year scouring the Restricted Section in peace. But no. Instead she was caught between three separate factions at odds with each other, and all of them were in one way or another standing in her way.
Apparently, not even the supposed "good guys" could pull on the same rope for a minute, if the latest smear campaign against Dumbledore in the Prophet was anything to go by, where she still wasn't sure if the ministry was behind that as well, or if the Prophet was just somehow dancing to Voldemort's tune. They certainly hadn't put a stop to it.
Then, there was the situation with her friends, if she was even allowed to still call them that. Ron hadn't just stopped sending her cauldron cakes, at some point he had stopped replying altogether. So had Hermione. Luna had replied once, after Iris had replied to her ingame mail that she wasn't mad about the cake, but hadn't sent anything ever since. Tracey, Susan and Neville surprisingly were still writing. Also, she still hadn't replied to Theo, and she had no intentions to, either.
No news from Lupin.
And while she had received another letter from Sirius, it seemed after the following silence that he had taken the hint. Although she guessed that he would find an excuse to talk to her sooner or later.
At least the Dursleys had this time kept to their deal and left her as alone as they were able. Today, however, they'd actually need to interact for once. It wasn't like she could carry her trunk through the shadow realm.
Iris finished noting down the final order of post-it notes into her notebook, then took them down from the wall, removing any evidence of what she had been working on. Once she had run out of concrete research, she had tried to follow up on the possibility of parts of that fairy tale about the surgeon being true, specifically the objects allegedly created by Death. And more importantly, their current whereabouts.
The stone was still as much of a mystery as ever. As was the cloak. But the wand...
She couldn't be sure, but there were definitely a lot of theories going around about the so-called Deathstick. Most of which, apparently, led back to Germany. Not that she had any use for a wand like that, no matter how tempting a wand wielding the power of an empire sounded, but she was still painfully aware that she had no chance of ever using any sort of normal wand, no matter how special it might be. But then again, perhaps finding one of Death's artifacts might lead her to finding the others?
Maybe there'd be yet another joyful Deutsche Bahn experience in her not too distant future.
But for now, she had a different train to catch.
~V~
Iris glared at the brick wall, and the wall glared back. No, you wouldn't be convincing her that it wasn't. It was painfully obvious that the thing still wasn't over what Iris had done to it and consequently harbored a strong dislike towards her in particular. Well, the feeling was mutual.
She reached out again and pushed once more, to no avail. What the hell had she ever done to the blasted thing? ...Well, besides from—Shut up!
"Ugh. You stupid waste of clay. Listen! I'm sorry for what I did, okay? It won't happen again... probably," Iris grumbled, feeling increasingly silly talking to a brick wall while standing in the center of platform nine, being surrounded by Muggles on all sides. Another nudge just to check... Iris sighed.
"Come on... I need to get to school, and my friends are waiting for me!" Iris begged the piece of crap to finally let her through. "...Please?"
"Potter?"
Iris' head lost its support and thunked against the pretty brick wall with a groan.
"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" said the incredulous voice of the last person she wanted to talk to right now.
"Piss off, Malfoy," she said with a sigh.
"Do you still need your parents to show you how a door works?"
She was almost surprised he hadn't immediately taken a cheap shot at Harry instead, although he probably suspected that doing so might prove the quickest way to join him right now. Iris slowly turned and met his baby blue eyes with the coldest picture of annoyance she could muster. She didn't have to try all that hard. No. Because if he actually went there, the trip would be far from quick.
Malfoy met her eyes and paled, before shooting a quick glance towards the blonde standing next to him, then met her once more with a sneer, but there didn't seem to be that much confidence behind it. Iris blinked and shook herself. No. She had to keep herself together. He hadn't even said anything yet. Instead, she took the one avenue that was expected of her as a member of Slytherin house.
"Obviously, you don't, seeing how they didn't even bother to show up to see you off."
Malfoy stilled, and his expression seemed to waver for a moment. Iris raised an eyebrow.
"My parents, Potter, have far more important things to do. Like running the entire country. What are yours doing again?"
"Saving the entire country."
"And in doing so, apparently forsaking their children's education. Come, let me show you how to properly use a door, Potter."
He stepped up and approached her, the blonde girl following in tow shooting her a look as if Iris were a particularly disgusting rat that had just crawled out of the sewer, before Malfoy dragged her further along by her hand.
Iris froze, as her mind finally fully registered the girl that had been standing next to him. Any thoughts of standing in his way or somehow smacking some sense into him left her mind. She recognized her. Even if she had no idea who she was.
Long, blonde, braided hair, even her eyes were the same shade as his. Perfect immaculate robes that seemed to be Hogwarts school robes but for all intents and purposes looked to be anything but, and a very familiar pair of long thin rectangular golden earrings. The girl didn't show any signs of recognizing her, other than through association with Malfoy. But then again, she also didn't show any signs of having been obliviated into a vegetable, at least. The girl had actually been real. Was she Malfoy's sister? Wait, Malfoy had a sister? And why were these two spinning pictures of spoilt Pureblood heirs using the Muggle entrance?
"Let's stop wasting our time with the half-blood, shall we?"
Holy crap, even her voice was exactly the same. Iris stared, but she couldn't reconcile this girl which seemed to act like a small, female version of Malfoy with the eerie construct that had been single-mindedly counting seconds inside her Mindscape.
Her mind was still in turmoil as Malfoy stepped up towards the wall, gave her an aloof smirk, and took a step forward. Iris' silent prayers that he would eat his words and just smack into it sadly fell on deaf ears. Instead, Malfoy stepped right through to the other side, as if the wall wasn't even there, dragging the unknown blonde with her.
Not wanting to waste her chance, Iris dashed for the barrier, dragging her trolley behind her, and jumped in after him, before the bloody thing could close up right in her face again.
Only, of course, that was exactly what happened. Iris groaned and rubbed her head, sitting on the ground where she had fallen, the contents of her trunk splayed all over her limbs.
"Oi! You alright there?"
Iris slowly turned to meet the face of a young woman wearing a black Metallica t-shirt, and some tattered jeans, and black... no dark-ish...red? Wait, was her hair color—
Her thoughts drew a blank as the hair stopped shifting and ended up on a very familiar shade of dark with a red shine to it. And style, too. A wild mess of loose curls and errant strands, somehow never becoming quite so tangled that they would resemble Harry's bird's nest, yet also refusing any sort of order that would allow her to tame them properly. The woman's eyes widened, her face turned hesitant for a second, then the smile returned.
"Merlin, you're Iris Potter! Saw that tumble, must've been a nasty bump, yeah? I'm Tonks," said the young woman who was now shooting her a gentle smile while seemingly wearing a hairstyle that was exactly identical to her own, and holding out a hand to her.
Iris' gaze involuntarily trailed down towards the older girl's chest where she found a familiar silver badge. Crap. Was she in trouble?
Her eyes were once again drawn to the copycat hairstyle. A second later, the Auror named Tonks blinked, shook her head, and her hair instead straightened out, became somewhat shorter, and turned to a bright pink hue.
"Erm... sorry about that. It tends to... do that," she replied with a sheepish grin, still holding out her hand. "You good?"
Iris reluctantly reached out to grab her hand, and let Auror Tonks pull her to her feet. The girl didn't look much older than a Hogwarts student, was she really... an Auror? As in badass wizarding cop? She tried, but found it really hard to reconcile the image of this peppy girl with the likes of trench coat guy and Not-Snape.
"Ugh... Thanks... Stupid wall won't let me through," Iris mumbled, then turned to gather up her things.
Said things slipped her hand and began to repack themselves into her trunk with a wave of Tonks' wand. Iris shot her a grateful look, both at the gesture, and also at the fact that she had completely skipped over the topic of Harry so far. The last piece of luggage stacked itself into her trunk, or rather, onto it. Everything was just slightly skewed, just enough that it wouldn't fit properly, resulting in the pile of luggage ending up twice the size of her trunk, leaving no chance for her to actually close it.
"It won't, huh? That's odd. It's not supposed to do that, well, unless... Although I remember one particular student that'd constantly end up covered in cobwebs on the other side..." Tonks mumbled, then turned to notice the predicament of her trunk. "Bugger. Mum's gonna have a fit if she sees this... Sorry. Household charms sorta hate me."
Tonks gave her a sheepish grin, then crouched down to help her painstakingly stuff the remainder of her luggage back into the trunk, until she finally got up, brushed imaginary dust off her hands, and turned towards the problem at hand.
"One second, let me try something."
The older girl stepped up to the wall, and reached out a hand and stuck it inside it.
"Seems fine to me... Try it now?" she said, while still keeping her hand inside the wall, as if holding a door open.
Iris reached out a hand, and this time, of course, it just worked. Iris returned a thankful smile at the older girl and grabbed her trunk.
"Well, you better be off now, train's leaving in three minutes."
Iris paused, and turned back for a second. "Thanks, I guess... Auror Tonks."
That yielded an impish smile in response. "Eh, just doing my job. Also, I barely qualify, really—still fresh outta basic training—so don't you go calling me Auror like I'm some sort of Professor, okay? Off with you now, before the barrier gets mad at me too."
Iris gave a grateful nod, and finally stepped through.
~V~
The search down the train had ended when she found a compartment that was empty save for two very familiar people. Except she had really not expected to see them together. And apparently, neither had they, given the looks the two were shooting each other. That lasted for half a second until they realized who was standing in their door, and their expressions fell into a strange mix of happiness and wariness. Or at least one of them did, the other one tried his best to hide it.
Iris, of course, proceeded to pretend like he wasn't there at all. It was showtime.
"Hey, Tracey," she said with a smile.
"Hey Iris..." Tracey said, then both their gazes drifted as one towards the third occupant of the compartment.
If he was in any way intimidated, he didn't show it.
Iris took a breath, gathering herself. This was it. Either she set a different tone from the start, or she dedicated herself to deceiving her friends for the rest of the time until she managed to bring Harry back. She flicked her wand to send her trunk up to the overhead rack, and settled down next to Tracey, trying to both not appear too unconcerned, but also not completely crushed. She'd already had two months to 'move past it', after all.
"How are you doing?" Tracey asked quietly.
Iris didn't meet her gaze. She had an entire month to prepare for this, to figure out what to do here. She just hoped that the movies she had watched had done a decent job of depicting how people coping with loss would act around their friends.
"I'm fine, I—" Iris trailed off, staring down at her hands. Then she shook her head. "Can we just... not talk about it, please? At least not right away? I..."
She looked up and met Tracey's eyes at last. "I just... want some change of tapestry for once."
Tracey's expression echoed that she was sharing a very similar sentiment, and she nodded. Iris gave her a grateful look, then both the girls turned once more to look at the black-haired prat sitting next to them. He looked like he very much didn't understand. But also, at least, he didn't seem inclined to vocally disagree.
With her piece being said, silence returned to the compartment. Iris fumbled with the hem of her robes, and she was sort of tempted to pull out a book to make it less awkward. The compartment shook, announcing their departure from Kings Cross station, and the outside slowly began moving.
"Did you make... any progress on your magic?" Tracey asked awkwardly.
Iris blinked, not having been prepared for an actual conversation. Which was silly, that was exactly what she had asked for. "Well... yeah, sort of? I did manage to finally combine a third color. Nothing fancy, basically it was just the same thing as before, except ten times harder. Draw Indigo and Violet as one, then try to make it purple again, which added another Red. But that seems to be the limit, because with Red, Orange and Yellow, or Violet, Indigo and Blue, trying to make it purple again seems to remove one of the colors, maybe because I wouldn't get purple with that much Green in there..."
Iris trailed off, realizing the looks she was getting. "Er... sorry, I'll just... shut up now."
Tracey opened her mouth as if in protest, but that just resulted in even more awkward silence.
"I didn't think of that, but it does make sense. Apparently congratulations are in order then. You've graduated from the Killing Curse all the way to Bluebell Flames."
A momentary vision of green lightning flashed before her mind's eye. Iris' glare lanced out and Theo stumbled in his seat, as if struck by an invisible force. Yeah, the prat really had no concept of tact. But she was used to his twisted sense of humor. The problem wasn't really that. No, for one, he really couldn't have picked a worse subject to joke about. And also, there was still the slight issue that both her and Tracey were kind of mad at him for ditching them last year.
"And apparently, you've graduated from regular asshat to spineless asshat," she snapped back.
That elicited a frown from Theo, who turned to Tracey, looking for support. Tracey's resentful glare made it clear that he had even less a chance of making amends there.
"What?" he shot them both a confused look. "You want a written apology or something?"
"How about apologizing at all to begin with?" Tracey deadpanned.
Theo frowned and rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry for trying to protect my family when I obviously should have considered your feelings."
"We're not mad for doing what you had to to protect your mum, alright? But... nothing?!" Tracey snapped.
Iris took a breath and interjected her own two cents before Theo's reply inevitably made the situation even worse. "I understand that, believe me, but you could have still... written a letter? Done... something, left some sort of hint that you didn't just completely drop Tracey and me because it was convenient. I know that's not what you meant, but believe me, that was kind of how it felt," Iris said.
"The whole house was watching me. They made me promise in the middle of the common room. You know the rumors about that room," Theo replied unrepentantly. "They would know if I broke it."
Iris did know the rumors, but she still wasn't sure if there was that much substance to them. Allegedly, their common room really didn't like it when people broke any promises made within its twisted halls. Whatever that meant.
Iris sighed. "Still. You completely cut us off. The least you could do is properly apologize."
Theo shot her a look. "You're one to talk. You've isolated yourself from both of us long before I ever left. You were going off on your own, keeping your secrets—No, don't deny it. We both know it's true."
Iris narrowed her eyes at him. "You don't get the right to judge me after what you did."
"But he is right, you know?"
Iris froze, and she met Tracey's eyes with a pang of betrayal. But in her face she saw only determination. Iris opened her mouth to—
"After everything that happened, are you really going to tell us not to judge you on that?"
Tracey's unexpected verbal dagger plunged right into her gut, and Iris couldn't find the words to reply.
Iris' eyes jumped between Tracey and Theo, all the while her mind was wrestling with the memories, guilt and self-loathing all originating from that one moment, the moment which exactly this behavior had led to. And she knew that, hell she agreed wholeheartedly. It was exactly what she had wanted during her last time meeting the girl. But the real reason why she was on the defensive here was that she still had to keep going even now. Even if they wouldn't know about it. All she had to do was admit it, apologize, say all the things she had wanted to say anyway. It would hopefully lay the groundwork for rebuilding their friendship, for doing what was necessary to keep Dumbledore's suspicions off her.
But the truth of the words stung, and made it all the harder to accept them, when in fact she was still doing anything but.
"You know that we aren't judging you for what happened, right?"
Oh, it was we now, was it?
Iris' gaze flicked between her two supposed friends once more. Apparently, she had been horrible enough of a friend to even Tracey that the two managed to unite, even over the rift of what Theo had done, in order to smack some sense into her. Great.
"What I am saying is that we are judging you because you are still doing it."
Crap. Did they know? Was she really that transparent? She almost wanted to skip over the charade and get shipped off to Azkaban already, at least then she'd be spared having to continue to try deceiving her best friends like this. But she still had to try. She couldn't give up, not when she had already come this far.
"I'm sorry," Iris said quietly. A heavy lump began forming in her throat, making it hard to swallow. "And I promise. I promise I'll be better. And that I'll talk to you," she added, her eyes downcast. There was no way she could look them straight in the face while saying that. Iris just hoped that they would still take her word for it.
A hand enclosed around her own, and held it.
"You promise?" Tracey echoed that single word, and Iris finally met her gaze.
There was no going back now. "I promise," she repeated with a small smile that felt as if she were dancing on Harry's grave.
Tracey held her gaze for a long second that just refused to end. But somehow, that hollow caricature of emotion caused her best friend to return a relieved smile, and squeeze her hand supportively, the soft grip almost burning her skin.
"I still don't see why I have to apologize—"
Thunk! "Oi!"
Theo's own book had just risen from his lap and smacked him in the face.
Iris lowered her greenish glowing finger, and shot him a deadpan look. "Just do it. At least, apologize to Tracey. Merlin knows she deserves it more than me. At least, you told me in person."
That finally caused Theo's expression of aloof annoyance to slightly crack, as his gaze flicked over towards the brunette sitting across from him.
"Er..." came the eloquent reply. Apparently, the antisocial knobhead hadn't even realized that he hadn't told Tracey at all, and how that would have been received by the girl.
"Fine. I admit I could have handled that slightly—"
"A lot," Iris interjected.
"...a lot better. I forgot to think about my friends. And for that, you have my sincere apologies. You deserve better."
God, did he have to make it all weirdly formal like that? But at least, apparently Tracey seemed somewhat mollified, if the small smile on her face was any indication.
"And you admit to being a total knobhead?" Tracey doubled down.
Theo gave a small bow. "The knobbiest of them all."
Iris let out a silent breath, having successfully diverted the conversation away from her own hollow apology. Iris wasn't sure if she had really forgiven him for what he'd done to Tracey, but apparently, at least the girl herself had. Now if only they'd be that quick to forgive her, if they ever found out what she was actually up to.
~V~
The hall slowly fell quiet as Albus approached the lectern. He had not raised his hands, nor his voice. Neither had Minerva needed to do him the courtesy of rapping her glass. The silent, invisible weight of the past began to settle onto the hall, and onto his very shoulders. All the faces were looking up at him, but for the first time, none of them were smiling. The usual awe and excitement of the welcoming feast was shadowed by grief, and a heavy absence lingered over them all.
"My dear students," Albus began, his voice quiet, yet it echoed through the hall. "There are many occasions when we gather in this great hall to celebrate—to look forward to the year ahead, to welcome new faces, and to honor the bonds that bind us as a school and as a community."
He paused, letting his gaze sweep across the tables. "But tonight is not such an occasion."
Silence blanketed the hall. It pained him to see his young students like this, but Albus pressed on, his eyes grave. "By the end of the week, we will honor one who has been taken from us too soon. Harry Potter was not just a student. He was a friend, a brother, a beacon of hope in dark times. His courage... his sacrifice... will never be forgotten, though the weight of his absence is something we must now carry."
His voice trembled, just for a moment, before steadying. "Yet, as we remember him, we must also remember what he stood for. Harry believed in the power of unity, in the strength of friendship, and in the hope that light can always be found, even in the darkest of places. It is up to us now, to honor his memory not only in mourning, but in how we choose to live."
Another silence fell, deeper than before. He let his gaze sweep across the assorted students, then let it linger on the sister he had left behind for a moment.
"On Sunday, we will lay Harry to rest. But tonight, let us remember that the ties between us—our friendships, our loyalty, our love for one another—are the very things that gave Harry the strength to fight, and what will help us move forward. Let us hold onto them, now more than ever."
He let that statement linger for a moment, before taking a breath, and turning towards the staff table.
"Now, it would be remiss of me not to introduce Professor Umbridge, who will be substituting for Professor Lupin as your History teacher, as well as our newest teacher for Defense against the Dark Arts, Professor Black," he said, gesturing towards the black-haired wizard who gave a grim nod, and the witch clad entirely in pink, who merely smiled at the introduction. The hall met that announcement with a standing ovation of silence. Not even Mr. and Mr. Weasley found it within them to attempt to lighten the mood.
Albus looked out at the sea of somber faces, and then added, almost in a whisper, "The feast will begin. But I ask you all—tonight, think not of what we have lost, but of what remains, and what we must carry forward, for Harry's sake."
With that, he stepped back from the lectern, and the hall was left in a heavy, deafening quiet.
~V~
Iris stabbed the rib-eye with slightly more force than strictly necessary, lifted it and added it to the pile. She shot another glance towards the staff table, trying her very best to make it less of a glare. So that was why he had been so suspiciously quiet. Of course, there was no need to keep nagging her with letters over the summer, if he could spend the entire school year trying to butt into her life instead.
Not that she was necessarily opposed to the thought in principle, but right now, she really could have done without another person she had to walk on eggshells around for however long her quest would take. And possibly even after that. But if she was honest, any thoughts to an after had so far mostly taken the backseat. The main goal was to actually bring back Harry first and foremost. But to do that, she also needed to figure out a way to prevent Voldemort from just somehow randomly showing up in the middle of her attempt, and foiling her at the very last second, just like he had in Germany. And she had no idea how to even start with that.
Her Not-Glare wandered down the Slytherin table towards the girl sitting next to Malfoy, who was still constantly shooting her looks that would rival Snape on his worst days. The girl who she now had even less of an idea what to think about. Especially about the circumstances of how they had first 'met'.
Because it had turned out the girl wasn't actually related to Malfoy at all. No. The name Professor McGonagall had called out right before the blonde had been sorted into her own house was still echoing through her head, and no matter how many times she looked towards the other girl sitting at the other end of the table, the resemblance was so miniscule that she still couldn't quite wrap her mind around it.
"Greengrass, Astoria."
Chapter 15: A Slytherin approach
Chapter Text
Somehow, Iris decided, having other students actually wanting to talk to her for once wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
Apparently, the main topic was the exact circumstances of Harry's death. Because of course, Dumbledore had explained absolutely nothing.
Some believed what was written in the Prophet, some even the Quibbler. The rest either still believed in Dumbledore but were agitated because he didn't tell them anything specific, or just plainly didn't know what to think. And finally, there were the Slytherins. Half of them did what they always did and seemingly took a wait and see approach, but the other half? She wasn't sure, but she suspected a lot of them knew more than they let on.
So of course, Iris couldn't manage to take three steps without being accosted by random students.
"Hey, you're Iris, right? What happened? Is the Boy-Who-Lived really..."
"Can you tell us more?"
"Why didn't Dumbledore say anything? Do you know what—"
"My mum said I shouldn't return back to Hogwarts this year—"
"Has he told you anything?"
"Figures that his Slytherin sister would survive, I bet she—"
Iris reached for her wand and produced the charm she had copied from the barkeep girl in Germany, leaving her in blissful silence. She slowly shoved her way through the crowd of students, making her way towards the door. She caught Luna's eyes along the way, who gave her a hesitant look before averting her gaze. Iris sighed and moved on. She'd definitely have to try talking to the girl tomorrow.
When she finally reached the door, she shoved her way through to the grand staircase, but was once again stopped, this time by a familiar face, who was seemingly talking at her with a quite intense expression. When it didn't seem like he would easily let up, she finally flicked her wand and canceled the charm.
"—even listening?"
Iris met Ron's eyes and gave him an apologetic shrug. "Sorry. Noise-dampening charm. What did you say?"
"What were you doing with Hermione?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.
Iris blinked. "What? Nothing? I haven't even seen her yet."
"Don't play dumb. Over the summer. The two of you met, right? You visited her too. She mentioned something, but she won't tell me what you were doing," he said accusingly.
Oh. Well.
"Yeah, I did. She asked me for help, and I prevented her from doing something stupid," Iris said.
Ron's expression hardened. "Hermione's not stupid."
"That's not what I said," replied Iris.
"Well, it's what you meant," Ron shot back.
Iris returned a glare but couldn't find it within her to argue the point.
"What were you doing? If you're doing something that—"
"That is really not for me to tell. She asked me for help, and I did. The details are hers to share. You wouldn't want me to betray her trust like that, would you?"
"I'm her best friend!"
"And yet she seemingly didn't want to tell you."
"And that's exactly why I'm worried!"
Iris gave him a look. "Would you want me to tell Hermione about something you had specifically asked me not to tell her?" Which she hadn't, but Ron didn't need to know that.
"I can tell you this much. It's already over and done with, so there is no use worrying about it anymore."
He still seemed like he wanted to argue, but her previous statement had precluded any chance of that. Ron was many things, but he was not a liar. Not when it came to his friends. If anything, he was honest. And since the answer to her previous question was obviously no, he had reached the end of his argument there.
Ron didn't need to know about their ritual escapades. Even if she really hadn't done anything. There was no point in risking to implicate Hermione in doing something like that, and more importantly, possibly herself along with it.
"If it's that important to you, you should say that to her. It's really not my place to tell."
That seemed to finally mollify him somewhat, although he still held a slight frown on his face. "Fine. But I swear, if it's something... if she gets hurt from—"
"I told you, it's in the past," Iris said, finally making her way down the hall until she added over her shoulder, "Just let it go."
~V~
"Who the fuck else will be there?" Iris snarled, staring at the sheet of parchment posted to the notice board.
"By the fact he went out of his way to hold it on Sunday, pretty much all of Wizarding Britain is my guess," replied Theo with a shrug.
Great. All of the magical world, at least, here in the UK, and probably also some from abroad, all come to gawk at Harry. With her luck, they'd probably expect her to give a speech, too.
"But why would he do that? It'll be overrun with strangers, instead of, you know, people who actually... care," Tracey said in a small voice.
"That's likely the point," said Theo, setting Iris' thoughts alight with questions.
"That's... You're thinking he's looking for an audience?" Iris replied, as her mind took that information and ran with it, causing her to barely even register Theo's reply.
"Just that. And likely not for the funeral itself," Theo replied.
"Wait..." Tracey interjected dubiously. "You think he's going to reveal You-Know-Who's back? And... he's looking for support?"
"Exactly," Theo said with a nod.
"He's... holding a funeral... for H-Harry. But it's all just some giant scheme in his war against You-Know-Who?" Tracey repeated in a wavering voice.
There was some amount of silence.
"He'd probably argue that Harry would have agreed with it," added Theo.
"You're not helping!" Tracey snapped, then she whirled on Iris. "What do you think? Is he really holding the funeral just for that?"
"It's possible," Iris admitted quickly.
Too quickly. "But... you think there's even more to it?"
Merlin damn that perceptive social butterfly.
"Who knows," Iris tried vaguely. "It's Dumbledore."
"Don't gimme that!" Tracey snapped. "You just figured something out, didn't you? Well, spill."
Iris shifted on her feet, and threw a nervous glance at Theo. If she told them... well, they would probably try to help her, which was a bad idea in and of itself, but also... If somehow the information got out to the wrong people...
Wrong people, which hopefully, didn't include Theo. But after that half-arsed apology... Iris didn't know. A glance across the room solidified her decision as she noticed Snape looming in the corner of the common room, seemingly doing his best to pretend like he wasn't looking her way.
"Later. Talk to you at night in our dorm," Iris told Tracey instead, and made an effort to ignore her aghast expression at her obvious exclusion of their other friend.
~V~
"Good morning, class."
There were a few mumbled "Morning" replies, but apparently, the default reply hadn't satisfied the witch who had a taste for the especially eye-searing.
"Tut-tut. Now, that won't do. When I say 'Good morning, class,' I would like you all to reply with 'Good Morning, Professor Umbridge.' Now, let's try once again. Good morning, class!"
Ugh. She was one of those. Iris rolled her eyes, but went through the motions of pretending she was actually saying the words. She figured she had to be some sort of seer, since she had a very distinct premonition that the two of them would be getting along like a house on fire.
But she'd still do her best to avoid drawing too much attention to herself. She already had way too much on her plate anyway, the last thing she'd need to add was an unnecessary feud with yet another entitled teacher.
"Now from my understanding, your previous education in this subject has been rather... lackluster, not to mention the questionable choice of my predecessor."
Wow. That had to be the quickest way to make yourself unpopular with every single student she'd seen yet. And she'd had classes with Binns, and Snape. Iris wondered what her angle was. She recognized the name from her trip to the Ministry with Greengrass. Apparently, she used to work somewhere in upper-management there? Undersecretary, or something. She wondered what she'd be doing here, teaching school children instead.
"But you can rest assured, from now on your curriculum has been carefully designed and optimized by the Department of Education, to ensure the most valuable lessons taught to us by our very own history... are not lost on our youngest and most impressionable minds."
Next to her, Tracey made a gagging face.
Iris leaned towards her friend and whispered "Any chance you can exorcise her like Binns?"
Tracey's face turned hopeful. "Maybe if I mention the founding of the Ministry by the Muggle monarchy she'll spontaneously combust?"
"You know what they say about things that sound too good to be true?" Iris whispered back.
"A girl can dream..." Tracey grumbled quietly.
But apparently, not quietly enough. Umbridge's gaze had swept the room for the source of the noise, and of all people, had apparently ended up on Iris. Joy.
"Miss Potter. Is there anything you'd like to share with the class? Or perhaps you'd like to teach the class instead of me?" the woman said in a saccharine voice.
Both Iris and Tracey did their best to not react to that, that sense of Deja-vu making it incredibly hard for Iris to maintain an impassive expression. Ultimately, Tracey failed to hold in a snort behind her quickly raised hand, and Iris faltered in her wake.
Surprisingly, Umbridge didn't seem very amused by their outburst. Iris was just glad that she had somehow managed to resist the unbearable urge to just reply 'Hell, yes!' to that perfect set-up, despite how obvious of a trap it had been.
"No, Professor. I'm sorry."
Umbridge's smile had turned slightly stony, but after a second, she let her gaze move across the class once more, apparently deciding to make a show out of it instead. "That's right. There will be no speaking in class. If you have something to say, you raise your hand, and wait for me to call on you."
Iris let out a silent breath of relief. She really had to be better than this. Once she had successfully brought Harry back, she'd have all the time in the world to continue her year-long tradition from St. Grogorys—the art of systematically ruining her academic career by making entitled teachers feel stupid—which this latest target was seemingly almost begging for. But for now—no matter how much she itched to twist her own words back at her, begin poking holes in her reasoning and generally prove herself worthy of the title precocious—she'd have to swallow her pride and remain silent. She had been a Gryffindor for long enough. Bringing Harry back would require a Slytherin.
"Now, for this first lesson, I'd like you all to open your books to page four. We will be learning about the history of the most important institution of our entire magical society. The Ministry of Magic, or to be more precise, how its various branches came to be, what their purpose is, and the various methods that have historically been employed to perform its duties."
"Now, as you turn to page four," Umbridge began, her voice dripping with that sickly sweetness that made Iris's skin crawl, "you'll find an overview of the Ministry's founding. Can anyone tell me the year the Ministry of Magic was established?"
A few hands hesitantly rose into the air. Umbridge's gaze flickered over her but settled instead on a student in the back.
"Yes, Mr. Macmillan?"
The boy cleared his throat. "1707, Professor."
"Very good," Umbridge simpered. "Five points to Hufflepuff."
Iris raised a lazy eyebrow. Were they actually going to be learning some history in this class?
"The Ministry was founded in 1707 to bring order and regulation to the wizarding community, ensuring that magic was used responsibly and that our kind could live in harmony, hidden from the non-magical world."
Iris exchanged a look with Tracey, practically daring her to interject the nugget of knowledge she had mentioned before.
Umbridge paced slowly at the front of the room, hands clasped primly in front of her. "Before the Ministry, chaos reigned. Wizards and witches operated without oversight, leading to countless breaches of secrecy and endangering us all. It was only through the wisdom and guidance of the Ministry that we have achieved the stability and prosperity we enjoy today."
Iris felt Tracey shift uncomfortably beside her. Obviously, Umbridge had left out something pretty damn important there, and her friend was itching to correct her. Iris wasn't sure what the preceding form of government of their society had been, but she was pretty damn sure it hadn't been anarchy.
"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Umbridge continued, "is perhaps the most critical branch, upholding our laws and ensuring that any who threaten our way of life are dealt with appropriately. The Aurors, as you know, are our brave witches and wizards who risk their lives to protect us all."
Yep, apparently that had been the history lesson for today. Now they were having whatever this dragonshit was.
Umbridge smiled indulgently at the class. "Isn't it comforting to know that such capable hands are watching over us?"
Iris resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The same capable hands that had arrested Sirius without a trial? The same ones that ignored mounting evidence of Voldemort's return? The very same Aurors that hadn't noticed a schoolgirl attempting necromantic rituals right under their nose, not to mention two of them breaking into the most protected place inside the very Ministry itself—alright, she wasn't really complaining about that last part.
"The Department of International Magical Cooperation works tirelessly to maintain good relations with magical governments worldwide," Umbridge droned on. "Their efforts ensure that we can all live peacefully, sharing knowledge and culture."
Beside her, Tracey was attempting to put herself out of her misery with the help of a finger gun. At least, she hadn't attempted the same thing as with Binns. If anything, it felt like the teacher was just itching for an excuse to hand out some sort of comically evil punishment.
Iris leaned over with a smirk and whispered, "Could you try and un-exorcise Binns somehow? Maybe if you said Goblin Rebellion three times or something?"
"Miss Potter!"
Iris's head snapped up. Umbridge was staring directly at her, eyes narrowed.
"Perhaps you can answer a question for me." Umbridge's smile didn't reach her eyes. "What is the role of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?"
Iris took a steadying breath, glanced down at the open page, found the relevant passage, and began to recite. "They oversee the management and control of magical creatures, beings, and spirits. They ensure that magical creatures are kept under control to prevent harm to wizards, witches, and Muggles, and they also work on legislation regarding their treatment."
"Very good," Umbridge said, her smile seeming somehow foreboding. "Five points to Slytherin."
Iris felt like she had just been given a pass for some unknown reason, and wasn't sure whether that was a good thing. No. The witch wanted something from her. And she was drawing a line in the sand.
The lesson continued on from there, rapidly diverging from the pretense of a history lesson into full on propaganda. When the class finally came to an end, Iris felt thoroughly drained. She felt like the only person who would have enjoyed this class would be Ron's brother Percy. And probably Hermione, just for the principle of it.
Tracey gave her a look and the two made their way for the door.
"Miss Potter? Could I have a moment of your time in my office?"
Merlin fucking damn it. She had almost thought she had gotten away with it. Well, she'd better get it over with. With a look back at Tracey, she gave a shrug, and muttered "See you in Defense."
~V~
Iris stared in horror.
She hadn't thought it possible. It simply, categorically was not a statement that could or should ever have been true. Yet here she was.
For years, Iris had been fond of cats. Not just fond, she loved the damn fur balls. From Salem, to all of Mrs. Figg's cats, and even Mrs. Norris. She'd never been able to resist cooing, petting, and generally showering them with all the adoration that they obviously deserved. She had once wisely proclaimed to Harry that there could never possibly be such a thing as too many cats.
Iris had been wrong. So very very wrong.
This was what she'd originally imagined Lockhart's office would look like, except instead of pictures of him, it was just pictures of cats. Hundreds and hundreds of them.
"Please, have a seat."
And not even really picture frames. Most of them were on porcelain plates of all sizes, and all... no not all colors. Again, mostly pink. What the hell was wrong with this woman? Someone had watched way too many Disney shows.
"Tea?" came her voice, sweet as honey.
Iris blinked. "Uh... sure, thank you. Two sugars, no milk please."
She'd better start off by making a good first impression. Or, rather, less bad of one, she supposed. Iris slowly settled down in the fluffy pink chair sitting opposite the wooden desk, while the woman began to pour her a cup of tea from her kettle, then added the requested amount of sugar to it, before placing the cup in front of her. Iris accepted the cup with a smile, and began to idly stir the liquid with the ornate spoon she had been provided. The witch was apparently trying to raise the tension by just drinking tea while not saying anything, until she'd get uncomfortable. So Iris decided to nip that in the bud from the start.
"Thank you for the tea, Professor. The lesson was really interesting, by the way. You see, I grew up with Muggles, and... so far, our History class hasn't really covered much related to what the Ministry actually does or how it works, so I really didn't know much about all that... Well, that is, until today. My friend told me you used to work for the Ministry?"
Umbridge probably saw right through the heavy dragonshit she was shoveling, but she took it in stride. "That's quite alright, Miss Potter. And yes, I did, in fact. It is the reason why I am here, after all. To remedy this glaring hole in the education of our young witches and wizards."
Iris returned her smile, removed the spoon from the cup, and slowly pulled it closer. Finally, she reached for the handle to pick it up, looked down and... Oh.
Since she definitely had no business being able to notice anything at all, she kept her expression calm, trying to decide what to do with that. She had no idea what the heck that was. But it was definitely some sort of Reflective Potion. Something that had no natural color or discernable smell. And something that used what looked distinctly like the Essence of Honesty as a centerpiece, balanced by Control, Destruction and... Illusion? And there was only one potion that came to mind that would fit that description. Although she had never brewed it before, and that's why she had no way of recognizing it for sure.
So, that was her game. Should she pretend to drink it to avoid suspicion, and get her into a false sense of security? Or, actually...
"That is good to hear, professor," she said with a smile, while letting the cup pointedly sit untouched right where it was.
"Thank you. Now, Miss Potter. First, I would like to extend both mine and the Minister's condolences for your loss."
Iris didn't have to try all that hard to adopt a crestfallen expression, and she gave a single nod.
"You see, the Minister is growing quite concerned lately, both in light of what happened, as well as other events. But mostly, about Headmaster Dumbledore."
The spoon clinked against the porcelain as she kept stirring, Iris' gaze never leaving her eyes.
"It has come to our attention that the headmaster has been spreading concerning... rumors. And I worry that he may have used your situation to... try and influence you as well," she said with a saddened voice, then reached out a hand, and wrapped it around her own which was still stirring. "Have you spoken to the headmaster since it happened?"
Iris nodded, trying to stop herself from accidentally incinerating the hand.
"And has he mentioned anything... concerning to you?"
Another, more hesitant nod.
"Would you tell me what he said?"
Iris took a breath. "Well, I asked him about Harry, but he didn't tell me anything about how he supposedly died, but... he claimed that... that You-Know-Who might be returning."
A flash of triumph crossed the witch's eyes, and Iris knew she had been spot-on. This was about the whole smear campaign. Either Dumbledore had tried to tell the Minister directly, or the Ministry had noticed Dumbledore telling all kinds of people that Voldemort was back. And they obviously hadn't believed it. To be fair, it did seem pretty impossible to bring someone back from the dead so far.
"So... he tried to twist your brother's death for his own little power-play..." Umbridge mumbled in a low voice, where Iris wasn't quite sure if she was supposed to have heard it. The hand finally let go of hers as she nodded, and Iris quickly withdrew her own to fold her hands in her lap. Finally, Umbridge continued a bit louder, "Did he try to claim that You-Know-Who was responsible for your brother's death?"
And that was the Million Pound Question. How did she want to play this? Choices, choices.
"Well... not really, but..." she added, causing Umbridge to lean forward in her chair with interest while Iris fidgeted with her hands in her lap. "He showed me a memory. A memory of a prophecy. And he sort of alluded to the fact that Harry's death may have something to do with that prophecy, since it said that Harry would either kill or be killed by You-Know-Who."
Iris let that sit for a bit, until she continued, "He also said that it could have applied to me, but apparently his scar meant that it now applied to him. That's why he thinks that whoever k-killed him had to be You-Know-Who."
"A prophecy?" Umbridge echoed incredulously. "Even if there had been such a prophecy, it would have come to pass the moment that he defeated You-Know-Who twelve years ago."
Iris nodded. "Well, it's real, I have seen the whole thing. But yes, that's what I thought as well. He seemed very insistent that You-Know-Who might still be out there, but I'm not sure I really believe it though. I mean... wouldn't there be... some sort of proof? Or some signs? You worked at the Ministry, did they find anything there?"
Somehow, Umbridge's smile grew even wider.
"No. No, they did not. And you did well to bring this to me. I will be sure to look into this and verify whether there is any substance behind this claim of a prophecy. But even if there is—as you said yourself—the conclusion is that it was fulfilled with You-Know-Who's defeat twelve years ago. Any claims that he might still be alive—even if based on a prophecy like this—are nothing but lies."
Her smile turned so sweet Iris could almost taste it on her eyelids. "I can't begin to guess what the headmaster intends to achieve by spreading such dangerous rumors, but please do not hesitate to come to me should he talk to you again, so we can make sure that the truth comes to light. After all, it is what your brother would have wanted."
The teapot launched from the desk and crashed into the wall of cats. Iris bit down on her lower lip so hard that it hurt, and she felt the armrests start to crumble under the grip of her glowing hands.
Fuck!
She had been so close, everything had gone so smoothly, but then she had said that. Fucking hell. Apparently, there was such a thing as getting too good at wandless magic.
"What in Merlin's name?" shrieked Umbridge.
Crap, crap, crap! What the hell was she supposed to do here? Iris jumped to her feet, her eyes flicking around the room, trying to figure out how to get herself back out of this mess. She made a show of holding her empty hands up in worry. Then she gasped, and quickly turned to look at the wall behind Umbridge, pointed a finger, and yelled "There!"
The witch whirled around to follow her gesture. Iris lit up her finger in a Blue light and flicked it at the litter of cats on said wall, causing a number of them to come crashing to the ground.
"What is this?!" Umbridge screamed, now having taken out her wand.
"Peeves!" Iris yelled, sounding both scared and annoyed.
Umbridge turned back to her with a wild look, wand still frantically aiming every which way. "Peeves?" she echoed.
"Peeves! The poltergeist! He was right there!"
Suddenly, her eyes widened in realization. "PEEVES! I demand you show yourself right this instant!"
Peeves, of course, did no such thing. He was their resident poltergeist, or at least, that's what Iris had heard. Yet she had no idea what he looked like. She knew that the poltergeist could supposedly turn invisible, but he'd never pranked her before, at least to the best of her knowledge. Every other day she'd hear people complaining about him, including Tracey, Theo, Ron, Hermione, even Harry. But somehow, she had never once seen him in person before, ever.
But she supposed that the Professor must have, at some point. The pink-clad witch spent some more time fruitlessly shouting and cursing the innocent poltergeist, but finally, she seemingly gave up and slumped down onto her chair.
"My apologies for this, Miss Potter. But thank you for telling me all of this. My door is always open, should you have any further questions, or should the headmaster talk to you once more."
Iris met her with a small smile and a nod, and finally made to leave the room in the knowledge that at least a tiny bit was right with the world once more. Yes, even as a Slytherin, there still was a way to make a teacher's life hell. But still. Deflecting her outburst onto Peeves? That could have just as easily gone sideways. And apparently, her practice over the summer had gotten her to a point where she now had to actively reign in her magic instead, just like with her shadows lately. This could have just as easily ended up with Umbridge getting hurt, and then she definitely wouldn't have been talking her way out of it. She really needed to figure out the issue with her Occlumency sooner rather than later.
~V~
Iris awkwardly made her way into the class they shared with the Gryffindors, hoping she was not too late. And indeed, the students were still talking among themselves, with no sign of Sirius so far. Or, Professor Black now, she supposed. If she wanted to keep her distance for a bit longer, she'd better start with her mental image of him.
Tracey was sitting next to Theo already, Hermione next to Ron, and Neville next to some other boy from their dorm. So who did that leave her with? There was an open space next to Parvati Patil... nope. Another next to Malfoy—Double-nope. Turning back to her first option, she found that to her dismay, that space had just been taken up by an equally late Lavender Brown. God damnit.
But other than that... Oh. Crap.
...Fine. It was about time they had a chat anyway. At least, they could do that without anyone else eavesdropping, she guessed. With a sigh, Iris trudged over to the unofficial Slytherin side of the classroom, and plopped down on the empty chair next to Greengrass.
This earned her a raised eyebrow in return, to which she just shrugged, with a gesture over at Malfoy. She could see from her expression that the black-haired girl was anything but happy with this arrangement, but she didn't seem inclined to do anything about it.
At least not outwardly. Instead, a loud and discordant metallic ringing sound echoed through the classroom. A sound which nobody else showed even the slightest reaction to.
Iris shot Greengrass a challenging glare, but grinding her teeth, she braced herself, and reluctantly picked up the phone.
"We should not be seen together like this."
Iris shot the mental image of the girl an incredulous look. "Are you really telling me to go sit with Malfoy instead? I'm sure whatever that leads to would draw no attention whatsoever."
"If you had slightly more control than a five-year-old it wouldn't," mental Greengrass replied with a shrug.
"Some of us just don't have the luxury of being an emotionless robot stuck in a teenage girl's body," Iris replied while retrieving her ink jar from her bag. She then proceeded to innocently set it down on the desk, while vividly imagining how it would look splattered all over the girl's robes or bag with childish glee, just in case that Greengrass was still reading her mind.
"The Dark Arts."
Iris blinked, and turned her gaze to the front of the class, where she noticed her Professor—who had apparently at some point snuck into the classroom—standing in front of his desk with a serious expression. He was wearing less fancy robes this time, although he was still wearing some very impractical looking golden rings on several of his fingers. He met her eyes with a conflicted look for a second, and in that moment it was becoming painfully clear that her curse of getting called to the teachers office in pretty much every class she ever had was not coming to an end any time soon.
"So far, you have learned of curses spoken in ancient words, cast with a wave of a wand, or maybe creatures from the darkest corner of our world, existing for no other purpose but to kill witches and wizards in the most gruesome ways imaginable, or whatever else you may have read in your assigned book—You can put those away, by the way, we won't be needing those..." he added in a suddenly less foreboding tone. Finally, he cleared his throat again, and continued his speech. "What is out there... is far stranger than fiction, far more fantastic than stories, and far more dangerous than any curse you can cast with a wand. It is nothing more, and nothing less than the—" at this point he broke off into snorting laughter.
The whole class just stared dumbfounded at the man laughing at some sort of unsaid joke.
"...The... Dark... Arts. There."
He spent some more time wheezing and chuckling, gathering himself, before rubbing his head, looking almost embarrassed. "Sorry about that. I tried to do the intro and all, I really did, but I'm just not made for speeches like that it seems."
Iris exchanged a look with Greengrass.
"Was that supposed to have been funny?" Iris asked.
"No, I assume he was being serious," Greengrass replied matter-of-factly.
Iris hated herself for even having thought of the awful pun, and now finding herself left in limbo, not knowing whether Greengrass had intended it and consequently deserved a whack on the head, or if she simply did not possess the required immaturity for this lowest form of humor.
Professor Black clapped his hands at the front of the classroom, directing Iris' attention right back to the man. "Anyway. As I said, we will be exploring some very, very different things in this class than what you have been doing so far, to prepare you for everything that is out there, and to make sure you have the necessary knowledge and skills... to get you safely back here and finish your studies," he finished in a much more somber tone.
Iris couldn't help raise an eyebrow. It was like he himself didn't even know what sort of tone to go for. But then again, he had apparently been stuck in Azkaban for most of the past twelve years. Had he really been cleared as mentally sound in the end?
Black's gaze darted left to right across the class, as if to see the reaction to the end of his little speech, and when there was none, he cleared his throat, put a smile back on his face, threw another look at Iris—yes, she was still sitting here, big surprise—and finally, began the lesson.
Chapter 16: Equal and Opposite
Chapter Text
"You may have read in some books, or perhaps even learned in charms, that magic is all about balance."
A piece of chalk sipped off the desk and began to scrawl the word Balance onto the blackboard.
"Every action always causes an equal and opposite reaction. Every force leads to a similar counterforce opposing it. Every light casts an equally strong shadow."
The chalk proceeded to write out the words Light and Darkness, and circle each of them.
"This rule applies for all of physics, and even onto many facets of magic. Arithmancy, potions, runes, you will find variations of this anywhere. So when you see two opposite natural forces, it is easy to assume in reverse that they are, in fact... equal."
Professor Black let that sit for a bit, until he suddenly adopted a much more foreboding tone. "And yet I am here to tell you that when it comes to the most arcane of magics, this assumption is categorically... false."
Iris sat a little straighter in her chair.
"Two equal and opposite forces, yet one of them dominates the other at every turn. The Dementor and the Patronus Charm. One requires skill and power, the other just is. One can save, the other destroy. One can be destroyed, the other merely driven away."
Well, maybe? If what she'd seen had worked on Lethifolds... would that work on Dementors as well?
"There are three Unforgivable Curses, completely unblockable; unavoidable fates as soon as they are cast. Yet there is no single 'Forgivable' out there. No Light equivalent to the most powerful terrors that Darkness can wreak."
That was true, she supposed. Also, while there was a shadow realm, she was pretty sure there wasn't a light realm, or some other equivalent. Not that she had ever been good enough with Light Polarized Magic to try and find out.
"The magical world is inherently and unquestionably... unfair."
Iris noticed Malfoy shooting a look at her over his shoulder.
"Balance," Professor Black said, flicking his wand to erase the word from the blackboard, "is an illusion. Equality," he continued with another flick, causing the word Darkness to grow until it took up half the blackboard, "...is a lie."
Iris swallowed. Was that the reason why it had been so much easier to produce the shadows? Also, there was the Tenebris spell, which made summoning shadows comparatively trivial—not that she had ever needed that spell or would be able to cast it in the first place. But she was also painfully aware that there didn't seem to be a Light equivalent, again.
As wrong as it sounded, as ominous as the conclusion was, it seemed to reaffirm her own observations regarding Polarized Magic.
"They say that all men are created equal," Black said in a low voice, "yet some of us are born with the ability to cast magic."
He braced his hands on his desk in front of him. "Some are born taller, some smarter, some with a great singing voice. Every single human being is inherently different."
"And yet they will tell you that for us, magic is the great equalizer. That the dedicated person can reach heights which the talented person could only ever dream of."
Okay, what was up with Malfoy? She was kind of tempted to try her mind reading trick on him just because he kept meeting her eyes.
"But they conveniently forget one simple, painful truth. That the same talented person, with that very same dedication, will reach heights... that nobody could ever dream of."
Silence followed that statement. Iris really wondered where he was going with this. Was he actually telling everyone to just give up hope?
"The magical world is inherently unfair. And the strong will take what they want, while the rest of us try to stay out of their way."
He paused, leaving that to linger for a second, before he whispered, "and yet, for every Grindelwald that is defeated by another titan like Dumbledore, there is also a Goliath like You-Know-Who that was brought down by someone like Harry. And not because a one year old baby was some sort of magical prodigy," he added with a wry smile.
"Magic is inherently unfair. But that truth goes both ways. It can be the smallest thing that can make the biggest difference. The weakest spell that can strike down a titan. The key," he finished in a whisper, "is our ingenuity."
Right. She wasn't sure if she agreed with everything there. Yes, a lucky shot could take down a giant, but that fact alone still didn't shift the scales. It was the whole reason why she had spent every free minute practicing for almost two years now. It was the same reason why she suspected Dumbledore was doing something like this in the first place. There was no better way he could ensure the right outcome than through his own presence.
"Dumbledore is doing what?"
Iris froze, then stifled the urge to groan. How the hell was she supposed to keep her attempts at necromancy secret if her ability to hold onto this one not even confirmed piece of information was any indication?
"It's your own fault for contemplating something interesting like that while still on the phone."
Iris wondered just how much pain and humiliation she could get away with without violating the agreement made between them. There had been no requirement to protect each other, or even to not attack each other...
"Believe me, you don't want to go down that road," said the mental black-haired girl. "Now, if you'd be so kind as to elaborate? As much as I wish to the contrary, I can only read your surface thoughts."
Iris closed her eyes, took a long breath, and finally caved.
"I suspect that Dumbledore will use the funeral to announce that Voldem̴̡̧̛͇̹͖͍͈̬̹̟͎̤̐́̐̈́̋̕͝m̴̨̧̧̤̘̮̖̙̦̫̞͕̪̼͊̒̇̈́̋̾̃͜m̵̪̠̞͎̖̱̮̏̋͋̌ǫ̷͇͍̪̬̙͚̭̮̯͑͑̐̓͋̈́̆̈́͠ọ̸̭̇̉̏̇͌͋̌̈͛o̶̖͕̻͙̣͍̜͎̘̰̠̊͆̈́͆͜͜͠͝ò̷̧̧̳̭͖̼͇̦̪̣̳̳͈͇̖̠̻̊̌̅͘o̶̼̻̖͔͉͍̰͐ö̸̡̧̡̝̺͇̬̘͋̎̐̈͗̉́̋͜͝͝Ö̵̘̼͇́̋̂́̄̇̈́̇̃̀̿̌̕͘͘O̷̧̹̪̘͎͇̗̲͒́̐̆͠O̵̧̠̭̹̱̠̺̙̮̹̗̱͍̭̯̦̽̿́͛̒́̍͒Ơ̵̹̔̾͗̐̆̾͐Ō̵̧͉̗̭̙͙̺̹̩͋̾͂̆̅̉͊̒̈̏̅͑̀́͝
A lance of pain pierced through her reality, burrowed deep into the present moment, and refused to let it go. Iris stared with ringing ears across the street at the black-haired girl as jagged fissures tore the ground apart. The asphalt quickly began to crumble away, as the Name started echoing louder and louder, and blinding angry red light burst through. Greengrass just stood there, frozen in place, as the ground crumbled away beneath her, until she slowly began to slip, and fall.
Iris lunged forward and reached out a hand. Her fingers slipped, then barely caught the girl's slackened hand as she fell down the rift in the ground and towards the unearthed gigantic red moon that seemed to suck everything in without mercy.
Iris Lily Potter. Focus. She had to fight it; remember her Name.
Voldemort!
She could make out all the craters, grooves, cracks, every single rock littering the red surface of the infinitely large moon. She saw the entire surface all at once, no matter where she looked.
Iris Lily Potter!
She had been careless! Iris had gotten so used to using his Name inside her mind, that it had just slipped out of her mental projection without a second thought. But apparently, there was a distinct difference between just thinking the Name, and saying it out loud, even if just inside her mindscape. And that wasn't even getting into what it had done to Greengrass.
Iris tried to pull her up, but the moon refused to let her go. Her mind was trapped by the Name, and seemingly, so was her body, at least in this place. She shook the arm which was holding the limp appendage of the girl up as if by a thread. "Daphne! Wake up!"
There was no response. What else could she do? Iris looked around desperately, and her eyes finally fell onto the green moon, flaring brightly in the sky. That's right.
Iris Lily Potter.
It was like the two moons clashed, except without touching. There was no visible attack, ray of light, or anything at all going between the two. It just felt like the green moon had smashed into the red one, except without either of them having moved. And Iris herself was caught in the middle of it. The light was growing brighter and brighter, and their entire surroundings were slowly turning yellow.
But it felt distinctly different. Yes, red and green made yellow, but she didn't think either of the colors had anything to do with the aspects they usually represented. This was an entirely different kind of magic. A magic which she didn't understand.
But she did understand one thing. Whatever it was, the green moon was on her side. And it was the only thing holding the magic of his Name at bay.
But wouldn't that make the green moon—
"What have you done, you imbecile?"
Greengrass was glaring up at her, still dangling from her grip.
"Sorry. I... I wasn't thinking..."
"That seems to be a pattern with you."
Iris wanted to snipe back, but for once, she couldn't help but agree. Come on, get it together. Iris Lily Potter.
With an almighty motionless lurch, the green moon asserted itself, and the red wavered for a second. Iris wrenched her arm as hard as she could, adding some Force for good measure, and flung Greengrass from the hole back onto solid ground, just as the red moon was pushed lower and lower underneath the surface.
Iris blinked and threw a sheepish glance across at the real Greengrass, who had apparently stumbled in her seat, but was now gathering herself yet again. There were some odd looks from the surrounding students, especially from Tracey. She turned back towards the front of the class, and was met with a piercing stare from her Professor. He didn't say anything however, and after a fraction of a second, he just continued with the lesson, almost as if she had just imagined it.
Holy crap. Way to go, Iris. Yet another near-death encounter with the fucking Dark Lord. This time, it had even been entirely her own fault. In fact, the whole thing, how she had felt, how her mind had felt... had been so damn similar to that one second there in Germany...
Had it happened inside her mind after all? But then where had the Time Reverser gone? Was it because she had summoned him somehow? Or rather, his Name? She had been thinking of the worst thing that could happen, and the worst thing had shown up...
Iris had no idea. But she resolved to be more careful with his Name in the future.
~V~
As certain as the motion of the planets, Iris had expected to be called to Black's office at the conclusion of the lesson. So she was thrown for a bit of a loop when nothing of the sort happened. Yes, he was still shooting odd glances her way, but he hadn't called out for her in any way. So instead, Iris pretended to already be in a hurry, quickly gathered up her things, and made for the door.
She needed to get away. Both from him, and from Greengrass. She had all but smashed the receiver into the cradle the moment they had regained control of their minds, and had refused to pick up the phone since then, both from the shame of her blunder and what it might have cost them, but also because she wanted to utilize the lucky break to avoid bringing yet another person into the not-quite-plan she had sort of cobbled together on a whim. Also, she really wanted to talk to Luna, and was trying to catch her before lunch.
Iris found said girl sitting in her usual spot at the end of the Ravenclaw table, and after shooting her a hesitant look and receiving a just as hesitant smile in return, she swallowed and made to sit down across from her actual first friend.
"Hey..." she began awkwardly.
Luna looked up, but didn't reply, and instead took another bite from her pudding. Iris shot her an awkward smile and began to load up her plate, trying to figure out a way to start the conversation. "So uhm..."
Iris paused as she noticed that Luna had put down her spoon, and instead retrieved what looked like a notepad and a pen from her bag. She nervously clicked it for a few times, before setting it down on the notepad, taking a breath, until she finally met her gaze, a much more serious expression than she had ever seen on her face.
"Iris Potter," she began, her voice still airy but also decidedly determined.
"Huh?" Iris replied dumbfounded.
"Would you be willing to answer a few questions for the Quibbler?"
Iris froze, glancing back and forth between her food, Luna, and the pen. Crap. She had completely forgotten. Also, really? They hadn't talked in a month, and this was the first question out of her?
She met the girl's gaze once more and noticed her fidget, as if she wasn't quite sure what she was doing herself. But she also couldn't turn her down like that. Not only were they supposed to be friends, but refusing to answer would raise even more questions in of itself.
"Sure, I guess," Iris finally replied. "Are you sure you want to—"
Luna didn't even let her finish offering her an out. "When did you first notice anything suspicious about Gilderoy Lockhart's past stories?"
Ah. So it would be about that. Also, the way she was asking... as if they were being recorded or something? Which, well, given the existence of Pensieves, might not be that far from the truth... Fine, she could work with this.
"Originally, they did sound quite fantastical and very improbable, so I had my reservations before first meeting him, but he did show a very deep understanding of all the materials in the book during our first class."
"So you didn't suspect him at all? Even considering he was the Defense teacher?"
Iris shook her head. "I was not convinced there was anything really off until I first found a memory about what happened with his last book, Laughing with Lethifolds..." Iris trailed off, only now realizing that this would raise some questions that she wasn't sure if she should or even could answer.
"Fascinating. What kind of memory? Where did you get it from? And what did you learn?"
Iris held her breath. She wasn't really ready to talk about anything involving Myrtle, not that that would be a good idea anyhow. She had no idea what to tell her here, other than that she somehow had a Pensieve that she probably shouldn't have and possibly had inherited from Myrtle. And that was a can of worms she definitely wouldn't be opening up in an interview like this. So she guessed she could go with a half-truth.
"I did come into possession of a Pensieve from an unrelated third party, and one night, I suddenly found the memory in it. Although who had placed it there and why... I couldn't tell you. But whoever it was must have gotten into my dorm."
Iris wasn't sure if that was the only option. After all, there was also the chance that it already had been in there whenever Myrtle had first acquired it in the strange room, and had just placed her own memories on top of them, or maybe not even cared at all since she only needed the Pensieve for use in her room, where silly things like outside logic did not necessarily apply anyway.
"Do you think it could have been placed there by the Nargles?"
Or... that, she supposed. Unsure what to reply, Iris instead moved on to her other questions. "It was a memory of Lockhart, the woman named Mathilda from his book, as well as the barkeep Robert and, well, the victim. And it showed their final confrontation with the Lethifold."
"Do you still have this memory?"
Iris blinked. Actually... Why not? "Yeah, I do."
"Would you be willing to share it?" Luna asked with a gleam in her eyes, to which Iris gave a simple hesitant nod. At least, the interview seemed to have somewhat lifted her spirits for now. "Great! So what does it show?"
Iris shrugged and gave a brief recap of the memory she had found in the Pensieve about Mathilda adapting the Interdictio Mendacium Charm to work against Lethifolds.
Luna nodded sagely as she concluded her tale. "So you had some doubts, had very concerning questions after finding a memory which does not match up with the published work, and contained some inconsistencies itself. Do you think it is possible the memory was manipulated?"
Iris did a double take. She hadn't even realized that the first time around, she had been mostly focused on the implications that would have for Harry's whereabouts. But now that she mentioned it, yes, there were some glaring issues with that memory. Most notably, the inconsistent Patronus. The time-skip could probably either be explained by someone having removed a portion of it, or by whoever had created the memory in the first place having used two consecutive memories instead. How could she be sure that the memory had actually been the reality of what had happened? She did have her fair share of experiences with manipulated memories after all...
"Do you mean the spell? The time-skip? Or the Patronus?"
"That, and the fact that the Lethifold wasn't actually laughing," Luna replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Do you think it is possible that he had two contradicting Patronus forms because he had a similarly contradicting personality?"
"Well, there is one theory I had... You notice how he claimed to have performed all these deeds, cast all these rare spells in his books like Interdictio Mendacium? Yet in the memory, he claims that he would have no idea where to even start with it. But I know from first-hand experience that he was able to cast that spell during our year at Hogwarts at least. So that leaves two options."
"Either he studied up and learned the spell to keep up the ruse, or...?" Luna helpfully supplied.
"Or..." Iris continued, "It is a result of the ritual that he did, which by changing the past to fit his books, could result in him actually gaining the knowledge and skill required to have truly done those deeds himself."
Luna's eyes went wide and she began furiously scribbling.
"And following that train of thought... if he acquired the skill to cast the Patronus the same way, possibly by having performed it in a public place where many people remembered seeing the Patronus form, maybe the ritual did not just grant him the spell, but the form as well."
"Right, that brings me directly to the main topic of the interview. About his latest book, Scheming with Snakes, and your theory as to the truth behind it."
Iris swallowed, but decided to continue. Luna knew a lot of this stuff anyway, she was just making it official, and making sure that Harry's deeds wouldn't be attributed to the toothpaste-commercial-turned-Lethifold instead.
"I had a theory that he may be using some sort of ritual, which would make his books turn into reality."
Luna nodded. "That sounds like a very interesting concept, definitely worthy of the front page of the Quibbler. What was it that led you to this assumption?"
"If the memory I found was the truth, that would mean that his stories were fake after all, which would also explain the glaring inconsistencies in his books that many have found and keep pointing out. Yet that leaves the problem that with every investigation, not only does all the evidence including spell residue match up with the story, but every single witness corroborates the story, and showed no signs of memory manipulation, according to what I have heard."
Luna kept nodding along. Most of this knowledge she had actually learned from the girl herself, as well as Ginny, during many of their infamous debates. She just hoped Luna would understand that she wasn't going to go into anything involving Harry.
"But then his latest book comes out and has so many glaring errors, inconsistencies, and straight up made up chapters that it would be impossible for people not to notice after some time. Yet it reads exactly like all of his other books otherwise. That led me to assume that this book was no different, yet for some reason people could now see the inconsistencies that they usually couldn't. Or at least, they still could."
"But couldn't it also mean that the memory was fake, and it was only now that he truly wasn't everything that his stories made him out to be?"
Iris opened her mouth to object, but then paused, mulling it over. "I... but what would be different about this book compared to the other ones? Considering what he was doing was already..." Iris trailed off, noticing the girl's expression. Was she just trying to get her to slip up in some way? "Weren't you the one who was convinced that he had to be a fraud?"
Luna's expression didn't change. "He was the Defense Professor," she simply replied, as if that explained anything. "It's the position that's making them evil. It's supposed to be cursed, after all."
Luna shot a glance towards the head table where said evil Defense Professor was animatedly arguing with Professor Flitwick, while almost stabbing McGonagall in the eye with his wildly gesturing fork.
"He wasn't evil, you know?" Iris added sullenly. "Hell, he tried. He wanted to... do the right thing, to try and save Harry. And when he couldn't, he just... took advantage of the opportunity. He didn't even harm anyone or destroy anything, well, except for memories, I guess."
"Right, memories," Luna replied. "How would he achieve something like that in the first place?"
Iris took a breath. Was it a good idea to provide her full theory? Was it dangerous to put the knowledge of how to manipulate reality out there? She guessed she could leave out the important details just to be sure, also to not implicate herself by knowing a little too much about rituals in the first place.
"One large donation of the entire revenue of each book, some time after it was released, including any future revenue as well. I thought all of these donations he kept making were kind of suspicious, especially since he didn't really seem the type to just do things out of the goodness of his heart, if you knew the truth behind his books at least. He didn't actually go around helping people, he just liked to be remembered as someone who does. But giving away so much money to the point he can barely afford plain robes would if anything just hurt his image, so I really didn't see him doing that. And that had me thinking that they might not be donations at all. And the theory about his money being used to bribe people to stay silent made not that much sense either, especially given the fact he would have needed to bribe a quarter of Hogwarts at this point."
She mulled over her words for a bit, while Luna kept eagerly scribbling, until she finally spoke up with the conclusion. "My theory was that he somehow performed a ritual to make his books become reality, and offered the revenue as a sacrifice. He wanted the fame and recognition he would have gotten if the books were true, so he sacrificed any and all other gains he got from the books in exchange. It didn't matter that the money went towards charitable means, because what mattered to him, to his personality, was just the sacrifice of giving up on what he had earned through his own work; of any other potential benefit, in order to gain what he truly craved."
"You seem to know quite a bit about rituals," Luna said with a smile.
Crap. Even though the girl had made it sound like a compliment, Iris couldn't help grow suspicious. Was this an interrogation after all? Did the girl have it out for her? Was she yet another conspiracy for her to unravel?
Iris slowly gathered herself, trying not to let too much show on her face, and began to collect a response with just enough truth that hopefully wouldn't raise one too many eyebrows.
"Growing up, my magic was... sort of broken, and I was unable to do any accidental magic at all. At some point I found a way to make things happen by combining objects and symbols we had lying around at our Muggle home. You can imagine my shock when I came to Hogwarts only to learn that what I was doing was not only far from regular magic, but in fact very illegal."
Iris tacitly assumed that it was more or less acceptable for kids to accidentally discover ritualcraft the same way they did accidental magic, even if it didn't seem to be quite as common. She just hoped that she wasn't unknowingly the odd one out again.
Luna just nodded along. "What do you think would have happened if he had done the same with his latest book?"
"Probably the same thing," Iris replied automatically. "None of us would remember anything other than what happened in the book. And there'd be no way to reverse it, because rituals are supposed to be permanent."
Luna took a few more notes, then clicked her pen. And clicked it again.
"Have you befriended any Lethifolds recently?"
Fuck.
Fuck.
She knew! Or at least, she suspected. How could she not? She had hung up the call on her after having just discovered what he might be up to, and barely ten minutes later, Lockhart had been devoured by a Lethifold in the middle of Flourish and Blotts. But she probably didn't have the entire picture. Luna didn't know about the shadows.
She hoped.
"Other than Theo, you mean?"
Luna returned a hesitant smile, and clicked her pen again.
"But I might have to make friends with the one from Diagon Alley if I ever come across it..." she tried for another joke.
Luna's flimsy smile disintegrated completely. "I hope you never do," the girl whispered. "What happened to him... He... I..."
The pen lay forgotten next to the notepad, and her hands were clasped somewhere in her lap. "I... I wanted to expose him. The people should see him for what he was, and he should... he should..."
"He should have paid his due, but not like that. Nobody deserves that. To be just... eaten alive... torn apart... dissolved... into nothingness..."
Luna didn't even know the half of it. But Iris could see now that it might be an even worse idea to tell her anything else. Tracey might have been able to accept the moral ambiguity of what she had been forced to do, but Luna probably wouldn't. The truth would either tear her apart, or it would tear them apart. And she was already way too close for comfort.
"I know..." she whispered, trying to mirror Luna's expression, before repeating with a downcast look, "believe me, I know."
Luna looked up, then gasped as she realized what Iris had been referring to. "Oh, I... Sorry. I... I didn't mean... about Harry, I... wasn't..."
"It's alright," Iris said gently, and reached out a hand across the table.
Luna stared at it as if it was a viper, but then seemingly reconsidered, snatched it up and clung onto it as if it was a lifeline.
"I'm sorry. Sorry I sent that letter, and I... I wrote that... tried to give you hope... even after..."
Luna was now rapidly descending into quiet shuddering sobs, and Iris wanted to somehow reach across the table and hug the girl. But would it be better to just try and keep her distance? Not just to protect her, but also to protect herself?
No! Luna was her friend, and her first friend at that!
But still, if anything, Luna was far too close to the truth for comfort, and much like Dumbledore, she didn't think it was a good idea if she ever found out too much. And Luna was in a much better position than him, with the girl being this close to her.
Iris hated herself for even contemplating it, but even more than with any of her other friends, it sounded like such a great idea to just...
No.
The more she wanted to do it, the worse she felt about it. To just discard her friend because it was convenient. And worse, except for Ginny, she wasn't sure if Luna had any other friends at all.
Just what the hell was she supposed to do with her?
~V~
When Iris had reluctantly explained her plan to Tracey, she had rightfully reacted with skepticism. Admittedly, it was pretty far-fetched, but she was still feeling confident that she was onto something. Of course, the implications if she was correct might have something to do with Tracey's initial disbelief. But in the end, she had of course agreed to help. Iris wasn't sure if she liked the idea. Most of what she had planned she could pull off herself anyway. But she supposed, if she wanted to keep up the ruse of their friendship, this was a sacrifice she needed to make.
Tracey had volunteered to take care of the document, which Iris was thankful for. However, she had also kept prodding her to bring Theo in on the plan as well. But Iris had smacked that down. While they were somewhat getting along ever since their talk on the train, and Tracey had seemingly forgiven him already, Iris hadn't really. Maybe, he could prove himself as the friend he was supposed to be, but for now, she'd keep him at arm's length for a bit more.
Once she finally had an evening free on Friday, Iris had slipped away into the shadows as soon as the sun had set, and was currently making her way through the vast and open nightly expanse that was the Scottish highlands. Of course, she could have had Tracey transfigure what she needed, and that was still the backup plan, but she supposed it would have more meaning if she managed to acquire the genuine thing from somewhere.
Being out here, with no flat surfaces that would look like a mirror, the reflections of the real world just seemed to wrap around all the plants, grass, and rocks, giving the impression as if she were on a hike through the real world. Except that she was skipping through a place where everything had been retextured by some strange psychedelic reflections of what the landscape was supposed to be like. And, of course, she was skipping across entire hills instead of merely small rocks.
It was difficult to make out signs of civilization like this, because counter-intuitively, the illuminated cities would just appear darker than everything else and get drowned out by the rest of the landscape. So Iris found herself wandering aimlessly throughout the hills and valleys for some time, completely at a loss to where she was or how far she had already traveled.
That was, until she closed her eyes. Instead of seeing, she felt. Smell. Taste. It felt... warm. Sweet. Like Lockhart. Except a lot less so.
Almost without thinking, she followed the sensation, as it grew warmer, and she found herself feeling like she was stepping into a cozy bakery during a cold winter night. And she opened her eyes.
Houses, cars, buses, trains. And People. She wondered if they'd taste as good as him.
But also, she realized she had a job to do. So she forced her mind into order, focused, brought the shadows together, and stepped out onto the dark nighttime road.
Fucking hell. Just how long had she been in there? Not good.
Iris gathered herself, trying to get rid of the lingering intrusive thoughts, and instead attempted to focus on her goal. She had something specific in mind, and as with most appropriate symbols, she'd only find it in the Muggle world. But with something like this, she figured quantity would trump quality. At least, as long as they would fit at all. They weren't the main focus, anyway.
But where exactly was she supposed to look? Some place... some place that people were not allowed to go to... Her eyes fell onto the train station at the end of the road, and she quickly made her way down the street and into the dilapidated brick building.
At this time of day, the station was nearly deserted. Only two figures occupied the dimly lit hall. One was a lanky man with a scruffy beard and hollow cheeks and a gray hoodie, nervously tapping his foot. Beside him, a short, stocky man with a shaved head in a black biker jacket leaned over a bench, focusing intently on something. The tall man who somehow reminded her of Petunia shot her a quick look, but then was distracted by his partner. "There we go, hang on..."
There was a sharp crunching sound coming from the metal tray the biker dwarf was hunched over.
"Come on... hurry up..." her bearded aunt whispered urgently.
Iris paused, and edged a bit closer, trying to get a better look. From what she could see, the tray was filled with a small amount of glass shards, or something. The stocky man gave a grunt, before raising the hammer-like metallic object in his hand again, and pressing it down once more, resulting in another crunching sound. Just what the hell were they—
"What are you lookin' at?" the bald man snapped at her, causing Iris to frown.
Right. She had a job to do. It probably wasn't a great idea to needlessly antagonize the local Muggle drug dealers, if that's what this was. Even if they'd make for decent, morally acceptable target practice for some wandless banishing charms, she guessed. Iris pulled the hood of her Muggle sweater a bit lower, quickly taking the final steps towards the exit that would lead onto the train platform. Said platform was, apparently, completely empty. That was just fine with her.
Iris looked left and right, and spotted the one place that she had pegged her hopes on. A small railing in front of the gap next to the end of the platform, that would lead down onto the tracks. Making her way across the platform, she approached the end, and there it was.
A large round red and white sign, mounted to the railing, proclaiming one of the most universal messages with the help of a stick figure. Yeah, it was a long shot. It was ridiculous to even think something like that could work. But she had faced worse odds. She had to do something to keep her friends safe. But more importantly, this was the only thing she had managed to come up with that might stand a chance at possibly preventing another Germany.
Iris checked the back, and noticed that it was bolted to the rail with the use of some large metallic screws. A quick wandless Alohomora made short work of those, and she picked up the surprisingly light sign, and slowly forced it into her magical backpack. With a nod, she made her way across the tracks towards the second platform and repeated the process.
Alright, two were good, but four would be even better... And a glance all the way across the platform revealed exactly what she needed on the very other end of both tracks.
Two more silent flashes of yellow light, and soon, she was shoving the fourth and final metallic sign into the confines of her bag.
As she slung her bag over her shoulder, running footsteps echoed behind her. Iris spun around to see bearded Petunia approaching her, his gray hoodie pulled over his head, eyes wide and pupils dilated. His hands trembled as he pulled out a knife, the blade glinting under the flickering platform lights. He fumbled with it for a moment, before sticking it in her face, with Iris' back against the wall.
"Hand over the bag," he demanded, voice shaky. "N-Now!"
Iris sighed, her expression calm despite the threat. "You don't want to do this," she said softly.
"Shut up! Give it here!" he yelled, waving the knife erratically.
Iris lit up her fingers in a soft green, and with a subtle flick, the knife slipped his shaky grasp and began to float. The man's eyes widened in terror as the blade hovered between them.
"What the—" he stammered, stumbling backward.
"Leave. Now," Iris warned, her eyes fixed on him.
Street-thug-Petunia's gaze darted between the knife, her, and the bag for a few seconds, his fingers twitching, as he hastily took a step back, but the knife steadily followed.
"Shit. Shit. Shit!" he cursed, and whirled around to make his getaway, only to almost collide with the biker dwarf behind him. He stumbled to the side, revealing the short bald man, eyes wide, pure disbelief and terror written across his face, and clutching that silvery object in shaky hands.
A deafening crack echoed through the station. What the— Oh fuck that— Pain. Unbelievable pain exploded in Iris's side after only a second of disbelief. It spread like icy cold honey pouring over her body, a raw burning sensation taking over everything. The knife clattered forgotten down onto the asphalt. Iris collapsed to her knees, then down onto her hands. Her vision blurred as she saw the bald man lowering the metallic object—the gun—smoke still curling from the barrel.
"Fuck. Fuck! Wha' bloody kinda voodoo shit was that?" the lanky man yelled to his partner, who stood frozen in shock.
He stared down at the gun, as if it was about to explode in his hands. "Shit! I'm outta here. Fuck this crazy cunt!" he yelled, turned and took off into the night. The lanky man was hot on his heels, Iris' bag long since forgotten, still draped over her shoulder.
Iris’ hands lost their support, and she hit the asphalt with a splat, her cheek smacking into something liquid, and warm. Darkness crept into Iris's vision as she struggled to stay conscious. This… this wasn’t good. She needed... needed to...
Everything grew darker and darker, the shadows stretching longer, taller, taking over everything. They almost seemed to move, as it became harder and harder to breathe. The last specks of light were drowned out and she finally found herself falling.
Chapter 17: The right man in the wrong place
Chapter Text
Tonks made her way down the dark and twisted hallways of the ancient house of horrors that was supposed to be her mother's old family home. She could never imagine growing up in a place like this. While she had always been partial to a reasonable amount of doom and gloom in her life, this place was slowly making her reevaluate that choice.
There was tasteful quirky madness, and then there was full batshit insane. And you never went full batshit insane outside the bedroom.
Thunk!
Bugger.
"MUDBLOODS!!! TRAITORS TO THE HOUSE OF BLACK!! NEVER IN ALL MY YEARS—"
Case and point. At least the silencing charm seemed to be doing its work for now. She guessed it could be worse, though. It was certainly as pristine as a dark gloomy house of horrors could get. And yet she had somehow managed to trip over the one Merlin-damned piece of junk still sitting around anyway.
"Get a move on, Nymphadora. Meeting's already started," grumbled the not-so-mortal incarnation of sadism.
She didn't give him the satisfaction of reacting to the name. Merlin knew the bastard was getting a kick out of pretending he didn't even notice. The walking patchwork who was more scar than skin shot her a look with his one good eye, before snapping his gaze to the umbrella stand she had tripped over. "One month into active duty and you're already losing your edge?"
Someone was about to lose something else if he didn't shut up. But she didn't dare voice that with flipping Dumbledore standing there in the middle of the room.
"As I explained last time, I myself will be otherwise occupied with a task sadly only I can perform. The public will be in much greater danger if I pass this along."
Oh. It was about that again. It was nuts how quickly she had gotten used to all this cloak and dagger secret hidden Order stuff. But she supposed you could get used to anything if you were used to what Mad-Eye lovingly referred to as basic training.
If it had been up to her, she'd have brought her actual boss in on this as well. But Moody had quickly knocked that idea out of her mind. The ministry was above all else an institution of law. And the Dark Lord knew that. It was the whole reason why he had almost won the first time around, and why so many of his followers had gotten away with a slap on the wrist. When the Ministry stood by and let innocent people get hurt because to act would violate some piece of text written hundreds of years ago... That wasn't what she had signed up for. Sometimes the law just didn't cut it when it came to doing the right thing.
Hence, her current presence in the house that was trying its best to eat her alive. She threw another challenging glare at the silently shouting image of the woman who was apparently her great-aunt. She'd tried her very best to burn that image into her mind just to be extra sure she'd never match a single facial feature with that hag in the future.
Unless she went Muggle. She'd gladly wear her face for the whole duration of that mission with glee.
Where was she? Ah, right.
"...One of you."
Wait, what?
"It cannot be me," replied the dungeon bat dryly.
"I'll say!" growled her one sane uncle.
Dumbledore took a long breath, before replying, "As much as I think you would be best suited to the task, Severus, I have to agree. Your cover is too important, and leaving this role to you would place you in an impossible position regarding your loyalty."
Snape answered that with a simple nod.
"I reckon I could give it a go," Shack spoke up.
"Alas, you'll be busy with your obligations as an Auror, I'm afraid."
Tonks shot a helpless look at Moody, then at Sirius, hoping that someone would explain what was going on. They hadn't gotten to that part in the last meeting.
"Minerva, perhaps if you—"
"No, Albus. My first priority must be the safety of the students. I will not be discussing this again."
"What about you, Arthur?" Sirius asked the redhead standing next to him. "I don't think the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department will have much to do that day..."
Said man shifted nervously as suddenly every single gaze in the room was foisted upon him. "Me? I mean... I don't really know much about runes and all that..."
"That isn't necessary at all. The most important thing is to show resolute, unfaltering will, no matter the situation," explained Dumbledore calmly.
Eyes darted around the room, some of them landing on her. And she still had no idea what this was all about. She wasn't about to be volunteered for some insane plot if she didn't even know what it was about!
"Still... I don't know if I... I mean, we're talking about You-Know-Who here... Wouldn't it be better to—"
"Wait, what about you?" Tonks interjected, shooting Sirius a raised eyebrow. "How about you volunteer instead of trying to foist it off on others?"
She really hadn't seen the cheeky bugger much ever since he had returned from Azkaban. But she did remember him from her childhood. He had by far been her favorite uncle. Basically the only one, really. The Death-Eater nutcases didn't count. And if there was one thing she knew it was that Sirius would stand by his beliefs, even if everyone else disagreed. Her mum had once explained that he had even been kicked out of his own family for that, much like mum herself.
But much more importantly, he had taken great pleasure in letting everyone know the fact he had changed her diapers once almost twenty years ago, so he had every single authority to call her all sorts of embarrassing names that she had refused to keep track of.
Yeah. Those definitely had been the reasons why she had volunteered him for whatever this was, and in no way post-decision rationalizations. No, sir.
"Come on. Me? I mean..." he chuckled, looking left to right, but grew silent as he noticed all the expectant stares on him. "You realize I've not exactly been the epitome of sanity until quite recently?"
"You trying to convince us that you ever were?" Tonks doubled down, even as a slow niggling voice entered her mind that perhaps volunteering someone who had been enjoying the pleasures of Azkaban for the past ten years for a task that required extraordinary strength of will was... okay, maybe, not even that bad of an idea. Only a madman would manage to stay sane through that.
That, or someone with an extraordinarily strong will. Merlin, she was a genius to have thought of that from the start.
"Still. I can't even do the soul judgment, much less anything more fancy. I really don't think that I'd be—"
"On the contrary, Sirius. I can hardly imagine a better person for the task."
Yes! Crisis averted. Dumbledore for the win.
Sirius shot her a betrayed look, and she gave him a completely innocent and not at all cheeky grin in return.
The meeting continued from there, with Dumbledore slowly convincing Sirius to take the role she had foisted upon him, which would apparently play a centerpiece in the plan. And it would for some reason involve Hagrid. She was kind of baffled how long they could keep talking about this topic with her still none the wiser what the actual plan was. But she wasn't about to ask and hand the one-eyed git next to her even more reasons to perform another surprise drill or something.
"Thought you were being clever, eh?"
Bugger. Apparently, said surprise drill might be coming sooner than expected.
"This how you behave on the job once my back's turned?"
"You saying I was wrong?" she offered her weak rebuttal.
"I'm saying perhaps I oughta have a word with Amelia. Obviously, she's not pushing you hard enough."
Perfect. Just perfect.
~V~
Somehow, she wasn't dead yet. And somehow, she wasn't in pain either. But she was also painfully aware of the gaping hole in her chest. How was she still alive then?
Well, apparently, shadows didn't just have no need for air, they also couldn't bleed, either. That didn't change a thing about the fact that she was basically a walking corpse right now. She had just managed to buy some time. Time until she either had to return to the land of the living and continue dying, or until she would lose her mind and start devouring the townsfolk out of boredom.
There was only one place she knew she could get the help she needed. But that was half-way across the bloody country. And the thoughts still hadn't quite gone away after her last trip...
She had no time to waste. She needed to get back to Hogwarts.
~V~
"What exactly is this about, Dolores?
"As I said, I found the perfect angle on Dumbledore," Dolores simpered, quickening her small steps. "We don't have time to waste."
"Then why don't you just tell me what it is?" Cornelius repeated, breathing heavily.
"Because Dumbledore has people in place. Our best chance is to act before they have any chance to realize what is going on. Every second counts, Minister," Dolores declared cheerfully, unable to hold back a smile.
Cornelius shot a wary glance at Dawlish keeping step with him, who just gave a nonchalant shrug. The Auror hadn't exactly been happy when he had realized that Dolores had been acting on her own instead of on behalf of the Minister when she had approached him earlier. But he, at least, shared their common goal. So as soon as he noticed Cornelius would be involved, Dawlish simply deferred to him instead and quietly followed along, luckily without asking any difficult questions. Both of them had been assuming the other knew what this was about, and now they were both too awkward to ask for confirmation, even if they finally suspected that none of them did.
They turned a corner, and headed down the hallway towards the large iron door that would lead into the Department of Mysteries. Dolores glanced around nervously, her eyes flitting over all the empty, dark corners of the corridor, as if looking for something, something lurking in the shadow.
But she tried her best not to let it show, firmed her expression and set a brisk pace down the hallway. If Dawlish had been correct, Dumbledore had people watching this corridor for some reason. Likely, to prevent someone from doing exactly what they were about to do.
"Quick now, Minister. if we don't make it to the Chamber of Time on time, well, you know how the Unspeakables can be about their passion projects..."
"No, I don't. Also why are we—"
"There's no time. We're already late!" Dolores quickly cut him off, with yet another surreptitious glance around the empty corridor.
Merlin. Right here, deep within the very heart of the Ministry. She shuddered to think what else the headmaster could have infiltrated. It was high time someone put a stop to that madman. And hopefully, today she'd manage exactly that.
Her hand came to rest on the heavy brass door knob, and taking a breath, she pushed. A door like this should definitely at least give a low creak, a groan, something. Or maybe, the silence was just getting to her.
She just hoped that the memo she had sent had already—
"Finally. What is this about, Cornelius?"
Across from them, in the center of the large round hall walled with doors to all sides stood a single, tall, robed figure. Probably a man, at least, judging from his voice. And even though she could see his face, she couldn't make out anything of significance whatsoever.
The only thing distinguishing him from the number of other employees of this department was the necklace with a golden triangle dangling from the tip.
"Croaker. Thank Merlin. I... wait. You don't know? I thought that—"
Dolores took a breath, and stepped forward.
"We're here to retrieve and inspect a prophecy."
Heavy silence followed that statement. Cornelius shot her a confused and slightly betrayed look. She could almost feel the glares of everyone else in the room on her, but Dolores forged onwards. She had come this far, she had to see this through.
"Prophecies cannot be removed by anyone except those whom they are about. They are charmed to prevent exactly that, and the spells are designed so that they cannot even be removed by us, so long as the prophecy is still active."
"That's right. But if it weren't?"
The nondescript man gave her a long look. "If the prophecy were already fulfilled, then yes, we could remove it. But can you be sure that it is?"
"The prophecy is about You-Know-Who and Harry Potter."
A sharp gasp from Cornelius, and Dawlish cursed something underneath his breath.
"Indeed... But that still leaves another issue. The prophecy, like all others, is property of the Department of Mysteries. I simply cannot allow any of them to be removed for reasons outside of department business."
"Of course you can't. Again with the bloody secrecy," snarled Dawlish next to her.
Dolores smiled, and simply continued. "Unless, of course, you were given a direct order by the Minister himself."
It was hard to tell, but she would bet some galleons that Croaker was frowning right now. He slowly turned to face the Minister, who seemed to shrink a bit under his gaze.
Cornelius shot her a look, looking for reassurance that she knew what she was doing. But she knew that the moment she mentioned who the prophecy was supposedly about, there was no way he'd back out now.
Finally, he gathered himself, thrust out his chest, and spoke up. "I'm sorry, Saul. But it's necessary. We need to see this prophecy."
Dawlish straightened his trench coat, and made a show of edging slightly closer to Cornelius. Good boy.
"Very well. Follow me."
And with that, all that needed to be said had been said. Dolores quickly took step next to Cornelius and the centerpiece of her plan. Croaker seemingly picked one of the doors at random, pushed it open and led them through. They followed through a rounded, empty room with a small cylindrical podium at the center. It held a large, crystalline contraption that seemed to merge all the way together at the top into a small translucent platform. They made their way past the contraption, all the way to a door on the other side, which upon being opened, revealed a massive dark hall filled with rows and rows of shelves. On each of them set countless tiny translucent orbs of glass, filled with a milky substance. Some of them were glowing in a bright white, while most of them just sat in a dull, dark gray.
"A- are all of those..." Cornelius muttered, apparently having never been down here before.
"Prophecies."
Cornelius' gaze darted left to right, taking in all the shelves, until he voiced another question. "And... why are only some of them—"
"Upon creation, they glow in a bright light, marking them as active, and also signifying that their protection is absolute. Once events start to unfold, and a prophecy starts to bear weight, you will notice it start to move, to swirl on its own. And finally, when it is inevitably fulfilled, the light fades, and it becomes a static, unmoving, dull gray. It is at this point—when Fate would no longer be meddled with—that the protections can, if necessary, be lifted."
Next to her, Dawlish shook his head and mumbled something about Fate. Croaker approached a podium at the center of the room, upon which a heavy tome sat. He pulled the leather apart, parting the pages, and flipped through them, until his finger came to rest on a particular spot.
He hesitated for only a moment, before nodding, and turning to the left, gesturing for them to follow. They passed some more shelves, each of them loaded with yet another uncountably large number of tiny glass orbs, with occasionally one or two of them glowing brightly, like tiny stars dotting their surroundings, piercing the darkness with a pale white glow. Finally, they came to rest in front of one particular shelf, and Dolores stepped closer to get a better look.
Harry Potter and The Dark Lord
Sybill Patricia Trelawney to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
"You said that it can only be heard once the light fades, correct?" Dolores asked.
"Correct," replied the Unspeakable simply.
Dolores stared at the dull gray orb, the shapes within almost too dark to even make out.
"Then how... do you know whom it is about?" she queried, gesturing at the name tag.
"Through the same process that we receive the prophecy in the first place. The details are complicated, but suffice to say it is related to divination, with all its benefits and pitfalls. Upon creation, as soon as the prophecy becomes sealed, the names of the subjects and witnesses are divined by the same process, and the prophecy is marked and stored, until it can one day be retrieved. It is accurate more often than not, but since divination is involved, there can be errors. But even if the names are inaccurate, most of the time it is at least very close to the mark."
Dolores stared at the tiny glass orb for some time, pondering the implications. So while it wasn't certain, there was at least a high chance that at least part of what the girl had told her had been correct. Her current guess was that they had both been spot-on, and the prophecy said exactly what the Potter girl had said, and not what Dumbledore had implied. That either would kill the other, which Potter had. Hence, it was now no longer glowing. And soon, she'd have proof. All she needed was to get Dawlish to admit the thing into evidence, and then Dumbledore would be as good as arrested. Or at least, he would be, once he tried to use this very prophecy as a basis for his coup. Oh, the look on his face, when he'd try to make his grand play, and she'd instead simply pull out a tiny glass orb to shatter all of his plans into pieces. She already felt giddy just at the thought of it. Dolores simply loved the poetic idea of having one tiny thing be the cause for all his plans to come falling apart.
"Well? How do we remove this protection, Croaker?" Dawlish sighed impatiently.
"As I said, by Ministerial decree."
Dolores' eyes flicked over to Cornelius who immediately stood a little straighter. He had always seemed to enjoy those times where he'd get to issue a magical command, to have magic itself bow to his authority through nothing but his voice.
Dolores would never admit it, but she felt just a tad jealous. Yes, she enjoyed the power that the stroke of a quill could wield, but a simple word, power in its most ancient sense, held a quality of its own. Like a king of old, a pharaoh of the Nile. No magic, no tricks, no deception. Just one word, and they'd all follow. Of their own free will.
"By the authority of the Minister of Magic, I, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, command the protections of this prophecy to be lifted."
For all of his faults, when it came to public speaking—well, at least, prepared public speaking—he did really come out of his shell, didn't he?
Dolores' small smile turned away from Cornelius, and back onto the small crystal ball, which still sat there, completely unchanged, on the dark wooden shelf.
Well, that had been kind of anticlimactic.
Cornelius shifted a bit, his expression seeming to waver slightly, slowly growing unsure if he had done it correctly. Dawlish frowned, and so did Dolores, as Croaker finally broke his silence, and began to move with particularly slow deliberation.
"Of course, Minister."
He reached for his collar, then slowly began to draw the golden chain off his neck, lifted it above his head, until he held the triangle within one hand.
One day, she'd find a way to wipe the smirk off his face that the Unspeakable was definitely wearing beneath his spell right now.
"Croaker..." growled Dawlish under his breath, probably palming his wand underneath his trench coat, but the Head Unspeakable seemed unintimidated.
He raised his hand, moved it over towards the small glass orb, and slowly began to move the golden triangle, until he fit it neatly right over the orb, and it gave a golden flash. And with that, it was over as quickly as it had begun.
"So it's safe to touch now?" snapped Dawlish, earning an entirely professional nod from Croaker.
"Great." And with that, Dawlish snapped up the glass orb from the shelf, and turned around. Only then, he stopped, took a breath, and said in a slow, deliberate voice, "What exactly do we need to do to watch it?"
"You can use the viewing room. It's the one through which we passed to get here."
And without so much as a thank you, Dawlish set off down the dark aisle, Cornelius and herself in tow. He reached the podium, turned right, stepped through the singular door standing in the middle of the empty aisle without any wall surrounding it, pulled it open, and they found themselves in the empty circular room once more.
Dawlish approached the center podium, stared at it for a moment, glass orb in hand, hesitating. Finally, he turned, and shot a flat look at the man who had just entered behind them. "And how exactly do we watch it?"
"You insert the prophecy into the focus receptacle at the top, then tune the prism at the bottom to match the particular intensity of each of the aspects, which depend on the length, the age, the number of people involved..."
Dawlish growled something underneath his breath.
"Of course, should you need my help, all you have to do is ask..."
"Saul, please," Cornelius thankfully cut in, before spells could start flying. "We really need to see this prophecy. The future of the Ministry is at stake here."
Dolores wisely held her tongue, and let the three men get over with their little pissing contest. More time spent quarreling meant less time actually questioning her weak reasoning behind why they were here.
"...Of course, Minister," came the monotone reply. As if the very motions pained him, Croaker stepped up to the rugged Auror, held out a hand, and with a snarl, Dawlish placed the orb back into his hand, just a little more forcefully than necessary.
Croaker nodded, then stepped up to the podium at the center, held up the orb, and then, slowly, raised his wand up to it. A bright white light burst from the tip, and he held it behind the orb, then lifted it up to his eye as if to inspect it.
Dolores stared mesmerized at the rays of color refracting from the tiny orb in all directions, shimmering, shifting, and moving along to the swirling mist contained within.
"This... No. This can't be..." the Unspeakable whispered.
"What is it now?" sighed Dawlish. "Some of us do have somewhere to be."
"This is impossible. It is clearly marked as fulfilled, yet... yet the mists of Fate are still in motion. I've never seen anything like it..."
"As interesting as that is," Dolores cut in, before this could get any further off track. "We really do need to see the prophecy now. Dumbledore might have already gotten wind of us being here, there's no telling what he might do."
Cornelius nodded along with her words. "Saul, while I admire your dedication, please. We have no time to waste."
"Don't you understand what this means?!" hissed the Head Unspeakable. "The mists are still in motion. This means that events are still unfolding, that the prophecy still bears weight! Despite it already being fulfilled!"
"So what?" Dawlish lost the rest of his patience. "You heard the minister. Just place the damn thing in the contraption already, Croaker."
"You imbecile! If you hear the prophecy while it still bears weight, you will be meddling with Fate! An action that is even more ill-advised than meddling with Time! It is the exact reason why the protective enchantment is placed in the first place! I never should have removed it to begin with. If I can't find a way to restore the enchantment, I suspect we will have to destroy it."
"Destroy? Have you lost your mind?"
Croaker completely ignored Dawlish now and turned towards Cornelius. "I'm sorry, Cornelius. Even if I wanted to, I can't allow you to do this. Bad things happen to people who meddle with Fate. The only ones who should meddle with prophecies are those whom they are about. It has always been this way."
"You don't understand!" exclaimed Cornelius, backed into a corner. "We have to! If we don't learn the contents of this prophecy, Dumbledore will use it to perform a coup! He already knows it, he was the one who received it! It said so on the plaque!"
Dolores carefully took a few steps back, watching as events unfolded. She had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but she had still planned for it anyway. The future of her career, of Cornelius' career, of the whole Ministry, even the whole country. It all came down to this very moment, this very room, to one single man, who held all the power to decide the outcome. And she had made very sure to pick exactly the right man for the job. A man who not only would stay with Cornelius even if he had to move slightly outside the law, but more importantly, a man who held a personal grudge against the one person standing in her way. Ah, whom was she kidding. She had very much hoped it would come to this.
"You heard the Minister, Croaker. Put the damn thing in there."
Dawlish, confronted with both a challenge to Cornelius' authority, and a man he personally despised, had finally drawn his wand. Croaker, with his wand still in his hand, made to turn towards Dawlish, but before his own wand could come even half-way to bear, Dawlish gave him a vicious look.
"Oh, please try it. You draw a wand on the Minister, I will arrest you."
Never mind the fact that he wasn't about to aim his wand at Cornelius, but at Dawlish instead. Dolores tried so very hard not to smile. It was all coming together now.
Cornelius was nervously shifting back and forth, but in the end, he firmed his expression, and spoke once more. "Saul, please. I know these are exceptional circumstances. I'm sorry, but there really is no other way."
The three men were still locked in their standoff, but internally, Dolores was already sipping a cup of tea in victory.
"On your head be it. I will have nothing to do with this," stated Croaker firmly, and whirled to face the contraption once more.
He raised the glass sphere, placed it at the top, causing a bright ray of white light to burst from the bottom of the tall crystalline contraption and illuminate the glass orb at the top, turning it into a similar glow as the few active prophecies they had encountered.
He began twisting the black obsidian dials with strange symbols at the sides of the contraption, causing the ray of light below the orb to split apart, bend back towards the center and converge back into the orb at the top. He then twisted another dial, causing the single rays of colors to shift and move, until it came to rest on a very particular position, upon which, he twisted the first one again, collapsing the beam back into a white light.
Finally he stepped back, perched himself in a corner of the room, and probably glared back at them.
"Was that it? How do we watch it?" demanded Dawlish with a glare.
"To watch you just need to press down on the orb at the top. And I will not be the one responsible for this. Mark my words, you will regret this decision."
"Sure. But if this is a trap, Croaker..."
Cornelius sighed. "Thank you, Saul. I am sorry, but it simply has to be this way."
The Head Unspeakable just gave a single, sharp nod, but didn't speak again.
Dawlish took a step forward, and with one single, deliberate motion, pressed down on the small glass orb, causing it to sink half-way into the podium. The light split from a beam into countless rays of color, emanating from the orb in all directions. The light seemed to swirl, converge, until the room was filled with a white mist. Within the fog, an outline took shape, slowly gaining detail, until she recognized the woman. Sybill Trelawney, as it had said on the tin.
Her eyes glazed over in a misty white, her head tilted a bit too far back, until she took a deep raspy breath, and began to speak in a voice that held a strange sort of power.
"The one with the power to vanquish V̶̛̪o̸̰̍l̶͇͂d̴̖̂̈́͆ḙ̸̢̹̥̟̣̔̍̑͐̽͆m̶̠̬͔̺͋̓̑̀̋̋̇̀̒̊̇͒̑͝ ̷̨̦͈̌̅̇̒͒̒ ̸̢̧̢͚̤̲͔͖̟͙͎̬̖͎͔̝̈́̒̉̓̇̽̿̀͜͠ ̶̡̛͈̤̩̜̺̌̀̄̈́͛͆̂̿̓̚͝ ̶̧̜̣̭̖̭̺̟̺̠̫̌̑́͌̄̀̈́̓̿ ̴̯̂̍̅̑͂̀̍̃͛͛̚ ̴̝̺̙̦̞̤̥͈̖̱̯̯̥̖̲̹̇ͅ "
Everything exploded into deafening noise, heat, and blinding white light. All of her senses were screaming, and something else was there, even above all the sensory overload, part of a word, swirling and shifting, incomplete, waiting, yearning for more, moving around but not finding purchase.
What in Merlin's name had just happened?
Dolores rubbed her face, trying to get something out of her eyes that wasn't there, trying to swallow to clear her ears of something just as imaginary. Only then, she realized that she had fallen to the ground. She shifted, trying to get to her feet, and slowly, shapes began to resolve through the blinding afterimage of a blazing star.
"W-What in Merlin's name? What was that?" exclaimed Cornelius, slowly gathering himself.
Dolores blinked again, then tried her best to take in the situation. All of them had fallen to the ground, and the prophecy had been cut short. Upon further inspection, she realized the cause. The top of the contraption, the small crystalline podium, was entirely shattered. And the prophecy with it. Just what in Merlin's name had...
Her eyes trailed back towards the final person in the room, hunched against the wall, who was clutching a wand in his hand. Croaker.
"You!" she pointed an accusing finger. "You destroyed it! Do you realize what you have done?!"
"I... I had no choice..." whispered the Head Unspeakable.
"This is treason! You violated a direct order, and even endangered the Minister! What if you had missed? What if you had hit him with that spell?!" Dolores screamed in desperation, as she watched her plan fall apart at the hands of this one man.
"I had no choice," Croaker reiterated. "She was about to say the Dark Lord's name."
That statement caused any arguments she had to freeze on her lips. That... that had been... What?
But... there was no way. You-Know-Who's name, what nonsense. Nobody but him and those closest to him could even speak it. And even then, they never did, unless in the most special of circumstances. No, if anything, this was an excuse. A convenient statement that could not be denied after the fact to justify him getting his way in the end. She had clearly pushed the man too far, and hadn't expected him to lash out like that.
Dolores sighed, then gathered herself. If her plan was a failure anyway, the least she could do was make sure that the man who had foiled it would go down along with it. "What nonsense. Everyone knows that the Dark Lord's name cannot be spoken aloud. You saw what happened, Dawlish! He attacked Cornelius! He disobeyed a direct order! He—"
"No," came the whispered reply.
"Excuse me?" she whispered, now turning her gaze back to Dawlish, who still just stood there, wand hanging limply from his side, staring at the destroyed contraption at the center of the room as if he had seen a ghost.
"No. He... he is right."
He was what?
"The Dark Lord's name. I only ever heard it spoken once, just vaguely, from a distance. The sound of it... still haunts me to this day. And what I heard just now, the way it sounded, the way it felt..." he took a deep, shuddering breath, and then whispered, "There's no mistaking it. It was the Dark Lord's name."
Dolores looked between the beaten Auror, and the slumped Unspeakable, over to the Minister who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else right now.
"But... even still, there was no need to destroy it, we could have still—"
"No," Dawlish reiterated flatly, then turned towards Cornelius. "I only faintly heard it then, and I still just barely came out of it with my mind intact. And with all respect, Minister, I know that you... most certainly would not."
This... he... Merlin damn it all to hell! Croaker had just blown up the prophecy right in their face, and her ace in the hole refused to even so much as judge him for it, much less try to arrest him, as he should!
This was bad. This was...
They had learned nothing! Nothing except that... a prophecy, which was about Harry Potter and the Dark Lord, had stated that the one with the power to vanquish him, would... whatever would have come next. But that still left one major revelation. The girl had been right. The prophecy did at least say that someone, most likely Harry Potter, would be able to vanquish him, which he did. Sadly, however, she did not know the whole thing. And even if there had been something else in there, which she could have used to contradict whatever Dumbledore would come up with, it was now lost to her.
If anything, however, it had firmly proven that the Potter girl was on her side in all of this. Nobody had had any idea about this, yet the girl had just told her, despite never having had any of the tea. And she did claim that she knew the whole thing... There might yet still be some way to use that; use her to get at Dumbledore. After all, Dumbledore seemed to trust her on some level.
Yes. Maybe, this had been worthwhile after all.
Chapter 18: Forgiveness
Chapter Text
Tracey's eyes scanned over the document that her mum had sent her back. This had to be the single most Muggle thing in the entire castle. It was made of blank white paper, printed with black ink. It had a small spreadsheet. It had a staple. It even had a bloody stamp. And it spent more time citing sections of law than actually spelling out its contents. And most importantly, it had several blank spaces, where Iris would need to fill in the required information.
Tracey didn't pretend to know much about rituals, really. But she was also pretty sure that Iris had mentioned that rituals couldn't understand written words. So what the hell was the point of all this, then?
But trying to get Iris to explain what went on in her mind at times like these was one surefire way to experiencing the pleasures of a Confundus, all without the help of any magic. Not that Iris didn't explain, in fact, quite the opposite.
"In essence, the content doesn't matter all that much, what's important is that it is genuine. Basically, as close to the real thing as possible, if not the real thing outright. I'll make sure the intent doesn't get sidetracked, but it's still the main focus, we gotta do this right. Of course, there's a lot of wiggle room for interpretation, but if my assumptions about his Name are correct, I can use that to try and guide the outcome to what we need. So really, appearance is what matters. You following?"
And she had smiled, and nodded. "Yup. Just get the genuine thing."
Tracey had, in fact, not followed. Unless it was one of the rarer occasions where she managed to keep up all the way, at some point most people would inevitably tap out and just nod along, waiting for the lecture to be over in hopes of not appearing too stupid. Herself very much included. But Iris had sounded like she knew what she was doing, so the only way to make sure was to trust her. "Are you sure it's gonna work?"
"It's the best shot we have. I mean, technically, it really shouldn't work. But I have a feeling it might, if I do manage to write it."
Impossible, challenging or trivial sort of traded places when it came to her best friend. She just could never be quite sure which way around. Tracey sighed again. As far as Iris' insane plans went, this one was... well, insane was putting it lightly. But at least, all the preparations should be simple enough, and they could always just call it off before it would even happen.
Some motion from the corner of her vision caught her attention, and Tracey looked up from the bed. There was a— Oh. Iris was back.
A distorted mess of blackness, long limbs, and at the top a mass of shadows that somehow looked like a face the longer she stared at it. She'd never really gotten used to seeing that, but she still felt relief fill her all the same. Every time Tracey had voiced her worries regarding the shadow realm, Iris had brushed it off due to both being far too useful, and having mostly been safe so far. At least to her, she guessed.
But something was off. The shadows started to grow far too slowly. Usually, she'd have plopped down on her bed by this point, but she'd been staring at the eldritch being for over ten seconds flat, and it was still just standing there, slowly growing darker. And was... was that a hole?! What the—
The shadows shivered, and suddenly, the silhouette of a girl resolved from the darkness, and came tumbling forward, only to hit the ground with a dull thud.
"Iris?!"
Tracey jumped to her feet as panic shot through her. Then, her blood turned to ice as she spotted the red. A puddle was already starting to form around her, and Iris was barely moving.
"T—t... Trunk..." came a weak groan. "T-ther-mos..."
Iris' head tilted to the side and became still, as the puddle of blood slowly grew to enclose her face, and began to soak the hair that shared its color.
Tracey couldn't think. This couldn't be happening. She had to... had to get Madam Pomfrey! Someone! She needed help! But she couldn't. Iris was hurt. She was dying. She didn't have time until Tracey could find a teacher. She had to... had to—
Her eyes landed on Iris' trunk, and the words flashed through her mind again. A thermos? Did she have a thermos in there? How would that help?
Like a woman possessed, Tracey dashed across the room and tore open her trunk, she rummaged fruitlessly for a second, before clutching onto a metal cylinder and pulling the canister from the depths of the trunk.
Tracey grabbed the metallic canister, dashed over to the unmoving form of her best friend, unscrewed the lid, and... what the hell was she supposed to... she couldn't... what even was this?
Tracey glanced down, peered into the small thermos can, and she could make out a softly glimmering green liquid inside it. It seemed to swirl by itself, and emit tiny glowing wisps of green and yellow light, that rose from the surface, only to drop right back down into the depths, almost like...
The potion... The potion she had brewed with Hermione! The Wiggenweld they had made in Snape's class! Had she saved some of that? They usually only filled a vial and discarded the rest, but... No matter. This was all she had. It had to work!
Tracey grabbed her body, and her fingers sunk into the dark fabric of the sleeve of her hoodie with a sickening, warm squish. It was all wet, drenched in— in rainwater. Warm, red rainwater. All over her hands. Tracey fought back the urge to throw up, and strained with all her might to roll her over onto her back. Her black muggle sweater was completely soaked, as were her pants. Everything was covered in—
"No! You can't do this!" Tracey cried.
She lifted the thermos, her hands shaking, almost dropped the metal canister, then brought it up to Iris' blood-stained lips, and tilted it over. The green liquid poured over her mouth, her nose, with barely anything ending up inside it. Wringing her hands in desperation, Tracey reached out to pull her mouth further open, and repeated the process. This resulted in a wet cough, ejecting half the potion back from her airways, all over her face.
No... how was she supposed to... she couldn't... wait, could that work? Tracey tore open the sweater, pulled her t-shirt up, and her breath caught. Was that... was that from a gun?! Just what the hell had she—
Stop! She had to do something, there was no time! Tracey raised the thermos once more, and began pouring the bright green potion all across the small circular wound in Iris' chest. She had no idea if the potion could work like that, but it was either this or... Right, if she couldn't get her to swallow, better this stuff in her lungs than her blo—
Tracey shook her head violently, then poured another small amount of liquid into her mouth, then gently closed it and having no idea what to do next, began to prod and massage her throat, hoping to get her to swallow.
"Come on! Iris, please... don't do this! You gotta... you gotta drink the potion!"
Another small cough, then her heart leapt into her throat as she saw the girl swallow. Barely a second later, her body began emitting a faint green glow, which slowly spread, then began to gather around her chest.
Slowly, ever so slowly the skin began to move; the wound began to close. Iris' body started to convulse, again, and again. In a stroke of insight, Tracey realized what was about to happen, grabbed her friend with shaking limbs, and strained with all her might to lift her up and turn her over onto the side.
She heaved, her body convulsed once more, then a sickening torrent of blood-red liquid was expelled from her mouth, all over Tracey's robes. Her eyes fluttered for a moment, then she sagged again.
"No! Iris! Stay with me!" Tracey was teetering, she grabbed the thermos once more, and repeated the process, resulting in yet another wave of red sick all over her, followed by a series of wet coughs. Finally, her eyes came open a sliver.
"T-Tracey?" a whisper, so weak and frail, so wrong from her best friend's lips. It was like first year all over again. Except so much worse.
The wound in her left rib cage, right below her chest, glowed one final time before closing up for good, leaving behind a dark scar. A weak, shaky hand came up, and felt around her ribcage, until Iris' fingers slipped over the wound and she gasped.
A second of silence, until suddenly, her fingers lit up in a green light, which began to sink into her skin, until it was glowing from somewhere inside of her.
"P-potion," her friend croaked.
Tracey scrambled to obey. She held out the thermos once more to her, and this time, Iris began to greedily swallow down large gulps, until the entire thing was empty. Her whole body began to glow once more, and the similar glow inside her chest intensified.
For several, painfully long seconds, Tracey just stared at her best friend, laying there in a bright green glow, covered by liters of her own blood, and had no idea what to think.
The only sound was the deep, ragged breathing of her friend, and the slow, arrhythmic dripping of her own blood from her drenched clothing.
The glow slowly began to fade, further, and further, until it winked out entirely, and Iris collapsed back down onto her back. She was breathing again. And she was still awake. Tracey just stared, unsure what to do, or say. She watched as Iris idly trailed her finger over the darkened skin under her chest. That must have gone through her liver, probably... Could Wiggenweld fix something like that? She knew the potion could help with most of all mundane injuries, but in return, it would always leave behind a scar. Some sort of remnant. She just hoped that it was only an external one.
~V~
Somehow, Iris decided, becoming a Lethifold didn't seem quite as horrible anymore. Yeah, she guessed if she had stayed much longer, she might have actually begun snacking on the townsfolk. But at least, there would be no pain, no blood, no petrifying fear of death. And most importantly, she wouldn't have to sit here, with Tracey staring at her as if she were about to keel over the moment she looked away.
That wasn't even getting into what still awaited her next. It was already hard enough to try and keep them from getting involved too much, without cutting them off entirely. This time, Tracey wouldn't have any of her bullshit. Part of her craved that dressing down, just as much as another part of her still wanted to know what the girl tasted like.
"Iris?"
Really, in truth, she just wanted to collapse on the spot and sleep for the rest of the weekend until the funeral.
"...Iris? Are you...?"
"I'm fine..." she groaned, heaving herself to a sitting position, her body still protesting the motion.
"You're... you're... and I'm the bloody Queen! What the hell happened?!" Tracey almost screeched.
"It's... a long story."
"Don't give me that crap! You got shot! You'd be dead if you hadn't saved some of the Wiggenweld we brewed last year!"
Tracey had a point there, she guessed. So long as the injuries weren't of a magical nature, the potion could fix pretty much anything. Cuts, bruises, stab wounds, broken bones... so long as there weren't any appendages missing or any foreign objects still stuck within the body, a Wiggenweld Potion—if brewed by the drinker themselves—would restore you to full health. All it would leave behind was a scar. A remnant, a reminder, which could never be healed.
Of course, if the potion hadn't been brewed by her, it would have taken a lot longer and a lot more applications, by which point she would have already long since succumbed to blood loss. That, or worse, if she'd made a mistake somewhere in the brewing process. But she hadn't noticed any side effects so far, other than the bullet-sized scar now adorning her skin right underneath her chest. And probably a similar one on her back, where the bullet had luckily pierced through. If it had still been stuck inside her body, this could have backfired spectacularly.
It probably hadn't been necessary to down her entire thermos, but in her defense, she hadn't been able to think very far past the not dying part at that moment. But now her stash was depleted. And she really wasn't looking forward to procuring another Essence of Forgiveness.
"There were some... complications."
"No shit!? What the hell happened?"
Tracey really wasn't about to let this slide, was she? Would it be better to just— No, no no no NO. Get a grip, Iris. If she started thinking along those lines, she might as well just try and memory charm herself instead.
She'd just have to sit down and face the music.
"There was this junkie... tried to mug me with a knife at the train station. And well... I disarmed him, tried to scare him off, but I didn't notice his friend until it was too late... and he had a gun."
"And... you couldn't, I mean... you didn't..." Tracey whispered, seemingly as unwilling or unable to believe that Iris had been brought down to her lowest point yet by something as mundane as that.
She felt like she was in her first week of Hogwarts all over again. Useless, powerless, weak. She hadn't seen it coming at all, and worse, even if she had, even after thinking about nothing but that for ages now, she couldn't come up with a way to prevent that from happening again. Sure, she guessed, if she had seen him in time, she could have tried to disarm him, but that could have still run the risk of setting the gun off, and would also only work with only one gun at a time.
But much more painful was the renewed realization of her glaring weakness. She still couldn't cast Protego. And if her progress was any indication, she'd never be able to, either. And Reiecto could only reflect magic. She couldn't conjure or transfigure any sort of protections either. And dodging was even less of an option. She was completely and utterly defenseless against something this stupidly simple and yet terrifying. To someone like her, it was basically a Killing Curse with zero cast time.
Her only weakness. Fucking bullets.
A morbid chuckle escaped her lips. Well, not her only one, but still.
"You think this is funny?!" Tracey hissed.
Iris gave a wry smile. "Little bit..."
"You almost died, for Merlin's sake! Could you take this seriously?"
Iris paused, and her expression fell. "Would you prefer I start freaking out? Because I'm basically Mandrake fertilizer as soon as some two-bit criminal pulls out a piece of metal that fits in a fucking pocket?"
"You and everyone else. That's not the issue!"
"You mean me and all the other Muggles?" Iris said flatly. "Dumbledore wouldn't. Susan wouldn't. You wouldn't. Hell, even Neville. An actual wizard would have just cast Protego."
Tracey smacked her hands down on her own thighs and exclaimed. "Exactly my point, you idiot!"
She... Crap. She really had walked right into that one.
"This happened because you keep doing everything by yourself!"
Iris hated that Tracey was right. She couldn't exactly argue that it would be better to do these things alone when taking along literally any of her friends might have made the whole thing a non-issue.
Iris was about to argue that Tracey had always been wary of traveling by shadow realm, but the argument died on her lips from how weak it was.
Instead, she sighed. "I... you're right."
Tracey blinked, not having expected her to just agree.
"I was being an idiot, and I should have asked someone to come along. I should have asked you to come along."
"...Aaand?" Tracey gave her a raised eyebrow.
"And... I promise I'll take someone with me next time?" Iris tried.
"You'd better," Tracey glared.
Iris let out a long sigh, and kept staring at Tracey for some time, unsure what else to say.
"...How are you feeling, really?" Tracey finally mumbled with concern in her voice.
"Hungry," Iris replied with a wry smile.
That earned a small smile from her best friend. "Good to have you back."
And she found herself engulfed in a warm, sweet hug.
Yeah. If only it was the kind of hunger that her usual seconds or thirds could fix.
~V~
And indeed, thirds hadn't, but apparently, fourths had.
Iris had pretty much conked out and fallen asleep on the spot, except not really. Because that would have actually been refreshing. Instead, she had been stuck in a soupy haze, a swirling mist of darkness, fog, apathy and above all else, hunger. When she had finally come back to herself, it was already the evening of the next day. Her mind was still in no state to even so much as attempt anything related to cognitive higher functions at this point, but she had managed to drag herself down to the Great Hall for dinner, which had finally managed to dampen that deep, empty pull inside her stomach somewhat. At least, she was finally able to think again now that she was making her way back to the common room. Which was, of course, when she realized that she was almost out of time. She hadn't even really gotten started on what she had planned to do, and now she only had one night to set her plan into motion, so there would be no second attempt. She'd just have to hope that everything she had gathered would work out for what she had in mind.
Iris made her way past Professor Snape, who was currently discussing something with the first-years in a corner of the common room, well, as much as this place even had corners to begin with. In the back she found Theo lounging in their usual spot—or rather, what used to be their usual spot—and the sight brought a small, nostalgic smile to her face. She hesitantly made her way over, trying to keep her expression as casual as possible, and plopped down in her usual seat, with Tracey following suit.
Theo looked up from his book, gave her a quick look, then his eyes flicked over to Tracey, and he frowned. Goddamn Tracey and her non-existent poker-face.
"What happened?" he simply asked.
"Oh, you know, nothing much. Iris got shot and died in our dorm room, just the usual Friday."
Okay... they really had been spending way too much time with the snarky git. Also, Iris would have really preferred if Tracey had kept that little disaster to herself. Tracey was apparently having none of it.
Theo blinked, then blinked again. Finally he sighed. "Just what will it take, Iris?"
She gave him a hesitant look. "What... will it take?" she replied hesitantly.
"What will it take for you to trust us? What will it take to get it into your skull that we are your friends? To get you to think before you act? I know you can, you just never do," Theo said flatly.
Iris swallowed.
Harsh.
But true.
Merlin, even her own mind had it out for her now?
"I don't know what it will take in the end, but I've got an idea where to start," Tracey interjected.
"Oh? Let's hear it, then," Theo replied, curiosity peaked.
"Well, you..." she said, turning to point at Iris, "really need to stop doing things by yourself. You need all the help you can get, whether you like it or not. And you," she turned her head towards Theo, "really haven't made it easy to trust you lately. But you're at least trying, in your own twisted way. So... here's the deal."
Tracey reached into Iris' bookbag before Iris could stop her, and withdrew a very familiar chain, which she had taken off for her trip to the muggle world.
"You just lost your safety net. Which means, you need to brew another batch of Wiggenweld. And one of the main ingredients... is sitting right there."
Iris froze, as the mirror dodecahedron was placed in her hands, and she stared at the git sitting across from her, who now looked almost as startled as herself. Merlin damn it. She wasn't ready! Well, she... she really did miss the snarky git, but also, she really hadn't forgiven him for what he... But... Ugh... she guessed that was the point.
Tracey. Look at her, finally letting out her Slytherin side. Iris would have felt proud, if it hadn't trapped her so thoroughly on the spot with no way out. It was so unfair! He'd get away with a free pass, just because she needed the potion, in case something happened again, even with what he—
But had what he had done even been so different from what she was doing right now?
Great. Now she was a bloody hypocrite as well.
Iris sighed, and met Theo's eyes. "You're right. If you've put up with me after all this, the least I could do is return the favor. I know why you did what you did, I know it was irrational, and I was still mad. But I guess moving past things like that doesn't happen on its own. So fine. Tracey was right, I do need to make an effort as well."
Theo had enough tact to not interrupt with any of his usual remarks, so she forged onwards.
"You did what you had to, and even if you could have done better, I do realize you're sorry. And even if it hurt Tracey, even if it hurt me, I'm willing to forgive you..."
Iris paused, before giving him a small smile. "If..." she paused, shot a look at Tracey, and returned to pin Theo once more, "you say it."
Theo blinked. "I did say—"
"Like you mean it. None of the sarcasm, or explanations. No roundabout phrasing, or weird formality. Just a simple, quick apology, and nothing more. I think Tracey deserves that."
She could almost see all the possible snarky replies, the frowns, the sarcastic deflections running through his mind. Theo really wasn't the best when it came to stuff like this.
But she guessed she was one to talk. She did understand the concept well enough, but as soon as it came to herself...
Theo nodded. "I'm sorry."
Iris returned a small smile. "Then I forgive you."
And there it was. A faint shimmer of blue, emanating from the center of her mirror trap, reflecting infinitely in all directions. Was that really all there had been to it? No roundabout phrasing, no lingering attached conditions, just a genuine apology, and genuine Forgiveness.
If only it would always be that easy.
"Looks like the band is back together again," commented a snarky voice, making Iris look up and frown.
Since their last confrontation, Malfoy had apparently ceased any attempts to try to get one over on her physically or magically. To be fair, if half the house hadn't worked, she'd be hard pressed for ideas that would, too. Instead, however, he had simply doubled down on attacks of a verbal nature. And he had been careful to only do so while there were teachers close enough to intervene, if she'd have decided to turn their verbal spar into a magical one. And also, seemingly, he mostly did it when he was around—
"A band of misfits, if there ever was one," another voice joined in.
Iris turned her gaze and met the blue eyes of the girl whose mind she had turned into Swiss cheese.
"Draco keeps telling me the most ridiculous things about you," she continued with as much haughtiness as a firstie could manage, no matter how tall her heels and heavy her eye-liner.
"Potter," she began, turning her gaze at Iris, "the half-blood who made it all the way from Squib to loose cannon. The girl who's so out of touch with reality that she thought she could have my Draco to herself..."
The blonde made a tut-tut noise, wagging her finger with a cheeky grin, as if the mere thought was ridiculous. Which it was. She had never thought of Draco like that... Had she?
"One day, you're strutting around the common room, having tricked everyone into being afraid of a mere nobody, and the next you're abducted by the Heir of Slytherin, reduced to nothing but another damsel in distress for Gilderoy Lockhart to rescue."
The younger Greengrass shrugged, and gave her a grin. "Karmic justice, if there ever was such a thing."
Iris gritted her teeth, but held her tongue. She knew next to nothing about the girl, so she didn't have any valid comebacks to that. And letting this escalate wouldn't do her any good either. Snape was still there, at the other side of the common room, standing next to one of the couches which was pinned to what appeared to be the side wall from her perspective. Whatever she did, if Snape looked up at the wrong time, which he definitely would, given her luck...
"Then there's you," the girl continued, as if she had prepared a whole speech. "The blood-traitor, who commemorated his father being arrested by betraying everything that his family had achieved over decades, all before his armchair had even grown cold. And the worst part about it, is that you still think you are doing what is best for your family."
She paused, and then gave him a curious look. "How's your mother doing, by the way?"
Iris could almost hear the mask on Theo's face crack for a second, and she reflexively reached out a hand towards his shoulder, but luckily the boy seemed to have more self-control than that. Iris really didn't like this. This girl had an even sharper tongue than her sister, and she had barely just started her first year...
"And finally, there's the loser," she added, suddenly with childish glee.
"Because that's all you ever do, isn't it?" she said with a giggle, her grin growing, as she leaned over the sofa behind Theo to stare down Tracey.
"You lost your first friend, who's been with you through all of your childhood, and now wants nothing to do with you, no matter how hard you try..." the blonde began to tick points off her fingers.
"You lost your dignity; lost any standing that your father's name would have granted you, when you decided to join up with the nutcase over there instead..."
Iris could already feel the magic, the light sizzling beneath her skin, with the shadows not far behind. But she had to keep control. Words couldn't hurt as much as the real thing. And she wouldn't let Tracey lose her too, if Iris got expelled for whatever she was liable to do here.
"You lost your only other friend—discarded without a second thought—when he finally decided to see reason. Well, at least, while his father was still around..."
Tracey was looking smaller and smaller with each word, and still lacking any valid verbal comeback, Iris was seriously pondering the benefits of just facing whatever consequences Snape would come up with. But the blonde wasn't done.
"And finally," Iris became deadly still, as she realized where the younger Greengrass was going with this. "You... lost your first and only love... not even a week after you had your first kiss. And neither Gilderoy Lockhart, nor your oh-so-powerful friend over there could save him. Her very own brother, gone. As soon as he got involved with you."
"Petrificus Totalus," came a sharp whisper from her left, and Iris found her body frozen in place against her will. Not by any external force, her limbs simply refused to obey her will, not allowing her to move so much as an inch.
Her eyes, which was the only part of her body that remained unaffected, flicked over to meet Theo's with a burning rage inside them.
How dare he?
That bitch had just... she needed to... she deserved to—
"Good boy," the blonde simpered, without even so much as a glance at either Theo or Iris.
"You do realize you're playing with fire here?" Theo stated quietly, with a hint of something entering his voice.
"I am playing..." the younger Greengrass said nonchalantly, while throwing a look over her shoulder towards where Snape still loomed on the wall, "with nothing."
Iris did her best to try and incinerate the girl with her glare alone, yet sadly, she'd need to at least summon her orb to do that. And that, Snape would definitely notice. He really seemed to make a habit of hanging around in her vicinity at the most inopportune of times recently. But she was half-way tempted to just damn the consequences and do it anyway.
Her burning gaze flicked over at Theo, promising painful retribution if he didn't let her go, but it quickly evaporated when she noticed Tracey next to him, who looked like she was trying to hold back tears.
"I don't play; I win," she declared with a smug look, and slung an arm around Malfoy. "And unlike you, I get to keep the real thing, instead of just... Accio keepsake."
Tracey's eyes widened as her bag popped open by itself, and slowly a simple, gray quill came floating out. She tried to snatch it out of the air, but it slipped her grasp, and sailed into the blonde witch's hand.
"What's this? Was that Potter's?" the girl crowed with a growing smirk.
Alright, screw the consequences. Iris focused and tried to summon her orb. Which, apparently, wasn't as easy as expected. She had gotten so used to just doing the hand-motion, that without it, she was thrown off just enough that it simply fizzled right back into nothingness.
Her glare redoubled at Theo, but he just gave her a stony expression, his wand never leaving Iris. Merlin damn it all to hell! She wouldn't just sit here and let this girl—
"I wonder... we aren't supposed to be learning elemental spells until third year, but maybe I should try to get some early practice in? What do you say, Draco?"
Iris had almost forgotten that he was there. He'd at some point gone from his usual superior smirk to looking like he'd rather be anywhere else right now.
"Could you show me how it's done?" she said, trying to give Malfoy a puppy-dog look. Trying and failing.
"Uhm... I don't think that..."
"You're right, better try it myself first!" she declared cheerfully.
She held the quill out in front of her, raised her wand, and—
"What do you think you are doing?" a new voice pierced the oppressive silence.
"Stay out of this," the younger Greengrass snapped, her mask slipping as she noticed the girl approaching.
"No, I don't think I will," the older Greengrass declared in her usual cold and detached tone.
"You are a disgrace to our House, sister. You are acting beneath your station," the—screw it—Daphne said with a slight frown.
Astoria’s face twisted with fury. "You are the disgrace! And don't you act like you ever cared about the House to begin with! You don't have the right!"
Daphne's expression hardened. "You’re a petulant child dedicated to ruining our family’s name. I won’t ask again. Return the quill. Apologize."
"I will do nothing of—"
"You will," whispered Daphne, sending a cold shiver down Iris' spine as she noticed the faint shimmer of blue.
That distinct shade of Indigo.
"...return it, and you will apologize," Daphne reiterated firmly, her voice projecting an unspoken threat for the benefit of everyone else listening, but Iris knew the truth.
"...Fine," growled Astoria, whirled on the spot, and approached Tracey. "I'm sorry for what I said. Here's your quill."
She handed the keepsake back to a speechless Tracey, whirled around and stalked away, up one of the walls leading to the new first-years girls dorm.
Finally, Iris felt the Full Body-Bind Curse dissipate. She gathered herself, and then her bearings. Theo gave her a hesitant look, as if unsure if she would lash out at him, which she wasn't even herself sure about, as screwed up as that was. Malfoy still held that same expression, and quickly made it into reality by deciding that he really would rather be anywhere else right now. Tracey was... Iris couldn't really parse her expression. Obviously, what Astoria had said had cut deeply into her best friend, much like it had with Iris. But there was also a sense of... hopefulness? A sense of longing as she stared at— Oh. Oh no.
Gr— Daphne. Merlin, this would get confusing fast.
Iris wasn't sure what to think about that. Did she really want her best friend to reunite her childhood friendship with a psychopath like Daphne? After what she'd just done? The two of them were sisters, for Merlin's sake! And also... Had she done it for her? For Tracey? For her family? Or just as a part of some greater scheme? Or had she... done it just to prove that she could? To prove to Iris that she could do this to anyone in the middle of their common room, and especially to her friends?
As if one of them hadn't been complicated enough; she now had two Greengrass sisters making her life a confusing mess. Ugh. She really should have just become a Lethifold instead.
~V~
Iris slammed the door to her dorm room gritting her teeth, and made a beeline for her trunk. If that little gremlin thought she could just get away with pulling some shit like that and then pissing off, she was sorely mistaken. Just one minor snag. Astoria had slunk away to her room, and hadn't shown her face ever since. And since the Slytherin common room didn't obey any known laws of physics, Iris had no idea where exactly her room was, or how to get there. But she had a plan for that.
Iris dashed over to her trunk, tossed it open and began rummaging through. The only problem left was the slight issue that she couldn't use it herself. But she'd just have to badger Tracey into unlocking it for her, she guessed. Her hands finally found the piece of parchment and pulled it from her bag triumphantly. Perfect. Now the bitch was going dow—
Wait, what?
Iris stared down at the Marauders Map, because that's what was obviously lying before her. But she was sure the map had been cleared last time she had checked it at home... And nobody else would know how to unlock it, right? Well, Tracey would, but she hadn't even returned yet... Had Tracey been secretly using her map for something?
Or had someone been in her dorm?
Reaching a hesitant hand, she unfolded it in the middle, and revealed it showing a certain, familiar room. At the center of which stood a single pair of footsteps, labeled Iris Lily Potter.
The only other visible names were Daphne Greengrass and Lily Moon, in the room next to her on the edge of the parchment. Iris looked at the map warily, before she noticed something else. From the edge, a line extended, growing further and further, drowning out the two names in the room next to hers, and slowly covering her entire room as well in what looked like a gigantic speech bubble, the tip pointing to some place within the folded parts of the map.
When it had taken up almost the entire room, with only her own name still marked at the bottom, the bubble slowly began to fill in, bearing a foreboding message of only two words.
Hello Iris.
Chapter 19: Food for thought
Chapter Text
Well, that wasn't creepy at all. What the hell? The map had never done anything like that. Not that she had ever used it much to begin with. The letters morphed, and slowly spelled out a new message.
We need to talk.
Was... was someone watching her? Who—
I hope you are reading this. Sorry for contacting you this way, but I think you might prefer this to calling on you after class.
After... Oh.
Iris wasn't sure if that bit of information made her feel any better about this whole thing. But she guessed it made sense. After all, if what Lupin had told them was true, he was one of the people who made this map in the first place. She had almost been hoping to avoid talking to him altogether, but she guessed that was just wishful thinking after all. Wait... so was it Black? Or... was it Lupin?
I have several things that I need to say to you, important things, that you need to hear. You can do with it what you will.
Iris swallowed. Could she... reply somehow? Should she even? If he didn't know if she was reading this, could she just pretend she never saw it in the first place?
If you wish to talk, you can meet me here.
Suddenly, the map burst to life, sheets of parchment flipping by themselves, until it came to rest on a different page, showing the source of the speech bubble.
It was a set of unlabeled... paw prints? Like... a dog? Or a wolf? So... Lupin then? But... no. Today wasn't a full moon. So... maybe it was just as a joke? He certainly had spoken at length about the litany of pranks they had gotten up to...
Iris blinked as she took in the room. It was a small room that didn't seem to contain much other than the paw prints, but there was a much larger room right next to it. And that room was almost overflowing with Names.
Not a single one of which she recognized. But they all had one thing in common. They had no last names.
~V~
When she had finally emerged from the shadows in the corridor which ended next to the large room on the map, Iris was thrown for a loop when—where she expected there to be a door leading into said room—she only found... nothing. Nothing, and the Hufflepuff common room entrance, half-way down the corridor. But that wasn't what she was here for. At first, she had thought that the map was still scrambled, but flipping through the pages revealed too many familiar names to support that theory. No, instead it was just this part that was odd. A room filled with people without last names, and another room with someone hiding as an animal, with no visible name to put to the paw prints. She swore to God if this was just some silly prank...
She glanced down the corridors hesitantly once again, trying to make sure she was alone. Yes, she really should have taken the cloak. It was only rational. But no. The cloak had been Harry's. She just... it just... ugh. Whatever.
Her eyes narrowed as she glanced down onto the map, and she noticed a small shape that looked suspiciously like a pear... with a smiley face on it? And her own footsteps seemingly produced a handprint out of nowhere, and reached a finger to... tickle it... what.
She glanced around the corridor only to notice said pear... right in front of her face. On the painting of a fruit bowl.
Heh, what could go wrong?
Iris reached out and did as prescribed, and said pear began giggling, twisting and turning in laughter until, with a sad little puff, it turned into a doorknob.
Iris readied her wand, pulled her hood down into her face, reached out and pulled open the door.
A wall of noise instantly slapped her across the face, which just as quickly died down as countless of large yellow eyes turned towards her in confusion, trying to make out who it was that had just entered.
"Who bes there?" one of them asked.
Iris knew that there were house elves at Hogwarts, but it was one thing to know, and occasionally meet one or two of them, but it was a whole other thing to stand face to face with all one fucking hundred of them.
Deciding that this would get way more awkward if she only took it off once she found the unnamed canine hiding in the back room, she sighed, and removed the hood from her head.
The reaction was instant, and it was somehow even worse than what she had imagined, except she had no idea what to do with it.
"Miss Lily!" "It's Miss Lily!" hundreds of excited squeaks filled the hall, as the army of assorted house elves burst into deafening cheers.
What the... fuck?
"Hey... uh... ssh... please!"
Iris tried to cut through the noise before anyone could hear, but it was for naught.
This felt all kinds of...
She scrambled to pull the door closed behind her, hoping nobody had noticed, then turned back onto the excitedly cheering crowd. "I... I'm not— Stop calling me that! That's... not my name," Iris exclaimed.
"But... you are young Miss Lily," one confused and excited elf right in front of her squeaked.
Iris just vehemently shook her head, causing her hair to tangle in front of her face. She had no idea what to feel about that. All of them mistaking her for her mum, calling her her mum's name... had they known her? Did they look that similar?
Somehow, that thought brought a spark of warm happiness to her stomach, but it was quickly drowned out again by the continued name calling. Not only were they calling her by her mum's name, but to make matters even more confusing, it was the same name she had chosen for her secret identity, which, ugh. What had she been thinking?
"Stop calling me that, please! I'm Iris, alright? Iris Potter. Lily was my mum."
"But... but you are..." more confused whispers, as the elves tried the name on their tongues, just to result in continued frowns.
"Listen, just call me whatever you like. Anything, except... that. Okay?" Iris sighed.
"Okay, Missy Red," the elf next to her perked back up.
Iris internally groaned. Whatever. It was better than... She shook her head once again.
"Uhm... sorry, I.. I think I'm supposed to meet someone here, in a room... at the back maybe?"
"Oh, yes! Professors Barkness is!" the little elf nodded excitedly, his ears flopping in front of his—her?—face. "He be waiting in dining room! Please, follow Mipsy, Missy Red, dinner is almost being ready!"
Iris refused the urge to rub her head listening to the elves talk, and instead made to follow the cheerful little creature while stuffing the map back into her bag. Only now she took a minute to take in the rest of the room that wasn't calling her weird names.
Somehow, it was both a complete and utter mess, and yet it had a strange sense of order to it as well. There were plates, pots, bowls, unending amounts, stacked in high, tilting towers all across the room, everything looking like it might collapse at any second, no sense of symmetry, of neat alignment, no shelves or cupboards. Yet everything was stacked and cleaned nonetheless. Everything was put into piles sorted by color, shape, and whatever else distinguishing feature there was. She supposed elves did love to clean and tidy up, but if they weren't doing it for wizards sake, but just in a place solely for themselves, function took the entire front and back seats, while form was relegated to whatever the finished product would be.
She guessed there was a certain beauty to it. Pure efficiency, except with magic. Which meant nothing was neat, nothing was aligned, nothing made sense. But one snap of the fingers would result in all the necessary ingredients, cutlery and tools to come flying, without having to re-organize or re-shuffle anything at all.
As she followed the small elf, she noticed a large door at the back. It was dark wood, elegant, yet again, no decorations, just a solid, neat door. The elf stopped and stepped to the side, with an excited and expectant look on her face.
Iris took a breath, and steeled herself. She had been almost convinced. She had hoped it was Lupin. Because that would mean that he'd still be out there, somewhere, at least.
But ever since the elf had called him professor, she wasn't so sure anymore.
Iris reached out a hand, pushed the door open, and stared.
Death stared back.
She wasn't breathing, not thinking, probably wasn't even alive in that moment, unless...
Iris blinked, and narrowed her eyes. No. It wasn't. There was a distinct feeling that was missing. Her memories had threatened to consume her there for a second, but the longer she looked, the surer she grew. This wasn't the real thing. It looked exactly like that grim she had... no. Not exactly. Its eyes. A pale, silvery-gray shade stared back, softly glimmering in the torchlight of this place. Not the eerie, unearthly purple she remembered. The eyes that still haunted her dreams to this day.
This... this was... was it even a grim? She had no idea how they were supposed to look like exactly, she had only ever seen the one, and that had apparently just been Death taking the form of a grim...
But this was just a shaggy black dog, sitting on one of the two chairs at the singular dining table... wagging his tail excitedly?
Her hand twitched for her wand as there was a sudden blur, but before she could draw it, it resolved into a familiar shape.
...Great. Well played, Black. She guessed they were having that talk after all.
"Iris... it's so good to see you again."
Reluctantly stowing her wand again, Iris resigned herself to her fate, and hesitantly made to sit down at the chair opposite him. She probably wouldn't be leaving here without a promise of sorts to have him become her official guardian once the year is done, but that much she had already expected since summer. Also, she was really hoping that she'd have at least brought Harry back by then, because then it wouldn't just make the whole thing a non issue, she'd even gladly accept it, and not just for Harry's sake.
The issue was that lofty goals like hers didn't exactly adhere to set time-tables.
She gave a small smile in return, trying to figure out how to approach this. She'd made an effort to distance herself mentally, call him by his last name and all that, both because he was a Professor, but also because she didn't want another possible point of failure in her already fragile mission. But then again...
"Uhm... hey..." she replied. "So... should I... uh... call you Profes—"
"Dear Merlin, no. Please call me Sirius, before I die of old age," he replied with a short chuckle.
"Uh, okay... Sirius," she said, and quickly ran out of words.
Iris waited for him to open the conversation for a while, and when the silence grew too awkward, she instead spoke up. "So... what's with the secret dinner room here?"
Sirius gave a grin, which turned into another hesitant smile, before he chuckled again and said, "Well, I thought you'd appreciate a... uhm... second dinner?" he trailed off. When she only gave him a raised eyebrow, he doubled down on the awkwardness, "I mean... given how much you seem to enjoy your meals I thought you'd want..."
Did he just call her fat?
Iris blinked, trying to trace that thought—which she luckily hadn't voiced—even though he still awkwardly trailed off as if he had read her thoughts anyway. Really, if anything, she was in too much shape, given her diet and exercise. Not that she was complaining. But no. Lashing out at him for no reason wouldn't help the situation. She'd just have to deal with it, keep him at just enough but not too much distance, and maybe, gain an ally in the process?
She returned a hesitant smile, and they fell back into painful silence once again. Marvelous. Apparently, he was just as awkward about this as she was.
"Uhm, are—"
"I wanted—"
They both cut themselves off, and Iris internally cringed again.
"Sorry. This is awkward," Sirius spoke the words from her own mind.
"Yeah..."
"I... okay, listen. I have a few things I need to tell you, things that you deserve to know, and deserve to hear from me."
Iris paused, and nodded.
"Okay... First, I... I mean..."
He broke off, gathered himself once again, and began anew. "I am so sorry, Iris. I am the worst godfather there is. I swore. I swore that I'd protect you both."
He paused, clenching and opening his fists for a second, until he took a breath and continued in a low growl. "But instead of doing that, I went after the rat... And I couldn't even do that right. And now, I thought... I wanted... I wanted to make things right... But in the end, it was too late. He is g-gone!"
At this point, his words cut off and he averted his face. His shoulders were shaking, and he gripped the table so hard it started to groan. "He... he's gone, and it's my fault! If I'd stayed... If I'd done what I had sworn to do... None of this would have happened. So yes. I get why you hate me. Why you want nothing to do with me. Why coming to live with someone like me is the last thing on your mind. I really do."
Did he... oh. He was talking about Scabbers? Iris guessed he had a point there. She hadn't even thought about that much, really. She had been aware of the general details of what had happened, but more recent issues had pushed that far from the forefront of her mind.
Iris carefully fired up her Mindlight, and gathering her words for a moment, she began to speak. "Yes."
She let that hang there for a bit, before repeating, "Yes, you did mess up. You broke your vow, and left us with the Dursleys. But to be frank, that was a lifetime ago. Yes, it sucked that you were never there. You made one bad call, and you got shipped off to Azkaban for it."
Iris narrowed her eyes, and continued. "I don't care what you did on that one day ten years ago. I care much more about what you are doing now. And what you are doing now is somehow almost worse."
Sirius' eyes flicked towards hers, an uncertain expression on his face.
Iris steeled herself, and forged onwards. "When you were in Dumbledore's office... what you said to Lupin..."
Across from her, Sirius' breath caught. "You were there? Did you— you heard what... I mean— How can you defend— You know what he did! He did nothing! And he couldn't even say why!"
Iris opened her mouth again, but he cut her off once more. "Yes, I know, I overreacted. But it was still true! He should have done something! He should have checked up on you! He was just as much your parents' friend as I was!"
Iris let him speak his piece, then let the silence stretch a bit. Finally, she spoke up in a quiet whisper. "Even if everything that you said was true... that doesn't make anything that you said... right."
Sirius swallowed, but did not reply.
"Did you talk to him after he left?" Iris asked in a whisper.
"I..." Sirius began, but then slumped again. "No. I... I tried looking for him. First at the Leaky Cauldron, then in Diagon Alley..."
"Have you heard anything from him since then?" Iris asked an a toneless voice.
But Sirius just shook his head.
"Because I did."
"You did? What did he... did he apologize? Did he—"
Iris shot him a glare, and his voice died down all on its own. "He did... apologize. In a letter."
She took a heavy breath, knowing it would only shatter the man's already frayed psyche yet further, but if it bought her some more of the freedom she desperately needed, so be it.
"I think he took you up on your word."
His eyes widened, and she let the moment stretch a bit more.
"He... he's really going to stay away?"
Iris took a deep breath, and she put on the coldest expression she could muster.
"He did apologize. But the more I keep reading it... the less the letter reads like an apology from someone who doesn't want to see me again..."
Iris was literally the worst person on the planet.
"But more... like an apology from someone who knows he won't be able to."
Slowly, painfully slowly, the realization eclipsed his face, and yet Iris held her glare, refusing the urge to look away.
"No, I... I mean he... I didn't... he..."
Sirius just kept shaking his head. "No... No. That's not him. I refuse to..."
Sirius slammed his fist down on the table and looked her straight in the eyes. "No!"
Iris flinched at the sudden aggression, and Sirius' expression immediately fell. "I— I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lash out at you. I... It's my fault. It has nothing to do with you."
Iris gave him a look, and saw a broken man, fraying between disbelief, self-hatred and that one shred of purpose left in his life he was trying to cling onto. It looked like she wasn't getting rid of him that easily. Also, she really, really couldn't bear seeing him like this. No matter how much she wanted to. How much she had to.
"I'm not sure if that's really what this is... if anything, he didn't strike me as someone who could... actually pull through," she mumbled awkwardly. "Although I really didn't know him all that well."
Great, now she was trying to give him hope, based on nothing but made up hunches.
"Iris... please know that I will do anything I can, anything, to try and make this right. I'm not going anywhere," Sirius said, first a whisper, but slowly growing with determination. "I'll do whatever I can, and if it's the last thing I do."
Iris held his gaze, but couldn't find it within herself to keep up the glare. "Then if you really want to make up for this, go out there and find him. You find him, and you tell him you're sorry. He really needs to hear it from you."
Never mind the fact that she had no idea if there was even anything left to find at this point.
"I'll try," he whispered, like a mantra, slowly gaining confidence. "I'll try. I'll make this right, I promise."
Iris just nodded, before suddenly, there was a pop next to them.
"First course is being cornish cured pixie meat, mooncalf cheese, olives, pickles, and marmalade; with a side of garlic bread. Please enjoy."
And with another pop, the elf was gone, leaving behind the starter course on their plates.
Iris warily poked the assorted food before her, unsure if it was right to eat in the wake of a loaded conversation like that. Sirius, however, took the choice from her by snatching up some cheese into his mouth, probably trying to fend off the awkward silence.
Not wanting to be the odd one out, Iris followed suit, and soon, their starter course was gone, and all that was left was an awkward Iris, somehow feeling like she had lost control of the situation just by virtue of being confronted with delicious food. Why the hell did marmalade and cheese taste this amazing together? It really shouldn't work. But God, did it ever.
"Looks like second dinner was the right call after all," Sirius commented with a smirk, as he noticed Iris surreptitiously licking her fingers clean.
She shot him a look, but managed neither a smile in face of their previous conversation, nor a glare in the wake of such a delicious meal. Damn him. That had probably been his plan the whole time, hadn't it? And she hated the fact that it was working. So she was a growing girl, sue her.
"You're really so much like her it's almost uncanny..." Sirius mumbled wistfully. "When Lily would get mad at us, there was no talking your way out of it. You'd just have to face the dressing down, apologize, and only then you could bribe your way out of her ire with some snacks."
Merlin damn that cheeky bastard. Did he really have to be all smug about it? She really wanted to smack it back in his face, turn around and prove him wrong by leaving, but they both knew that the elf had specifically called this the first course, so yeah.
"I do need to talk to you about something else, though," Sirius finally said, piercing the silence once more.
Iris tilted her head, silently nudging him to continue.
"About tomorrow."
And like that, Iris' spirits hit rock bottom again.
Harry's funeral had been hanging over her head for the past week, constantly reminding her not only of his fate, but also of the foreboding implications. Everything seemed to lead back to this. Dumbledore was making his play, and Merlin knows Voldemort would as well.
Across from her, Sirius tensed in his chair, seemingly gathering himself.
"I assume you have some idea of what is going on?" he asked hesitantly.
"You do," Iris instead concluded, refusing to say anything else.
"You're right... more than I would like to, I can assure you."
"So? What's going on?" Iris demanded.
Sirius looked around the room hesitantly, before quieting down and continuing in a hushed voice. "Dumbledore will announce that the Dark Lord is back at the funeral."
Iris nodded. "Figured as much."
Sirius paused for a moment, as if weighing his options, before he finally adopted a serious expression. "Dumbledore assumes that the Dark Lord will use the funeral to... try and preempt him. We are pretty sure that the Dark Lord is unaware that we know about his full return, but we cannot say for certain. Either way. If he is not, he might stage an attack regardless, both as a last show of force and dominance over the Boy-Who-Lived, as well as to use the point where people's spirits are at their lowest to only further crush them by proving himself to be alive. We don't know where the attack will come from, what shape it will take... but Dumbledore is convinced that there will almost certainly be an attack of sorts, and that there is a high chance of the Dark Lord himself participating."
Yeah. Well, at least they had planned for the chance that he knew. Which he definitely did, given their encounter in Germany. But there was no way to tell them about that without leaving some dangerous questions in the room.
"So then why hold the funeral publicly at all? Why not just cancel it entirely?"
"Because..." Sirius trailed off, and sighed. "You're right, and I agree. It is an unnecessary risk, especially to the students. But Dumbledore insists that it will prove of greater benefit to shatter all doubts of his return right from the start, and to do that, there need to be as many witnesses as possible."
Iris opened her mouth to object, but he cut her off. "So instead, he set up a plan, that will guarantee the safety of the students, as well as the visitors."
Iris paused, and when he didn't continue, raised an eyebrow. "And that plan is...?"
Sirius took a breath, and simply replied, "Me."
Iris kept staring, but apparently, this was a part he wasn't willing to share.
"I just want you to know that whatever happens, I will do everything I can to protect you, tomorrow, and any day after. Even if it is against him. I know I can do it, if it is about you. So long as I am there, you have nothing to worry about."
Another pop from her side, and this time, the elf announced, "The main course is being roasted dragon tongue, seasoned with herbs from the centaur territories, and a side of Phoenix Flame Potatoes. Please enjoy."
Iris eyed the deliciously steaming meal in front of her warily, and looked back up to meet Sirius' mischievous eyes. "Phoenix Flame Potatoes?" she echoed incredulously.
"It's just fried potatoes seasoned with some phoenix ash pepper," he said with a chuckle.
It might as well have been literal potatoes fried by phoenixes for all Iris knew. This was her first time eating anything like this. For all the magical sweets and snacks she had encountered, most of the meals they had served in the Great Hall so far had been distinctly... Muggle in origin.
Hesitantly, she forked one of the potatoes, raised it to her mouth, marveled at the strange tiny orange glimmering sparks dotting it for a moment, before biting down on it. It started as potato, but within the first second, the crunchy food seemed to catch fire in her mouth, in the most pleasant way. It was slightly spicy, slightly warm, but it didn't hurt at all. There was just the distinct impression of warm, crackling embers filling her mouth, that somehow tasted even better than perfectly seasoned fries. Except there somehow was a second crunchy layer on the inside too, even though it was just a whole potato. The dragon tongue was... Definitely, uh... unique? Like a more heavy, chewy version of chicken, she guessed? But while there was a certain unique taste to it, it certainly wasn't anything worth having the name dragon on it. Was it an acquired taste? Or maybe, just the novelty of saying that you're eating dragon? Either way, she ate the whole thing anyway, but it was quickly forgotten about next to the star of the show—the side dish.
Some time through the masterwork of flavor and texture, she realized that Sirius was barely picking at his own meal. Was he just nervous, or... heh. Had the idiot eaten dinner before this and was now trying to force himself to keep up for appearances sake? With a grin, she made a show of devouring every last crumb with gusto, forcing him to keep pretending to eat throughout the whole thing, making him look rather silly in the process.
Served him right.
Iris would have loved to learn some more details about their exact plans, but the longer this conversation went on, the more risk there was of revealing her own contingency plans. And that was something she wouldn't share with anyone who wasn't in the know. No matter how much he had sworn himself to be on her side.
Once the plate was licked clean, and had finally disappeared, Sirius met her eyes with a very hesitant expression. He looked like he was about to say something several times, but cut himself off again and again.
Iris let him stew for a bit, but in the end, he foiled her plans by actually speaking up. "There was one more thing I..."
He trailed off, fiddled around with the ring on his finger for a moment, before looking oh so very small. "I mean you don't have to talk about it, but it's just that..."
Somehow, a grown man stumbling over his words like this was strangely endearing. "It's... about Harry."
Great. There seemed to be a pattern with how all of these talks would start.
"I... I understand if you don't want to talk about it, and you have every right to just... you know. Shake your head and be done with it. Just say the word and I'll never bring it up again. But... I... I really would like to know."
Now Iris was the one on the back foot. Was he talking about—
"I want to know what happened. I want to know how he died. I have to know."
"I can't think about anything else. I can't sleep, I can't work, I can't do much of anything else other than ponder all the worst possible things that might have happened down there. And all of them being my fault. It's completely messed me up! Hell, I'm taking my goddaughter on a dinner date, literally the only witch I shouldn't be— Not that it's anything like that, but... My mind can't help but... I don't know what's real anymore!"
"I have to know. I can't keep going with this... this uncertainty. All the worst things, all at once. I want to know... I have to know... what exactly I have done."
So much for giving her an actual choice. What the hell was she supposed to say to that?
Sirius, having said his piece, was holding his breath, his eyes desperately demanding the salvation they sought. The truth that only she could provide.
And so, Iris did. She told him about the chamber, about what Harry did, about Myrtle, about the way she taught her magic, about the secret room that they shared, and about the fact that her body was being controlled while she was in there. Maybe... maybe she could at least get him to see that it hadn't been his fault after all.
"What do you mean, a room?"
Iris took a breath. "Well, it wasn't... an actual room, I guess. It's more like a mindscape turned inside out."
Wait, how did she... Oh, right. The memories from Myrtle. They still confused the hell out of her to this day.
"A mindscape? But that... that only exists inside your mind, as far as I know. It's an Occlumency technique, not a physical thing. And certainly not something you can just... lure someone into..." Sirius replied with a frown.
"Well yes. But this one was. She wasn't using any direct mind magic on me," Iris paused, and amended her words before he realized that she knew things that she definitely shouldn't, "at least I don't think so."
"She even had a Pensieve in there, which she stole from this strange room on the seventh floor."
Sirius just shook his head. "You can't take a physical object into a space that only exists inside the mind."
"You can, if a Name is involved," Iris replied, before she even thought about it.
Damn it! Also, huh. She guessed that made some sense. Magical Names seemed to exist slightly beyond the rational, they allowed you to defy reason to a small extent, especially if you could supplement it with meaning. Maybe like... how House elves could just do things with a snap of a finger that shouldn't even work in the first place, or how Goblins just ignored the laws of physics when it came to their battle axes? Was that not down to the fact that they were creatures, but because of their Names?
She really needed to force herself to take some time and properly sort through Myrtles memories at some point, no matter how much she hated being reminded of every single one.
Sirius was staring at her with an indecipherable expression, but he didn't reply again.
Ugh. She really hoped she hadn't messed this up. If he'd dig too far in that direction—
Pop! "The third course is being Raspberry Vanilla Cheesecake Puffskeins. Please enjoy."
Heh. Saved by the bell. Iris had never been as grateful to be able to stuff her face with some desert as she was right now. Even if said desert was moving. And its shape was so utterly adorably cute. But she wouldn't be deceived by weapons she had long since mastered for herself.
With a gleam in her eyes, she raised up her spoon, and sliced down into the animated cheese cake shaped like a tiny animal made of nothing but puffy fur and overly large eyes with extra gusto. Her prey realized its mistake and the individual pieces began to flee, but she hunted each and every single one of them down, until they ended up reunited right where they belonged.
Finally, they were left in silence once more, but this time Iris spoke up. "So I guess there's still one topic left to talk about?"
Sirius swallowed, and his expression turned hesitant. "I... well. I mean... I thought, but, I realize it's probably not a good idea in hindsight..."
Was he actually trying to talk her out of it now?
But then again... yeah. That wouldn't make any difference. Because of Dumbledore. So here goes nothing.
"No." Iris shook her head. "Yeah. There's some issues we have to work out. Issues you have to work out. But I still think that... at least by the end of the year... we might be able to get there."
"I— Are you sure? I mean... you heard, right? It's my fault that Harry is gone! You know I'd do anything, if there was any way, to undo it, to fix it, to have you both come living with me..."
Iris cut him off right there, his statement hitting a bit too close to territories better left untouched. "You know we aren't getting anywhere with this, right? You say it's your fault, I say it's my fault... Does that stop us from doing the best we can with what is left?"
Merlin, she really had to stop quoting Dumbledore at people she cared about. Especially when she was just using them as a means to an end.
"I suppose not..." he finally mumbled.
"Yeah. So I guess we'll revisit this before summer break, at the latest. But until then..." Iris trailed off, then decided she couldn't leave without a final parting jab. "See you in class, Professor Black."
Sirius grabbed his chest as if she had just stabbed him in the heart, but even as he sat dying at the dinner table, he was finally smiling.
"See you in class, Miss Potter."
Chapter 20: Third bell
Chapter Text
"Is' bloody scary, 's wha' it is," Rubeus mumbled as he rummaged through his jacket.
Dumbledore stood across from him with a patient smile. He had explained the plan, once, then again. But Rubeus wasn't all that great with plans. But what he was good with was being a part of them. Especially if they involved Dumbledore.
Dumbledore always knew best, he'd see to it that it was made right. Great man, Dumbledore.
The other man though... Rubeus wasn't so sure. But Dumbledore did trust him. So that was good enough for him.
"Ah, there we go," he said as his fingers finally found the giant key ring and pulled it from the depths of his pockets. "Here's the little blighter."
He flipped through the assorted keys big and small, sterling and rusty alike, until he gripped a large brass key, which had four tiny jewels encrusted at the top, red, blue, green and yellow. It's always been his favorite one. Even though he'd never done much with it except give it to Dumbledore on occasion.
But he supposed that was the whole point, wasn't it? He was the one person Dumbledore could trust. The one he could trust to keep it safe, to return it when needed, and above all, to never try to use it.
Rubeus had always felt proud about this in particular, the heavy metal key against his chest a permanent reminder how much the headmaster valued him not just as the groundskeeper, but as the Keeper of Keys as well.
Which was why he was so nervous about this. He had never done anything like this. He was never supposed to do anything like this. It was wrong, was what it was.
To try and use it like that... But—
But it was true... You-Know-Who was out there. And Dumbledore needed him, needed it, to protect the students. That was one goal he could always get behind.
Professor Black stared at the key held in his hand with the same worry and anticipation that he was feeling himself right now.
"Yeh sure about this, Professor?" Rubeus asked one final time.
He really didn't like questioning Dumbledore on anything. But the last time he hadn't when he should have...
"I have absolute faith in him, Rubeus. There is no need to worry."
And that was that. As much as he disliked the idea, the decision was made. And Rubeus trusted that Dumbledore would know what he was doing, as he always had.
Almost always.
He flipped the key in his fingers, pressed his thumb against the crystals at the top, and raised it to his mouth to whisper.
"Transfer. Twenty-four hours, full control."
A small flash of yellow light signified his job as complete. With a final sigh, he held out his hand, and presented the key to Professor Black.
~V~
Iris took a deep breath, trying to keep her hand steady. This was it. Tracey had really come through, hadn't she? It had all the bells and whistles. All the paragraphs and formalities. It was the genuine thing. It was just missing... the Name.
Her instincts were split on that one. Everything she knew about rituals told her that this shouldn't work, but she also had a very distinct hunch that it would work... if she managed to get his Name involved. After all, Names would work a bit outside the rules, wouldn't they? She wasn't sure if that applied both ways, or just to the one bearing the Name, but it was the only idea she could come up with. Then, there still was the issue of the sacrifice. But if thinking his Name was any indication, then what she was about to do would be quite the sacrifice if there ever was one.
Iris took another shuddering breath, clutched the quill a little tighter, dipped it into the ink well, slid it along the edge to get rid of the excess, then raised it up to the regular piece of muggle paper, and wrote a single letter V.
As soon as the quill left the paper, it felt like it was catching fire in her hand. That one letter alone was burning in a bright red, eating through the paper and yet leaving it intact. Glowing in a blinding light while still remaining a simple regular black letter.
This wasn't good. Holy shit this wasn't good. This felt like a ritual going horribly wrong from the start, and she had only written the first letter. Could she even? Was it even possible to write the whole Name out entirely? Steadying her shaking grip, she closed her eyes for a second, then set it back down again. As soon as she moved, it felt like the quill had gone from light as a literal feather to completely and utterly immovable, a mass the size of a mountain. She was stuck!
But she had come this far. She wouldn't let something as silly as physics stop her. Iris growled and brought a bright blue light into her hand, and began to move. With a heavy grinding noise, as if she were moving heaven and earth, the tip of the quill scratched the paper in a circle, forming the letter ̶͚̾̈́O̴̱̩͒.̴̺͒̅
Pain lanced through her as her eyes met the incomplete name written on the document, and she growled and wrenched them right back shut. "Damn it, Iris! Don't look at it, don't try to read it, just write. One letter at a time. You can do this," she whispered to herself.
Somehow the weight seemed to grow even heavier, but she just increased the Force to match and wrote the letter ̶̯͓͎̻͙͎̜̙̏̎̀̈́͊́̿͛̊̚Ḻ̶̨̤̘̦̩͙͎͍̰̦͌̈͌.̷̨̛͙̮̠͔͇̞͙̈́̈́͆͂̕͠
There was a faint hint of smoke in the air. A glance down revealed the edges of the document turning singed, as if it had begun smoldering, except without any fire. Through her off hand, she forced Orange and Yellow into the piece of paper and twisted it into the single easiest charm in existence that every witch and wizard—except her—learned in their first Defense class.
Somehow even more worryingly, while the paper had stopped blackening, it was still faintly smoking all the same. Iris gripped the quill with all the force she could muster and continued to write one letter after the other.
When she reached the second ̸̧̨̗͖̱̘͖̩͈̱̮̗̃̉̏̍̃̐̉͐͆͊́́̽̉͐̍͊̂͘͘͜͠͝͠Ó̴̢̲̘̱̣̪͈̞,̵̗̤̤̜̪̭̹̹͉͚̳̟̊̎̀̓̈̂͐̆̂̀̃̅̈́̌̎̎̏̒̑̕̕͘͘̚̚͝ ̸̡̨̡̛̛̪͍͔̘̲̰͇̱̫̮̻̲̜̬̭̪̠̒͑̎̑̈͗̈́̃̒̈́̌̑͆͑̾͐̇͂̂̅̔̕͝her quill actually caught fire in her hand. Luckily, her Flame-Freezing-Charm seemed to cover that as well. But that didn't change a thing about the fact her hand was on fucking fire, even if it wasn't burning yet. But the pain was there all the same.
V̸͉͚̭͕̼̹̀̒͘͘͜ͅo̷̧͚̫͉̲͎̳̥̕l̷͓̥̱̣̜͎͉̇̓̅̏̊̉̎́d̵̫̥͖̎̈͐̕͝e̷̫͍͆̎̓̚m̷̱͆́̑̐̐͂͘ơ̴̰̺͉͋͘ŗ̴̠̱̦͖͕̐̽͗t̸̮̏̾̽̔̓͊̕͝
She tried to top up her quill in the inkwell, but the flames immediately caused the black liquid to bubble and evaporate within seconds. She'd just have to make do and hope it would be enough. Gritting her teeth once more, she set the quill back down and began to draw the shape of an ̸̢̬͓̭͎̐̀́̓̑͘͜Ṙ̸͎̳̫̦͚͎̼̝̰̘̖̼͉̿̄̆͆͂̽̊̌̆̇͌͆̉̈́͜͝͝ͅ.̷̨̨̼̫̫̯͓̜͇͎̹̤̼̺̼̘͐͐͋̄͜ ̵̛͔́̈́͛̀̔̇͊͒͒̈̑̽̓̊́̕T̶͔̝̝͉̄̐ḧ̸̠̺̪é̶̩̌̏ ̷̧̱̫̜̗̲̰̗̤̝̩̼̫͙̙̪̀̈́̔͒͝Ŕ̷̜̙̤͌͂̀̍̚͠ͅ ̴̢̛̤̰̮͍͙͇̜̼̙̲̝̩̑̍̈́̀͒͆̍͌͊̕̚̚͜͝b̴͓̩̀e̴͎̚g̶̜͋͝ǎ̸͉̀n̵͉̉ ̷͕͂ṭ̸̒ó̶̟̍ ̶̞̎̚g̷̦͚̎͌ȑ̷̞̪ŏ̴̹ŵ̷̠ ḁ̵̳͗n̵̢̤̙͇͂̈́͋̚͝ḍ̵̼͋̀͋ ̸̻́̄̂̈́̇͝g̴̡̗̬̙̘̹̗͛͌̂͑̏̒͝͝r̴͇̥̳͂̄̀̈́͊͋ȏ̵̥̘̱͖̖̪͖̗̌w̷̩͕͕̎͑̚, g̷̼͙̽͛r̸̹̀̊͜ỏ̵̬͝w̷͉̚i̶̫̗̅n̴̮͚̔g̴̟̚ ļ̶̠̹͔̠́͐͗̒̒͊͝ͅͅả̵͍͓̱̪͝͠r̷̨̙̭͈̉̑͑͛̚͝g̴̖̳̹̾̂̓̇͗̄͌͝e̴̯̘͖͚͂̂̌̊̓r̷̭̺͓̪̄̀̈́̕, taking up the whole paper, and then b̵͈̥̣͉̙̮̪̥͍̜̦̗̱̤̃͑̅̊͗̿̈̄̽̕͜͠͝͝è̸͚̭̲̝̩̥̻͓̰̭̀̇̎͂̉͊̅͐̅̉̒̾̓̏͌̏y̸̺̪̟̠͓̠̲̦̠̓̉̎̂̈̿̒̓̅̀̈̉̉̑́͘͜͜͝ö̵̪͈̝̣̬͔̺͕͈̖̩̫̹͐̋n̸̻͉̑̓͌̈͠ḋ̴͓̫͓̏̎̃͛̑̍̓̃̈́̎̚̕͝. Furniture and chairs moved to make space for it, then the walls and the ceiling too. Everything was pushed aside, leaving only the dark, black void.
The void, herself, her quill, and that one piece of paper, floating in mid-air before her, missing just one single letter.
V̷̥͒̇͗͑́͗͗͒̄͌Ọ̷̧͎̺̜̜̦̼̯͉͐͌̄̀͌́̆̓́͂̏̕L̴̙͉̲̏̾̄̔͑̃̅̐͗̀̒̚͜͝Ḑ̵̺̗͇͇̳͎̈́̾̊̈́͑͒́̈́̓͝É̶̳̰̬̫̭͕̹̺͕̘̼͍́̂̅̾̋̔̀̈̈́̈́̀̕͝͠M̶̧̨̻̮͈̮͍̳͒̋̀̓̓̀̐̅̀̔̕͠͠ͅƠ̷̦̺͂̅̍̍̚͝͠R̵̪̼͔̞̱͉̠͓̪͈̺͙͆͂̏̑͋͌̍͝ͅT̸̞͈̩̮͕̣͍̳̖̹̣͙̪͛̊̊̊̽́̌͛͘͘
Iris Lily Potter!
Her mantra, like a prayer, pierced the darkness and quieted the Name. Everything became deathly still. There was only one action to take, two strokes of a quill, to end it all, to set her plan into motion.
Iris didn't even have to think about it. This wasn't just for her. This was for her friends, too.
She closed her eyes, and even her hand became eerily still, all the shaking gone, and a state of pure tranquility remained.
The quill touched the paper, and wrote the letter T.
Iris blinked. There it was. A piece of paper, sitting innocently on the desk inside her dorm room, nothing out of the ordinary about it. Except for the Name it bore, a Name that cannot be spoken, and should never have been written. Yet here it was.
Now all that remained was to fill in the location, and she'd be good to go.
~̶͎̺̫̮̽V̴͉̤̈́̀~̶̪̌͝
Daphne clenched her fists as she peered into the room once again. The link hadn't even been active, for Merlin's sake. Yet whatever the girl had just done had almost torn apart the room she had manifested her end of the line inside, and even worse, had somehow woken up his Name once again. At this rate, would it be better to just cut it and be done with it?
A simple, solid stone room, holding an old telephone with a simple rotary dial, each of the holes filled with tiny pictures.
And one of them was burnt with a heavy black mark. However that had happened. It should be impossible for anything to affect her mindscape without first entering it, especially if the link wasn't even active. Could it be related to the Name? She had looked for all of summer for more details, yet the information she had found had been depressingly little.
Most of which related to how they interacted with magical creatures. She had only ever found one book that even mentioned the possibility of humans earning Names in the first place.
Was it really worth it to keep up her partnership with the girl?
She didn't like cooperating in the first place, much less with anyone she didn't have absolute control over. And with Potter, it wasn't just that she wasn't sure whether she could take her mentally if it came down to it. No, it was everything else about the girl that tilted the scales so far it wasn't even funny. How was she supposed to control something that defied reason itself?
That had been the main question on her mind for the past weeks. And she still hadn't found an answer. One possible avenue was through the girl's friends. But from what she'd seen, Potter was already going so far as to manipulate and hurt them for her own benefit, if it came down to Daphne trying to control her through her friends... if what Daphne wanted would conflict with Potter's goal... she wasn't sure if even a threat like that would stop her in the end.
And that kind of scared her. She was supposed to be the unpredictable one. Instead, there was this monster in a girl's skin running around, butting her head into matters she shouldn't, making things complicated, messing everything up. But also, somehow, providing a path she had never even considered. And she had no idea what to do with that.
Daphne went over everything she had learned concerning the coming day so far. There were simply way too many agendas, too many opposing forces, all of them acting individually. And that was before considering whatever insane scheme Potter was undoubtedly cooking up. In short, she had no way to predict what was about to happen. But she knew where she'd place her money, if it came down to it. No matter how much she hated it.
She might have to tell her after all.
~V~
Dear Madam Undersecretary,
I must apologize for my previous letter. As you so kindly pointed out, sending anyone but our finest would not do for an event such as this. I am also grateful for the list regarding suggestions on both which individuals to send, and the core topics from each speech which might prove of particular interest. Should any other topics or information come to light, I will, of course, be sure to seek confirmation from your department regarding the legalities.
Please do not hesitate to contact me before taking any additional actions, I will of course be happy to assist in any way I can to ensure the necessary discretion of sensitive information.
Yours sincerely,
Barnabas Cuffe
~V~
For the third time, Dolores gritted her teeth. Dumbledore really was doing everything he could to try and wriggle his way out of every possible trap she could think of. For the third time, she had received a letter concerning yet another change of plans. And of course, it wasn't just a small thing, no. The location, the orientation, the layout, the time table. Again, everything.
This constant jumbling of plans was driving her up the wall. It was almost like something she would have come up with.
She glanced over to the other letter she had received from the Chief Editor, and her lips quirked into a small smile. At least everything else that wasn't under the headmasters direct control was coming along swimmingly.
Now that public perception wasn't an issue, she just had to focus on what went down with everyone who was there in person. If only she had managed to acquire the full prophecy, this would be so much easier. But also, that thought had given her another idea. Yes, she could see it now. A path to cross Dumbledore's plans from a most unexpected source. And to that end, she flicked a few words to the side, moved the entire last paragraph, then put down her quill yet again. Cornelius' speech would need a few slight alterations. If the prophecy would come into play, it would either be a fake version, or just Dumbledore relaying the words, twisting them to his own desires. Because if the true thing contained his name, there was no chance that even he would be insane enough to display it in full at a public event like this.
Instead, she'd have to work around that by firmly penetrating the base of his argument, using the one person he would never see coming. The one person that would herself never see it coming, until she was on the spot, with all eyes on her, and it would be too late to stop.
~V~
A blinding flash and rush of tingles accompanied the familiar transition from the shadow realm to the real world.
Iris took a moment to inspect her surroundings. She was standing at the edge of the Black Lake. Glancing out across the lake, she could see the castle looming in the distance, the lights reflecting their faint orange glimmer across the surface. She'd already visited the forest, the mountains, and half-way towards Hogsmeade. This was the fourth and final edge. If she'd mapped this correctly, they should all be about the same distance from the castle, except in different directions. She was only hoping that it wasn't too far from the castle. Iris had no idea if there was any upper limit in terms of distance when it came to rituals. But anyway, it was either all or nothing with what she was trying to do.
Iris shook herself, removed her bag, opened it up, and retrieved her wand.
Wingardium Leviosa.
A faint glow, first green, then blue, and out came a large metallic pole that had no business fitting in a bag that small. On its end, the muggle warning sign was attached with some crude metal bolts. While Tracey wasn't a slouch when it came to Transfiguration, well, she was no Harry. But she supposed if it was good enough to hold, what was important was the sign. And since she'd gotten pristine muggle industrial strength aluminum signs, there was no need to worry about that part of her plan.
With a swish of her wand, the mounted sign along with the pole floated higher and higher, slowly rotating and spinning in mid-air, until it was perfectly upright, and facing away from the castle. Iris took a breath, and jabbed her wand downwards.
The sign jerked down, rapidly gained speed, and a fraction of a second later, plowed into the ground and buried itself half-way up the post. One reluctant kick against the sign post which yielded in barely a slight shudder signified her job as a success. As long as nobody would find them until tomorrow, she was all set. Which was a possible hitch in her plan, but there wasn't much she could do about that. There was no way to hide them, since the whole point was that they were supposed to be visible.
Iris took a few steps back and beheld the large red sign bearing a black stick figure, with a thick red line crossing from one corner to the other. A small chuckle escaped her lips. Who the hell needed Muggle Repellant Charms anyway; this was obviously the future.
~V~
"Are you sure?" hissed her boss once again, causing Mad-Eye to roll his eye.
"Yes, it's the final plan."
"Because if that senile chess grandmaster changes around the whole thing one more time, I'll tell him exactly where he can shove his suggestions," Madam Bones snarled.
Mad-eye didn't even so much as blink and just continued. "They attack from the forest, half the force's already there, with the other half protecting anyone who slips through the cracks of whatever Dumbledore's set up to keep the students safe. They move through the mountains behind the stadium, we'll see them coming from a mile away. And if there's an attack from the lake, merfolk agreed to be our eyes, so at least we should get an early warning."
"And if they attack from the air?" Tonks interjected carefully.
"Then this thing's over before it even starts. Just because you're a wuss on a broom doesn't mean you get to skimp on that part of the Auror training, Nymphadora," Moody growled.
Both the women shot him a glare, which he pretended he didn't notice, and just continued. "No cover in the sky. No transfiguring anything, no breaking line-of-sight, hell, you can't even properly dodge anything if your broom isn't made for that. Not to mention, no shadows in mid-air, so no Unforgivables either."
"Quite. If they decide to stage a purely aerial attack, they would be at a serious disadvantage. All it would take would be one large-scale elemental attack to throw their entire formation into chaos."
"Also, an aerial attack can be defended no matter where the force is distributed. I'm much more worried about them picking more than one simultaneous angle of attack. We just don't have the numbers to cover all of them."
Her boss sighed, and her head plopped into her arm rested on the table.
"This would be so much simpler if I didn't have to justify every single Knut spent on the force to the Minister with increasingly ridiculous excuses..."
"At least that won't be a problem after today," Tonks tried to cheer her up.
Mad-Eye gave a grunt. "If there still is an Auror force after today."
~V~
A new day had come, and Iris wasn't ready.
She'd tried. God knows she'd tried. But nothing had worked.
Iris' high spirits after the resounding success of the first part of her plan—which should have by all expectations been the hardest if not impossible part—had firmly taken a nosedive. After taking some time to calm down, she had tried to fill in the rest of the document, only to find that she couldn't.
Maybe she had to try an actual place with an address? Like Hogsmeade? Once again, she dipped the quill into the inkwell, set it down, this time, with an added Flame-Freezing Charm, and wrote the letter H. Before she had even lifted the quill from the paper, the ink began to sizzle and boil, evaporating into a thin black mist, leaving behind just an empty space.
She had tried Hogwarts, Dumbledore, Scotland, hell, even her own name. No matter what she tried to write in the other box, after writing just a single letter, nothing would stick.
A glance out the window revealed that the sun was already high in the sky. She had probably missed breakfast at this point. There wasn't any time left before the funeral, and she still hadn't figured this out! All her instincts told her that it should work, that she was almost there.
The hardest part was already done, after all. It was just a theory, but it made every kind of sense. If his Name was powerful enough to affect others, that would have to have a price. And that would mean that giving his Name would have upsides as well as downsides. And her best guess was that if someone did know his Name, and managed to stay sane, there should be some way to use it against him. Just like people could command house elves by their Names. But life was never that easy. Still. Something like this, something with meaning... It should work. It felt right. But somehow, it just didn't.
Then again, maybe, this was the sort of thing that would only work in the right moment? Like... if he was actually there?
It was a possibility that had been in the back of her mind for a long time, but she had still tried anything and everything she could think of to maybe conclude the ritual before he ever even set foot in this place. But apparently, it wouldn't be that easy.
With a sigh, Iris stowed the document, shouldered her bag, and made her way to the common room to meet up with her friends.
Or she would have, if she hadn't almost bumped into a girl she had almost completely forgotten about. The mop of black hair gave a sharp yelp as they almost collided and stumbled to the ground as if they had. Lily Moon, her original roommate, had been inexplicably scared of her from the start, and over the past year, had avoided her with the sort of existential dread that was usually reserved for the likes of Voldemort. And then there was whatever Greengrass had done with her mind, which Iris had only learned at the end of the year, but had fallen off along the wayside during the chaos of these past months.
"Whoa, sorry, I wasn't—" Iris trailed off at the expression on the girl's face. Eyes darting left and right, as if everything and anything was out to get her, and yet somehow, she seemed even more scared of even looking at her. What the fuck had Greengrass actually done to her? They hadn't really gotten along at the start, but she had still seemed like such a nice girl, someone who wouldn't hurt a fly even if she had no other choice. And yet, after two years sleeping next to a psychopath—which once again, was Iris' fault—she was... Whatever she was now.
"Hey... Listen. I know I sometimes... okay, lots of times... might be a bit scary, but... I promise you that I'd never hurt you. I don't have it out for you, and I'd never want to do anything that... whatever it is you're afraid of."
She was shaking her head violently, her short black hair tangling in a way that only too closely reminded her of Tracey, which made this all the more messed up. It was one thing to see this girl suffer like this, but to be reminded of her best friend every step of the way...
Iris slowly knelt down in front of the girl, put on a gentle smile and continued to speak in a soft voice, "You know, I think you'd have been a great roommate. You're nice, you've never done anything or even said anything about either me or Harry, you're nothing like the rest of them. Yeah, maybe we didn't get off to a great start, and I suppose that was my fault, so I'm sorry about that. I really didn't give you time to get to know you better."
The trembling had slowly reduced, and her erratic breathing was calming down a bit, but she still hadn't looked at her.
Iris reached out a gentle hand, and carefully placed it down on the girl's knee. Of course, she flinched as if burned, but after just staying like that for a second, the black haired girl didn't flee any further.
"Please..." she whispered.
Iris just waited patiently, keeping a gentle smile, hoping for her to say something. But Lily didn't continue.
"Whatever it is you're going through... whatever it is she's done to you... I'm not going to pry if you don't want me to, but if there's anything I can do, anything to make you feel better, even if it's just to leave you alone... Just say the word. I really want to help you, Lily."
The girl stiffened for a moment, and her breathing grew very calm.
She reached out one hand, towards the hand Iris was still resting on her knee, then slowly picked it up, and wrapped it in her own hands.
"Thank you," she whispered without looking up, still gently wrapping Iris' hand in her own.
Iris couldn't help a smile spreading over her lips at the words, as Lily finally opened up, even if just a sliver. Iris gently squeezed her hand with the softest touch, then continued in a quiet voice. "If there's anything you want to say, anything you want to talk about, I'll be here, okay? And if you do want another roommate, I guess I could take her up on her original offer instead. I'm sure you and Tracey would get along amazingly."
Iris hadn't really considered this before, but the idea had some merit. Especially considering what she was up to. Yeah, spending more time than she had to around the mental girl was probably not the best idea, but on the other hand, Greengrass, at least, already knew what she was up to, for better or worse. And if it could help Lily break out of whatever Greengrass had done...
"And don't worry about me, yeah, Greengrass is scary, but I can be pretty scary too, she'll learn not to try anything funny in there," Iris said, only too late realizing how that might have come across.
"So what do you say, want to trade rooms again, Lily?"
Finally, with an eerie calmness to the motion, the girl began to raise her head, and met her gaze at last. But of the tear-streaked eyes, the existential dread, and the usual Lily, there was not a single hint left.
Instead, a feral grin, a ferocious glint in her blue eyes, and an eerie stillness and confidence to her expression that she had never—no, scratch that, she had seen it once on the girl's face, only for a second.
"That's not my name."
Iris' breath caught, as the girl—or whoever it was currently occupying her—gently caressed Iris' hand in her fingers, before she forcefully snatched it back. Iris' skin still felt sort of tingly from the touch.
"But thank you," the girl almost purred, as she held her gaze with an expression that was eerily reminiscent of the younger Greengrass sister, "for reminding me."
In a twirl of robes and hair, the girl spun around and began to merrily skip down the corridor, until she disappeared into the infinite twists and turns of the Slytherin common room.
~V~
Iris hadn't managed to eat a bite during breakfast. It wasn't just the looming funeral on her mind, but also the encounter with her former roommate that just wouldn't let her go. She had no idea what to make of what had just happened. Had she been played? Had it just been bad timing? Or had she somehow managed to make things worse again? Greengrass' words from last year still haunted her mind, echoing, twisting and turning, convincing her that it was all her fault. Or was it just Greengrass messing with her again? Had she pushed too much? Or not hard enough?
Whatever the case, she hadn't seen the girl since then. Nor had she seen Greengrass, come to think of it. But who she had seen was the younger—God, she really needed to get used to using their first names—Astoria.
Whatever Daphne had done to her the day before had apparently either scared her enough to leave them alone, or... just changed enough to make her do that. Fucking hell. Iris just hoped that her Mindlight and their deal had stopped Daphne from doing anything like that with her own mind.
But then again, if she could, there would have been no need for such a show of force, if that was what it was. Maybe she just didn't care?
Iris blinked as she realized that everyone around her had suddenly fallen silent.
"Today, we mourn the loss of a remarkable young man."
Dumbledore had risen from his seat, his eyes filled with sorrow. The Great Hall grew silent as everyone turned to listen.
"At noon, we will gather by the edge of the lake, where the shore meets the forest. There, we will hold a service to honor Harry's memory, to celebrate everything he stood for, and to find solace in one another."
A somber mood settled over the students; whispers ceased as the weight of his words sank in.
"I invite all of you to join us in this moment of remembrance. Let us come together to support one another, to share our stories of Harry, and to keep his spirit alive within our hearts."
He gave a gentle nod.
"Thank you."
Dumbledore returned to his seat, leaving the hall in reflective silence.
Chapter 21: In memoriam
Chapter Text
“We are gathered here today…”
To stuff yourselves with magical confectionery while mumbling about how it was all Dumbledore’s fault?
To throw pitying stares at her and wish her condolences even though they had never met her?
To gawk at Harry’s empty coffin while shrugging and mumbling words as if you’d known him?
Well, it wasn’t actually empty, but it still felt like it. Everything that made Harry… Harry. His smile, his hair, his eyes, even his scar, it was all gone. All that remained was this molten mess of calcium, not a single scrap of her Harry even remotely recognizable. They could bury that if they wanted, it didn’t make all that much of a difference to her. The only part of him that was unquestionably him was firmly in her own possession.
As Dumbledore droned on with empty platitudes and niceties, she let her gaze wander across the gathered ceremony. Dumbledore had really gone all-out on this one. It was exactly smack-dab in the middle of the small patch of land between the shore of the Black Lake, and the Forbidden Forest. In one direction, they could see the castle looming in the distance, the black flags even visible from all the way out here, and in the other sat the large tree that she used to climb.
Iris felt a strange impulse to do so again right now, to hide herself away in the tall branches and watch the spectacle from afar until it was all over. Never mind the fact she was pretty sure she was too big for that now. Well, she probably would manage, especially with the help of magic, but… Yeah. That was no longer her. Also, it was probably a horrible idea to climb in the admittedly pretty all-black dress she was currently wearing, courtesy of some unknown benefactor who had left it at her bed, but who was in all likelihood Dumbledore just based on the handwriting.
In the center of the ceremony stood a tall white marble platform, upon which the wooden coffin rested, unopened. She was glad for that, at least. Before it, on a small wooden lectern, stood the headmaster, currently extolling tales of Harry’s virtues and his love for his friends. Iris wasn’t really listening, however. A bit more interesting was the fact that there were three of him. As soon as he had entered the stage, it was like the light had split, and now, three perfect copies of Dumbledore stood, back to back, one facing each side of the crowd, all moving and speaking in perfect sync as if they were one person. Which, she supposed, he was.
Between the pedestal and the castle stood a large assortment of chairs, assembled in a half-circle at some distance, upon which the students were seated. Almost everyone had shown up. And for the first time, they hadn’t split and grouped up into houses. Everyone was just huddled together sullenly, their quarrels seemingly forgotten for the day. A large, pristine white cloth was draped over the seats, spanning from the podium all the way to the far corners, held aloft by floating tendrils of ivy crisscrossing below the fabric. The teachers were gathered in the front row, sat among the students, with only very few notable exceptions. Behind them, just a few meters down the grasslands towards the castle, a faint pretty shimmer stretched all across the grounds. The same shimmer that had always been there, enclosing the castle in its warm, protective safety. Except now, they were seated right outside the edge of it.
Towards the lake stood another set of chairs, these ones seemingly condensed into smaller groups, with the occasional tables holding drinks or snacks. Here she recognized almost nobody. People from all walks of life, dressed in all sorts of magical regalia, robes of all colors, shirts, pants, suits and even more eccentric formal attire. She supposed this was just witches and wizards from the general public who had come to gawk at the spectacle. Among the crowd she recognized one man with familiar flaming red hair, next to the heavyset woman with similar hair she had met at Kings Cross two years back. But other than that? Her eyes darted over the crowd, hoping to recognize anyone else, or more specifically, Lupin. And yet, there was not a trace to be found of her former history teacher. She had figured that if anything, he would show up for this, wouldn’t he?
But apparently not.
Over to the forest, there was a third group. This one was mostly standing, at a bit of a distance. Huddled in groups around tables, some of them paying attention, some more pretending to, but most of them just immersed in their own hushed conversations. She recognized Umbridge among them, talking with some important-looking man in black robes and a bowler hat, standing in a group next to two other similarly clad men. She also recognized one of them as the man from Dumbledore’s office—Malfoy’s father. What was his name again? Most of them were clad in similar pristine black robes, the only exceptions being some of the witches present. A large number of them were almost identical, Umbridge among them. She supposed those were from the Ministry, then. And others, like Malfoy senior, had similar but yet different attire. Yet they were all huddled together in a group as if they belonged to the same clique. As much as the other groups were dotted with tears, this one was awash with frowns and blank masks.
Those were the people that were trying to discredit Dumbledore for wanting to announce that Voldemort was back? Iris clenched her fists involuntarily as she kept looking, but she knew there was no point. There was nothing to be done about it. Dumbledore had some sort of plan, and no matter what happened, unless she was very wrong, by the end of the day they would firmly have their frowns wiped off their faces, the error of their ways laid bare for all to see.
She’d just have to wait. Wait for Voldemort to make his move. Which sounded like a horrible plan if there ever was one. But that wasn’t all she was doing. She still had her own plan. And it was still stuck at the same point as it had been this morning. But she still had hope. It could work. It should work. If he actually did show up… She’d just have to make sure that no matter where the attack came from, she’d get lost in the crowd, and escaped the teacher’s eye trying to get everyone to safety or whatever, so she could get close enough to do what she had to.
Her gaze drifted back onto Dumbledore, who was still in the middle of a no doubt heart-wrenching speech. Listening had never been Iris’ strong suit. Yeah, she guessed, unless it was interesting, or important… Well, this literally was Harry’s funeral. It wouldn’t get much more important than this, would it? Even if one third seemed to be just as unable to pay attention to Dumbledore droning on as she—
No, not droning. Humming.
What? Her gaze flicked back to find Dumbledore, both his hands rested on the podium beside him, his eyes closed and his head held high, as he began to hum a deep, long tone. Iris shifted awkwardly in her seat. What the hell was he doing?
Another tone followed, then another, as he started to hum a deep, slow, and sad melody. Nobody dared to utter even so much as a syllable as the wizened headmaster began to hum to himself, as if he were taking a stroll through the forest, except that the melody was the saddest thing she had ever heard. It resonated with something deep within her, and she found a sole tear escaping her eye as she looked on. Her ears perked up as she noticed Tracey, next to her, her eyes just as closed, a serene expression on her face, as the girl faintly started to hum along with the tune. More and more students joined in, and Iris found herself wondering if she was the odd one out. Was this some sort of folk-song that she wouldn’t have heard of growing up with the Dursleys?
But the melody flowed so easily, so deep, sorrowful, heart-wrenching, like it was twisting the trees, the grass, even the clouds, to bring everything around her to a halt, and freed the stage for this song and this song alone. The song that went something like—
Mmmm… Mmmmmmmm…
Iris hummed along, as the melody repeated, almost as if by herself, and felt a strange feeling of tranquility settle over her. She followed along with the melody again, as did Tracey, as did Theo, and everyone else around her, but she was only vaguely aware of anything else happening at all. The melody reached the end, and it began to change. And Iris just hummed along, as if she had known the song her whole life, as did everyone else. After a few more verses, it suddenly split, and Iris found herself picking her own tune, every single student a different one. Yet they all somehow matched in perfect harmony on the first try. The voices merged, some of the first-year girls even seemed to sing, maybe Iris was as well, she couldn’t even tell anymore.
Mmmmmm… mmmmmmm… Ooooaaaaaahhh…
What kind of Magic was this? That sudden thought brought a spark of clarity back to her mind. Was this Dumbledore’s doing? She managed to open one eye to look at the headmaster who still hadn’t moved from the spot, but he seemed just as unable or unwilling to stop the song as she herself was.
She knew she should feel some sort of panic at being forced to do something against her will, at being unable to stop it, but right now, in this moment, she only felt at peace. Peace, tranquility, and utter primal sadness.
Iris noticed that by the edge of the forest, a group of… were those centaurs? And over at the lake some strange blue creatures as well… she couldn’t quite make it out over this distance, yet she still knew, just as sure as she knew what tune to sing, that they were all a part of this song. That they all would join, and none would stop, until it was finally over and done.
And in this moment Iris understood. It wasn’t Dumbledore doing this. It was the song. The song wanted to be sung.
The voices struck a full harmonic chord, and the music formed into light, into pictures, and a face. A lazy, exasperated smile, behind a familiar set of glasses. As if he were standing right in front of her. Iris reached out a hand, and she felt the sound, the music flow through her fingers as they slipped through what was obviously not there, yet what she had hoped against foolish hope still might be.
The voices rose, then joined, and finally, it ended in a slow, quiet fading hum, as student after student blinked themselves back to reality. From the corner of her eyes, she noticed as the centaurs and merpeople slowly withdrew back where they had come from. Iris found herself just sitting there, empty, tranquil, no thoughts except her love, her aching for that very person she had just glimpsed through a miracle of Magic. Had it really been him? Had it just been a memory? But it had felt so… so real. Almost like it had felt through their bracelet, in a way…
“This was the Lament of the Grieving Mother. It is a song that was sung since ancient times to express our grief for those lost to us before their time, to lament the lost time we will never spend with them, the goals they will never achieve, and all the feelings in our hearts we have never found the words to express. Harry was taken from us, from life, from his chance to achieve his dreams. Dreams of a kind world, a brave world, of a family. He was a remarkable boy, with remarkable dreams. But what is even more remarkable are the things that he did achieve. He was a friend; a brother, first and foremost, in everything that he did, all the way to the end.”
Dumbledore raised a hand and gestured to his side, where Professor McGonagall had taken the stage next to him, and promptly split into three again, each glaring more sternly than the other, each facing a different group of guests.
The woman stood there, as composed as ever, her hands gripping the podium in front of her as her eyes roamed the crowd as if looking for excuses to deduct house points.
“Mister Potter was no doubt one of the most testing students I’ve had the pleasure to teach ever since his own father,” the deputy headmistress began with a frown. “Whenever there was any sort of trouble, anything that would happen, that would wake me up in the middle of the night, and cause our house to fall behind in the house cup once again, you can bet that it would be him that I’d see there. Mister Potter, Mister Weasley, and Miss Granger, the three together had an uncanny penchant of ending up in every kind of trouble I could imagine, and many that I could not. At times, it felt like he was out on a quest to follow in the footsteps of his father, to make a mockery of rules, teachers, and students alike.”
Iris ground her teeth. So what? It wasn’t like he did it to cause trouble! And it seemed the hushed whispers surrounding her agreed. Was she really just going to stand there and—
“However, every single time…” McGonagall continued, then paused, took a breath and blinked her eyes. “Every single time when I would finally get past my irritation with him and look into the source of the misbehavior, do you know what I would find?”
Slowly the whispers died back down, the entire student body once again hanging onto her every word.
“Reasons. Very good reasons. Courage. Bravery. Loyalty. Love. In short, everything that our house has ever stood for. When during their first year I found them out and about after curfew, outside on the ground even, I sent them right off to detention where they belonged. Yet, it turned out that the reason was that he was trying to both save an innocent creature from being captured and trapped, and also a friend from facing severe consequences brought about by the misguided goodness of his own heart.”
Iris blinked. What the hell was she talking about? Harry had never told her anything about any creature? Hang on, could it be that Malfoy had actually been right about the dragon? Why the hell wouldn’t he tell her?
“When I learned the three of them had entered the forbidden corridor in their first year, I was of half a mind to expel them right then and there. Yet in the end, I learned that if they hadn’t, it would have forfeit the life of his very own sister. And as if fate has some cruel sense of humor, the same thing would repeat itself this year. Except this time, he only managed to save her… at the cost—”
She looked down for a moment, blinking rapidly, before producing a handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes, again and again. “…at the cost… of his own life. He was a true Gryffindor. He did his house proud, his family, his friends, his teachers. There will never be another Gryffindor like him. And that is why we will remember him. Because he did things that many others wouldn’t. He didn’t do what was easy, what was fun, or what was best, but what was right.”
McGonagall gave another sharp nod, ducked her head and stepped to the side, making room for… Hagrid?
“Harry was—” Hagrid sniffed loudly, blinked, and began anew. “Harry was a… he was a…” he nodded rapidly, “a great kid.”
“He’d always come round me humble place for tea ‘n’ biscuits. Every week. Sometimes Ron ’n Hermione would come ’long too, even Iris did once or twice. But Harry… Harry—” He broke off, snatched a gigantic handkerchief that looked more like a tablecloth out of the pockets of his coat, and loudly blew his nose. “Harry was always there. He was the only one who kept comin’ back, who wanted ter be friends… even with a big fool like meself.”
She really was an asshole, wasn’t she? Hagrid, Lupin, Lily, Ron and Hermione, now even Neville and Susan, maybe Luna…
She’d just forget about them, move on with her life, just because they hadn’t been all that… important? Because she had no use for them? But she’d still made an effort, right? Even with Hagrid… even with…
Filch.
Oh.
Merlin, just bury her along with Harry already. Her eyes surreptitiously flicked along the crowd but she couldn’t make out the creepy caretaker anywhere. Just what had actually happened to him? Was it somehow her fault? No, it wasn’t. The diary hadn’t even been in her possession back then. So it really wasn’t her problem, was it?
But he had still been… kind of nice to her? At least that one time… And he… could it be that the rumors were actually true? That he actually was a squib? That he had been…
Merlin, as if she didn’t already feel horrible enough.
She wanted to think that it was because she hadn’t had time, because they weren’t all that good friends anyway, because they didn’t want to be her friend anyway, because she would have just made things worse… but…
Even if all of that were true. That would still be excuses. The truth was that she hadn’t even tried. And at least with Lily, maybe she really should have.
And with the others… well, she had no idea, because she didn’t really know them very well. And whose fault was that?
“He was a…” a heart-wrenching sob escaped the bearded giant, and Professor McGonagall reached out a hand, and rested it on his back. “…a bloody hero, ’s what he was. A hero if there ever was one.”
Hagrid’s speech was followed by Professor Flitwick, and then his Quidditch Captain Oliver Wood. Iris noticed some glances being directed her way and she started to feel increasingly awful. All these people honoring Harry, and yet here she was, not even doing him the courtesy of so much as saying a few words. Not like they hadn’t asked, of course. But she had shot it down from the start. It was one thing to attend his funeral in the first place, but to actually speak there, to truly speak from the heart… she knew there was no way she could do that, not if she truly still believed that she could bring him back.
And yet here she was, the sister of the boy who lived, the renegade who had betrayed her family, went to Slytherin, fell to darkness, killed her brother, only to just sit there at his funeral, victoriously gloating in silence as all her evil schemes to usurp the Potter fortune had come to fruition. At least according to all the whispers surrounding her.
If only they knew how close their stupid rumors actually were to the truth.
God, could Voldemort just attack already? Iris glanced around the crowd, towards either edge, but all she could make out were people wearing those gray Auror robes, scattered all around the place to each side, looking just as uneasy as herself. But no sign of spells, explosions, fire, or any sort of Death Eater attack. No, it was the suspense that was killing her.
Iris wondered when Dumbledore would conclude his show in the actual reveal. From what she could tell, both his, as well as McGonagall’s speech had set up enough pieces for him to tie it all together into finally revealing the reason for Harry’s death as being Voldemort himself. But he had just laid them out, and now was allowing other people to speak first. Iris guessed she could appreciate him at least giving Harry the courtesy of having a somewhat proper ceremony before he twisted it for his necessary greater good or something. She glanced up towards the stage where instead of teachers, there now seemed to be one of the two men who had stood next to Malfoy senior making his way to the podium, and for the first time, the entire crowd—including the snobby one surrounding Malfoy—fell entirely quiet. It was the one that Umbridge— oh. Was that… the Minister of Magic?
She had kind of expected him to be taller.
“Thank you, headmaster,” he nodded genially, before letting his gaze sweep over the crowd, as he took the stage, but unlike his predecessors, faced the side where all the other snobs were seated, yet his image split all the same, once more appearing to face all three groups equally.
“My fellow Witches, Wizards, Lords and Ladies, as well as our esteemed Hogwarts staff and students. It is with great sadness I stand before you on this dark day in wizarding history. A boy that we have all come to love, to cherish—one of the greatest heroes of our time—has tragically passed in a most unexpected and horrifyingly cruel twist of fate. The incident that took Harry Potter’s life has shaken the Wizarding World to its core. It has reminded us that even in the greatest, most peaceful times, we can never allow complacency to take hold. That unguided, misinformed decisions can, even in the best of faith, have the most tragic of consequences.”
Iris’ gaze flicked across the crowd. McGonagall was wearing a deep frown, Umbridge a tiny, gleeful smile, and Dumbledore just the same serene, somber expression as he had the whole day.
“The ministry is, above all, committed to the safety and wellbeing of all of its citizens. And one of the most vital ingredients to a safe and stable society is freedom, protection, and most importantly, truth. It is the ministry’s solemn quest to ensure that all our citizens learn the truth of what has happened, and are able to understand how it was possible that such a tragedy managed to claim the life of the greatest hero of his generation, within the heart of what is supposed to be the safest place in all of Magical Britain. Therefore, it is my solemn duty to start by dispelling any and all rumors that might have arisen in the wake of the almost nebulous publication of this tragedy.”
Right. He was trying to pre-empt Dumbledore then. That was about to go well for all of an hour at most.
“Despite all the rumors, I regret to inform you that indeed, the claims of Mister Potter’s demise are true. The ministry has verified beyond the shadow of a doubt that the remains found within here,” he gestured vaguely at the wooden coffin, “are indeed of one Harry James Potter.”
That had been the rumor? She hadn’t even heard of that before. Or was he just saying that to establish credibility?
The minister paused, to allow some of the crowd—mostly the general public part—to calm back down from this latest statement. Iris scanned the crowd once again, and noticed one peculiar absence. Where the hell was Sirius? Wasn’t he supposed to be here; to be part of the plan?
“Furthermore, it appears there is some… confusion about the exact circumstances of his death. Since the headmaster has so far refused to elaborate, I shall take this duty upon myself, and present you with the facts. The exact details behind how such a tragedy could have come to pass. Just like Headmaster Dumbledore, as did Professor McGonagall, as did all of you, we did not want to believe that the death of Harry Potter could have been something as meaningless as a mere accident. That there had to be more to it, that there had to be someone to blame. Yet, the immediate evidence quickly spoke differently. Despite what the headmaster may claim, despite rumors of dark wizards and secret evil forces at work, we decided that you would deserve nothing but the truth, the harsh, but obvious truth, even if it was that no matter how much we wish otherwise, Harry Potter’s death was just a tragic accident. And we would not rest until we had determined what had happened beyond any shadow of a doubt; until we had proof.”
A sole thought slowly crept into Iris’ mind as the minister continued the setup of his ill-advised coverup. What if Voldemort wouldn’t show up at all? What if he expected Dumbledore to plan this event around him showing up, and instead crossed his plans by just doing nothing? By just letting the ministry smash Dumbledore’s credibility further with whatever trumped-up evidence they had undoubtedly cooked up?
“The ministry has spent every available resource to determine… the truth…”
The crowd had never fallen quiet as quickly as it had right now. The minister paused for a long moment, before his expression turned very serious.
“And we were wrong.”
Iris’ head snapped back towards the minister.
“Harry Potter’s death was not a tragic accident.”
It was what?
“No, my fellow citizens. The truth is far darker than we had ever feared. Our investigation has concluded that Harry Potter… was murdered; by none other than one Gilderoy Lockhart.”
Iris could hear a cricket chirp somewhere on the other side of the lake.
“Yes. I know it sounds scandalous, almost blasphemous, especially in light of his own recent tragic demise. But the evidence does not lie. Harry Potter’s wand has been found in the late Gilderoy Lockhart’s possession, and it has been found to have cast several Obliviation and Confounding spells.”
Crap. Was this good? Bad? Worse? Had they even fabricated evidence or had they just drawn the wrong conclusion?
“Said Confounding spells have been verified to have found their victims; one of them the niece of our very own Amelia Bones. According to the analysis, the charms were intended to fabricate a false alibi for Mister Lockhart; that both Ronald Weasley and Susan Bones had seen Harry Potter on the evening after Mister Lockhart had returned victoriously from his latest quest, when in fact, Harry Potter had never even left the Chamber of Secrets.”
Well, so far, it was… basically the truth? But how would they spin that into…
“But, I hear you ask, what reason would Gilderoy Lockhart—the most fabled hero of his generation—have to try and attempt such a drastic thing as to murder one of the only other heroes of our society of equal notoriety? Was the fame not enough? Had he seen something he should not have? Or could it be that… he was trying to claim credit?”
The Minister paused dramatically, before somehow, his eyes came to rest on Iris, and she felt a strange foreboding feeling creep up her spine.
“The answer… is sitting right here among us.”
Crap.
“Miss Potter, would you be so kind as to come forward?”
Double crap! What the hell was she supposed to do now?
She noticed shocked looks from everyone and anyone around suddenly pinning her in place, and even Dumbledore’s expression showed a slight hint of concern. Just what exactly was this about? As the whispers rose, Iris resigned herself to her fate, sheepishly got to her feet and slowly made her way towards the podium. Was she supposed to walk up to the nearest one? Or the real one? What had his name been again anyway? Something with food, pudding? Nah, no way.
As soon as she crossed the threshold of the pedestal, the illusion shattered, and she could distinguish the real Minister from the two now spectral copies, all of them somehow smiling expectantly at her. He held out a welcoming hand, and shook hers with a firm grip when she approached.
“My condolences, Miss Potter. Today is as much for you as it is for anyone here. And I also would like to especially thank you for being brave enough to help us honor your brother’s memory.”
Iris had to heavily restrain herself from accidentally crushing his hand in her own. Taking a deep breath, she put on a small smile, and nodded.
“Thank you, Minister. I’m happy to help.”
Her eyes caught Umbridge’s in the crowd who was smiling, and even gave her an encouraging nod, which of course was anything but. Daphne had been right. She couldn’t afford to draw too much attention her way.
The minister gave her another smile, then turned back to the crowd. “Some of you may no doubt be aware of the latest sensationalist hit-piece in the Quibbler concerning the departed Mister Lockhart.”
Oh. Wait, Luna had actually published that? Already?
The crowd broke into whispers again, but the man held up his hands and smiled genially, until silence reigned once more. “Now, as with most of it’s headlines, we would of course treat these claims with the appropriate amount of… skepticism. However,” he paused, and held up a finger. “This time, the story was corroborated by an interview with none other than Miss Potter here, Harry Potter’s very own sister.”
Iris shifted on her feet under all of the staring from all sides at once.
“Miss Potter, would you be so kind as to answer a few questions on the contents of said article?”
“Uh… I actually haven’t read the final article yet, so I’m not sure…”
“That’s alright, we just need you to confirm your very own statements. Is it true you have found memory evidence of Gilderoy Lockart’s previous deeds in truth being the work of others?”
“Well… yeah. He was actually—”
“And is it true that you were memory charmed in the wake of the incident where your brother was last seen?”
“I… yeah, that’s what Professor Snape said.”
“Thank you. As you see, the what and how seems to be very clear. But still leaves the question as to the why. Why would he go so far as to not just steal credit, but go out of his way to kill the Boy-Who-Lived?” he asked towards the crowd, before pausing, and then continuing in a lower voice, “And I think that you could help us with this very question in particular.”
What was he on about— Oh. Wait, was he… Crap! Was this going where she thought this was going?
How should she respond to that?! Could she claim that Umbridge had tried to potion her with Veritaserum? Which while true, Umbridge would also know that she had never taken any in the first place?
The whole plan had been to make them aware of the existence of the prophecy, and have them hopefully look up the full thing in that place in the Department of Mysteries Daphne had mentioned. That way, if she ended up in trouble with the Ministry at some point, she could use the prophecy not only as a shield for Harry to prevent him from being dissected on the spot if she ever brought him back, but also to grant her—as an alternate subject of the prophecy—a bit of immunity as well as soon as Voldemort publicly returned, at least until she managed to bring Harry back. This, however, hadn’t been part of the plan. Just what had she gotten herself into this time?
“Miss Potter. Do you know why I really asked you up here?”
Iris gathered herself, and fired up her Mindlight, trying to come up with a quick emergency plan. They would probably ask her to corroborate the existence and some of the wording of the prophecy. They’d likely ask her to confirm that it designated Harry as a hero of Fate, and then possibly spin that into a reason why Lockhart could have never surpassed him, and make that into his motive? But what could she do with that? If she corroborated their story, that made it even more unlikely for people to believe the truth if Voldemort didn’t show up! What would Dumbledore think of her just telling the prophecy to others? What was it he had said? Words of prophecy are fated to be misinterpreted unless they are heard in full… Wait, so was this her fault? Had they made Lockhart into the villain because the incomplete prophecy was twisting fate around yet again? Was it even still active? Did that even still hold weight?
But also… could she use that somehow? Could she…
The best outcome here was Dumbledore’s plan coming to fruition. But to do that, Voldemort would need to show himself. There was no way to turn this around with mere words. Maybe he was watching from a distance? Just to ensure everything went according to his plan? Could she…
Iris suddenly had to suppress a grin at the mad idea. Yes. There was a way to salvage this. And it couldn’t happen to a more deserving bastard.
“It… It is about what I told Professor Umbridge, isn’t it? She said she would look into it and inform the necessary authorities, so I suppose that would include yourself…”
Iris trailed off as she approached the Minister, and suddenly, her vision split, showing all three sides of the crowd, somehow all at once.
“Indeed, Miss Potter, indeed. Now, would you be so kind as to repeat to us the words that the headmaster has shared with you concerning the supposed fate of your brother?”
Iris gave a hesitant smile and nodded.
“Professor Dumbledore has told me that… before we were born, someone had made a prophecy. And it is true. I’ve seen it… heard it myself, the whole thing. It said that there would be one person, a single person who would hold power; power that could even vanquish the Dark Lord. One person who was fated to destroy him, who was strong enough to do what nobody else could. And that one of them would in the end… inevitably kill the other.”
She paused, took a breath, seemingly gathering herself, and spent some extra time glancing down at the coffin for show.
“That prophecy… was not very specific. Originally, it could have applied to either Harry or myself. But in the end, when You-Know-Who attacked our home, he chose Harry. And that made him the subject of the prophecy. He was the one who would be the Dark Lord’s foe, his equal, his downfall. And of course he did. Harry… Harry always came through, even back then already…”
Iris took a breath, and then turned towards the minister with an uncertain expression, before narrowing her eyes, seemingly in comprehension. “You’re saying… that’s why he did it? The… That bastard! You think that… that he couldn’t allow a hero who was fated to be so much greater than him, who held power to even rival the Dark Lord—as ordained by Fate itself—to possibly grow to outshine him and take everything that should be rightfully his?” Iris spat, with all the venom she could muster.
“And that he decided to prove that he was stronger, that he was the true hero of Magical Britain, that he was even more powerful than the one who bested the worst Dark Lord in history as a child already. That he was obviously superior … even compared to Harry.”
She was laying it on really thick now, but at this point, it was either all or nothing. She turned her furious gaze at the minister, and growled.
“Tell me I’m wrong, Minister.”
The man’s smile could not have been brighter if he had tried, as if she had just perfectly played into his plans even better than he had imagined. Which, she supposed, she had. But she could only hope that her theory was correct.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself, Miss Potter. Yes, indeed. No matter how much we tried to deny it, the investigation led us to exactly this conclusion. Gilderoy Lockhart, once thought to be the most valiant hero of our nation, has been revealed to be nothing but a fraud, and now, even a murderer. Years he spent stealing the achievements of others—wiping their memories as if it had been his own doing all along—yet in the end, when even Fate itself tried to stand in his way, he finally cracked, and committed this most atrocious of all his previous deeds.”
The crowd was still sitting in silence. McGonagall was shooting her a betrayed expression, but Dumbledore… holy shit, the old man was onto her. His eyes were already flicking along the horizon, his fingers uneasily palming something inside his robes.
“Thank you for speaking up, Miss Potter. The country is in your debt. Not just for this, but for allowing such a tragedy to occur beneath our watch. If you ever need anything in the future, please be sure to let me know immediately.”
That was a dismissal if there ever was one, so she just nodded and made her way back to her seat to face the wide-eyed expression of her friends.
“Rest assured that we will not let this stand. Harry Potter will get the justice he deserves. As Minister of Magic, I hereby declare the Order of Merlin Third Class granted to Gilderoy Lockhart as null and void, effective immediately. A public trial will follow, where a formal sentence will be passed onto the late Mister Lockhart, but I suspect it is a mere formality at this point. But for now, let us not dwell on such dark matters, instead, let us reminisce the rest of the day about all of the wonderful virtues of Mister Potter. Let us remember him for what he was, and not for what he has become, for that is nothing less than what he deserves. Thank you.”
At first, hesitant clapping, mostly from the group of snobby gits, but soon, even the public joined in. Most of the students still seemed to have no idea what to think and just sat in confused whispers, either staring at the Minister, at Dumbledore, or Iris.
The Minister gave another nod, then made his way off the podium to be immediately replaced by another ministry stooge from the same group, who quickly began to drone on meaningless propaganda or whatever else was on the menu.
“What the hell was that?” hissed Tracey next to her. “You never told me anything about any prophecy!”
She hadn’t, had she?
“A memorable day, certainly, with a memorable twist of events. But after all, Harry Potter was a memorable boy…”
“Dumbledore showed it to me, over the summer,” Iris admitted in a whisper.
“And why the hell would you play into that?! Why would you use that, and show everyone, tell everyone that…”
“Because she’s baiting him,” whispered Theo, effectively cutting Tracey’s rant in half.
Tracey blinked, then blinked again, before she grabbed onto her robes, pulled her face close and hissed, “are you insane?!”
“Hey, shh! I was just trying to make sure that he would show up!”
“…and even with all these remarkable deeds, that his life would in the end be cut short by this…”
“Yes! That’s the problem! It’s You-Frickin-Know-Who! What do you think he’d—”
“…the child prophesied to rival even the greatest Dark Lord in history… brought down by none other than Gilderoy Lockhart.”
Iris slowly found her head turning by itself to face the podium once more, towards the ministry worker from Umbridge’s group standing at the lectern, and she met his eyes.
“…the mere thought alone is… sickening.”
The eyes… the eyes were red.
“Let me tell you… the truth—the reality you tried so desperately to deny. Harry Potter was the one destined to defeat the Dark Lord… The one… the only one… who had the power, maybe the courage, yes. But certainly, the only one who ever… stood a chance.”
Every single person had fallen completely silent, and they were all staring, their eyes locked onto the lectern, onto the one man standing behind it.
“And he came close. He came very close, yes… For eleven years, nothing but a spirit remained. Once, twice even… he almost succeeded. But in the end… the dice have fallen. And he learned the one lesson—the most… important lesson all of you seem to have forgotten…”
The mirror effect split, then split again, four Voldemorts, then six, eight, ten… They grew taller and taller, until they were naught but a face, staring directly at her and everyone else from barely inches away. She could feel his breath on her face as he spoke in a cold, ethereal whisper.
“That only I… can live forever.”
Chapter 22: Lily
Chapter Text
The red moon flared to life. V̸̩̰̩̆̉̓̄̕͝ơ̷̡̨̢̛͔̠͖̜̄́̿̂͘͜l̷̻͈̹̲̟̯̈́̑̉̀̄̕͠d̶̨̬̫͙̓̀̈̐̍̒ę̴̤̪̘̥͕͙̏̎́͐m̷͍̤̖̑̈o̵̼͒̆r̷̼̘͚̣̥̂t̴̫̩͓̟̓̌͐̄͘.
It was him. He was right there, standing on the podium, giving a speech like it was the most normal bloody thing, except that suddenly, reality had stopped playing along.
Iris Lily Potter.
At this point, people should probably have started screaming. But right now, nobody seemed to be able to do anything other than listen. Listen for him to say his piece, as he had intended, as his words had demanded.
“Harry Potter… is dead. But it was not a mere charlatan like Gilderoy Lockhart who claimed him, no.”
The podium now stood empty, except for one coffin, and one man, resting his hand on the wood, running long slender fingers along the dark mahogany patterns. He then flicked the hand up, and held it aloft, gently stretching his fingers.
“It was as prophecy has foretold. It was as it should have been. It was that one would in the end… inevitably kill the other.”
He tilted his head slightly, and a small, gentle smile spread on his lips. “It was I.”
She felt a gust of wind from somewhere behind her, almost like his robes were draping over her skin as he walked past without moving, and a voice spoke right over her shoulder, “I could tell you… of the grand clash of Fates between the Boy-Who-Lived, Slytherin’s monster, my own immortal soul, and even his own sister…”
All the V̶̛̪o̸̰̍l̶͇͂d̶̘̓ȩ̸͋m̵̝͊o̶̱̒ŗ̵̇ţ̶̈́s were gone. All except the one, standing right in front of her, his fist clutching the front of her dress. Or was she standing on the center of the podium? Iris wasn’t quite sure. Existence had taken the back seat, because right now, she was a tiny, tiny ant, in front of a towering giant as tall as a skyscraper. Everything around her had ceased to exist. Nothing. Nothing was left. Nothing except that burning sensation of his unyielding grip on her dress, dangling her above the infinite abyss, and those impossibly deep, burning Red eyes, s̴̹͋ẗ̵̬́a̸̹͆r̷̰̋i̶̢͒n̷͓͒g̵̳͐, ś̷̗̼̖͝t̸̪͕̯͉̋̈́ä̴̺͎̜̥́̍̚̕͜ř̸̡̟͓ì̸̦̮̭̏̎͊n̸̤̠̹͊̇̏̓̾g̴̯̱̼̮̾͊̇.
“Iris Potter. We finally meet… in the flesh, that is.”
The world fell away, and for a moment it was like she was standing right there, back in her old Defense professors room, with him standing in front of his bookshelf, and he flipped a book shut to meet her gaze.
“Over a year it has been, and it appears we’ve both grown a fair amount since then. Some might think I would be justified to, shall we say… bear a grudge? But you will find that I am above such petty notions.”
His fist opened back up, and she found herself suddenly back on her seat, completely lost, but somehow still alive, and back. Back inside reality.
“Although, in truth, I should thank you.”
Fuck. Fuck! What the Fuck! She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think! She had to… Iris Lily Potter. Iris Lily Potter, damn it! Why wasn’t it working?!
“It is true… you could have been a subject of the prophecy. You might have been the one destined to defeat me. And I still stand by my words. You could have been great. But… in the end, Fate has chosen. And so have you. And let me tell you—”
“I think you have said enough.”
The podium was no longer empty. Voldemort stood, in all his glory, to one side, where across from the coffin, there stood Dumbledore. It was as if a spell had broken, by nothing but Dumbledore’s firm words.
“And you are mistaken on one account.”
Voldemort slowly turned to face Dumbledore, who was holding a large ornate wand off to his side, with light seemingly twisting around it, and Iris found herself captured by Dumbledore’s words instead.
“Fate is not done with you yet.”
There was a sudden blur from right next to the podium, and hidden behind the first row, Iris recognized the shape of a dog—now a man, with a furious glare on his face as he raised his hand. But instead of a wand, he was holding a large, ornate brass key?
The key lit up in a blinding glow of pretty lights, and the ground started to shake.
Sirius clutched the glowing key with both hands, his face twisted into furious concentration, as the ground lit up, and a faint translucent wall of pretty lights flashed into existence around the two men facing off on top of the podium. It was by far not as pretty as the gigantic invisible one behind her which… was expanding? Whoa…
The shimmering wall grew, with everyone seemingly none the wiser, until Iris felt it wash over her, and it slowly enclosed the whole student body, before it came to a halt right in front of the podium.
The… wards of the castle? She guessed if the castle did live up to its moniker of being the safest place in all of Magical Britain, that should mean they’d hopefully be mostly safe inside them. The others, though?
When the wards finally came to a stop, Sirius collapsed onto one knee. With the way the whole ceremony was arranged, the only group he could enclose in the castle wards by expanding them without also including Voldemort was the students. Both the visitors, as well as the ministry workers were left firmly outside, only protected by whatever the blue shield was that had been created around the podium, as well as Dumbledore himself. She guessed Voldemort showing up right in the middle of the ceremony before he could expand the wards all the way had probably not been part of the plan.
A sole clap echoed through the silence, followed by another and another.
“Bravo, Dumbledore, bravo. This… all of this… yes, certainly an elaborate trap. I am well and thoroughly… disappointed.”
Voldemort slowly began walking in a circle around the podium, with Dumbledore following suit, keeping his distance.
“You considered every single angle of attack… except the most obvious one,” Voldemort shrugged, rolling a pale wand in his fingers.
“And now you are left with quite the dilemma, it appears…”
Voldemort flicked his wand and a ring of embers sizzled to life surrounding his feet, which after a second, burst into a blazing maelstrom of fire, flame and shadow twisted into one, swirling around him, and quickly expanding outwards.
“Will you try to snap your trap shut… or will you do what you always do… and attempt to save those who don’t deserve it?”
“Dear boy… whatever made you think I would not do both?”
Sirius grinned, twisted the key, and suddenly, the faint bubble around Dumbledore and Voldemort solidified, then broke into a jagged hexagonal pattern and locked in place, trapping the two men inside, and the dark fire along with them.
It raged against the barrier, almost filling it entirely, turning the entire podium into an almost solid hexagonal block of pure fire, completely consuming the two men standing inside.
She had to do something, she had to stop being useless and… wake the fuck up! Get it together, Iris! Iris Lily Potter!
A scream pierced the silence that had enraptured every single onlooker as the moment was finally relinquished, followed by instant pandemonium. People were running, screaming, but even more worryingly, none of them were disappearing. She knew wizards could apparate… well, not within Hogwarts. Did that also apply here? That wasn’t good.
“Iris! Come on! We need to run! We gotta get to the castle!” Tracey yelled over the noise, desperately clutching at Iris’ arm despite the sheer terror in her eyes, trying to get her friend to safety.
Her eyes flicked across the crowd once again. In terms of students… everyone was inside the castle wards, so they were… probably fine? Iris had no idea. It was V̶̛̪o̸̰̍l̶͇͂d̶̘̓ȩ̸͋m̵̝͊o̶̱̒ŗ̵̇ţ̶̈́, after all. But everyone else? What about everyone else?
The smart thing to do would be for them to make a run for the castle. But to do that, they’d first have to get just a bit closer to the fucking Dark Lord, since they were on the other side of the podium, so this approach was seemingly the furthest from anyone’s mind.
Iris shook her head and dragged her arm free. “You go ahead. I need to… I need to make sure this works!”
“You need to nothing! It’s You-Know-Who! Dumbledore is up there! What the hell do you think you could even—”
She glanced up at the podium once more, the solid block of fire, and for a second, she thought she could spot a pair of r̵̟͗e̸̱͂d̴̯͝ ̸̧̿e̴̜̒y̶̬̅è̸̦s̷̬͠ peeking through… Gah! No. She had to do this. She could do this. Iris. Lily. Potter. Remember her name, keep him out, keep going, and fix this. She placed a hand on Tracey’s shoulder, took a breath, and tried her best to convey her need to the girl to let her do this one last thing.
“Thank you, Tracey. But there’s no other way. I can’t let him hurt you. And I know there’s something I can do. So if there’s a chance… I have to do it. Go. I’ll be fine.”
Tracey stared at her for some time, but she had received the message. In a trance, she nodded, stepped back, and stumbled into the crowd of students trying to get the hell out of here.
Now. First part done, next she had to make sure nobody else realized she hadn’t done the same. A glance towards the glowing hexagon showed it vibrating and shaking dangerously, the edges glowing in a bright orange light, and some sparks even escaping along the seams. One of them streaked all the distance towards the white cloth, which immediately caught fire and began to tear.
Professor Flitwick managed to extinguish the flames, but the scraps of the singed white cloth were now draped across the empty chairs, hanging all the way to the ground in several places. Iris dove for a corner of the seating area, where a set of two large torn strips of cloth fluttered all the way to the ground, and took cover behind the make-shift wall.
The hexagon flickered again, until the fire suddenly reversed, swirled in a closer, calmer spiral, and seemed to fade? Only after a few seconds, she realized that it was drawn towards something. Tendrils of fire spinning and swirling, slowly being sucked inwards, until they all gathered into a small swirling cloud of brightly glowing… water? Water floating at the tip of Dumbledore’s wand, who seemed entirely unharmed, except for a slightly singed beard.
A twist of his wand, and the bubble of water burst, into hundreds of tiny bright blue droplets, which stopped to hover in mid-air, distributed all around the barrier. Dumbledore’s wand lit up and a bright white ray of light burst forth, struck one of the floating drops and split in twain, striking yet more drops, splitting again and again, doubling each time, each ray glowing in a slightly different color, until Dumbledore’s half of the barrier was encased by the rapidly growing dance of brightly colored rays of light, building and building, and quickly encroaching onto Voldemort from all sides.
The Dark Lord lowered his wand, and instead swirled his dark cloak, the shadows writhing, almost taking physical form as they wrapped around, spiraling and swirling, condensing tighter and tighter, until they came to a stop, and what was left was what looked like an empty void, a spot in midair containing nothing, not even light.
The rays converged, and in a bright flash met all at once as they crashed into the spot of nothingness and simply… disappeared. For a moment, it seemed as if reality blurred, and Iris had the distinct impression that V̶̛̪o̸̰̍l̶͇͂d̶̘̓ȩ̸͋m̵̝͊o̶̱̒ŗ̵̇ţ̶̈́ was trying to move, to move around and behind Dumbledore, faint suggestions of images almost filling her mind, yet as she blinked, none of that came to pass. The light faded, as did the darkness, and both men stood exactly where they had been.
Voldemort snarled, his want pierced up high, touched the top of the barrier, and once more, the light began to split in the same prismatic effect that they had used to talk to all sides of the crowd face to face at the same time. Everything bent around, the area visible behind them seemingly broke and shifted, everything reflected infinitely many times over, more V̸͍͉͕̯̌͊̈́ọ̷̡̅l̷̤͗d̶͍̭̳͍̙͋̈̌̔͝ẹ̴̭̥̰͋̒́̀͠m̵͎̞̱̾ỏ̴̩r̵̮͊t̶̰̙́̿̇̋s, more coffins, nothing made sense anymore except… There was still one, and just one Dumbledore. He stood, unbothered, amid the fractured reality, wearing a frown on his face. A second hand rose, and wrinkled fingers slowly closed in on a single point, and with it, did the entirety of the reflective madness. All the images, all the illusions drawn into a single point within barely a second, and in a flash, all that was left was a small glowing ball of Violet, resting in the palm of the headmaster.
“You cannot win,” Dumbledore simply said. “And you cannot leave.”
“And you, Dumbledore… made the same crucial mistake you always do…”
Voldemort tilted his head, and smiled, before slowly turning to look towards Sirius, who was still crouching on one knee, clutching the glowing key as if his life depended on it.
“You placed your trust… in someone else.”
He turned to face Sirius fully now. “Someone… interesting. Yes… I see strength. I see will. I see courage.”
He stepped up to the barrier and ran his fingers along the invisible wall of light as if it were a particularly soft fabric. “But also… resentment, loathing, regret… and doubt.”
A small smile broke onto V̶̛̪o̸̰̍l̶͇͂d̶̘̓ȩ̸͋m̵̝͊o̶̱̒ŗ̵̇ţ̶̈́’s lips. “What I see… is weakness.”
The key in Sirius’ hand seemingly caught fire in a blazing red, and Sirius let out a bloodcurdling scream as if it were burning his hand with the heat of a thousand suns.
The barrier cracked, and split. It snapped down the middle, and instead of one large hexagonal shape, it broke into two triangular ones. Each of them contained one of the men, each unharmed, but firmly split, separate from each other.
Voldemort turned once more, and faced Dumbledore’s shocked expression with a gentle smile. “And just when I thought you couldn’t sink any lower, Dumbledore…”
He cocked his head to the side, causing Sirius to collapse in a groan, as the barrier shook and shuddered, and with a sudden lurch, the triangular barrier containing Dumbledore began to burrow into the ground. The earth shook, as rocks and dirt were forced above the surface by the unyielding force of magic. The one person who had been able to stand in Voldemort’s way, slowly being buried alive, by a trap of his own making.
“Sirius!” Iris called out. “Fight it! You have to stop him!”
Said black haired wizard didn’t show any indication of having been able to hear her at all, as he collapsed whimpering to the ground, and finally passed out. Voldemort turned back to face Sirius, and his gaze rested for a moment on the key still clutched loosely in his hand. Should she go and try to get the key? And then do… what? She had no idea how to use it, how to control the castle wards, if that was actually what the thing did.
Everything had happened so fast. Out of the blue, Voldemort had just shown up to speak at Harry’s bloody funeral, and everything had gone to shit. She still hadn’t even tried to get started on her own contingency plan which… was it too late? Could she still… Iris reached down for her bag, rummaged around, and finally found the piece of paper, which was somehow still in pristine condition. She ducked behind her cover, set it down on a book from her bag, pulled out the quill and inkwell in shaky fingers, took a few breaths to try and calm her hands, then gave that up as a bad job. Instead she focused her vision on the man. Him. Voldemort. Standing right there. If there was any time this would work, it would be now.
Taking a deep breath, she set the quill down and began to write Hog—
And once again the blasted ink just evaporated, and with it, all her plans to somehow put a stop to him.
Up on the stage, Voldemort had given up trying to force his way past the barrier or trying to get an unconscious Sirius to release it, and instead, produced that fire once again. Outside the barrier, people were still panicking, but at least the Aurors seemed to be doing their best to keep everyone away from the chaos. They had rounded them up into several groups with three of them surrounding each group, but they hadn’t led them down the path away from the castle towards presumed safety, because… Why? Was there… Oh. Flashes of light, smoke and flames, all the way on the horizon. And coming closer.
Her hands shaking, she tried Dumbledore again. She tried her own name again. And again. And again. And nothing.
“It won’t work,” came a whispered voice next to her, jolting her out of her rising panic.
“What?” Iris whipped around, and found herself face to face with Daphne Greengrass.
“You’re trying to evoke a Geas. And you’ve centered it on his Name. His magical Name. I don’t know much, but what I do know is that things like these only work in balance. Both in terms of sacrifice and meaning.”
“Well, yeah! And I did write down his Name. He gave it, so if his Name gives him power over others, it should also give others power over him, right?”
“Nevertheless. You need to meet equal with equal. You’re trying to curse him through his Name. So the only way is to bind it to a Name of your own.”
Well yeah, that made sense. That had been her thinking from the start, in fact. But there was just a slight issue with that.
“Yeah, except I’m not going to kill someone, kill their fucking soul, just to get a…”
Daphne shook her head again. “You really can be oblivious at times.”
The large glowing triangular barrier on the stage was already weakening and fraying at the edges, and sparks of fire started to escape once again. Wherever they landed, a pillar of flames would rise, twisting and turning into a small maelstrom of fire.
Iris’ gaze snapped back towards Daphne and glared at her. “Now is really not the time for your games!”
Daphne seemingly tried to convince herself of something, hesitated once again, before finally shaking her head and closing her eyes. Then, she met her with a meaningful look.
“You don’t need to earn a Name, Potter. You just need to embrace it.”
Embrace it? What, her name? But how would that help, what she needed was like a capital-N Name, like… But Daphne knew that. So what was she—
Was she saying that… But there was no way that… wouldn’t she know? Wouldn’t there have been…
Her mind suddenly flashed back towards the map. The map that had never lied before, according to Professor Lupin. Except that one time when it had become scrambled. The map that had always shown everyone’s first name and last name. Except for house-elves. And except for herself.
Iris Lily Potter.
Her breathing slowed, and her hands became deathly still. Was that what she was saying? But that couldn’t be a…
A soul. A soul was required. And a soul was taken, that very night. Was that why she hadn’t shown in the mirror? Or was it… because Names are supposed to be… unique?
The house-elves. The house-elves had known. Even Dobby had known. Maybe even the Goblins…
Part of her was still trying to deny it, was still trying to find another explanation, because if this was right… if this was the truth… that would mean that her mum…
“There are fates worse than death, Harry.”
Never had she understood that statement better than she had in this very moment.
But no matter what excuses she would come up with, that didn’t change a thing about the fact that she simply knew it was true. As soon as the idea had entered her mind, as soon as she had really started to think about it, it didn’t let her go. She couldn’t let it go. Because it was a truth at the very heart of her being, the very bottom of her soul. She looked up, up into the night sky, and the green moon looked back. And she finally understood.
She was Lily. It was her Name. Perhaps even more so than it was Iris. She was Lily. Not the person, not her mother, but just the Name. It was her Name. And she had no idea what that would mean.
“Please don’t make me regret this,” Daphne whispered, pulling a small green vial from her robes. The liquid inside shimmered in the bright orange glow of the raging fire. “You’ll need this.”
Lily glanced at the Aging Potion, and plucked it from the girl’s fingers, who nodded and made herself scarce. This last part was up to her. It was a part that only she could do.
With a deep breath, Lily gripped the quill in her hand, gently moved the tip down onto the document into the box labeled plaintiff, and wrote her own Name.
Lily.
A flowery curly script she had never quite been able to manage, but somehow, it just flowed naturally.
And the ink simply stuck, without any hint of ever having done anything else. It was done. The document was complete. Yet with that came another realization. Her task wasn’t done yet. Something like this, if it worked just like the real thing, then it would only be valid once it was delivered. Once she handed it over to Voldemort.
And that was exactly what she would do. Lily uncorked the vial, took a swig, and closed her eyes as her body reshaped accordingly. The charms in her black dress struggled to keep up, turning from a modest and pretty long flowing dress into a shorter, a lot tighter glove that wrapped around her body, leaving gaps on her back, at her stomach, and along her legs. Finally, she worked the charm that Daphne had used before to obscure her face too. There was no need for a recognizable appearance. What was recognizable would be her Name. And once she claimed it for herself, there would be not a shadow of a doubt left. She supposed giving her Name, to him of all people, might not be the best idea. But then again, it was written down on the document, so there wasn’t a way around that anyway.
So the best course was to stake her claim from the start, to make her demand into reality, and to…
No.
It would not work.
Only now it made sense. It was a trade among equals. She had thought she had sacrificed by writing his Name, but that had been without the context of her own Name’s existence. This shifted the scales. She wanted to bind his Name, using her own. She wanted to restrict his freedom. So in turn, she would have to restrict her own.
The original plan had been to banish him from the castle grounds, in order to both protect her friends, but also create a safe base of operations from which she could plan and conduct whatever else she needed to do for Project Harry. She couldn’t have Voldemort just randomly show up again during whatever she’d do when she was actually about to bring Harry back, just like he had done in the middle of fucking time-travel.
But this… this hadn’t been part of the plan.
She had things to do. Lily had no idea if the Restricted Section would hold the final truth, the final puzzle piece she would need to bring Harry back, or if she had to go out there once more… then there was whatever the agreement with Daphne Greengrass would entail, which she was increasingly sure would require a trip to Azkaban at some point. She could not afford to confine herself to the walls of this castle. It would grind her plans to a halt.
But still. It was Voldemort. He was right there, she couldn’t just… She had to do something!
Also, there was still the main reason why she had wanted to do this in the first place. Without the Geas, nothing would stop him from just randomly showing up like he had in Germany and foil her at the last second again, right? Would the castle wards really stop him if he could not only time travel, but also just show up inside a fucking fourth dimension just to taunt her…
Hang on.
Hang on. He had just said that they hadn’t met each other in over a year. Fuck.
So it hadn’t been him after all back then. Also, now that she’d met the real thing, yeah. Her memories somehow didn’t live up to it. The way he had moved, the way he had talked, and just ignored all sense of physics and causality, yes. But what had been missing back then… was the pure feeling of terror, that vicious malice directed at each and every single guest, and then especially focused on her for that one dreadful moment. If it had actually just been an illusion, or maybe just caused by his Name… That would mean that maybe, she wouldn’t even have to bind him after all? Yes, the situation was really messed up, but the people she cared about were already safe within the wards, weren’t they?
Except maybe Sirius… He was… no. He was outside the bounds of the castle wards. Although there was still a similar barrier between Voldemort and him, as well as everyone else. But something had happened to him all the same. Then, there was also Dumbledore. If she did nothing… would Voldemort be able to kill Dumbledore for good? Give him enough time to act, she couldn’t discount the possibility that he would find a way to… No. Of course he could. If he had enough time without Dumbledore being able to cast back, locked in as he was, a simple Killing Curse would do the job.
Also, just leaving now would of course leave all the other guests to fend for themselves… well, them and the Aurors, she supposed. But at least everyone inside the castle wards would be safe? Except… if he managed to somehow get out of the trap, which was looking increasingly likely at this point, then what would prevent him from doing the same with the castle wards? But they still looked significantly stronger than the triangular barrier in the center of… No. He wouldn’t have to. If he could just get to the key. If that was how the thing worked in the first place.
Come on! That was enough of a reason, right? She had to stop being useless and—
A scream jolted her out of her thoughts for a second, as she noticed one of the groups of visitors surrounded by Aurors slowly being enclosed by the fire. The Aurors summoned some sort of large orange shield to hold it off, but unlike Flitwick had at the start, the fire seemed to be too large for them to put it out entirely.
But still, no matter how she looked at it, if she saw this through she’d all but give up on Harry. Damn, damn, damn it all! Why? Why couldn’t she just go and do it?
Were her chances to bring Harry back better if she was out and about on her own with Voldemort free to take over the country, or if she was confined to this place for who knew how long, but at least with Dumbledore still able to stand against him? She had to rationalize, there had to be a reason, some logical reason that would allow her to do this. She couldn’t just go and bind Voldemort if it meant she’d shatter her own chance of bringing Harry back in the process.
Even if it would maybe save all these people?
Even if it could maybe save Sirius?
A crack fractured the tension, then another, followed by a shattering sound that made it obvious she was out of time. The fire exploded outwards from the shattered barrier, spread, then billowed up into a circular wall surrounding Voldemort, engulfing the entire podium. He slowly craned his neck, took in his surroundings, then smiled as he spotted the triangular hole in the ground. And instantly, he picked the one option she had dreaded the most. The shadows started to grow. Longer, taller, darker, every second getting closer to Dumbledore’s inevitable—
A sudden screech pierced the area, and a silvery translucent phoenix rose from the depths of the abyss, filling her with a fleeting spark of hope. It began to sing a song, a sweet melodic trill, as it glowed and pulsed in a bright white light, rapidly banishing the shadows whence they came.
Voldemort snarled, but did not seem discouraged. He slowly approached the gap, withdrew his wand again, and swirled it in a circle. Slowly, a brightly glowing bubble of green… liquid? Something was gathering, floating in front of the tip of the pale wand.
Just what the hell should she do?
There was no right choice here. No correct choice. No path forward.
No path except… Sirius! He had said… he had… he could… if she could truly bring him in… if he would agree with the plan… yes. It could be worth it in the end.
Finally. Her path was set; her purpose clear.
She had her reason.
And she hated herself for it.
“The great Albus Dumbledore… caught between a rock and a hard place…” he purred, then brought a hand up to his ear, and leaned over the abyss. “No condescending words of wisdom this time? What a shame.”
And with a shrug, he held the wand, and with it the floating ball of greenish glowing liquid right above the dark shaft.
“Stop right there.”
The words rang out, cutting through the chaos like a blade, as reality came to a screeching halt. Voldemort froze, his red eyes narrowing as he turned toward the voice, and the entire remaining onlookers turned with him.
Lily stepped forward, the flames parting before her as if recognizing her claim to the moment. She had no idea what she was doing, or how she was doing this. But with this new knowledge, her current awareness, had come a strange sense of… certainty.
Whatever the outcome, first, Lily would speak to Voldemort. And the words said would set the tone for what followed after. Voldemort turned, hands raised, met her eyes, and frowned. Lily approached him with certain, self assured strides, almost gliding across the podium.
“And who,” Voldemort spoke, “might you be?”
Lily almost felt giddy as the whole moment seemed to hinge upon her every word, follow her every motion. It was a feeling of total control, of power in its most ancient sense. Magnificent. Intoxicating.
She came to a stop in front of him, almost right in his face, and rested a hand on her hip, merely returning a cheeky grin. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
It was curious that he didn’t recognize her. Right now, she was Lily. Nothing more, nothing less. Especially to anyone who spoke the language of Magic. To creatures of Magic, she had always been Lily. But apparently, Voldemort was still human enough that to him, there had been a difference.
“Not particularly,” he shrugged, and began to turn away from her, moving the floating green orb towards the abyss once more, and the gazes turning with him.
Damn. This was harder than it had looked. She had to keep the conversation going to actually force him to listen. She had to get it together and get to the point, without any of her usual cheek, no matter how much she itched to enjoy every second of this moment to the fullest. Lily turned to the side with a disinterested expression as if she were humoring him, and raised her hand to inspect her nails. She took another slow breath, her voice dropping to a dangerous murmur.
“My Name,” she said, savoring the power in the words, “is Lily.”
The air seemed to shudder. Magic, ancient and unyielding, swirled around her, weaving her declaration into the fabric of reality. Merlin, it felt strangely good to say that. Lily couldn’t quite put it into words. No matter how odd and wrong it had sounded in her memories, right now, in this very moment, it just felt… right. Her Name. It was her Name. And hers alone.
Except it used to be her mum’s. And with how she was looking like right now, could people draw the parallel?
“Lily Blackwood,” she added her full alias for the benefit of everyone else, although Voldemort was obviously only interested in the important part. She gently lowered her hand and turned to face him fully, and gave him a soft smile. “And I have come to deliver a message.”
What they were, what they could do, what logic dictated, none of that was quite as important right now. Facts didn’t quite matter as much as what they said, and even more so how they said it. And her chances would be a whole lot better if he were someone she didn’t have to fear.
“And tell me… why would I be interested in anything you have to say?” he asked in a mockingly curious voice. “I have other things… much more important things… that I could be doing…”
The longer he kept speaking, the more she felt like she was losing control of the conversation. Attention faded, her grasp over the moment waning, time, reason and reality rattling the door. She would only get this one shot.
Lily reached for her bag and withdrew the completed document for all to see. “Oh, I believe you will find this pertinent.”
His eyes narrowed as he glimpsed the piece of Muggle paper, a hint of confusion entering his face. Good. “What is this?” came a hiss.
“This,” she flourished the document, holding it out towards him between two outstretched fingers, “is an Injunction.”
Because that was what it was. A bog-standard Muggle Injunction court document of a very specific kind. Basically, what the American TV-Shows called a Restraining Order. And yes, she had only just now realized how that could be interpreted out of context.
He snatched the piece of paper from her fingers with a snarl, but he froze as his eyes met the Name, or rather the Names written on the document. All the amusement vanished from his face and his expression turned furious. “You could never hope to—”
“This castle isn’t big enough for the two of us,” she cut him off with a grin, before turning serious, and speaking the final words of her binding vow.
“And for as long as I do not leave these grounds, neither shall you be able to enter them. This is my Geas unto you.”
The roiling circle of fire around them seemed to come to a crawl, almost freezing in mid-air. His face twisted into a furious grimace, and his wand began to move, slowly, over towards the edge—
“Bé̸̈́gò̸͔ne n̷̙͗ow̵!̴̤͎̑̃”
And like that, he was gone. Vanished without a trace, and all the fire with him, leaving behind nothing but a pair of purple eyes glowing in the distance. The bubble of green liquid wobbled for barely a fraction of a second, before plummeting down into the depths of the abyss.
Chapter 23: The mirror stares back
Chapter Text
"Hold it right there, lassie," growled an unfamiliar voice from next to her.
Lily really just couldn't catch a break, could she? She slowly turned to face the speaker, and was met with
"I said stop. Drop your wand, lass."
"My wand?" Lily replied incredulously. After all, she hadn't actually drawn hers yet.
That thought made her chuckle at the absurdity. She'd just confronted Voldemort, with nothing but her words and a fucking court document.
"Think this is funny, do yah? Well, you'll have plenty time to laugh about it in a cell. You're under arrest."
"Mad-Eye? What are you—"
"Stay outta this, Nymphadora!"
"Why are you arresting her? She just banished You-Bloody-Know-Who!"
"Exactly. She did something, and suddenly, all the fire's gone, You Know Who's escaped, and everything's gone to shit! And Albus is still down there!"
Lily's gaze flicked around the trashed remains of the ceremony. And indeed, not a hint of the angry orange flames was left. They had all of them vanished, in the blink of an eye, together with their creator. What was left were large patches of grass, blackened and smoking, a scorched podium, the destroyed large white cloth, and the group of spectators who—
"She shows up outa nowhere, just strolls in, an' turns the whole thing around for her own bloody means. You felt the way she controlled the crowd? The ruddy weight in those words, how ye couldn't even look away? Bloody well reminds ye of someone else, don' it?" Mad-Eye growled, both of his eyes now boring into her. "She might not be You-Know-Who, but that doesn't prove shite!"
"Listen, uhm... Lady Blackwood?" the black-skinned Auror spoke up. "I'm really sorry about this. My retired colleague here has seen a lot during the last war, and he can be a little bit..."
"Bloody right I have. You-Know-Who, Dumbledore, Grindelwald, Flamel, you never know with monsters like these. Doesn't all this seem a little too convenient?"
Lily froze as she found the third and final group. Unlike the first two, these people weren't standing. And there was something, something sitting atop...
"Well, if she's on our side, I bloody well don't care! You saw what she did to You-Know-Who."
"You're buying in on this too, Dawlish? Have you all lost your ruddy minds? You remember what happened the last time some nobody just conveniently showed up to solve all our problems?"
Hundreds of meters away, half-way across the distance towards the forest, so far where she could barely make out the people on the ground, but somehow, that didn't apply to the thing.
The tall Auror sighed. "Alastor, no. She's not the Watcher."
"Bugger that cauldron of flobberworms! I know what you'll say Kingsley, an' it's a load o' dragon-shite. I'm tellin' ye, this time it's different."
She could make out every strand of black fur, every single whisker twitching in the wind, the eerily still pointed ears, and those eyes... those purple eyes...
"...Salem?"
Just as quick as it had begun, it was over again. That feeling of timelessness, which had started barely seconds ago, but might as well have been hours. She looked again, and all she saw were... bodies.
Unmoving. Blackened and charred.
Dead.
At least a dozen of them.
She guessed the reason for the Auror's ire made a bit more sense now.
"Seriously, the Watcher?" Tonks said incredulously. "Come on, Mad-Eye. That's a fairy tale."
"So was You-Know-Who, until he wasn't. How do we know she isn't being possessed right now? I ain't gonna ask again. Drop. Your—"
A familiar screech pierced through the tension, and both Lily and the Auror apparently called Mad-Eye whirled and found the source, hovering in the air next to them. The ephemeral phoenix flapped its wings, then opened its beak and spoke in the familiar, whimsical voice of the headmaster. "I hate to interrupt what sounds like a no doubt important argument, but I could really use a hand down here."
Lily's gaze met Mad-eye's and as one, they turned their heads down towards the dark abyss.
"I don't have much time left."
And with that ominous statement, the silvery phoenix shimmered, then faded into the wind. There was a sharp, acrid smell in the air. A faint green mist began to waft from the hole in the ground, and the grass and destroyed wooden podium around the edges began to rapidly blacken and crumple.
The green liquid. That strange substance that Voldemort had created. In an instant, all thoughts of animosity were put to rest for the moment.
Mad-Eye's wand flicked over towards the shaft and he shouted "Evanesco!" to little effect. A few more flicks of his wand followed, and his frown continued to deepen.
"Toxic, or acidic. Magical; don't get too close. We need to clear out the air," the one-eyed Auror shouted, squared himself, some of the Aurors following suit, and swiped his wand, pointing it at the hole. "Ventus!"
"Ventus!" the assembled Aurors echoed, but Lily wasn't sure if it would be a good idea to draw her own wand, even in this situation.
The column of air burst forth, from one wand, then several. It pierced into the billowing green fog, causing it to fizzle and begin to disperse, but also something else. As soon as the spell touched the green mist, it seemed to lose its energy and dissipate. The moving air still continued on, but without the power of the spell, it didn't manage to penetrate very far into the hole.
"It's not working!" Tonks called out the obvious.
"Can we bring the barrier back up with the key?" Lily asked.
"Only one person is in control at a time, it's useless without permission from Albus," Mad-Eye said.
He retrieved a small copper doohickey from his coat, twisted one of the dials and sent it flying towards the fog, where upon touching the mist it instantly began to spark and frizzle, then plummet down into the hole.
"Magic interference! Toxic to spells! Can't vanish it, can't move it... displace it?" Mad-Eye barked, then raised his wand and shouted, "Aguamenti on my mark! Three, two—"
"Hold on," Lily said. "If it's some sort of magical acid, all you'll get is an explosion."
In truth, she had no idea if that applied to magical acids, it was just what she remembered from the chemistry section of Hermione's book. Do as you oughta, add acid to water. The book was very clear about that one.
"So then what?" Mad-Eye rounded on her, his wand once again pointed at Lily. "You know what this is? How to make it stop? And why should I trust you?"
Lily still stood unbothered. This moment was still hers. None of them had made a claim to it, so there was nothing to worry about. "No, I don't; yes, I might; and because it seems to be your only option."
"Enough, Alastor," the tall Auror called Shack said. "If she says she can fix it, I say we give it a shot, unless you have a better idea?"
Mad-eye's gaze flicked between the dark-skinned Auror, Lily, and the hole, before he growled "Fine. But no bloody tricks. I got my eye on you."
In truth, Lily had no idea if she could fix it. This was his last play, his parting jab, his final word. There was no telling how or even if her Name would help with this. And Magic seemed to be of no use, either.
So she turned to the final frontier, the one set of rules that she herself was right now so far removed from it was more of a suggestion. But the world still obeyed it's laws. And he was no longer here to tell it otherwise.
The spells couldn't penetrate because the magic would fizzle on contact with the fog, and it wasn't enough to clear out the entire shaft because even if the air was still in motion, it would just cause turbulence, but not manage to clear all the way down into the bottom of the hole. That couldn't work by blowing air into it, as long as the end wasn't open either. It was simple physics.
What she needed was pure, raw physical power. Much more than any performance of the Ventus Charm could ever hope to manage. It wouldn't even need to be directed, really. And that was the final key. It wouldn't matter if the spell fizzled upon contact, if the mass of air moving were so large that physics would do the rest. She still wouldn't be able to get air into the hole, but also, she wouldn't have to. There was only one spell she could think of. Except from everything she knew, it should be impossible to cast outdoors. The spells power requirement was in direct relation to the size of the area you tried to affect. But right now, there wasn't a single doubt in her mind what she had to do. There was no other way.
"You may want to hold on to something," Lily said, stepped forward, and raised up a hand. She closed her eyes, and called Orange light—the raw Elemental aspect. She drew it in from all around her, herself, her surroundings, any and every scrap of light she could get her hands on, and shaped it into her orb. It didn't even need to carry her intent, or be tied to her control. The nature of the spell was just pure, raw, uncontrolled elements. So maybe, she could get away with some borrowing.
Light slowly drained from the surrounding area, anything close to Orange seemed to bleed its color and fade into grayscale as more and more wisps of orange light were slowly drawn into the growing ball of angrily sizzling plasma.
Lily raised her second hand to grasp the orb of light, gathering more and more Orange within, before it had reached a sufficient size to start, and she began to shape it. Taking a deep, slow breath, she held the wildly spinning ball aloft, and drew her wand. She gently dragged it along the edge, drawing little wisps of orange light into it, and layering them into fine lines that began to wrap around the angry orb of raw magic. Swipe twist swish, twist swish flick. Back to the center, and repeat, this time 45 degrees rotated clockwise.
Her wand drew lines that started to wrap and pull at the light, almost nonsensical yet still repeating. Swipe twist swish, twist swish flick. And again. Soon, the ominously flaring and swirling ball of pure Orange began to draw in more than just light. Air, debris, water, it even drew in some of the green fog, causing the light to flicker, but there was simply too much light for the little fog to dispel it entirely.
"Brace yourselves!" Lily called out over the currents of air whipping her hair in front of her face. With a final flourish, she poised her wand, pierced the center of the ball of swirling energy, closed her eyes and latched onto the spell.
"Tempest"
In an instant, the ball contracted and turned into a bright, stormy white. She swung her wand skyward, and the light erupted in a blinding column that pierced the sky. A distant cry of a bird echoed, seemingly from every single direction all at once. The pillar came apart, separating into thin, circular lines, then spread out across the sky and vanished within a few short seconds into nothingness.
Silence returned, as Lily slowly lowered her wand. The light gradually dimmed further, even after the magic had vanished, as if the sun itself was fading. The temperature dropped, at first slowly, then faster, causing her breath to turn visible in the air. Colors drained from the world, turning everything to shades of gray. A faint gust of wind began to swirl, tug at the leaves, the grass, and tousle her hair.
"What the bloody hell did you—"
A deafening crack of thunder split the calm before the storm, cutting off the protest, as nature unleashed its full fury. A wall of wind slammed into them, sending half the assembled Aurors sprawling to the ground. Trees groaned, chairs went flying, and the decorations of the ceremony were scattered to the winds. Amidst it all Lily stood, reveling in the fruits of her labor.
The pillar of greenish smoke was caught in the storm and dragged with it, first just the part above ground, but quickly the ferocious winds tearing over the shaft began to draw more and more of the acrid vapor from the ground in a massive real-life demonstration of the Bernoulli Principle.
More and more acrid fog was dredged up from the depths, along with flecks of brightly glowing green liquid, scattered to the winds, until finally, the green mist seemed to clear up. The storm, however, just continued unabated.
Lily stepped forward and stuck her head above the opening, holding herself in place by continually increasing her own inertia. Down the shaft, all the way at the bottom, beyond a faint triangular shimmer, rested the body of an old man. Lying on the ground, unmoving.
She kept looking but luckily could not make out any remains of the green liquid. Good. Now she just had to make an exit.
Lily turned, and met the Aurors' gazes, most of them still hugging the ground, with only some like Mad-eye apparently employing some sort of spell to remain standing.
She took a breath and spoke, trusting her intent to carry the words. "It looks like my job here is done. I will leave the rest to you."
"You're not going anywh—"
Lily returned a smirk, and simply flipped the Force aspect enveloping her from increasing to reducing inertia and was promptly whisked off her feet.
~V~
"—Minister! Minister! Are you—"
"Barnabas? Now is really not the time to—"
"Just a minute, Cornelius! I..."
Cornelius wasn't even really listening to the man in the Floo. He sprinted over to his desk as fast as he could manage, pulled open a drawer, closed it, then pulled open another.
"I don't know what went on there, or what happened to make both of my employees convinced that... Nevermind. I just wanted to—"
Cornelius finally found the document, snatched the piece of parchment from the drawer, slammed it onto the desk, and retrieved his Thunderbird-feather quill.
"I just wanted to assure you that I'm a man of my word. Not a word of this nonsense will be printed in tomorrow's edition, or any other edition—"
"Not now, Barnabas, please!" he growled, dipped the quill into the inkwell, carefully got rid of the excess, then repeated it two more times, before finally moving it over to the parchment.
"If you could just please tell Madam Umbridge to not... you know... that there won't be anything printed that even contains any mention of You-Know-Who, or..."
Cornelius whirled around and met the man's head floating inside the green flames. "Forget all of that. You-Know-Who is back. I'm declaring a State of Emergency!"
"You-Know—.... what?"
"You heard me! Stop the presses! Emergency evening edition! You-Know-Who is alive, and he just spoke at Harry Potter's bloody funeral!"
~V~
Holy crap. This was a lot harder than expecteeeeeee—
She gasped and adjusted the force again, instantly tumbling head over heels in mid-air once more.
Basically, all she had needed were things she had done before. Reducing her inertia, and applying force in a direction. But the devil was in the details. Her quick all Force and no Control approach had meant that while she could push herself in some direction by some amount using her light, the amount of force was really hard to pin down, and also, it was relative to herself, and not to the ground. Also, she had no way to keep herself upright mid-air at all. Hence her current state of endlessly tumbling, having no idea which way was down most of the time, while trying not to smack into the castle walls.
After three unsuccessful attempts at trying to land at what she hoped was the other side of the castle, she instead cut it off mid-air, kept the decreased inertia and instead tumbled to the ground in a heap.
And with everything that had just happened, she didn't even have the energy to get back up. She just stayed there, on the floor next to the greenhouses, staring up at the stormy gray sky.
Just who was she?
...what was she?
Was she Lily? Was she Iris? Both? Neither?
On the one hand, nothing had ever felt more... right. Her Name. Her true Name. And hers alone. She imagined if the soul was a physical thing, it'd be engraved across the center of it, in that same flowery curly script she had just used, without ever even learning it.
Many things started to make a lot more sense now. How she managed to easily master some spells, but not others. She had always thought there was something special about those strange Greek spells, as well as the odd rare Latin ones she had come across. But in the end, it wasn't anything about those spells that was special. It was all the others. Because all the others were either taught at Hogwarts, or were at least spells she presumed her mum had learned over the course of her life.
Maybe, it was also the cause of her internal contradiction whenever it had come down to choosing between her own life and Harry's. She knew she would give up even her own life to keep him safe. Yet the same thing applied to herself as well. And that made no fucking sense whatsoever.
Things had been so much simpler when she had just been Iris. When her life had still been...
Okay, her life had never been quite normal, had it? But there was then, and there was whatever the fuck her current life was.
How much of it was down to her Name? Would she just have had a normal childhood without it? Or would she not even be able to use magic at all?
The parts of her that were Iris... her friends, reckless curiosity, probably her cheek... Or were they? Were they even separate people?
If what Lupin had said about Goblins was true, then she was just as much Lily as her mum had been. But also, she was... well, Iris.
The same Iris who'd dragged Tracey onto a midnight excursion into Dumbledore's secret bathroom and accidentally got her trapped in the shadow realm, the same brat who'd fully embraced girlhood mostly only to tease the living daylights out of her friends, the same silly girl who had spent years talking and writing to a diary she imagined to be a character from a stupid TV show...
And right now, she was a grown-arse woman who had just given Voldemort cheek in an almost sultry way, and then proceeded to escape the wizarding bobbies, all without ever drawing her wand.
No. Something didn't feel right here. While she wasn't a scared little girl anymore, she also wasn't the type to just waltz into mortal danger with full confidence. She'd either rush in without thinking, or overthink things and then end up in somehow even more trouble. And no matter how good it had felt, she couldn't help but feel like she was... losing herself?
Was there a difference after all? Did something change when she... embraced the Name? Just who was she right now?
Who did she... want to be?
Or did she even have to decide?
She didn't know the answer. But she knew that things had been moving very fast. Too fast. And now she was bound and trapped, unable to leave the castle, without risking Voldemort's wrath upon her friends.
Maybe, it was time to try and be Iris for a little while longer. Especially if she'd be around her friends.
Iris Potter. Not even Iris Lily Potter. Just Iris for now.
"Iris!"
Speak of the devil.
Iris groaned, and slowly tried to get her limbs to cooperate once more. Apparently, somewhere in her stupor, the Aging Potion had worn off. "T-Tracey? How'd you... find me?"
Tracey just raised an eyebrow and waved a folded piece of parchment in her face. Right... she had told Tracey about that, hadn't she?
"How'd you get here? What happened?"
"I... uh..." Iris mumbled, trying to gather her thoughts.
Just what had happened? What the hell had she been thinking?
She'd... well, putting the insane confrontation with V̸̨̛͔͎̜̯̄̓̈́͂͘͝ö̶̪̪̰́̀͐͜͝l̷̲̟̓̅́͛—-
Gah!! Stop it!
Oookay... Not good. So it had been her Name, that had been holding him off? That wasn't good. But she'd have to manage.
Anyway, well... the Dark Lord... he'd almost killed Dumbledore... well, at least, she hoped. She hadn't even checked really. It had just felt like her job was done, so she'd left... And all those other people— God. Were... had they been killed because of her? And worse... everyone else...
She'd honestly considered it. She'd well and truly considered sacrificing them. All of them. Because the other option would have been to... not even necessarily give up, but just to seriously impede her plans to bring back Harry?
"What the fuck, Iris?"
And yeah. It hadn't been Tracey who had said that.
"...Iris? You in there?"
Tracey was in front of her, clutching her shoulders, and peering into her eyes with worry written all over her face.
Iris just stared back, then mumbled, "Hell if I know..."
Tracey raised an eyebrow. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Uh... nevermind. I'm fine. Come on, gotta get back inside."
After just a single step, she realized that that had sounded easier than it actually was. Iris stumbled, and Tracey quickly caught her, then slung an arm around her shoulder to support her.
"Thanks, Trace..." she mumbled into her shoulder.
If anything, the more she thought about it, the more messed up it sounded.
Lily was bloody scary. And Iris had no idea what to think about that. Because in a way, she was scared of herself.
~V~
"Come on, almost there. Don't worry, I'm sure Pomfrey will fix you right up in a jif."
Hermione returned a look, that was somewhere between thankful for his concern and condescending that he'd think she was this stupid. In truth, Ron wasn't faring much better. They'd noticed that Iris had been missing from the group of students who had returned to the castle, and even with Hermione's reluctance, Ron had successfully argued that it was what Harry would have wanted, and so they had slipped the group and made their way back.
Only to bear witness to some sort of unknown, hot, red-haired... definitely hot, uh... damn it, he wasn't a Weasley for nothing! Whoever it was had just waltzed up to bloody You-Know-Who, and one second later, he was gone. And still, one second too late. Because there had been the fire. And once he had realized that Iris might be caught somewhere in it, he'd reluctantly gone searching. Half of him still thought she'd deserved it. He hadn't written any more letters, and they had had a total of one conversation ever since the start of the year. But the other half also knew that Harry didn't. No matter what he thought of her, she was still Harry's sister. And so he had kept looking. Only to find nothing. Nothing except the fire. And before they knew it, they had been surrounded. It had caught Hermione's robes, and she hadn't been able to put it out.
In a way, he was thankful for what that woman... Lily? ...had done. Because if the flames hadn't just vanished in that moment, then Hermione...
But then again, if they'd just vanished a few seconds earlier, then nothing would have happened at all.
And he still had no idea what happened to Iris. He still didn't know how to feel about her. Or this Lily.
He pushed open the doors to the Hospital Wing, and led Hermione inside, who was still trying to cover her face. She'd insisted on trying to fix it herself, but he wasn't sure if it hadn't made it worse in the end. So here they were.
"Madam Pom..." Ron trailed off, as he took in the state of the Hospital Wing.
Bloody hell, what?
People. People all over the place. Beds occupied, Aurors, Ministry personnel... And teachers.
The fireplace flashed green, and out stepped a group of three witches, all dressed in those grey-blue uniform robes that he remembered from... St. Mungos?
"Over here, Sarah," Pomfrey's voice called out over the noise.
Ron's gaze followed the source, and the healers who quickly made their way towards it, and froze.
There was a single bed, surrounded by way too many people with their wands out, and a veritable array of potions at the ready on trays next to the bed. And upon it rested a single man, who couldn't look more out of place in the current state he was in, crumpled, frail, unconscious, tattered robes, singed beard, even the half-moon glasses were gone.
Just what had happened to Dumbledore? Last he'd seen him he'd faced off... against You-Know-Who...
A cold feeling began to settle in his stomach. But Dumbledore couldn't... he meant... he was Dumbledore! There was no way he'd just...
His eyes drifted on, towards another bed, and on it, rested Professor Black, just as unconscious, but as far as he could see, otherwise unharmed. At least, there weren't any additional people crowding around his bed.
Hermione gasped next to him, and he realized that he could worry about that later. His eyes darted around and found a single unoccupied teacher.
"Professor! Please, Hermione needs help, we... well, we kinda..." Ron trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence.
McGonagall looked up from next to Dumbledore's bed, met his eyes, and something flashed across her face. Then she found Hermione and quickly began to wave over Madam Pomfrey.
"Mister Weasley! Miss Granger! Just where have you been? I have been looking for you!"
"Well... we sort of... got caught up in the fire," Ron decided there was no point in trying to lie. "Hermione did, at least, it was only a few seconds, before it vanished by itself, though."
"I... I tried to... I tried to fix it but..." Hermione whispered, still covering her face.
Madam Pomfrey approached, gently reached out, and tried to remove first Hermione's hands, then the side of her robes. Hermione flinched upon the touch, but then relaxed at last, and allowed her to peel back the fabric to reveal the reddened skin beneath. Extending from her right arm, up her shoulder, and part-way up her neck.
"Can you... fix it?" Ron asked quietly.
Pomfrey whirled, plucked one of the glass jars from the tray behind her, unscrewed the lid and handed it over to Hermione. "Here. Apply that to the entire area. The more, the better."
Hermione glanced down at the jar, then back up at the mediwitch. "And will that..."
"It's the best you can do. It might help, but I'm afraid there is no simple way to fix this. If anything, it might heal in time."
But... she hadn't even checked! Hell, she hadn't even drawn her wand! How would she know what—
"Mister Weasley? If I could have a moment of your time?" McGonagall interrupted his thoughts quietly.
"Sure, what is it?" he replied absently.
McGonagall gave him a long, strange look, before finally adding in barely a whisper, "Alone?"
~V~
The next breakfast had somehow been an even more subdued affair than the one on the previous day. The big reveal had come in the form of Professor McGonagall—which hadn't been much of a surprise at all, thanks to the rumor mill—that Professor Dumbledore was currently in medical care and not expected to return for quite some time.
This threw another spanner in Iris' plans. One of the thoughts in the back of her mind had been the fact that the main goal of her Geas had already been achieved. She had salvaged the situation, and banished You-Know-Who. And the main reason for wanting to bind him in the first place had turned out to be null and void anyway. So in theory, she could now just break it, right? At least, if they'd fixed the wards, he wouldn't be getting onto the castle ground anyway, Geas or no?
Except of course, it wouldn't be that easy. Because the main thing that had held the Dark Lord off during the last war hadn't simply been the wards. It had just as much been Dumbledore's presence.
And without that, the castle was fair game. Maybe he was still here, maybe he was in St. Mungos. But he obviously wasn't in any condition to face off against You-Know-Who a second time right now.
So no. If she wanted to keep her friends safe, keep Sirius safe, and everyone else, then she'd have to put her plans on ice, and stay. At least, for the foreseeable future. It rankled her, to all but give up on Harry. But she wasn't really doing that. And she still had two avenues to follow from here anyway. There was still the whole of the Restricted Section. And of course, there was also... him.
Her gaze flashed up towards the staff table, where a visibly winded, but still very much alive and kicking Sirius sat, seemingly his mood no better than her own.
If he had truly been honest about what he had said, both in his letter and during their dinner, then yes. Maybe... maybe he'd actually be the one person who could agree with her plan in the end. Who wouldn't just go along with it for mutual benefit like Daphne, but actually agree and help work towards it. She hadn't even realized how much that thought felt... relieving? Exciting even? Just the idea, the foolish hope, to no longer be alone in this.
This foolish quest of solitude.
Chapter 24: Tear down these walls
Chapter Text
All too soon, the meal was over, and classes resumed without much fanfare. They hadn't even gotten a single day of respite. Apparently, the teachers thought the best way to take their minds off the events of yesterday was to bury them in as much work as possible, while still being so nice and gentle about it that Iris was starting to worry that some imposter might have replaced Snape, when he stepped up to Ron's table to fix a mix up in the tray of ingredients he had brought without so much as a single deducted point.
Hermione had not shown up for the class, so instead, she had decided to try and both fix up another friendship, as well as use Snape's new found mellowness to her friend's advantage. She ignored a meaningful look as she approached, then the discordant ringing sound that followed as well.
"Hey, Neville. Wanna try and share a table again? At least until Snape gets over himself, I guess..."
"Uh... you sure? I mean... I'm not all that... I wouldn't wanna get you in trouble..."
"Neville. He's my Head of House. And famously biased. The most he's gonna do is take some points from Gryffindor and then give me a stern glare or something. Besides, I liked working with you."
Neville returned a small smile and didn't make any further protests. If anything, the class structures were a bit too rigid anyway. She really would have liked to at least have a chance to try partnering with Susan for potions or Defense, or with Hermione for Charms...
"As you know, Reflective Potions work best when used by the brewer themselves. This is due to the direct compatibility and resonance between the magic of the potion, and the magic of the drinker. This year, we will learn a new process, called annealing. A technique that is meant to reduce the direct potency of a Reflective potion, in order to increase it's potency for anyone who is not directly compatible."
"Was it true? What you said?" Neville whispered next to her.
"What do you mean?"
"About... Harry, and... a prophecy? Was he really the only one who could... defeat him?"
Well... right now, yeah. But technically, if V— the Dark Lord did actually mark her somehow... Did... did her Name count? If anything, it felt like a mark on her soul, but had it been his doing? Could someone else even force someone's Soul as a Name onto a third party? To earn a name, you had to claim it yourself, right? Would there even be any magic that could achieve that, if that was something that was usually only done through symbolism in the presence of Death?
"Uh... well... it's sorta complicated..."
"Oh..." Neville muttered and looked back at the cauldron.
"It said that the one with the power to defeat him would be someone born to parents who thrice defied him, and born at the end of July. That part could have referred to me as well, I guess, even though it did speak of a him."
"You mean like... encountered and survived? Or actually attacked?" he clarified, wide-eyed.
"Uh... I don't know? Defied implies a bit more than just getting attacked, I guess, so at least fought back, why?"
Neville grew silent and fiddled with his hands for a bit. "I... But... No. I mean that can't... That couldn't... I mean, I could never..."
"What's wrong?"
"Well, my parents... my gran told me... they were part of a secret organization that... you know, fought against You-Know-Who... I mean I don't know if it was exactly three times, but..."
Iris' breath hitched, and she slowly turned to look at him.
"And your birthday is one day before ours..."
Neville looked like he was about to attempt to drown himself in the bubbling blue cauldron.
"You could ask Sirius, I guess. He's a part of this secret organization too, as far as I know. Maybe he knows if it had actually been three times?"
Neville slowly nodded. "Yeah... Maybe."
"Uhm... but, there was another thing. It also said that You-Know-Who would mark him as his equal. So that part obviously referred to Harry," she tried to calm him down, even if her own mind was still reeling with implications. Had Dumbledore known?
"Oh..." Neville simply whispered, still just staring.
"Also, it didn't explicitly say that he was the only one who could defeat him, you know?"
Although, it had been heavily implied. But then again, that wouldn't matter. Once she brought Harry back, it'd apply to him once again. So there was no point in wondering whether it would apply to anyone else.
Neville proceeded to stare at the cauldron some more, before speaking up again. "What you said in the summer... if that was the truth, then why... why did you blame it on Lockhart?"
Iris held still for a moment and closed her eyes. She hated this. What he really was saying was whether it had been Lockhart, You-Know-Who, or Iris. It almost sounded like he was offering her an out. Like he thought she had just said it out of guilt.
And in a way, it was all of them. Lockhart, though, the main suspect, he was probably the least responsible for what had happened, except for not insisting on not bringing Harry along.
Was there an answer that he would accept? No, not even that. Yeah, she'd want to keep being his friend, but also, she didn't want him to completely freak out with V- You-Know-Who back.
"Well... better Lockhart than You-Know-Who, right? Because the truth... If it really comes down to me... it'd be better for everyone's morale if the prophecy wasn't fulfilled at all yet. And the prophecy was already out there anyway. If I'm... you know... going to pick up Harry's torch..."
Iris broke off, trying to order her thoughts again. What the hell was she even saying?
"I'm not gonna be able to do it alone. And that was the only way for people to accept what happened without either losing confidence because of the prophecy or going after me."
Even she didn't believe the nonsense she was spouting. She'd explicitly turned away from that path, to try and bring Harry back instead. Even though she knew it was the right thing to do. Now more than ever. And if felt like she wasn't just trying to justify herself for what she should have done, but also what she could still do. Like she was trying to convince herself.
"Not sure I understand, but... if you ever need help... you know. Just say the word. It doesn't matter if it was your fault or not. It's not like you did it on purpose, right?"
Iris slumped. Would that have made any difference? It was still her fault.
And she'd be damned if she wouldn't fix it.
"Thanks, Neville."
~V~
The Restricted Section, it had turned out, was much larger than she had originally anticipated. Even with the help of the Point-Me spell, after running around dark aisles and dodging angry tomes for most of the night to find reading material to borrow for her reading list, she still hadn't run out of targets for the spell, each successful cast another book snatched and bagged, leading to her wand pointing in an entirely different direction once more.
In the end, she had had to call it quits with her task left unfinished in order not to violate her self-imposed minimum sleep curfew, and consequently, she hadn't even managed to get started on actually reading any of them. But then again, it wasn't like she'd have been able to shut an eye any sooner either way thanks to the bloody phone. So now here she was, running on four hours of sleep, trying to wake her brain back up to deal with her first Arithmancy class. Which, wait... wasn't that the class that Professor—
"Oh, well if it isn't a familiar face..."
Speaking of the devil. The brunette woman, who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere gave her a hesitant smile, before continuing, "I keep hearing great things about you over these past two years. I just wish the circumstances..." she trailed off, seemingly not in the mood to tease for once. "Have you made any progress with your magic?"
Iris glanced around the room at all the gazes locked onto her. Great.
"Well, I managed to do up to three colors. but that seems to be the limit. Most colors are found somewhere on the spectrum, so if I try with those it just turns into that instead, and I've exhausted all the combinations of the seven colors I can use to get purple. And if I now picture white instead, it just creates red, green and blue, so no progress there either."
Great. Now the confused stares were just twice as intense.
"Erm... I meant... yes, Professor," Iris said sullenly. "I guess we'll discuss the details outside class; it's not really related to maths..."
"Oh, but on the contrary!" Professor Vector perked back up. "It very much is related to this class, Miss Potter."
The brunette gave a grin, sauntered over to the blackboard, and wrote down two numbers.
"Can you maybe tell me the common denominator between these two?"
Iris raised an eyebrow as she stared at the blackboard. Seven and Thirteen. Was that some sort of trick question?
"Uh... one? They're both prime numbers," Iris replied automatically, but even as she said it the words felt wrong in her mouth.
Professor Vector actually bloody pouted. "And here I was hoping you'd show the same initiative as you do in most other subjects, Miss Potter..."
So she hadn't had time to open the Arithmancy book over the summer, sue her. She could work her magic just fine, and so far, nothing had ever required a thorough application of maths to do so. Most things made sense, aligned in their meaning, in some of their aspects, or in another way that just felt right. There wasn't any logic to magic.
Very much unlike maths, which was just pure logic. Maths didn't require any books. She could do logic. Learning all the multiplication tables and stuff was just stupid when you could just work it out once you needed it anyway. Iris had barely opened her Maths book outside class at all, she'd just solved most problems on the exams with logic instead. All the symbols and stuff were covered in class anyway, so there was just no point.
Iris hadn't been sure about taking this class for this exact reason, but with the alternatives having been Muggle Studies—which from what she had heard any Muggle-raised student could probably teach better than the Professor—and Care of Magical Creatures—which... no, thanks, she wasn't a little kid anymore and now had better things to do—left her with Arithmancy, Runes and Divination. She had been so very tempted to just take Runes and Divination, but in the end Divination had seemed almost as questionable as Muggle Studies, she was pretty much only taking that class to possibly try and understand the Prophecy a bit better. If that class would turn out to be a waste of time as well, she'd probably have to drop Divination, and then it was better to have Maths than any of the other options, she guessed. Logic, at least, was easy.
And logic dictated that her answer was correct. Unless they were using a different set of rules? Maybe she'd have to learn a new set of numbers first?
"Anyone else want to take a crack at the question?" Professor Vector said, letting her eyes roam the stuffy wooden classroom. "Yes, Miss Granger?"
Of course.
"Well, it depends."
What.
"In relation to Potions, three sets of seven turns can work as a replacement for one set of thirteen when trying to stabilize a runaway potion, so the common denominator would be conjoining for clockwise, and separating for anti-clockwise. Or, in a numerical sense, since seven can not be divided, out of the two, you could argue that seven is the common denominator.
Erm... Okay, she guessed, but Vector hadn't asked about that, had she?
"For Herbology there is none. The power of seven clashes with the wisdom of thirteen. Plants that thrive with one, will falter with the other. For Charms, spell patterns are limited to three aspects, from a maximum of seven, so thirteen is not even an option—"
"Thank you, Miss Granger, I think we get the picture," Vector said with a smile. "Oh, right. Five points to Gryffindor."
And yet, the girl next to her didn't show even the slightest hint of satisfaction at the praise, instead simply returning to her previous stoic expression, drawing the Gryffindor scarf tighter around herself.
"Mathematics is to arithmancy as acoustics is to singing. Yes, there are some parallels, and understanding one can help you work with the other, but it is far from the whole picture, and sometimes logic needs to take a step back for meaning to have a chance to thrive."
Iris was split. The logical part of her brain refused to accept any system of maths that would not follow logic. Maths was supposed to work outside of any frame of reference. Remove all the fundamental laws of physics, all of the entire universe, leave just a blank empty space and pure thoughts, and mathematics remains unchanged. Yet, her instincts agreed wholeheartedly with every word that had just been said. It just... felt right. Fuck logic, she guessed.
Seven, thirteen and three shared no common denominator, yet thirteen could be divided by seven in some cases, but seven could never be divided by three. It was nonsense. But once you stopped thinking in terms of numbers, and more in terms of power, wisdom and stability, it suddenly made a lot more sense. In fact, she was pretty sure there should be a way for three to be divided by seven. Or thirteen to be combined with three...
A bright ringing sound jolted her out of her thoughts again.
Gah! Maybe she should start charging the bitch an actual phone bill to get her to take the hint.
"Arithmancy is the art of trying to make sense of what cannot be understood. Of trying to put into numbers that which cannot even be put into words. In this class you will learn why a third jab can help to counterbalance a wide swish, why ingredients are mainly replaced, but rarely left out or added, and why too many planets aligning can be just as much of a good thing as it is a bad thing. You will learn no absolutes in this class, because magic does not deal in absolutes. No matter how unfaltering a law of magic, how universal a law of nature, there will always be that one, tiny, microscopic chance of all the stars aligning, and suddenly the numbers make sense. Magic does not deal in absolutes. And the seeming exceptions to this law are only perceived as such. They aren't absolute because it violates some fundamental rule of the universe, but because Magic wills it so."
Iris blinked her eyes as she realized that the stare she had been giving the professor had been intense enough to probably incinerate water.
Was she for real?
After everything, everything she had heard, everything she had read about some things just being impossible. This was the first hint, the first person who actually seemed to know their stuff, who had provided even a sliver of hope. That one scrap of theory that could indicate that it might, after all, not be impossible.
Magic does not deal in absolutes. If there were truly no exceptions to this, then that would have to include even death, right? If death being permanent wasn't a fundamental law after all, but simply a result of Magic willing it so...
Maybe... maybe her quest wasn't quite as foolish after all.
Well, at least, it would mean that it wasn't flat-out impossible, but instead just that there was an insurmountable force working against her. But that still meant that there was a path, no matter how small. If anything, she now felt even more confident in her ability to overcome the impossible, or rather, the ridiculously improbable. Defying reasonable expectations was kind of her thing, after all. Even if she had to become Lily to do so.
That thought made her pause again. Huh.
She hadn't much thought about it, but it sort of made sense. Names were supposed to work slightly outside the rules, weren't they? Just how many of her ridiculous adventures, stunts and abilities could she chalk up to the Name? Even if she hadn't consciously realized it, she had begun embracing the Name a long time ago, ever since she had learned it. And especially so, after she'd been unknowingly using it to ward off the Dark Lord's own Name.
And in doing so, she had somehow gone from making pretty reading lights and occasionally making books float all the way to literally breaking reality inside a nightclub doubling as a black market, and facing off against the actual Dark Lord and coming out on top. From a girl who named a cat after a teen show and dreamed of riding a broom, to being able to sort of fly without one and already having a body count before even officially entering her teens.
But if she actually wanted to remain Iris, did that mean she'd have to relinquish her ability to do the impossible, too?
She was very aware of the fact that her feelings towards Harry were a bit... excessive. Sure, she guessed part of that would be down due to Lily's influence, but then again, this wasn't a part of her she could just chalk up to the Name, or that she could just let go by letting go of the Name either, right?
Harry was still Harry. The one person who had always been there for her, even when nobody else had. The only one who had always taken her side, no questions asked. The most important person in her life. Always had been, always would be. And no amount of magic or mental gymnastics would change that.
Even if she was just Iris, so long as there was still a chance, she'd never give up on him. No matter how impossible it seemed. And that simple fact was making it really hard to be just... Iris.
~V~
Yet it was still just Iris that was making her way through the aisles once more, turning right, right and right again. But before she could even approach the familiar grandfather clock that would hold the secret passage into the Restricted Section, she froze once she found someone lounging against the bookshelf, suspiciously right across from it.
"It's time we had a talk."
Iris had to fight an impulse to hurl one of the many happily ticking clocks from the shelves right at the Slytherin girl's face.
Daphne raised an eyebrow.
"What do you want?" Iris snapped.
"You weren't picking up the phone," Daphne stated matter-of-factly.
"Has it occurred to you," Iris growled, "that maybe I needed some time to myself?"
"You've had plenty of that for the past two months."
"..."
Iris slumped. As much as she wanted to fire back a retort, well, yeah. Thanks for reminding her.
"We need to have an honest conversation for once," Daphne stated firmly.
Iris raised an eyebrow. "An hon—"
She was interrupted by a metallic ringing sound from the depths of her mind. "Seriously?"
Daphne just gave her a pointed glare, which Iris returned, until she finally grudgingly turned around and picked up the receiver from the emergency roadside telephone. An identical copy of Daphne materialized on the mountain road, and in the same instant, the real one turned on her heel and strode down the aisle, out of sight, her physical presence no longer required.
Iris stared after her for some time, then took a breath, and instead mentally asked the one question that had been burning on her mind. "You knew?"
Daphne returned a simple nod. "Since we learned his Name. You used your own to ward it off. I don't know why it manifests as a moon of all things, but there was no doubt to what I saw that day inside your mind."
"So why didn't you say anything?" Iris hissed.
And for the first time, Daphne's aloof expression seemed to falter for a moment. "What in Merlin's name was I supposed to do with that?"
Iris' eyes narrowed. "I don't know, how about telling me?"
"Of course. What's the worst that could happen? Oh, right. You-Know-Who. And he is aware of his Name. Just look at all the chaos you caused even without that."
"I'm nothing like him," Iris growled back inside her mindscape, while her physical body continued down the secret passageway until she emerged in the familiar dark twisted aisles of the Restricted Section.
"So you wouldn't do any of the things he did? Make any of the decisions he made?"
"I... that's unfair," Iris interjected. She had already killed people, even if it hadn't been intentional. To not do any of the things wasn't even realistic.
"Is there anything... you can tell me, one hundred percent, you'd never even consider doing for your brother?"
Iris' mouth came open, and...
"I'd never... you know... do what he's doing... take over the country, terrorize his allies and kill all these innocent people for fun... What are you even saying?!"
"Even if it was the only way? Even if it was either doing that, or sacrificing your brother?"
"Of course!" was what she wanted to say.
She opened her mouth once, twice, but the problem with that was while she agreed with the sentiment wholeheartedly... she wasn't so sure that Lily would. Or was she just using that as an excuse?
Names didn't hold any consciousness, no memories or thoughts of their own, a treacherous part of her mind reminded her.
But it still felt like it. She'd never even consider it. There was a line, and this was definitely past it. But she also knew that when she had been Lily, she had honestly considered doing exactly that.
"I... need your help," was what she said instead.
Daphne didn't reply, didn't mock, didn't even raise an eyebrow.
"It's... about my Occlumency. I really... really need to fix my brain before..."
"Before you break your mind even further?"
Or break something else entirely...
Wait, she knew? Of course she did.
"It's not as bad as you may assume. With that I mean that it's not likely to get much worse by itself... but also unlikely to get better."
Iris stared, before she finally slumped. So she was now stuck with this loose cannon mindset for all her life?
"That is... unless you work at it, hard. I'm afraid there is no simple fix for this. There is no point in working to empty your mind now that you've forged it into solid shape. What you need to do is to rebuild it piece by piece, into something that makes sense to you. You need to bring order to it, you need to build it not into what it is, but into what you want it to be; what you need it to be."
"And how am I supposed to do that?"
"By simply willing it, of course."
Iris mentally rolled her eyes. "Very helpful. You said you'd do me another favor if I helped you with the Dementor, so if you could please get over the stick in your arse and explain?"
Daphne sighed, then glanced around the mountain road, then over towards the buildings in the far distance. "May I have a look?"
Iris took a moment to gather her words. This time, she'd better make sure there'd be no loopholes.
"You may look, but only so long as you're accompanied by me, and until I revoke that permission."
Daphne just shook her head with a smile, but then simply replied, "Well, shall we?"
Iris gave a nod, and they began to make their way down the long and winding road. Somehow, with a destination in mind, the journey was a lot shorter than expected, despite their moderate pace. Tall twisted... buildings? Somethings? This was supposed to be her mind? Iris hadn't ever really explored it, on account of not wanting to break anything else and having no idea what she was doing.
In front of her stood a building, of sorts. Part of it reminded her of Hogwarts, another part of Privet Drive, yet another of the church in Little Whinging for some reason...
Iris hadn't known what to expect, but seeing it for herself...
"It's a miracle you're even managing to pretend to be sane..."
Yeah... that.
"You're one to talk," Iris shot back half-heartedly.
"I don't have to pretend."
"Yeah, because you don't give a toss."
Daphne rolled her eyes, then spoke up again.
"This... from how all the buildings are arranged around it, seems to be the center of your mind. Or at least, as much as you can have something like that in your current state. I assume that what we are seeing here is the result of whatever state of mind you were in when you first achieved it being given solid form, except entirely without direction."
"So... how is it supposed to look like, then?"
"That is up to you. Your mind is supposed to represent all of you. Your memories, your mindset, your emotions, your personality. When you look at it from the inside, you should be thinking, 'Yes, that's who I am.'"
"And from the outside?"
"Whatever you want others to see when they look at you."
"So, I'm guessing yours is a solid block of ice on the outside? And probably a bloody chess board on the inside."
Daphne didn't even deign that with a response.
"There is no need for functionality here. You don't need to physically prevent someone from entering by building impenetrable walls, or the like. That can come later. It's more a way to make your mind accept what it needs to become, to have a physical representation of what you need it to be metaphorically."
Iris approached the building and pulled open the door that somewhat looked like the door to the cupboard, except bigger. If anything, this house, this whole... city... seemingly represented a mind that didn't know who it wanted to be.
"The reason you should clear your mind before attempting to make it into solid shape is because you will start from scratch, and will have an easy time shaping it into what you need it to be. But of course, it is still possible to make alterations. The problem is that when you do these kinds of fundamental alterations, you are in essence working against your own nature. It can be done, but it requires both a large effort of will, and also knowing exactly who or what you want to be."
Iris blinked. She? What she wanted was Harry. For Harry to be alive, safe, and... maybe her friends too... but... herself? Where did she fit into that picture?
Daphne met her eyes and tilted her head, as if she had read her mind again. "And that is your homework for this week."
They kept walking in silence for a while, down the corridor covered half in stone, and half in wood and drywall, until she found a large room that caused her heart to freeze up.
It was a mix of the cupboard, their new room, and... the astronomy tower for some reason? It had a broom, it had a copy of the map, the cloak, her old locker from St. Grogorys, and a small pedestal with some very familiar glasses. The room was covered and covered in pictures. Except in a lot of places on the walls, there were merely outlines. Places that represented pictures that had obviously been hanging there, yet now left behind nothing but an empty void, with no chance of bringing them back.
"Take a good look around," Daphne said.
Her eyes flicked from one picture to the next, every time entrapped by the eyes all too similar to hers, by the ridiculously untamable hair, and the pair of glasses she had picked out for him when Petunia had taken them shopping. Somehow, no matter how messed up and disjointed, the more she looked around, a picture was slowly coming together. Was this the center of her mind? Was her entire existence only focused on Harry at this point? Her wandering mind had led her right here, without any direction whatsoever. And it was right in the center of the hallway.
"All of the rest, all of the outside can come later. To start with, you should try to think, really think of how a room like this... a room that represents the center of your mind—the very core of your being—should really look like. Because right now... not only is it a complete and utter mess, but there is a clear single-minded focus here."
Yeah. But so what? That was exactly the point! She couldn't allow herself to—
Daphne had turned away, and was staring at the other side of the room, a strange expression coming over her face. Just what was she—oh.
In the very corner, behind the broom cupboard, almost hidden from view, stood a shoe drawer. A very familiar set of shoe drawers. Iris slowly approached, moved the wooden broom cupboard to the side, then beheld the familiar dilapidated piece of furniture behind it. And she knew. She knew what was inside it. Something she had tried her very best to ignore, to forget and not think about. Because she couldn't allow herself to be that girl anymore... right?
In the top left corner, surrounded by a jagged square, a single word was etched into the wooden surface, courtesy of her cousin's handiwork.
Cryris.
Iris turned around, about to argue, but Daphne was unyielding. "You will need to go through it, all of it. Look at everything that is here, and then decide which of it goes into the new room, and which does not. Think of it as moving house, starting over fresh, taking with you only what you truly cherish, what you need, and what you want. But the decision of what exactly that will be, I cannot help you with."
Suddenly, Iris felt strangely uncomfortable with Daphne standing right here in this room, as she realized the sheer... intimacy... of what she was supposed to do here. Which she was growing less and less sure she actually could.
"In the end, you need to be the one to make that decision. I cannot force you to make... the right choice here. But I want you to promise that you will honestly look through all of it, and really... really think about it."
Iris swallowed. She wanted to... she didn't know. Who she wanted to be.
Yes, she wanted to bring Harry back. Even without looking at anything else, that was the only definite conclusion she could make. But other than that? Did she want... just that? Or was there a way to be who she wanted to be—whoever that might be—even while still doing that? Some way to achieve her goal, while still being able to look herself in the mirror? Being able to look Harry in the eyes? Hiding herself away in his arms? Would he truly just... forgive her, no matter what? Would Harry even want to return, if there was nothing of her left once he did? What exactly would that be, anyway?
Because Iris had no idea. No idea what made her... Iris. And that was what Daphne wanted her to find out. But that was exactly what she was afraid of. Not only that she wouldn't like what she would find, she already knew that. But also, that what, or rather who would be left, would hate herself even more for it.
For a second, she was once again back in that moment during the funeral. Fire all around her, chaos, panic, You-Know-Who right in front of her, everyone in danger. And herself, hesitating, unable to make her decision, putting everyone and everything at risk—including her goal—getting Dumbledore hurt, and all these people she didn't even know possibly killed, just because she didn't know the answer to that one fucking question.
Yeah. She might hate what she would find. But she already hated herself anyway. And just for fucking once, she wanted to actually do something about it.
"I promise."
Iris felt the weight of her Promise settle over her, her mind, and this entire space they found themselves in.
Daphne nodded. "You have your work cut out for you. But in the meantime, we need to talk about one more thing."
Iris slowly turned towards Daphne, and was met with a stony expression. "About Ariel."
Okay, Iris was officially lost. "...Who?"
"My... roommate."
"Oh, you mean—"
Lily.
Oh.
~V~
Iris took a deep breath, raised her hand, and knocked.
"Occupied!"
She stared in disbelief at the door for a moment, then rolled her eyes. She was of half a mind to just turn around and leave, but instead she just decided to barge in without fanfare.
"Hey! I wasn't finished!" Sirius called, as he scrambled to hide a stack of parchment from his desk.
"Shouldn't have left the door unlocked," Iris deadpanned. "You sure you're actually an adult?"
No, she was not playing along with that. Even if she was happy to see at least yesterday's events hadn't broken his sense of humor all too badly.
"Of course I'm not! How did you get that ridiculous idea?"
Iris took another breath. He really wasn't making it easy for her. She still wasn't sure if this was the right approach, if he really was... the right man for the job. So for now, she wanted to get to know him a bit more, and see what he actually thought about... all that.
"Right, sorry. I'm still... I don't know why I'm acting like this. Maybe just..." he mumbled, then sagged into his seat. Iris carefully approached and sat down in the chair across from his desk.
"Maybe I... it just feels like if I was... you know. A responsible adult, and all that..." he trailed off again.
"Then it would be your fault?" Iris interjected, causing Sirius to flinch.
"...Yeah." He gave a wry chuckle, and began fiddling with his clunky jewelry again. "Guess after all this time, I'm still pretending to be someone I'm not. It's all I've ever done."
Iris closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. At this point, she wasn't sure which of them was more messed up in their current state of mind. Now they just needed Daphne to complete the unholy triad of mental instability. St. Mungos really was missing out. Iris took another breath and met his gaze. "I've said it before, I'll say it again. It wasn't your fault. Not then, not now."
"Would you believe me if I told you it wasn't yours either?"
Iris swallowed her reply and said nothing.
Sirius sighed. "Yeah."
Iris slumped onto the desk, quickly followed by Sirius. She glanced around the unfamiliar room for a bit. Unlike his two predecessors, he had picked an office on the lower floors of the astronomy tower, which had a nice view of the forbidden forest peeking through all the towers and rooftops of the castle. There wasn't much here, yet. A few trinkets, a few books... Her hand found a tiny contraption on his desk with some sort of blue gem inside it, which would spin freely around its own axis when she flicked it with her finger.
"If you could... go back in time twelve years... and change it. Would you?" Iris mumbled.
Sirius had stopped fidgeting and was now just staring at her.
"What kind of question is that? Of course! Without thinking about it! I've thought about nothing but—"
"Even if it meant You-Know-Who would continue to take over the country for the last twelve years?"
Iris was now sitting upright, pinning him down with a severe gaze.
"I know what you're going to say, but no. Even then I'd still change it all the same. I swore, Iris. I've sworn to protect you, no matter what. Both of you."
Yeah. Well, but how far would that extend? It was one thing to give up your own life to keep someone alive, but to bring someone back might require even more than that. With how deep this bias ran in the wizarding world, and her own experience on the subject...
Should she tell him? On the one hand... it was a major risk. If he didn't agree, if he just went to Dumbledore... But on the other, he was the only one. She'd torpedoed her own path to bringing Harry back for this chance. She'd already made her decision back at the funeral. To back out now would mean that her sacrifice had been for nothing. Also, she really, really wanted to just talk to someone... truly talk to someone. To find the answer to her question. And if it didn't work out, well...
"I'd do anything to fix it! There is nothing I regret more than that one decision twelve years ago, and I can think about nothing else than—"
"What if there was a way?" Iris almost whispered.
"A... way?" Sirius echoed, his expression falling further. "You know there isn't. It's over! Done! And it's my fault! Hell, you've seen the damn bones yourself!"
Iris just returned a determined look.
"Iris, no. No! There is no way!" Sirius burst out. "You cannot bring back the dead! Do you know what happens to the people who try? My family was as dark as they come, Iris. I've seen it. It's..."
He buried his head in his hands, then looked up again and met her with a fierce gaze.
"It's simply impossible. Down that road lies only madness."
Iris said nothing for a while, but held his gaze. He was basically saying what everyone else had been saying, what a treacherous part of herself had been thinking the whole time. But if she had only ever accepted what others had told her, she wouldn't be where she was today.
"Why?" she asked calmly.
Sirius blinked. "Because—"
"Why," Iris cut him right off, "would something as specific as that be impossible, if Magic inherently allows us to do what should be impossible?"
"Iris..." Sirius whispered. "Don't."
"Why should anything be impossible, when Magic does not deal in absolutes?"
"Don't," he repeated, and met her eyes again, his expression rife with conflict and tears. "Please..."
Iris held his gaze in a simple, expectant expression, demanding nothing but for him to think over her words, over and over.
His voice cracked, and his plea came in barely a whisper, "don't give me hope."
"The only way to lose is to give up hope."
Sirius was breathing rapidly, the only sound in the cramped office. His eyes were entrapped by his hands, the trinkets adorning them glinting in the flickering orange light of the fireplace.
"How? Nothing that I ever read, nothing I ever heard... There is no way. Nobody has ever..."
"You-Know-Who did it."
That effectively shut his argument down in its tracks.
"You can do anything with magic. And even if you can't, even if there's some concept like Gamp's law saying otherwise, you can still slap those laws in the face using a ritual for example. Then there's other things that defy even the laws of rituals. Like how You-Know-Who got his Name."
"But still. Nobody has ever achieved truly returning someone back from the dead. I'm not sure You-Know-Who counts. From what Dumbledore said, it was more like he never really died in the first place. To actually bring someone back, soul and all... it's just not possible!"
Iris took a breath, and closed her eyes. Sirius sounded like he was split, like she'd almost convinced him, but he still hesitated based on everything he had known his whole life. Should she try driving the message home by revealing one final piece of information? She knew she'd just decided against that, but he still didn't seem convinced. And the best way to convince him that doing the impossible was still within reach, was to prove that she had already done so.
Lily opened her eyes and met his with a smile. "Don't you ever tell me what's possible."
She hadn't even introduced herself, but recognition flashed in his eyes all the same.
"It was you," Sirius whispered.
Lily inclined her head in confirmation.
He stared some more, before he said, "Lily... as in..."
"I am not my mum, Sirius," she cut him off right there. "Only in the same sense as magical creatures ever can be their predecessors, I guess."
"But... how?"
"Hell if I know. From what I heard, a soul is required. And I'm pretty sure while the Killing Curse does exactly as the name suggests, it doesn't do anything to the soul. We've seen dad in the mirror alright, and they both were struck with that curse, according to Dumbledore."
"But then..."
"I don't know. My best guess is that she did a ritual of sorts, that she sacrificed a whole lot more than she had planned to try and save us. Dumbledore said something similar."
Sirius just stared, unmoving, his eyes darting all over her, as if looking for something that wasn't there. She took a breath and let go, and Iris blinked, an expression quickly reflected by Sirius.
"Merlin... this is... all kinds of messed up," Sirius said.
"You're telling me."
"Who else knows?"
Iris froze. "About... my plan? Or the Name?"
"Well... both?"
Should she tell him? What would he think of Daphne? Would they be able to work together? Was that even a good idea? Would it violate the agreement they had?
Well, no. Only telling him anything about Daphne's plans would, not that Daphne knew about her own.
"Greengrass knows."
"What?!" Sirius blurted out. "I... I mean... if anything I'd have expected your friends, I mean, are the two of you even friends? How does she know, but not your little group?"
"It's... a long story," Iris replied.
"Well, I've got time," Sirius instantly replied.
Iris, however, took a breath and then shook her head. "Sorry, but that's... private."
"Iris... I know we don't know each other very well, but... that girl... she's bad news. I haven't seen much of her, but even I can tell you that."
Iris just shook her head again. "It's fine. We made a deal. She won't tell anyone else."
"I..." he began, then broke off, and began fiddling with his robes again. "I'm not sure what to think, Iris. This is all... rather a lot."
Iris just gave a helpless shrug, while still being acutely aware of the contents of her pocket. Destruction and Mind. But no, the spell assembly would take too long. So something else first.
"But either way, I can promise you this. No matter what happens, I will always be on your side, Iris. If you don't want me to tell anyone, then my lips are sealed. But I'll be damned if I won't do everything that I can to keep you safe. And if you are... if you're right and..."
He broke off, seemingly at war with himself for a moment, before firming his expression. "If there is any chance that it actually can be done. If there is a real possibility to truly bring him back... You can count on me. Every step of the way."
Iris let out a breath and her hand slipped off her pocket again.
"Thanks, Sirius."
Chapter 25: Promise
Chapter Text
A heavy smack of paper onto cloth jolted her out of her thoughts and Iris came to a halt. She glanced down, found the text, and read.
You-Know-Who Returns
And Speaks at Harry Potter’s Funeral
Below that was a large picture covering half the page of a red-haired woman in a black dress that clung to her like liquid shadows, facing down something that could only be described as a Dark Lord. With an outstretched hand, like a king of old pronouncing their final verdict she spoke, “Begone now!” And the picture blurred, leaving behind only an empty podium.
Mystery Sorceress Saves the Day
“Lily… Blackwood?” Tracey asked flatly.
“Uh….” Iris replied intelligibly. There was no point denying it. Tracey had been the one who had procured the bloody document. The sheet of paper that the woman in the picture was handing over, to the visible outrage of the Dark Lord.
Tracey did not let up, and instead added the eyebrow. “What, was Irisistible not catchy enough?”
“Shut up.”
“Iris…” Tracey said, then moved closer and sat down next to her on the bed, her eyes never leaving Iris’.
She moved a hand over towards the Daily Prophet, held out a single finger, and jabbed it down at the moving picture in the headline. “What. the. fuck.”
Iris tried to avert her gaze, to squirm away, but Tracey was having none of it. “I…. It’s c—”
“Then make it less complicated,” Tracey instantly cut her off.
Tracey, could you not? God, if there was anyone she really didn’t want to drag down with her, it was Tracey. But it was obvious that her friend had other ideas.
“How did you do that? In the picture it looks like you just… waltzed in there? I thought the plan was to…”
“It didn’t work. You know how these things work in the Muggle world, right? It’s only valid… once you hand it over.”
“Okay… but there’s handing it over, and then there’s… whatever the fuck you did there…”
“Tracey…” Iris began.
“No,” Tracey said. “Talk to me, Iris. I swear to Merlin I’ll—”
“Alright, fine, I’ll tell you.”
That effectively shut her protests right back down.
“But,” she added, her expression firming, “you have to promise not to tell anyone else.”
Tracey, seemingly still in disbelief, agreed without hesitation. “I promise.”
Iris took a deep breath, then began to talk. “You know how magical creatures sort of… don’t make sense?”
Tracey returned a confused look. “What are you talking about?”
“Like… how house elves can sort of apparate in Hogwarts, even when you shouldn’t be able to, how they can make all sorts of things happen by snapping their fingers, and just seem to know some things? Then there’s also goblins… sure, they don’t look like much when they’re running a bank, but in Professor Lupin’s class we’ve seen them jump around in battle as if reality were a bloody cartoon and pull giant battle-axes from fucking nowhere, not to mention how they just… bring an axe to a spell fight and somehow come out on top.”
“Okay… I see your point, but… where are you going with this? You’re not gonna tell me your parents were bloody fairies or something, right?”
The thought made Iris chuckle. In a way, her mum had become her fairy godmother of sorts. Except they had never even talked. Nor would they ever be able to. And with that thought her smile disintegrated just as fast as it had come.
“Well, the thing is, I think it’s got nothing to do with them being creatures, but everything to do with their Names.”
“Their… Names?”
“You know, Magical Names? Like in Lupin’s class. Except, well… It doesn’t just apply to magical creatures. For one, there’s You-Know-Who.”
“You… you mean that his Name… that’s like not a spell or something, but… he’s like… a flippin’ house elf?”
A dark lord house elf… God damnit, Tracey.
Iris tried to hold her gaze for a second, but finally, she cracked and broke into giggles. Tracey did join in, if somewhat more subdued.
“I imagine if you actually managed to say his Name out loud, he’d show up just like one as well,” Iris joked.
“So you’re saying… the reason why he’s so… so… why he just… well,” Tracey trailed off.
“Makes no sense?” Iris supplied, eliciting a nod from Tracey. “Yeah. Names sort of… allow you to defy reason to a certain extent. It’s sorta complicated. Like… I don’t think he could just… jerk his head and make everyone fall over dead, but he can certainly make it look like he could, if you know what I mean. I think it’s mainly psychological…”
Iris pondered her own words, trying to fit what she knew and had seen together with what remained in her mind from her own hands-on experience. In the moment it had all just made sense, but right now, she was almost as lost as Tracey.
“I think it kind of blurs the line between reality and dreams, or imagination. The mental and the physical, I think.”
Like a mindscape turned inside out, basically what Myrtle had done, except the other way around. Instead of drawing reality into her mind, they’d brought their mind into reality.
“It’s a delicate balance. I don’t know what he actually can and can’t do with the Name, but I’m pretty sure it’s not as… omnipotent as it looks like. Otherwise he’d have already taken over the country by just waltzing into the Ministry, I guess.”
Tracey hesitantly nodded. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. But… where are you going with all this? Wait, are you saying—”
Lily returned a wry smile and gave a shrug. “Kinda.”
Tracey went rigid next to her, her eyes trapped, breath caught, words failing. Their room had been reduced to a bed. An impossibly large and fluffy bed. The moon chose that moment to peek through the clouds and into the usually murky waters of the lake, and the light almost seemed a little greener than usual.
“It’s a long story,” Lily said with a smirk, running a single finger through the hair of the girl now sitting in her lap.
“W-what… are you…” Tracey managed to whisper.
Iris blinked, looked around, then met Tracey’s eyes and blushed. Whoops?
“Uh… I can explain?”
She really couldn’t.
“I’d like to see you try,” Tracey replied dryly.
“…Yeah.”
They just kept looking at each other, occasionally glancing around awkwardly, but Iris didn’t know what else to say.
Finally, Tracey mumbled. “Iris?”
“Yeah?”
“Why am I sitting in your lap?”
Iris blinked again when their current situation finally clicked, and her blush redoubled. “Ehhh… Magic?”
“I’m sure that’ll hold up in court,” Tracey replied incredulously, but finally shifted over to a much less awkward spot next to her.
“I don’t know how any of this works, okay? It’s like… either I’m Iris, and this makes almost as little sense as it does to anyone else, or I’m Lily, and I don’t even think about it because it makes perfect sense. Feels like there’s almost no in between, really…”
“So… wait, you mean… there’s now two of you in there?”
Iris firmly shook her head. “No. It’s definitely all me. There’s no… like Lily-voice in my head, or something. At least I hope there isn’t… God, I don’t fucking know. But from what it feels like, and from what Lupin and Myrtle said… Names are just that. They don’t have a consciousness of their own. They just… are. Again, Iris has no fucking clue how any of this works, and Lily has no damn clue how to explain it,” Iris complained, then paused, and groaned. “Aaaand now I’m fucking talking in third person. Great.”
Tracey shot her a worried look. “So… which one are you right now?”
“Iris,” was the definite response. “You’ll know when I’m Lily.”
“I’ll… know?”
“Yeah. I mean, or maybe feel it I guess. Not the way you can feel Corrumpo or something like that, but uh…”
“What do you mean, Corrumpo?”
“You know how that spell creates this bright flickering flash that’s so intense you can almost feel it, even if you don’t look?”
“…No?”
“Uhm… Never mind, then. Sorry, I can’t really explain it any better than that.”
Tracey just stared, and frowned, and then slowly nodded. “Hang on. I think I get what you’re saying about knowing, about how it… feels… but something about that—”
“No. That’s what you… you…” Tracey exclaimed, now beginning to breathe rapidly. “You made me leave! You made me go to the castle and leave you behind! That’s what you did! I just knew I had to, even if it didn’t make any sense, and I didn’t think about it at all. I hated every Merlin-damned step, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop! What the fuck!” Tracey yelled, grabbing her robes like a vice. “I checked! I checked because of last year, and it wasn’t a compulsion, so I thought I was just… scared! A bloody coward! Useless! That I couldn’t even bring myself to stay with my best friend! But it was you…”
Tracey was staring at her wide-eyed, an expression probably mirrored by Iris. What the fuck? Iris hadn’t done anything to her… had she? She’d just… She’d just… wanted her to go back without her… needed her to… All while all but embracing the Name already…
“I…”
“Did you… when did you… what else did you do? What else did you… make me do?” Tracey whispered.
No. Just no! There was no way that she’d… that Lily would…
“Tracey, stop! Don’t even think that! I’d never do anything like that to you!”
A second of silence passed, with every fraction of it a terrible suspicion creeping in. “Gah!” Iris jumped back and buried her hands in her hair! “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I… I have no idea how any of this works, okay? Back then I didn’t even know about the Name!”
“You did it just now, again,” Tracey whispered.
Iris found Tracey’s accusing glare and couldn’t manage to think of another reply. “I… I didn’t…”
“I don’t know what to think about this,” Tracey said quietly.
“Tracey,” Iris said in a faint, pleading voice. “I swear. I swear I’d never ever want to do something like that to you on purpose. I… you have to believe me. Please.”
Tracey held her gaze for a long time, saying nothing.
“No,” she finally said. “That’s not good enough, Iris.”
“But—”
“I want you to promise… that you will control it. That you won’t even do it accidentally, not just on purpose.”
Iris rapidly nodded. “I promise. I’ll work hard. I’ll do anything I can. I… Thank you. Really. Thanks, Tracey.”
And while a faint feeling of relief flooded her at Tracey’s stiff nod in response, there was also something else. A treacherous, niggling voice, slowly growing louder and louder. Because Iris had no idea. She had no idea how any of this worked. And she had no idea if Tracey still liked her, still just forgave her, or if Iris just… somehow made her. If Tracey had ever even liked her at all in the first place.
Or if Harry even ever had.
~V~
Yikes. She guessed that was what she got for exploring despite her better judgement. Her mum had grown up with… this sitting right across her room?
“Barmy, the lot of em… no offense, Tonks.”
She turned to look back at Shack with a wide grin. “Runs in the family.”
Said Auror gave her an awkward look before turning to look back up at the row of decapitated house-elf heads. Tonks’ grin widened just a bit at the reaction. There was just something about taking the piss out of the older Aurors solely based on her family’s reputation. She had an image to maintain, after all. Also, better this than having everyone boss her around like the insane cyclops was prone to do.
“Admiring the view, are we?” a new voice pierced the corridor from behind her.
Tonks whirled around and raised an eyebrow. “How the hell did you not turn out like Auntie with such pristine decorations right in front of your bedroom?”
“The same way I managed to keep heads from rolling while trying to raise such a perfectly well-behaved daughter.”
“By giving them weird names?” Tonks grumbled.
“I never quite understood why they did it… nor why the elves seemed to want it just as much,” mum continued as if she hadn’t heard her, while looking up at the row of heads on pikes on the wall.
“They did that… with all the elves?” Shack asked incredulously.
Mum nodded. “All but the last one; Kreacher. Wonder what happened to the insane old bat. For all I know he’s still hiding somewhere in the walls, silently grumbling about the fall of House Black and all the Blood Traitors sullying the pristine floor…”
“Oh thank Merlin, no,” a new voice called from across the hallway. “My dearest mother does enough of that for a lifetime.”
Sirius gave a small chuckle as he approached. “Hey Andi, Shack, could you send a Patronus to— Tonks! You’re already here? Never mind, then. Come on, meetings about to start.”
Tonks gave another wary glance up at the picturesque display of insanity, and with a shrug, followed after her one Black family member that somehow hadn’t made it his life’s mission to torment her one way or another.
The eye was already on them long before they entered the dining room, and its owner growled, “Everyone finally, here? Good.”
Mad-Eye took a step into the room, his scowl deepening with every second, and his hand fidgeting with something in his pocket. Finally, he slammed his staff down into the wooden floor and barked, “Alright. Now. Blackwood. Does anyone… have a bloody clue… who the hell that is? Where she is? Even if she’s not the Watcher, we need to—”
“Later, Alastor. We have more important topics,” Shack cut in, ever the level-headed Auror. “First, the good news. I’m sure you’ll all be happy to hear that Madam Pomfrey has confirmed that Albus is finally no longer in critical condition. He is going to make it.”
Nobody said anything, but with that one sentence, it felt like the river of tension had suddenly drained out of the room, and Tonks let out a relieved sigh. At least there was some good news, she guessed.
“The bad news is that from what the healers predict, clearing the toxins is a slow and tedious process, so it might take several weeks up to maybe even a few months until he can be revived from medical stasis.”
That bit of information quickly put a damper on everyone’s new-found high spirits.
“Now for the worse news. Our latest intel suggests that You-Know-Who’s next step will be indeed the obvious one. Now that he’s back, and everyone knows it, he knows he needs to strike right away, or risk even greater resistance. And the most effective target to bolster his numbers is Azkaban.”
Tonks swallowed. Bloody Azkaban. Mad-Eye had threatened with getting her reassigned there twice already, now it looked like she was headed there either way, whether she liked it or not.
“Additionally, there is still the issue that due to the ward trap not working as intended—”
“Yeah. Care to explain what was up with that?” Mad-Eye cut in, rounding on Sirius. “He took control. He did something to you. Something that Albus said was impossible. He said that the wards would prevent it, so long as you held steadfast. What. the. bloody. hell. happened. Black?!” Moody growled sharply, stepping closer and closer to Sirius.
“I…” Sirius began, and shrunk into himself. “I don’t know… one moment, it was like—”
“Words. I don’t wanna hear words, I wanna hear reasons. Facts,” Moody snapped.
“Alastor…” Shack cut in, but was quickly overruled.
“No. We will talk about this. I told you that he is a risk; that he is a threat. But Albus thought he knew better. And look where that got him. How do we know he wasn’t secretly working for him?!”
“Alastor, that’s enough, we—”
“If that woman hadn’t shown up, Albus would be dead! And if things had gone just a little differently, if he hadn’t all been there, she might have finished it instead. And then we’d be in the same position, except with a Dark Lady instead of a Lord!”
“That’s some bullshit!” Tonks called out. “You saw what happened. She saved Dumbledore! She could have just taken all of us out with the storm and then left instead of saving him!”
“Exactly. And now the public trusts her, she’s all over the newspapers. The ministry’s in her debt. Hell, half the Auror force is under her banner, all because everyone thinks she saved Dumbledore, even while he’s still in a coma.”
He glared at her, paused for a second to take a swig from his flask, before growling, “isn’t that… convenient.”
“Nobody but Albus knows what actually happened there, and if she could have done more to save him, if she didn’t just do enough to get exactly this outcome. Everyone eating out of her hand, and the only one able to stand against her out of commission. You can’t tell me that doesn’t sound a little too—”
“Yes I can, you bloody paranoid nutcase!” Tonks finally lost it. “If she hadn’t been there, Dumbledore would be dead, and You-Know-Who might have killed the rest of the people there too. That’s the facts!”
The room sat in silence for a moment from her outburst.
“She does have a point, you know?” Sirius interjected carefully.
“You weren’t there for it!” Moody rounded on him. “You were bloody knocked out! You haven’t seen the way she… what she did! It was just like—”
“I think… we might be getting a bit off track,” Shack finally interjected.
Thank you, voice of reason incarnate. Tonks took a breath and gathered herself. Moody looked like he still very much wanted to argue, but there was just something about Shack’s presence, when he finally lost his patience for once, that even Moody didn’t want to cross it seemed.
“Amelia is moving a large part of the force to Azkaban, so some of us will be there either way, but I think that while it is likely, we shouldn’t discount the possibility of him anticipating this and striking somewhere else.”
“Agreed,” Moody grumbled. “Better hedge our bets. Lots of defenseless targets out there, ’specially with the force off on a bloody island.”
Nods scattered the room, so with the appropriate amount of trepidation, they began to cobble together a strategy to ward off… eventualities.
Tonks wasn’t sure herself. It did seem likely he would just strike at Azkaban. But for once, even Snape wasn’t sure. Apparently, the Dark Lord had kept his immediate plans very close to his chest. Maybe even… but there was no way he’d be insane enough to go straight for the ministry, right?
“One last thing. Despite what some of us may think, the official stance of the Ministry, and mine as well, is that whoever this Lily Blackwood is, for now she is not an enemy. If you encounter her, you will not engage her, unless given an appropriate reason. Don’t trust, but don’t attack. Work with her as the situation demands it, but…” he quickly added with emphasis, as he noticed Moody winding up for another tirade, “tread with caution around her. We can’t know whether she is an ally or an enemy, so for now, she is neither.”
Tonks still thought they were stupid not to try working with her when she was obviously You-Know-Who’s enemy as well, especially since she seemed to be their best chance as long as Dumbledore was out of commission. But with both Moody and Shack on one page, as long as Dumbledore wasn’t around, the decision was as rock-solid as it could be around this place. Bummer. So she guessed she wouldn’t be making friends with someone as awesome as her any time soon.
Not that she was likely to encounter her in a place like Azkaban, anyway.
~V~
“So… are we even in the right place?”
As if in answer to Seamus’ words, a small metallic hatch in the ceiling came open and a long metallic ladder came clattering down all the way to the ground. Before it even hit the cold marble floor, the smell hit them first.
Holy crap. Iris still had nightmares about that one time where Petunia had watched this esoteric TV show for a day and brought home a pack of incense the next day. She had only lit a single stick, and the smell hadn’t left the house for almost a week. It had been one of the very few times it hadn’t been them who had gotten yelled at. Good times, but still, yuck.
“Are we supposed to climb… up there?” Susan asked with a raised eyebrow.
Tracey was already half-way up the ladder, peered into the room above, then stuck her head back down. “Survey says… yup. Teapots, bones, crystal balls, it’s all here.”
Susan glanced over at Iris, who returned a shrug. She guessed there was no salvation for her sense of smell to be found in her near future. So, with great reluctance, they one-by-one made their way up the ladder and into the circular stuffy classroom. That was, if it could even be called that. It looked more like a cafe, really. Except without any of the windows.
A large room filled with blankets, pillows, small round tables and armchairs. And lots of empty spots. Iris turned to move towards the free spot next to Tracey, but then she noticed the girl’s hesitant expression. Crap. Right. Err…
She glanced across the room, spotted another next to Susan, and kept moving as if she had been wanting to head there all along. Susan met her with a hesitant but still genuine smile, and Iris sat down with a breath of relief. A glance across the room revealed the spot next to Tracey being filled… by Ron? Huh. If anything, she’d expected him to sit with… Hermione?
Hermione who… apparently wasn’t even in this class. Oh. Of course, the girl would pick the more academic subjects instead.
“Welcome… Please, take a seat, make yourselves comfortable, and leave your baggage at the door as you ascend to this room. For you must not be weighed down by earthly concerns if you attempt to let go, to pierce this room and look out… and beyond.”
“And how are we supposed to look out, if there’s no windows?” Tracey whispered to Ron, who gave a small grin back.
“That is because you use eyes… who refuse to see them.”
Iris raised an eyebrow at the woman who had entered the room from… somewhere… and was now standing in the center of the circular temple of stuffiness. The same wild hair, the same comical glasses, and a wild assortment of colorful robes that might as well have been entirely different but Iris would have no way to tell. She was exactly like she remembered from the prophecy. She’d only rarely seen Professor Trelawney at the staff table, especially over the last year, and never even really noticed her. This was her first time seeing her after that one encounter in Dumbledore’s office that was still burned into her mind.
“You need to close your eyes… in order to see.”
That was almost making as much sense as the book had, she guessed. Her eyes flicked across the mess of a classroom again, then ended up on the teacher standing before her.
This was the woman who had decided Harry’s fate before he had even been born?
That thought caused an irrational spark of anger in her gut, but cooler heads quickly prevailed. She’d just been the one to deliver the prophecy… hadn’t she? Was she the one who had spoken it… or the one who had made it?
Was it the will of Magic creating the prophecy, or was it the prophecy affecting Magic? Would the events have come to pass if the prophecy had never been spoken? Could you affect the future by manipulating the words of prophecy as they are being spoken? Or make up an entirely new prophecy of your own?
Iris had no idea. But it was exactly for questions like these that she found herself in this class. Her books hadn’t helped in any way, other than to reaffirm that once a prophecy is spoken, it would inevitably come to pass in some way or another at some point in the future. It might not come to pass the way you imagined, the way that seemed obvious, but the exact words would make perfect sense, and they would make sense only after it was concluded.
But how that could work, or why? If there was any way to make it one of the possible interpretations over the other? Or if there was even a point to it?
“The future is already out there. It surrounds us, in our world, in our magic, it is everywhere. From your tea leaves, to the palm of your hand, all you have to do is look. But only your magic can tell you what you should see. Some refer to it as the… inner eye. Some call it a sixth sense. Some simply refer to it as divination magic.”
Trelawney clumsily made her way across the room to her desk, and picked up a large crystal bowl.
“What it is, is something entirely different. It is not a kind of magic, or something hidden in your bodies, whether an eye or some other invisible sense. It is a reversal of roles, a flipping of your mindset. It is nothing more and nothing less than a mental trick to what you already do every day.”
Okay, now she had Iris’ attention.
“In essence, it is the inverse of casting spells. Instead of making your mind affect your magic, you let your magic affect your mind. It is as simple as that. At least, in theory.”
Trelawney raised the crystal ball up to a small podium and placed it down on it. “The problem, dear children, comes with the practical. Our minds inherently are not designed to just… let go. We want… to be in control.”
She slowly made her way over to a small crystalline contraption sitting on another pedestal next to the crystal ball. “What you will learn in this class… is how to trick your mind into doing exactly that. To let go, accept the things beyond our control, and try to see without thinking, to understand without reasoning.”
She placed her hand down on the crystal, and a bright ray of light burst from it, struck the crystalline bowl, and lit it up in bright moving shapes of grey. Moving, ever changing, they danced across the wall in the dark room, painting a picture of pure chaos that reminded her of a more boring version of her orb.
“You will look, and you will see. To the eye, it looks like chaos. To the mind, it might sometimes form into recognizable shapes that aren’t there.”
The teacher produced a small glass… tube—or something—from her robes, raised it to her lips and… inhaled deeply. Thick silvery smoke gathered around her, billowed from her nostrils, started to swirl with a motion that belied more than mere physics and slowly embraced and enveloped her. Her eyes seemed to almost flutter, and she braced a shaky hand against the podium to stop herself from stumbling.
“And only once you stop trying to make sense of it, you will finally… understand. You will learn all the possible shapes, all their meaning, all the things you can possibly see to make it easier. To give your mind something to latch on to, something to believe in, something that has as little grounding in reality as possible. Because whether a mermaid, an owl, or a grim, you could see all of those in the mists if you look hard enough. But you are much more likely to see… what your magic wants you to see. But only if you let it.”
So… it was less an active process like casting a spell to learn something, but more putting yourself in the right mindspace and… letting go? About her magic giving her hints, letting her understand?
Was it similar to how her Name worked? She’d definitely done things and seemingly understood things she shouldn’t while embracing it, but… Iris wasn’t sure. Names weren’t supposed to hold any knowledge or memories. And she hadn’t ever gained any knowledge from it. She’d needed to learn the spells from the book first, it had just… come a lot easier, like re-learning something she had forgotten. With the Name it was like her magic was giving her… nudges? Hunches? Helping her do something she already knew in theory or had seen before? Mostly just vague feelings or ideas, and only after she had already committed to an action, to a goal.
Letting go of her mind, of control… yeah. That seemed about as likely as clearing it.
“This practice is not to be confused with the miracle of prophecy. Where divination is the act of attempting to peer through the veil of time with the help of your own magic, a prophecy, a true prophecy is the result of Magic itself providing us with a glimpse of its future designs. Both are mere predictions, except that Magic will ensure that the latter comes true. While divination is more of an educated guess, a prophecy is… a Promise.”
Iris swallowed. Trelawney stepped up to the crystal ball, placed a hand atop it and gently twisted, causing the shapes to rapidly fold into all sorts of forms, almost too fast for Iris to see.
“A Promise by Magic itself.”
And for a moment, she could have sworn she’d seen a familiar, animalistic black shape in there.
Chapter 26: Something to lose
Chapter Text
Anxious glances, excited whispers, and the repeated rustling of newspapers had as the week progressed slowly given way to the scratches of quill upon homework, bubbling cauldrons on the verge of disaster, and all-around cheers as it had been announced that Professor Umbridge had apparently handed in her resignation.
Tracey still wasn't quite talking to her. Both of them had engaged in awkward attempts at conversation over the past week. Well, it wasn't that they weren't talking, but it seemed like with the very much Named elephant still in the room, they weren't quite sure how to return to normal. How could she even know what had been normal to begin with? A part of Iris was still miffed about the fact that Tracey hadn't even mentioned the upcoming weekend at all, never mind asked her if she would join. Yet, she was also the one person who understood the whole reason why she could not go. Or at least, that's what Iris kept telling herself. Now that she had bound his fate to hers, as soon as she stepped a foot over the markings she had placed around the castle perimeter, he would be once again free to do the same. And with Dumbledore still nowhere to be seen that seemed like a bad idea and a half.
But still. Iris could all but feel the permission slip she had suggested Vernon should sign burning a hole into her pocket. She'd only been to Hogsmeade once before. Originally, Lupin had wanted to take them again last year too, but with the flipping Dark Lord coming back to life only days before, they had had more pressing concerns. Of course, she could have snuck out at any time using the shadows. But with Tracey still vehemently opposed to entering that place under any circumstance, there was no point. Going there alone just to do whatever would be even more awkward.
And now it would be Tracey who would be going alone instead. Theo, ever the social butterfly, had more important things to do. Under any other circumstances, Iris was sure Tracey would have stayed behind with her, even despite Iris' protests. But since things were still very much awkward, Tracey would now be heading to Hogsmeade alone instead. At least she'd managed to get Ron to promise to let Tracey tag along. Of course, Iris would have rather Tracey stayed entirely, for a variety of reasons, but she wasn't about to take this one shred of normalcy away from her best friend. Not after she'd seen that look on her face this morning.
So she awkwardly waved them goodbye as they handed their permission slips to McGonagall and followed after the pair of Aurors. A sullen Iris then slowly made her way back inside and into her room. If she had some free time on her hands anyway, this was probably the best excuse to force herself to actually get started on the thing she'd been putting off.
A glance to the side revealed the door labeled Daphne Greengrass and Lily Moon. For a moment she contemplated knocking, but then thought better of it. Daphne had been very clear that any further contact might only worsen things even further. For now, she'd trust that the expression on her face had been somewhat genuine when she'd first tried to warn her off from interacting with her roommate. Daphne had said she'd try to fix it, and let her know if there was anything she could do. So she'd promised to stay away for now, at least as much as they were able with them sharing most classes, anyway.
Moving on, she finally made her way into her room, threw a locking charm at the door for good measure, set down the bag of snacks she had brought from the kitchen on the bed, then sighed, and began to try to settle into a comfortable spot. For a moment she pondered whipping out the Occlumency book again, but with everything she'd read, that might even do more harm than good at this point. What Daphne had said had made sense. She needed to get her own shit figured out first and foremost, before trying to do anything else with her mind.
Iris leaned against the pillows and took a breath, then another, closed her eyes, and slowly brought the faintest glow of Indigo into her mind, all while focusing onto that familiar, dreaded room.
Harry, Harry, in every direction Harry. Every single picture hurt to look at, but somehow, the outlines of missing frames even more so. There was a corner of the room that sort of looked like the top of the astronomy tower, except without any telescopes or stars. Another one that bore some resemblance to the room her real body was in right now, but most of the room was just a mix-up of textures from all over Privet Drive.
And then, there was the dreaded shoe drawer. Iris had no idea how to go about building a new room, how to make sense of this chaos. But she knew there was no point in even starting, unless she first got a handle of the situation. She needed to look through it, all of it. She'd promised it, right here. Going back on a Promise made within your own mental space was about the worst thing you could do. And the last thing she'd need was her own mind turning against her as well.
But Daphne had also been right. Iris had promised, after all. She'd known the implications. Iris could have just as well turned her down. But she'd seen the demand for what it was. A chance, a nudge, a slap in the face to finally wake the fuck up and get her shit together.
So that's what she'd do. Iris reached for the wooden knob and pulled. The first thing that came tumbling out was somehow both a surprise and very much not. A leatherbound book, one she'd never seen before. It had some colorful gems in the front, a large red cloth bookmark, was thick and heavy and...
And...
She couldn't read the title, but something told her it should be The Discovery of Magic.
And that it would have all sorts of texts, drawings, diagrams and other nonsensical depictions that might somehow allow her to turn people into animals and such. But it wasn't her long forgotten interest in Transfiguration. This was something different. This was...
She pulled it open, and the inside made even less sense than the outside. Checkered white muggle paper, pages like in a notebook. And all of them were completely blank.
Because she'd sacrificed her. Sabrina. Not just her old diary, but also in a way her first friend other than Harry.
When you sacrificed something in a ritual, you didn't just toss an ingredient into a cauldron. It wasn't about the object itself being destroyed. It was about you losing that object. So no matter what you did, you'd never be able to get it back.
Now she was somehow worried she might find Salem in here too. Or rather, whatever was left of her. Hesitantly, Iris risked another glance. There wasn't all that much in here, she could spot a few other things, but at least, nothing seemed to be moving. Not that the new Salem had ever done much of that to begin with. But as she kept looking, she recognized some more objects inside the tiny cupboard.
Her physics book. Her stash of ritual supplies. A... VHS tape?
Iris frowned, picked it out, flipped it over and... oh. It was that one tape she'd gotten Dudley to record The Two Towers on. Iris had bribed him with a promise to get caught stealing from the snack cupboard in turn, which had been the only thing Dudley had never managed to successfully blame on them before. It had been one of the very few times Dudley had ever been anything other than a complete arsehole to her. But her expression quickly soured again. It had also been the first time that Vernon had just punished Harry instead of her. Harry had, of course, instantly forgiven her. And that had been before he had lit up in excitement when she told him what she'd gotten in exchange.
More and more things spilled out, the shoe-drawer now almost as wide as a door, leading into a hallway filled and filled with things. Her first edition of Sabrina, who'd actually been named Mary since she hadn't been watching the show back then yet, which had been a tiny blonde doll of some unknown origin or brand she'd found in a cupboard in the corner of the mess hall at St. Grogorys when she was seven. Or at least, she used to be blonde. Now it was just a torso and legs. She'd never found out what exactly Dudley had done with the rest of her. And, unable to keep pretending like she was friends with what was basically a partially dismembered and decapitated corpse, she'd tried to give her a burial of sorts, but failed on account of Aunt Marge's bloody dog choosing that moment to wander into the garden. She'd dropped her somewhere along the road in the neighborhood, and hadn't had the heart to go looking for her again afterward.
Next to it was the plastic ruler she'd nicked from Lisa's bag right before the geometry exam, after she had mocked Iris' hair again and again during most of the entire break. It just went on and on, memories of her childhood, good and bad, of her futile attempts to make friends, memories of silly past dreams.
And she had no idea what to think about it. None of this would in any way help with bringing Harry back. It was unnecessary baggage. The source of all her problems. Here was the idealistic, naive young girl, who had been convinced that all their problems could be fixed if they'd just managed to make a friend.
And look where that had gotten her.
Anyone she'd ever tried to make friends with was now worse off. Malfoy, Tracey, Lily, Luna, Hermione, hell, even Myrtle had completely gone sideways. And instead of her own problems being fixed, she now had orders of magnitudes more of them. Both herself as well as her friends would be better off if she'd just stayed away. Not to mention, Harry. But she'd kept at it, kept involving more and more people, just because she'd been too scared of being alone. Great fucking work, Iris.
"You really can be oblivious at times," said the voice of Daphne somewhere behind her.
Iris turned away from the gaping drawer, and found a large yellow metal locker on the other wall, that she easily recognized as her locker at St. Grogorys. She was too deeply familiar with it not to, both outside and inside. It stood in the center of the wall, clear for all to see, yet obviously locked.
"The fuck are you on about?" she snapped back at the unmoving locker, obviously to no reply.
Iris made her way across the room, and came to a halt in front of the locker. For a moment, she just stood there, hesitantly running her fingers along the chipped paint. Finally, Iris took a breath, tried the handle, and found it, well, locked. A quick Alohomora took care of that, and she hesitantly pulled open the large yellow metal door.
This time, nothing came spilling out. Instead, it opened into a large clean hallway painted in yellow. There were doors to all sides, pictures, objects, left and right, all neatly contained behind yellow metal doors with large windows in them, carefully labeled and decorated with warning tape. She had a niggling suspicion what this was all about, but she opened the first door regardless. Behind the door was a large room with a massive filled... Oh. It was Dumbledore's secret bathroom. A small smile involuntarily crossed her lips at the memory. Pictures of her and Tracey, that wizarding chess set to the side, furniture and trinkets from the room they shared. And letters, all around the room, piled onto the desks and beds. And just as she had expected, all of it, useless.
Of course. This was the exact reason she kept it here. She knew how tempting it was to give in, to do what her younger self had been longing for the whole time, and commit to her friendships completely. But there was just one problem with that. Right above the usually locked door, in this room, as well as all the others, hung a large picture of a set of cracked glasses, observing, keeping watch, reminding and judging.
She couldn't. No matter how much she wanted to. She knew very well what lay beyond these doors, but she also knew very well why she had kept them shut. Both for their sake, as well as for Harry's.
Iris turned again, locked the door behind her, and glanced down the hallway towards all the others. Theo, Ron, Hermione, Luna, Neville, Susan, they were all here. All with separate locked doors, clearly visible and labeled, as if a large yellow reminder of why she was doing this, and why she couldn't let herself give in.
But before she could turn, she found something else. At the end, there was a new door, and this one was partially agape. Curiously, Iris approached, and hesitantly pushed it open. There wasn't all that much here. The room had none of the happy and cheerful atmosphere of the others, and the pictures and objects were very sparse. In the very center of it stood a single, dark, wooden dinner table. Oh.
And somehow, the picture of Harry's glasses wasn't hanging above the door, but sitting on the table instead.
But... but this was different. For several reasons. She hadn't really been friends with Sirius. She didn't care about him all that much, so if she dragged him down with her she'd... Also... she meant, with him, there had been no risk to putting it on the table, so to speak. Or, well, at least, low risk, she guessed. Gah. But what was the difference, really? It wasn't just putting the cards on the table, was it? No.
The picture on the table still stood there, as if the non-existent eyes behind the glasses were staring right at her, and now judging her instead of the room. Fuck that. Iris tumbled back out into the hallway, at the very other end of the entrance, and collapsed against the wall. Or at least, she tried to. Because the end of the hallway was apparently not as solid as it had looked like. Straight ahead, where it had looked like a simple yellow wall with Sirius' door to one side, a faint outline began to form in the yellow metal. She pushed again, but instead of metal, it felt like weak old wooden planks.
What was this? There wasn't supposed to be a door here... was there?
Iris really didn't like this. She was afraid. If she found something that... If it would put everything at risk anyway... Fuck.
Some part of her knew, on some level, what was behind that door. And that exact part was now screaming to not open it. To not end up in that trap in her reasoning. She had a mission. She had already made her decision. And everything that was behind her only served to prove her right. And so she ground her teeth, tensed her muscles, and moved to turn back around.
The moment she began to lift her hand off the flimsy barrier, the room started to shudder and shiver. For that one second she even dared to move back, she'd felt a piercing glare, an empty sort of judgement; her own mind giving her a stern look. A clear cut demand, an ominous warning not to break the Promise she'd made.
Fuck. Damn that bitch. That had been her plan all along, hadn't it? Iris was out of options. She was stuck, right in front of the wall, that flimsy barrier hiding away something she didn't want to learn, but also something which she now couldn't afford not to. There was no choice to make here.
First, it didn't give way, but as Iris applied more and more force, the yellow metallic barrier started to crack and splinter like wood, and soon, a large gaping hole opened in the wall. There was a small, rickety metallic shelf that somehow reminded her of Snape's potions cabinet. Except on the shelves there were no potions ingredients. Instead, she found other things. There was a familiar laptop, suspiciously turned on, with an application running that for once wasn't her game. Next to it sat the Marauder's Map. In a small cauldron in the row below was a large set of green crystals. What the hell?
The more she kept looking, the more things she found. The room just grew bigger and bigger, more and more things catching her eye. Further down the seemingly larger shelf sat a wand... Theo's wand. Next to the shelf on the wall was a hook that held a trench coat.
Somewhere on the wall, a picture caught her eyes. A picture of Daphne. Was it her she had heard? It was the two of them, sitting in an empty compartment of the Hogwarts express, with Iris looking completely out of it and Daphne holding her in her arms to keep her upright.
What was she missing then? She half hoped Daphne would smack another condescending snippet of wisdom into her face, but the picture remained stubbornly unmoving, just like all of the others. What the fuck? Was that Daphne's doing? Or her own mind? What did it mean? What was the common—
The green crystals were obviously her failed potions attempt with Hermione. And the Skype referred to Luna. But...
Her eyes fell all the way into the corner, where on a small familiar pedestal there sat a familiar glass object. The prism.
Iris had a niggling suspicion where this was all going, but even as she tried to voice it, there was another part of her mind that immediately tried to rationalize. She could have found another way. She'd have managed on her own. It might have even worked without...
And before she could finish her thought, her eyes landed on the end of the shelf, where she found something next to it that had tumbled to the ground, and lay in a dark, forgotten corner. No. Even with all of her thoughts screaming in protest, her mind itself gave a low, foreboding shiver. She had to look through it, all of it, and honestly think about it. Iris approached, slowly bent down, and her hand rummaged around the dark corner for a moment, before it enclosed onto something metal, and cylindrical. She pulled it from the corner, raised it up, and blew off the dust in a large grey cloud.
It was her thermos can.
It was her friends. All the times her friends had actually helped her; had done things she couldn't have done herself. Because without them, not only would she not have managed some of those things, but she'd literally be dead. And Harry along with her.
Iris hated this. She hated the truth of it. Because it was just... wrong! It wouldn't work! It would just mess everything up if she thought about it too much! But that was exactly what her stupid Promise was now forcing her to do.
Her eyes flicked between all the pictures, all the reminders, as memories and doubts kept beating down the door relentlessly.
She couldn't. She'd put them in danger, she'd just make everything worse again, she'd...
She'd just play right into Daphne's hands. Fuck. Was that why she was here? Had Daphne forced her to do this because she needed to hear it, or because... Gah!
Yes, she knew it was right. Yes, she knew Daphne was right to make her go through this. That she was right to show her what a fucking idiot she was being. But that still didn't change anything about the fact that while the outcome might be to her benefit emotionally, maybe mentally, and possibly even help her with her own goal, it would just as much be a strategic win for Daphne. Had Greengrass done it to help her fix her mind? Or just to fix their... relationship? Because no matter what had been her intention, if Iris did what she was supposed to here... what she should do... what she wanted to do... then she'd once again have something to lose. Something for Daphne to exploit.
She'd been played. Again. And now it was too late. Fuck.
"Iris?"
She was jolted out of her thoughts, literally, by someone knocking at the door to her room.
"Open up! We need to talk!" said a familiar voice urgently.
"Theo?" Iris replied, gathered her bearings, and slowly got to her feet.
"Hurry up! Something's going on! It's... about Tracey!"
~V~
No. Nononono NO!
"Fuck!" Iris yelled, as she stumbled over yet another set of rocks. Behind her was Theo, still shaky on his feet from his unexpected first encounter with the shadow realm, as he climbed the final stretch of the end of the ravine. He hadn't complained, though, his expression mirroring a desperate determination similar to her own. They'd left the shadows as close to the village as she'd dared without getting detected—since apparently some people with an affinity for it could sense the presence of shadows—and were now making their way through the last few patches of forest. Iris tightened her grip around the object in her hand, redoubling the faint orange glow as she kept running. Before them rose the final hill, and behind the tree line, she could see flashes of light. Bright, orange, red, yellow and blue. Glowing flashes and distant cracks of spellfire, and a large column of dark smoke billowing from below. And screams. Screams in the distance.
Iris redoubled her speed, but then noticed something ahead and scattered to a halt. Right on the edge of the ravine stood a large, metallic pole, buried in the ground, with a round sign mounted at the top, facing towards the village.
"Almost there, keep going!" Theo called out as he closed up with her but then turned as he realized that she wasn't moving. "What are you waiting for? We gotta—"
"I can't," Iris said, staring up at the large sign, declaring the castle off-limits.
"What do you mean you can't? It's right over the—"
"No," Iris repeated. Standing right in front of it, she could feel it. The Geas she had laid on this place, fraying, and shivering. If she took another step, she'd declare it null and void. And it wouldn't be coming back, its purpose would be fulfilled.
But if she didn't, then Tracey might...
But if she did, then he could show up. Then she'd do exactly what he wanted. That was why they were attacking here of all places, wasn't it? To force her to break the Geas. Fuck. If she could just—
"Why... the bloody hell not?!" Theo snapped.
Iris took another deep breath, and finally caved. "See that sign? It's the limit. The area that I banished him from. If I leave..."
Theo blinked at her for a few seconds, but to his credit, he did figure out what she was saying at last. "You... Merlin's nutsack..." he muttered, staring between the street sign and her. "That's what you've been up to?"
Iris just gave a helpless shrug.
"Somehow, I'm not even surprised," Theo said flatly, before firming his expression. "Alright. You can't cross the line without You-Know-Who showing up, right? Do you think you could help if you could? Could you... take them?" Theo asked hesitantly.
Iris took a moment to consider that. Well, she'd somehow managed this summer, but that was just as much sheer dumb luck as it had been her skill with magic. And she'd even come out on top against You-Know-Who, but once again, under very special circumstances. In a pure fight... One Death Eater, depending on who it was, she might be able to take off guard. Two... if she instantly got the first one somehow, maybe... but other than that, it'd be her running, not them. And that wasn't even getting into the possibility of landing in another Deathtrap Maneuver if she encountered five or more of them at once. But... maybe... If she'd use the Name...
Iris had no idea how it worked. But Lily did. And if she could capture the moment for herself, and he wasn't there to lay a claim as well, then... she had no idea. She didn't even quite know what that meant. It was just what had stuck around in her memories from the first time. But still.
There was a scream that sounded distinctly female. Somewhere right behind the hill.
Lily firmed her expression, and re-evaluated the situation. Yes. If she'd keep them off-balance, they had no right to stop her.
"What's your plan?" Lily asked, causing Theo to freeze.
He glanced between her, and the top of the hill for a second, before he took a breath, and replied, "Just be ready."
"Hold on," Lily interjected, plucking him back from where he'd been to grab his arm without leaving the perimeter. "Take this."
She reached into her bag and pulled out the familiar piece of silk. Even Lily had no idea what it was except that it would do exactly as it said on the tin. Keep him out of everyone's sight. There was no point in preserving it for its sentimental value for later, when it could provide actual results, now. Theo took the cloak with a nod, threw it over his head, and like that he was gone.
Footsteps took off, kicking up leaves and dust on the ground as they raced up the hill, past the point she could not follow. Lily was just as bound as he was. It wasn't for her to violate the laws of Magic. The laws of reason, maybe.. Physics, definitely. But Magic was what she was, what defined her. Right now, she had no choice. She wouldn't even think about it, because it simply made no sense.
So she stood, her wand at the ready, her eyes scanning every bit of her surroundings, hoping they hadn't just made things worse. A large ball of fire engulfed a tree at the top of the hill, and there were more shouts. But she couldn't just stand around. She had to act. And she had to act now. Except that she couldn't. Lily was stuck.
And Iris hated feeling stuck. But even with everything going on, with no idea what the situation was, and all the worst scenarios playing out in her head, part of her mind was still stuck in that yellow room. And so, a single, simple idea screamed its way to the forefront of her mind, and lacking any way to rationalize it into silence this time, Iris made a snap decision.
Taking a deep breath, Iris swallowed her pride, reached out, and dialed.
"I need your help."
"What? Where are you?" Daphne's distressed voice said, this time directly through the receiver. "You haven't broken the Geas, have you?"
"Of course not!" Iris said. "But I'm right at the perimeter. Tracey is somewhere in the village. I have to help them somehow. Where are you?"
"I'm searching the village. Somehow, my dearest sister managed to slip out to accompany Malfoy," Daphne said coldly.
"Have you seen Tracey, or Ron?"
"Not since the start of the attack. It's utter chaos. They started appearing from all sides, and overwhelmed the Aurors stationed here. And now they're just running around town setting fire to all the houses and stores of Muggleborns. Except that, well, fire tends to spread."
Somehow, the girl's voice was far too calm for what she was describing.
"And you're still up there? Are you safe?" Iris asked.
"I can handle it. Where are you?"
"South. Closest point towards the castle. How many are there?"
"From what I can tell, at least ten, scattered all over the village. Also there's one that's... one of them who— Gah!" Daphne suddenly hissed, and the line cut to static. At the same time, a strange wave of dizziness hit her, causing Iris to stumble, and brace herself against the tree next to her.
"Daphne? What happened?" Iris exclaimed, and dialed the number again, only to receive nothing but a busy signal, and a growing headache.
Iris tried one more time, and when the result remained unchanged, she slammed the receiver down into the cradle with a yell.
"Fuck!"
Chapter 27: Cursed
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Lapsus! Pulsare!"
"Gah!" Hannah exclaimed, almost knocked off her feet from the burst of air.
Merlin damn it. The spells Auntie had taught her really weren't all that good at preventing collateral damage, if your partner wasn't trained to fight with them as well. Susan saw the shockwave connect, but only one of them lost their wand, and the other one instead just lost his cool.
"Confringo!"
"Watch out!"
Susan tossed herself to the side, dragging Hannah to the ground, just as the large wooden cart behind them exploded into smoldering smithereens, resulting in a terrified shriek.
"Bloody Merlin! Why isn't it working?"
"I don't know! The Floo won't connect!"
"But then how did everyone else get through?"
"No idea! The fire's almost here! Just run!"
Rolling back to her feet, she took stock of the situation. A particularly dense cloud of dark smoke billowed from one of the streets that was littered with burning buildings, obscuring their vision for a moment. Her gaze turned back towards the source of the frantic voices behind them, and she noticed a man and a woman dashing out of a door, followed by a large plume of black smoke, and they quickly took off running in the opposite direction. The ashen smoke invaded her lungs, and Susan found herself coughing from the burning sensation, and was forced to raise her off hand to drape the cloth of her robes across her mouth. For some time, all she heard was the unrelenting march of distant explosions and the roiling flames from some of the buildings around her, and the occasional scream desperate enough to pierce the noise, although they had grown a lot quieter over these past... minutes? Hours?
When the air finally cleared, she noticed the second Death Eater had gathered his wand from the ground, and they were now closing in on their position. In desperation, she tried to duck a bit further behind the corner of the colorful shop they found themselves against, but a faint metallic noise caught her attention. It was a tiny... mechanical... monkey? A monkey with some sort of cymbals, scuttling across the ground, from the other side of the building, right over towards the two—
The tiny monkey slammed his cymbals together and a deafening metallic ringing sound almost knocked her back to the ground. The air seemed to blur around them, and the two Death Eaters collapsed to the ground, holding their bleeding ears, their mouths distorted in a silent scream that Susan couldn't hear over the noise. Or at least she thought they were Death Eaters. They weren't wearing the usual white masks, but instead some grey ones that looked much more animalistic instead, and only covered the upper part of their faces. A flash of red caught her eye, and she found the glowing tip of a wand, right at the other end of the building, waving left to right, and... was that... No, it wasn't just the red light. His hair was red, and he was...
Her eyes widening, she scrambled for her friend, and dragged Hannah to her feet. "Come on, over there!"
Hannah, still clutching her head with one hand, stumbled after her, until they made it to the small door on the other side of Zonkos. They stumbled inside into what looked like a small storage room with another door, filled with crates, barrels, and two more people leaning against a crate in the corner.
"Susan? Hannah? You alright there?" a familiar voice called, and she noticed Ron Weasley, hunched over another girl— Tracey?
"We're okay, I... I think," Susan replied, her blood still rushing through her ears. "I... Thank you. I don't know what—"
"Don't mention it. Just doing what we can, trying to get everyone out of here," said the red-haired Weasley twin, and for the first time, she was actually glad to see that particular face with its attention directed at her. "Speaking of, you see Fred over there?" said George, apparently, pointing a hand down the open square all the way towards the other large shop at the other end of it. And right at the side-entrance of Honeydukes, she noticed another familiar head of red hair carefully peeking through the door. Susan nodded.
"There's a secret passage out of here, in the basement of Honeydukes, that leads straight to the statue of the one-eyed witch on the third floor below the astronomy tower. We gotta get you over there," George explained, before letting his gaze sweep the main square once again, before he noticed something and quickly pulled the door shut. "We'll have to wait till the air is clear. We've already got everyone from Honeydukes and Zonkos, and we're the last from the Three Broomsticks."
"Wait... T-Tracey?" gasped Hannah next to her. "What happened to her?"
Susan turned to look at the pale Slytherin girl once more. She didn't seem in great shape.
"I-I'm okay..." Tracey groaned, her voice telling the exact opposite story.
She was resting against the crate filled with exploding Auror badges, if the large red metallic sign above them containing one of these fake badges stuck to the center was any indication, with Ron holding her head, and was clutching an arm to her side, where something red was mixing with the silver and green trim of her robes.
"Blasting curse... Bloody wall blew up right behind where she was sitting outta nowhere," Ron growled, a deep frown on his face.
"What? We have to get her to the hospital wing!" Hannah exclaimed, her expression somehow paling even further.
"Course! What do you think we're tryin'a do?" Ron snapped back, causing Hannah to shrink back for a second.
"Who else is still missing?" Susan interjected, turning back towards George.
"Most of the residents and a bunch of students managed to escape via Floo, but that was apparently cut off some minutes in. We haven't gotten word from Madam Puddifoot's, nor from the smaller stores. But most of them are down the main street. That's where the Aurors were at the start, so they should—"
"What about Neville?" interjected Hannah suddenly. "Have you seen him?"
"Longbottom? Uh... Don't think so... You sure he was—"
"He was at the Three Broomsticks," Ron said. "But he left for the Magic Neep, I think."
"But... that's all the way south! He's still out there!" exclaimed Hannah desperately. "We have to—"
"Ssh!" George cut them off with a sharp hiss as he drew his wand, and Susan quickly realized why. Footsteps. Right outside. And voices too.
"...only Mudbloods, right? Why are you even—"
"Oh, don't mind me, I'm just not eager to burn to death for—"
Susan met George's eye and they readied their wands in unspoken agreement. Out of all of them, they were the only ones who had stuck with the dueling club for the entire year. The door handle gave a creak, and both George and Susan acted as one.
"Expelliarmus!"
Two flashes of red, and the two intruders suddenly found themselves wandless. Her eyes widened as she recognized them, and they quickly dashed for the door to drag them inside.
"What in Merlin's— Let me go! Get your hands off me, you filthy—"
"Gah! What are you doing?! Wait till my father hears about this!"
"You'd think he'd be happy if we saved your sorry arse," interjected Tracey, having drawn her own wand.
Of course it had to be Malfoy of all people. But who on earth was the other girl? Susan knew that she wasn't in their year, but she looked far too young to be anything else... right?
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the little prince and his princess..." George said. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure first-years aren't allowed to visit Hogsmeade over the weekend..."
George rubbed his chin for a moment as he sized up the blonde Slytherin girl, before turning to look back at Malfoy. "You sure you want your father to hear about this one?"
"I say we stun them and leave them," growled Ron, his own wand shaking in his hand. "How do we know they aren't in on the whole thing?!"
A shaky hand reached up to drag Ron's sparking wand back down. "I-if they had known about this, there's no way they'd... be in Hogsmeade at all," Tracey said weakly.
"Davis?" the blonde girl spoke up incredulously. "What happened to you?"
"Just shut up," groaned Tracey and sagged back into Ron's shoulder.
"Right. We have no time for this," George declared, sticking his head out of the door again. "Coast's clear. We'll cross the square in one group, alright? I'll block their vision, so they won't see us, but we won't see a thing either."
George waved them closer as they huddled around the entrance. "See the door with Fred over there? You gotta memorize the exact direction of the door. Once I give the signal, I'll toss some Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. You won't see squat, but you can still move. Then you'll run in the exact direction you've memorized until you hit the door, or at least, a wall. We'll all go in a group, so we know if at least one of us hit it."
"And you wanna take those snakes with us?" Ron exclaimed aghast.
"We're not leaving anyone behind," said George firmly, causing Susan to nod in agreement. "Snake or no."
Ron's gaze wandered down towards the girl in his arms and a guilty expression flashed over his face for a second, before he nodded.
"Over there?" Malfoy interjected with a frown. "Why would we be heading for Honeydukes, we need to get to the castle!"
"Because there's a secret passage there, obviously."
All the other eyes in the room suddenly landed on the blonde Slytherin girl.
"What? It's how I got here in the first place," said girl replied snootily.
"Whatever. We have to move, now," declared George, pulling his head back inside again.
Everyone gathered themselves, huddling around the door, hand-in-hand so they wouldn't lose each other during the dash.
"Alright, on my mark, ready? One, two—"
"Hang on!" Hannah interjected. "Neville's still out there! I'm not leaving without him!"
"Hannah, we—" Susan began carefully.
"No! I'm not going! I'll go find him on my own, you just make sure you... I mean..."
"Hannah, no," said Susan gently. "I'm sure he's safe. Listen, there's no point for us to—"
"No, now you listen to me! Neville's out there! Alone! And you know Neville! You know how he— I gotta... I need to... I have to go. I'll... I'll meet you... back in the castle. Right by the—"
"You'll do no such thing," Susan sighed. "Because I'm going with you."
"What?" exclaimed Ron. "Are you insane? We can't just—"
"You head back with them," Susan interrupted.
"I won't just leave you to—"
"Tracey needs you," Susan added, cutting off all protests. "Go. We'll manage. If you find an Auror, tell them we've headed south towards the Magic Neep."
In all honesty, Susan felt anything but confident about her decision. But there was no way she'd leave Hannah to do this on her own. And since she couldn't talk her out of it, the only way was to go with her. She couldn't drag anyone else into what might as well turn out to be a suicide mission. But they were Badgers. And Badgers stuck together.
"Are you sure about this?" asked George one final time.
She met his eyes and they exchanged another look in which she lied through her teeth using everything but her words, reassuring him that she knew what she was doing.
"Don't wait for us. We'll make it back through the forest," replied Susan with a determined expression that she definitely wasn't feeling.
George hesitated for a few more seconds, before he closed his eyes and sighed. "Very well. But take these," he said, reaching into his bag and producing a set of the small metallic monkeys just like the one she'd seen before. "You twist the key right here, then toss it as hard as you can. Oh, and you might wanna cover your ears."
And with one final nod, George gathered himself, and once more called out, "Ready? On my mark. One, two, three!"
He tossed something small and entirely black into the air, and a second later, it exploded with a silent whisper, wrapping everything in perfect darkness. She heard shouts, stumbling, splintering, as well as the unrelenting crackling of blazing flames from outside, accompanied by some more explosions in the distance. A hand found hers in the darkness.
"S-Susan?"
"I'm here," Susan replied, squeezing Hannah's hand reassuringly. "Come on!"
Susan gently pulled Hannah's hand and started to lead her out of the door and along the wall of the building, until she encountered a set of crates and ducked behind them, dragging Hannah with her.
They held still for some time, before the dust finally started to clear. Across the square they spotted several figures huddled against the outside wall of Honeydukes, and a few seconds later, even the last of them managed to slip inside, and after a second, George's—or was it Fred's—head stuck out of the door again, glanced across the space, and then waved for them to get a move on. Susan stuck her head out from behind the crates once more, confirming that the coast was indeed clear, and they stumbled out and quickly turned towards the other direction, away from safety, and down the windy road towards the south. But also, luckily, away from the flames. Most of the parts that had been set on fire were off in the other direction, so she hoped that this would indicate there being less Death Eaters in that direction in general.
The first few houses they made it without too many issues, until suddenly a large explosion shook the end of the very street they were walking down, and Susan dragged Hannah into the first door she spotted, which was thankfully unlocked, and slammed it shut behind her. They stumbled into a strange empty room that was painted entirely in green, had green furnishings, green pillows, green blankets... what? Also, there wasn't a single person here.
"Did they spot us?" whispered Hannah, to which Susan could only hold her breath in reply.
She edged closer to the door again, made to reach for the handle, just before the door came open by itself barely inches before she managed to touch it and almost smacked into her face.
"Ohoho! Lookey who I found..."
~V~
"What do you mean you're not going?! Of course you're—"
"We're not going," reiterated Fred, causing Ron to growl.
"I'm not going to just leave you here! What if you get hurt? Also, you'd leave us alone with—"
"Yes, you will. Because Tracey needs you. But there's still people in Madam Puddifoot's," George began.
"Plenty of damsels to rescue..."
"Witches to impress..."
"And—"
"Could you two be any more moronic?" the blonde Slytherin brat snapped. "We're going. If you want to stay behind, fine. Your funeral."
Ron threw another worried glance at his brothers, but their determined expression broke no room for argument.
Merlin bloody damn it. He guessed he'd be carrying Tracey all the way back alone then, with only the two snobby snakes for company. His gaze wandered over to Malfoy, and back to the other blonde nuisance. That was bound to go well.
With a sigh, he pulled open the trapdoor, and along with Fred and George, levitated Tracey down the hatch, before with one last glance, making his way down after the Slytherins.
~V~
Iris was pacing. She hated this. Hated being stuck, being unable to do anything.
Just be ready? She couldn't be any more ready if she tried, damnit! Also, no, she really wasn't ready. No matter what some part of her mind kept silently hoping for, she wouldn't be. Because the plan was obviously to draw a group of flipping Death Eaters away from the others and right towards her, so she could try and pull some impossible stunt and deal with them, and the others might be able to get away.
Where the hell were all the Aurors? Or the teachers?
Had Theo found someone? What had happened to Daphne? She hadn't been able to get a call to connect ever since. The busy signal had remained. If this worked anything like a regular phone, that meant that the girl was otherwise occupied. Like... with another call? Or what?
If she could just get a connection through... open a call to— hang on. Hang on!
Of all her ideas, this one was probably the most likely to get Daphne to finally blow up in her face. But then again, it wasn't like she was really able to complain right now.
Throwing a glance every which way, she still couldn't see much other than the distant fire. Alright, it was now or never. If this worked anything like the book had described, then leaving her own mind would mean leaving her body, too. So she needed to find a safe spot.
~V~
"L-Lily? Is that you?" Hannah exclaimed and dropped her wand, but Susan just narrowed her eyes. Something was off.
"Heh… Heheheh… Ehem! Oh, no," the black-haired girl said with a theatrical sneer, twirling her wand between her fingers. "What I am... what I've become... is far better than that."
She flashed them a grin that was equal parts glee and malice. "I am your brightest dream and your worst nightmare. I am everything you fear when you close your eyes at night. The glorious force that will crush those who stand in my path—yet graciously save your sorry bacon while I'm at it," she added with a cheeky wink, before squaring herself once again in the center of the room and assuming a... pose, of sorts.
"You'd do well to remember my name, for it shall be carved into history itself. I am none other than the magnificent... the one and only... Ariel!" the girl declared with a fanfare that would have made Lockhart blush, before adding with a nod, "you may applaud."
Susan just stared, dumbfounded.
"What? Like... like the mermaid?" Hannah said, as if any of this had made any sense.
"Huh, I guess," the Slytherin girl replied with a grin. "Not really the point, though."
Susan had no idea what to make of her. Lily Moon had always been shy, much more antisocial than even herself. Hannah had apparently talked to her at least at some point, but even from the little she'd seen over the years, whoever this was right now, if they didn't look exactly alike, she'd have sworn this girl was an entirely different person. She'd even done her hair differently. Gone was the plain straight bob of short black hair, now replaced by a wild mess that looked as if Harry had gone five months without... Ugh. No. Fuck.
"Oh, so we doing like code names?" Hannah said with a small smile.
"Sure, if that's your thing," the girl replied with a shrug and stepped inside, the door swinging shut behind her.
Trust Hannah to simply go along with any sort of situation she was in.
"What are you doing here?" Susan asked, her wand still trailed on the girl.
Said girl, however, completely ignored her question, and instead replied, "Ohoho! Other than saving helpless girls in need obviously? Of course that's not all, for I'm here on a solemn quest! You girls wouldn't happen to have seen Astoria Greengrass around here by chance?"
"...Who?" Hannah replied in confusion.
Susan narrowed her eyes. Greengrass? As in black hair, blue eyes, frigid, top of the class Greengrass? "Can't say we have."
"Bugger," the girl who was for some reason calling herself Ariel pouted, her vigor evaporating for a moment.
Suddenly, a faint tingle ran over her skin, making her feel strangely exposed. From the expression on the Slytherin girl's face, she had felt it too. "Bertie Botts! We've been made!"
Lily whirled around towards the door, just as Susan put two and two together. Homenum Revelio. Merlin damn it.
"What—"
"Ssh!" both Susan and Lily cut Hannah off before she could get even the first word out, and turned their attention back towards the door.
"Get to cover," Susan whispered, and Hannah nodded and scrambled to find a spot out of sight. Susan dove behind the green sofa, Hannah hid behind the large green-trimmed cupboard, and Lily... what?
"What are you doing?!" Susan hissed at the girl who was still standing in the center of the room.
Lily turned and gave her a cheeky grin. "Watch, and learn, little Hufflepuffs."
"Ssh!" now both Susan and Hannah replied, trying to gesture her to cover.
But instead, they had to watch as the girl drew her wand, then swiped it over her head once, twice, both times resulting in sparks but nothing much else. Finally, with the third attempt, her wand glinted like a knife—seemingly carving through the air—draping the resulting shimmer all the way over her body, until nothing but a faint distortion of the light in the center of the room was left behind.
Merlin! She'd seen her hold her own against Greengrass in the dueling club, but a Disillusionment Charm? Barely a second later, the door burst open in a yellow flash, and she heard Hannah muffle a scream across the room. The door clattered to the ground, only missing the shimmer of air by an inch.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," a female voice purred from the door. "No use hiding, I know you're here..."
A wand emerged in the doorway, small red arcs of lightning crackling along the wood, as the Death Eater scanned the room. Susan squeezed herself to the ground as much as she could, only peering the barest inch past the sofa, her head almost on the floor. The shimmer moved mid-air, and Susan realized that Lily was about to cast a spell.
"Got you!" the woman called out and her wand snapped forward. A bright red bolt raced from the tip, flinging sparks as it went, and there was a yelp as the disillusioned girl dove out of the path of the spell, almost crashing into the sofa next to her. Susan raised her wand, about to cast Expelliarmus, but the masked witch was faster. A second spell, this time blue, raced right at the sofa. It might have hit Susan, if not for the shimmer in the air between them, and Susan had a distinct premonition that the girl wouldn't be able to dodge this time.
The disillusionment broke, and the girl's wand came down just before the spell hit her, materializing a small circular blue shield just before the spell, and reflecting it right back at the Death Eater. The spell rebounded without splitting, and struck the woman straight in the chest, tossing her backwards, until she hit the wall next to the door with a crunch, and sagged to the ground.
"Merlin!" Hannah gasped, emerging from her hiding spot.
"No need to call me that," the girl said nonchalantly. "Morgana would be a much better fit, right?"
Susan exchanged a look with Lily, but while she was obviously trying to look smug, it was betrayed by a haunted expression on her face that would not be so easily hidden.
"We better get out of here," Susan said, receiving unanimous nods in return.
~V~
Alright. This was it. Iris glanced around one more time, making sure that she was well and thoroughly hidden. She'd much preferred to use her cloak for this, but she'd given that to Theo, and he needed it much more than her anyway. And she still hadn't gotten around to learning the Disillusionment Charm, since she hadn't had much of a need for it so far. An oversight she'd definitely have to rectify in the near future. The shadow realm was definitely out, due to not being able to use her Mindlight while in there. Instead, she'd found an alcove under one of the large trees around beneath its roots, and moved some dead twigs to cover the entrance, while still being able to see.
Iris gathered herself and focused on the task at hand. Her other self was standing on the familiar mountain road, right across from the emergency roadside telephone. Once more she'd dialed Daphne's number, once more resulting in a busy signal. But this time, she wouldn't be so easily deterred. Iris gripped the receiver tightly in her left hand, then raised her wand up to it, and pointed it at the microphone. She slowly began to draw up Yellow light. The right way to do this was probably using the Mind aspect, or some sort of mind magic in general, but she had no idea how to do any of that. But this was the one Get Out Of Jail Free Card at her disposal that had yet to fail her in any sort of situation where she either needed to unlock something, or at least open something that was closed to her. And she figured, if she twisted it around in her mind, this could work just as well. So, once she couldn't make it any brighter, she finally jabbed the wand at the receiver, twisted forty-five degrees and spoke "Alohomora."
The deep repetitive busy signal cut out in an instant, and was replaced with static. With trepidation, she raised the receiver up to her ear, and...
Nothing.
Just more static. Just what was she supposed to do now?
Iris paused. She had kind of answered her own question before, hadn't she? She hadn't used any Mind aspect. And Greengrass had told her that inside the mental realm, regular magic could only take you so far. Very well, Mind aspect it was, then. Iris closed her eyes, and slowly brought the deep Indigo into her mind. She spread it all over, brain, eyes, ears, through all of her body. There wasn't really a spell for what she wanted to do, but apparently, she shouldn't need one, either. It was all a question of control.
"Alright, here we go," she whispered to herself, and finally extended the deep blue glow encompassing her whole body outwards, into the still buzzing receiver.
The receiver started to vibrate and shake in her hand, and her surroundings were slowly growing darker and darker, until she was suddenly... elsewhere.
If she'd thought reliving memories while being forced to summon Dark polarized magic was jarring, it was nothing compared to this. In a single instant, all sensation was just... gone. No matter what she'd been doing, where she'd gone, there had at least been some sense of where she was, what was around her, some sense of... self. Something that confirmed that she actually existed in this world. When she'd been talking to Daphne in her mind, when she was asleep, whatever she was doing. Even in the shadow realm she'd always at least had that faint notion, even when everything else was gone, that she still was... here.
But right now, it was like she was watching TV. Except that there was no sofa, no house, no Dudley, no TV. She wasn't breathing, had no arms or legs, and didn't feel anything at all. She just... was. Not here, but there. Somewhere.
But where?
Iris looked around, but the more she looked, the more confused she grew.
There was a telephone. It wasn't her own telephone. It was older, mechanical, with a rotary dial, except that all the dials were pictures of faces, with a strange cylindrical hole at the center with rectangular gaps at the top and bottom. And the receiver was dangling from the cord on a small wooden table, all the way to the ground.
Glancing around, she tried to take in more details of this place she found herself in. There wasn't all that much to see. She was in a small room, surrounded by stone walls on all sides. There was only the small table with the phone, and a large iron door across from her.
"Uh... Daphne?" Iris called out.
The voice echoed somehow, even in the tiny room.
With hesitation, she approached the door and tried the handle, which was of course locked. With a shrug she began to draw up Yellow light and— Oh. Right.
Iris stared down at her empty hand for a while as she pondered this.
According to the book, there were two different ways to enter someone's mind using pure Legilimency. The first one was the superficial one. What Greengrass had been using to talk to her over the phone, she guessed. In a way, you'd send a mental projection that would allow you to see, talk, and also some very limited interactions. But in order to do anything more advanced, especially anything that you hadn't been given permission for, you'd need to fully enter the mind yourself, like Greengrass had done the first time when trying to break the Memory Charm, when she'd installed the bloody phone without Iris even noticing. In a way it was like leaving your own body, but also not. You wouldn't be able to take your Magic with you, nor your Occlumency. Just the pure Mind Magic you'd use to get there in the first place, and, well, your mind.
Well, damn. So how would she go about opening this door with just Mind magic? Could it work... Something like what Daphne had done in the Ministry? She wasn't sure if the door had some sort of rudimentary magical intelligence for her to exploit, but... well, neither had a lot of other things. And her Name still had worked well enough with those anyway. So maybe, she'd have to use her words?
"Open up," Iris said.
The door didn't reply.
"...Please?"
Iris started to feel a bit silly. How would this work, if she couldn't even hold a conversation? Or, well, she guessed, she could, just that the only possible answers were to either open or... not. Hm.
"Could you let me through? It's an emergency!" Iris tried again, but to no effect.
Iris sighed. Well, so much for her grand idea. Foiled by a bloody door. Great.
~V~
Susan dodged another spell and returned two of her own. She'd been stupid. Of course the Death Eaters would definitely be all the way up North. There was just no way there'd be any down here!
She noticed Lily toss a deep red spell right at the one across the street and she quickly amended her pattern to Petrificus Totalus.
The second spell joined in, and as he had before, the Death Eater tried to reflect Lily's spell back at her, but in doing so, left himself open to Susan's spell which was an entirely different color than Lily's. She'd never quite gotten the hang of how the thing with the aspects worked, but in her duels against Iris, just finding something that had as different a color as possible had worked more often than not.
Her spell passed the reflective shield unimpeded, and the hooded man froze in place, and tumbled to the ground.
"Hmmm. I suppose you might be useful after all," Lily declared, her demeanor completely at odds with her disheveled appearance.
"Let's go! There's bound to be more!" Susan called, and waved Hannah out of her hiding spot.
They crossed a few small intersections, until just before the bridge that would lead to the Magic Neep, they stumbled upon a sight that made them freeze.
A ravine of pure chaos was carved through the road, right to left, like a wall of destruction barricading their way. Houses were charred, crumbled and smashed, partially frozen, bent and molten out of shape. Part of the ground was turned to glass, and some of the debris were still shivering and wriggling, no doubt the remains of some Animation Charm on a scale she could only dream about.
"Butterscotch Biscuits..." gasped the enigmatic Slytherin girl next to her.
Susan couldn't help but nod.
"What... what do you think did this?" Hannah whispered next to her.
Susan's gaze ran over the sight of destruction, the brick walls that were carved through like tissue and the ravine in the ground that looked like someone had taken a building-sized shovel to it. "Not sure I want to know."
Hannah was quiet for a moment, before asking the obvious question. "How do we get past?"
Susan glanced across the chaos again, but was cut off by the third girl. "My fellow witches, I believe I have spotted our path."
Three houses down, there was a patch in the ground that, while completely iced over, was still mostly flat, at least all the way over to the other side of the road.
"Worth a try," Susan said with a nod.
~V~
"Come on! You have to open! There is no option except for you to open!" Iris exclaimed indignantly, once again to absolutely no effect.
"Hello?"
Or... maybe not?
Iris froze, half-way through another rant, caught completely off-guard by the sudden voice sounding from the other side of the door.
"Is anyone in here?" the female voice came again. It wasn't Daphne. Whoever this was, would they want to help? Would they attack her? There was no question whether Iris should even be here. If she got caught, if Daphne...
"I heard you before, you know?" the voice exclaimed indignantly, now sounding even closer. "How did you get here?"
Swallowing, Iris gathered herself, and spoke up. "Who are you?"
"I'm Ria! Oh, you're Iris, right? I've heard tons about you!"
"You have, huh?" Iris blinked. "Can you tell Daphne that we need to talk?"
"She's... not here. And I can't," the voice said. "She's being attacked!"
"Attacked? What happened?"
"It... it was him."
"You Know Who?" Iris whispered.
There was a short pause. "No."
"But—"
"We need to help her! Can you open the door from your side?"
"Maybe, what do you think I've been trying to do?"
Just who the hell...
"Are you in Hogsmeade too? Can you go and get help? I can try to get back but I can't get into Hogsmeade by myself—"
"Sorry, I can't," Ria said.
Iris blinked.
"Why not? Can't you just—"
"Hang on, I think I might know how to open it. Or at least, where the key might be."
"Wait, just who..."
Iris trailed off at the sound of rapidly fading footsteps as the mystery girl took off in a run without so much as a word. She held her breath for some more time, but she didn't return. With a groan, she once again collapsed against the door.
God! How had Daphne done this? Was she even doing the right thing? Was it even possible? Did she need to do something with her magic after all? But how? It wouldn't...
Would it?
The ground shook, and there was a sound of crumbling stone from outside the door. Iris scrambled to shaky feet, trying to find her balance. The longer she spent here, the more it felt like she actually was here. At some point, she'd gained arms and legs without noticing, and now even gravity and inertia were a thing. What the hell was happening? Should she just try to get back? Try to find a way to help Daphne? Or just wait for Ria to return with the key, if she ever would?
A key that... wait. There wasn't even any visible lock on the door. So was it more of a conceptual lock, then? Then there should be a way to use magic to get past it, right?
There was one thing she hadn't tried yet. And in hindsight, it was so obvious that it should have been the first thing she had tried. Iris focused, and tried to call that familiar deep blue glow of the Mind aspect into her hand.
At first, nothing happened. But after some seconds of stubbornly refusing to give up, a small, tiny orb of deep Indigo suddenly shimmered into being right in front of her hand. There.
So what now? Iris hesitantly placed a hand on the door, and began to spread the light all the way through. Aand, nothing.
"Open up," Iris tried. The door remained unimpressed.
Iris sighed. Something. There had to be something. If she made a room like this, how would she make it? She couldn't just lock it entirely, otherwise she herself wouldn't be able to get in, right?
Would she just restrict it to herself? Or maybe, to herself and those she'd given permission?
Well, it was worth a try.
"Hey!" she called out, feeling momentarily silly for yelling at a bloody door. "Daphne told me to come here, and that I should go to the other side, I have permission to pass from her. She said that I need to go through, right now, or there could be—"
Her words were cut off by a sudden lurch, and she barely caught herself as the door swung away from her hands with a groan, leaving her trailing off into silence awkwardly. That... that had been it? That had been way too easy!
Maybe she hadn't expected anyone to attack from the inside? Or maybe—
Her thoughts ground to a halt as the door didn't even make it to part-way open, but instead came off its hinges entirely and plummeted downwards. Iris gazed through the doorway crumbling at the edges and took in the sight that had opened up before her. Because the door didn't lead into another room, or even a hallway.
She was standing at the edge of a large chasm, filled with a raging blue fire at the very bottom, that extended from one end of the horizon to the other. A stormy gray occluded the sky, the landscape was a frozen mix of snow, ice, rocks and twisted dark trees, winding up through the fog underneath the bleak sky. Before her, right across the chasm, was a large and withered stone bridge, or rather, what was left of it. A large chunk was missing in the center, and more was crumbling off the edges as she looked on, along with a small gap that had opened up right beneath the doorframe, which had swallowed up the entire door within its dephts.
"Ria?" Iris called out across the bridge, looking for any sign of the girl who had seemingly just crossed it a minute ago.
The far end of the bridge was attached to large double doors—standing partially ajar—and they led into a... Iris looked up, then further up.
Well, it wasn't quite a block of ice. And definitely no chess board.
Before her rose a gigantic black tower made out of something that could either be stone, or metal, she couldn't tell. It stood alone in the desolate landscape, an impenetrable fortress of solitude that wound and twisted up into the sky infinitely in strange shapes, piercing the clouds at the top, and...
No, it didn't just wind, it was... moving, wriggling, it was... Ew. What?!
What were those... those things... what the hell was she even looking at? Large dark purple... tentacles, of sorts... Tendrils made out of nothing but purple darkness, not even appearing entirely solid, winding up the tower, slowly climbing higher, squeezing tighter, the dark material of the building crumbling and cracking around them—
No. This wasn't part of her mind. This was... Well, she couldn't really blame Daphne for not picking up the phone after all. Iris had never seen anything like this, but her best guess was that it was a mental attack of sorts; one of devastating scale. What the hell could she do against something like that? Could she help? Should she even? Would she just make it worse?
She was just one tiny girl, and across from her was one gigantic skyscraper, a building as tall as a mountain being swallowed up by living Destruction and Mind, on a scale she had never even imagined possible. She couldn't see any actual monster, just the seeming destruction that it wrought on this place. Also, where had the other girl gone?
A heavy crack pierced the air, and the ground shook for a moment. Iris gasped and glanced up as she noticed one of the smaller towers crumbling and shattering apart, one of the massive tendrils crushing it into nothingness.
"Daphne?" Iris called out across the twisted landscape, but received no reply.
Notes:
PSA: Should you find yourself wanting to discuss the storys events or possible theories, there is a dedicated Discord server which you can find on my profile. Also, I am currently holding the first of several polls on the server concerning feedback on certain elements of the story, the outcome of which may influence possible future chapters and/or stories. Feel free to stop by and drop a vote!
Chapter 28: Unity
Chapter Text
"Almost there, we gotta—"
"Watch out!" Susan yelled and dragged Lily back from the corner, just as a bright purple spell whizzed past her head by mere inches.
"Sh- sugar quills! I-I saw that," Lily exclaimed wide-eyed.
"H-how many?" Hannah asked in a terrified whisper.
"At least two," Susan said.
"And coming closer," Lily confirmed, and readied her wand. "But fear not, for I, Ariel, will make sure you—"
Another spell impacted right over her head from another direction, and Susan gasped as she noticed one more Death Eater approaching from the side as well. They were almost there, almost at the bridge to get to the other side, but now there were three of them who, while not in their way, would have a free shot on them once they tried to cross. Merlin damn it!
"Uh, okay, I... Not to worry, I got this I... I just need to..." Lily stammered, her eyes darting from the new Death eater across from them, to the two still approaching from the road to their right.
She began the motions of a spell Susan didn't recognize, and her eyes widened when she realized that she didn't stop. Whatever this was, it was complex. And powerful. She just kept swishing, and swiping muttering an incantation desperately, until—
Another spell impacted the crate right in front of them and Lily let out a scream as the spell came apart in her hands and knocked her back to the ground.
"Cockroach Clusters! Okay, I... I think we might have a—"
The building next to them gave a groan, and the wall started moving, tilting, towards them. With a yell they tossed themselves to the side, away from the collapsing building, and almost down the abyss of destruction next to them, barely clinging onto the edge.
"Okay, I could really use a hand over here," Lily called out desperately.
Susan shot her an almost annoyed look, but the girl wasn't even looking at her. "Any second now," she demanded with a wavering voice.
~V~
Iris just stood there, drinking it all in, unable to look away. With every second, the purple squeezed tighter, the tower crumbled further, and rocks, debris and small floating specks of light burst from within, and rained down like ashes, all across the landscape.
Upon further inspection, the small glowing lights were less specks and more pieces, small, floating torn pages and pictures. Uncountable tiny fragments were blown around her in a non-existent gust of wind, and she snatched one of them out of the air at random. She could barely make out anything against the glow, but she could hear faint, familiar voices.
"You're not making any sense, Daph."
"Remember Elaina's trip to the hidden library? It's sort of like that."
"You mean... I have a whole library somewhere in my head? And it has dark pixie minions? And two moons?"
"...Sure," Daphne's voice replied flatly.
"Alright, what are we sitting around here for, then? Show me these magical new territories to rule!"
The fragment of the picture lost cohesion and slipped through her fingers like a thick liquid, only to be swept up by the winds once more.
"Daph? What the hell!"
Iris jumped out of her thoughts at the sudden faint voice from somewhere behind her. She whirled, but there was nobody there. The only thing behind her was the small wooden table, the old rotary telephone, and the still dangling... receiver.
"Daphne! Please! Listen, I'm sorry for what I said, but I could really really use a hand right about now!"
Iris took a step closer, then another, and another, until she picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Oh thank Morgana, Daphne!" replied the voice, which sounded somehow familiar all of a sudden, but it was hard to say over all the noise in the background.
She checked the dials of the phone, and noticed that the dial with the small picture of Lily Moon was glowing in a soft blue.
"L-Moon?" Iris exclaimed, just barely cutting herself off from using the Name on her again.
"How many times do I have to keep telling you not to call me that? I'm not some silly school girl!"
Iris stared at the receiver for a second, letting the rant die down, while an idea started forming in her mind. "Where are you right now?"
"I'm just— wait. You're not Daphne. Who the hell are you? And how did you get this number?"
"That doesn't matter," Iris said quickly. "You need help? Where are you?"
"Where the blood pop hell do you think? Hogsmeade, about to be eaten alive if you don't get Daphne on the line!"
"She's..." Iris glanced up at the crumbling tower warily, "indisposed."
"What in Morgana's name is that supposed to mean?"
"No idea alright? If you need help, I can help. I just need to know how. I know Daphne can take the wheel somehow, does that work over the phone?"
"Wait. Potter?! How are you— You have no idea what you're talking about! If you think I'll just— Gah!"
"Are you alright?" Iris exclaimed, as the line went quiet for a moment.
A few more seconds passed, before the voice returned. "Fizzing Whizzbees! Listen, whatever is going on, there's at least three Death Eaters here with me, Susan, and Hannah. Do you really think you could help with that if you were here?"
Susan was there? Shit.
"Yes. Easily," Iris replied with all the confidence she wasn't feeling. But she wasn't just going to leave Susan's fate up to chance.
"Alright. You know what? Screw it! Don't make me regret this."
"Right. Hold on, I'll be right there," Iris said, holding the receiver uncertainly.
Okay, so that was now happening. But what was she supposed to do? She guessed maybe she should just do what she'd done the first time around? Iris focused and brought some blue light to her hand. The tiny orb slowly grew and grew, but it was going painfully slowly. When it finally encompassed her entire hand, she let out a breath. It would have to do. She pushed and extended it all the way into the receiver, until the entire thing was encased in a faint deep blue glow. Closing her eyes for a second, Iris took a breath, and raised it to her ear.
"Ah! Lemon drops! What's taking so long?" the girl's voice shouted into her ear. "Are you going to help or not?"
Well, she would, if she had any idea how. She'd just done what she had before, but at the point where before she'd felt the slipping sensation when she pushed beyond the receiver, this time, it just felt like leaning against a solid wall. Much like when she'd tried before using the Control aspect.
"I'm trying, but I can't get through! How is this even supposed to work?"
"No idea, alright? Ria tried it once, but she said that she'd need some kind of key to get through..."
A key? Iris glanced down at the rotary dial, and the hole at the center of it that now appeared distinctly key-hole shaped. Like... maybe that was why her Alohomora charm had worked? Would that work now? Probably not, if she couldn't even summon the aspects. But then—
"Iris?! Are you still there?"
Iris whirled at the distant voice from behind her, then dashed back out the door, and leapt across the gap onto the first half of the bridge.
There, on the other side of the chasm, at the very end of the crumbled stone bridge, stood a short girl, wearing a dark and purple dress, and a strange black crown or something with some red gems embedded within. She had long black hair, blue eyes, and had a cheerful smile on her young face. "Iris! I found it!"
The girl was clutching something golden in her fist, waving it around excitedly above her head.
"Oh, but I guess you got out already," the girl said, her excitement wavering a bit. "But that's great! Can you get over here? We need to help Daph!"
Over there? Iris glanced warily across the broken bridge. By now, her body and surroundings had gained enough detail and permanence that just looking at the bridge—at the gigantic gap in the middle—made her instantly realize that it wouldn't be happening. The gap was at least twenty meters wide. And apart from Mind, she was still cut off from all the other aspects.
"Not a chance," Iris said. "But I think I can help her if I can find her by using the link. Except... Wait! That key! Does it work on the phone?"
"Only one way to find out!" the girl yelled, then strained.
"Hang on, what are you—"
In the next second, the key was sent flying, in a wide arc. An arc that was way off course. Iris' eyes went wide and she lunged, over towards the railing, then climbed atop it, and stretched her fingers. The small golden object tumbled closer and closer, and—
Iris felt her fingers close around the corner of the golden key, and she lost her grip on the railing.
"Iris!"
With a yell, she whirled, and caught her off hand on one of the jagged rocks in the side of the chasm, sending a jolt of pain through her hand as she slipped right off. Her fall was arrested by a hand closing around her wrist. Iris felt like she was breathing erratically, as much as she was able to in her current state. Her hand definitely hurt like hell, but also, she was very sure that there was no way she'd actually be injured. This was weird as hell. With a groan, she pulled herself back towards the railing with the help of her mysterious savior, and inch by inch, climbed back to the top, and tumbled back onto the ground.
"Are you alright?" Ria asked, still holding her hand, the black tiara now sitting lopsided on her head.
"Yeah, I think...?"
"Phew. Sorry about that..."
"Wait... How did you get over here?" Iris asked, finally gathering her thoughts.
"No idea!" the girl chirped. "Anyway, go! We have to help Daph! I'll manage!"
With one final nod back at the mystery girl, she dashed back into the room, then looked down at the dial, and back at the golden key in her hand. Iris wasn't sure she was ready, nor that she ever would be, really. But she also couldn't afford to waste time. Calming her breath, she slowly brought the Indigo back into her hand, and spread it into the receiver once more, then raised it up to her head.
"Well, here goes nothing..."
Iris slowly inserted the key into the center of the rotary dial, and twisted.
"Bloody hell! What are you doing?! Get down!"
Iris felt herself being dragged to the ground forcefully, before some red hair was splayed over her face and something was squished against her chest. A deafening explosion rocked her surroundings and jolted Iris back into reality. What? Where the hell... Susan?
You're here? Good. Now get the hell up! They've almost got us surrounded! a voice echoed from somewhere within her mind.
Iris gathered herself and took stock of the situation. She was huddled behind the remains of a collapsed building, right at the edge of a large chasm in the ground, with Susan and Hannah next to her, and there was... there was a wand in her hand... and it felt...
Her eyes were entrapped by the black wooden stick in her hand, and she subconsciously rolled it around as she just stared at the colors twisting and mingling around it, both a perfect symmetrical blend of all the colors at once, and a completely uniform color at the same time. White. It was fucking white. White Light. In the palm of her hand.
Except it wasn't her own.
And yet, it responded to her every touch. Even the faintest nudge, trying to shape and mold it, will it into doing what she needed. It was... breathtaking. Heart wrenching.
Hey, airhead. Wake up! I don't know if you noticed, but there are bloody Death Eaters surrounding us!
Right. Of course.
Iris pulled herself up to her feet and flexed her new magic just to see what she could do with it. There was a target right in front of her, so of course, the first idea would be to try a spell. And her first impulse to do that was to attempt to draw the colors. But that had her immediately stumped. Not that it didn't work, but it was very different. Even pulling with all her strength, the light would barely assume the shape she needed, and it was faint, so very faint... but it would have to do.
Iris flicked her wand through the familiar pattern while casting Expelliarmus. But what happened next had her almost lose her focus again. The prepared colors were drawn into the spell, but so was the almost barely visible glow of pure white surrounding her wand, her arm, basically her entire body. It was pulled together, woven into a spell that felt both powerful, but also a lot less pure than usual.
The spell shot from the tip of her wand, and the dark hooded figure with a strange mask deflected it with a lazy wave of his wand, which produced a simple Protego.
Okay. So magic was both a lot easier and a lot harder. She could just cast spells without the aspects, but trying to actually use the aspects to empower her spells was a lot harder, it seemed. But could she—
Iris knew she really shouldn't. But now that it was suddenly within her grasp, she just couldn't help herself. All those times uselessly practicing in class with her wand and without any colors came to mind, and she picked out the one spell she'd always wanted to try, the inanimate to animate transfiguration spell.
She raised her wand with determination, and pictured a wolf. Every single hair, all the little details of his ears, rows of teeth, and the round black curves of the snout and...
And she could feel it. It was right there. Transfiguration, finally, after all these years. Nobody could stop her now.
She flicked the wand through the pattern as if she'd done it her whole life, swung it down right at the wooden barrel next to the Death Eater across from her, yelled the incantation, and she felt it catch.
And the barrel turned a little gray, and grew a fluffy tail.
Uhm...
Are you fizzing stupid? Do something! He's about to—
A bright red spell raced directly at her and she could spot the distinct Destruction aspect from a mile away, but there was also some Illusion in there, it seemed. Focusing hard, she brought the faintest glow of Red and Violet to the tip of her wand, almost losing her cool when it started to waver, but she managed to perform the circular motion and finally cast Reiecto.
A flickering small shield emerged, so small, far too small. It wouldn't—
Iris desperately yanked her arm up, and dragged the tiny shield across to intercept the spell mid-air. It reflected back at the Death Eater, who desperately tried to shield his own spell, but the backlash knocked him to the side.
Fuck! This was different. Too different. She had to think of something, because the next mistake could cost her her life. Or rather... their lives? Iris had no idea what would happen if Lily were to die while she was still... here.
But she wouldn't let it come to that. Iris' gaze met Susan's and they shared a nod. As the Death eater across from her scrambled back to his feet, Iris produced another Expelliarmus while Susan cast Petrificus Totalus. He kept shielding, but with wave after wave his shield faltered. At last, it shattered, causing the oncoming spell from Susan to connect and finally knock him out cold.
But there was no time to celebrate, because the two Death Eaters to their right had finally advanced towards the intersection and now began casting spells at them as well.
Iris managed to shield some, she even managed a Protego, although she didn't quite trust it with her own experience of the more powerful spells being able to break through, so she tried to stick with Reiecto since she already had enough practice with that, except that she had to almost directly intercept each spell due to the shield being so weak.
But they weren't gaining ground, in fact, twice already a spell had grazed her robes, and Susan had taken a stray curse that had luckily not done much other than cause her to groan. Yet. Hannah tried to interject some spells too, but due to her lack of experience, that didn't really change the balance of this fight.
If only she could... could she? Had her Name come along with her? It was part of her, wasn't it? But then again...
No, bad idea. Really bad idea. Lily was not supposed to leave the castle grounds. She was already more than toeing the line, but if she actually embraced the Name out here, that would definitely break the Geas. Also, even worse, actually using the Name, embracing the Name, while she was within Moon's body and mind... if there was still anything left of the girl, using her Name here might wipe out whatever remained for good.
If Daphne was right, and the rules of Names applied to this as well... Magical Names were supposed to be unique. So her evoking the Name in Lily's presence gave a very tangible and horrifying justification for the girl's very literal existential dread. Especially if there was already someone else, ready and waiting for anything to weaken Lily's claim to existence, in order to wipe her out and replace her for good.
That's right. Too bad you're already too late to do anything about it.
Iris froze. What the hell was it with all these people reading her mind lately? Also, how?
You're literally in my head, genius.
Fair enough.
But yes. I'm afraid you're stuck with me now. Look on the bright side. The world's much better off with someone as awesome as me around.
That didn't change anything about the fact that it wasn't her body in the first place.
And neither is it yours, so how about you don't get your panties in a twist and instead enjoy your new and improved year mate and future ruler?
Sure.
Iris couldn't deal with this right now, there were more pressing concerns like the fucking explosion curses whizzing over her head.
"Use the thing already!" shouted Hannah from next to her.
"But we only have the two," Susan said, glancing down at her bag.
"And they'll be incredibly useful when we're bloody dead," Hannah replied in a frantic whisper.
Iris watched as Susan reached into her bag and pulled out a mechanical... something... was that a monkey?
"Need a distraction Lily," Susan whispered her way, and Iris nodded.
Distraction, that she could manage. Iris gripped her wand a little tighter, flicked her wand through the raw elemental pattern once, then twice. Somehow, she couldn't see much light gather there, but it looked like it caught onto the light coming from her wand, from her arm, from her whole body. But it wasn't enough. It was still way too weak. Iris kept tugging, drawing more and more of the white light towards the center of the pattern. She started to feel the pull, a feeling like she was being stretched thin spreading through her body as she kept pulling and pulling. She needed just a bit more, until she finally jabbed her wand and shouted, "Incendio!"
A large plume of flame exploded from the tip of her wand, engulfing the street, and spreading rapidly towards the two Death Eaters. At the same time, a burning sensation of fire tore through her body for a second, and a heavy wave of dizziness washed over her, causing Iris to collapse down to the ground with a groan.
Susan didn't waste a single second and twisted something on the metallic monkey, and tossed it across the distance towards the two figures who had seemingly managed to shield themselves from the blast. Barely a few seconds later, an ear-shattering crash echoed across the street, and the two Death Eaters collapsed to the ground, clutching their bleeding ears.
"Lily! Are you mad?" Hannah's voice pierced through the dull droning in her head. "What the hell were you thinking, overloading a spell like that? Forget magical exhaustion; you could have died! Are... are you okay?"
Iris groaned in reply. Holy crap. What the hell? Also, exhaustion? That... that felt... But... It hadn't even been all that much... had it?
Yes! Yes it was, you Morgana-damned jelly slug! yelled the girl's voice somewhere in her mind, before muttering, And Daph tells me I don't have common sense...
Iris strained, trying to get her limbs to obey, and slowly managed to roll herself into a sitting position. "Fuck..."
"...So you can actually curse? I thought someone had just jinxed you," Hannah said curiously.
"Are they..."
"They're down, and coast is clear. Can you walk?" Susan asked.
"I... yeah, I think—" Iris tried to stumble to her feet, only to almost collapse, but she was luckily caught by Hannah.
"Yeah... I... let's keep going," Iris mumbled, resulting in twin nods. "Don't mind me. At least we got the Death Eaters."
"They're not... I don't think, at least. Their masks are different. And... to be honest... if they were the real deal, we'd be dead."
Huh... so were they like... just some low-level thugs or something? Whatever, she'd take it. In her current state she definitely wouldn't complain about her enemies being too weak.
Forging onward, they finally reached the single patch of frozen ground that bridged the chasm before them to the other side of the street. Susan approached, tested the ground, and nodded back at them. They made their way across, inch by inch, unsure if the ground would hold, but out of options either way. Apparently, the two girls were trying to get to the other side anyway, and Iris couldn't agree more. If they managed to make it all the way to her actual body, Iris would have a much easier time defending them. Because this... Iris wasn't sure. Actual white magic was awesome. It was so easy, not to mention she had actually done fucking Transfiguration! Well, sort of.
But also, just one spell, a spell that had barely even reached a fraction of the power required for Tempest, had apparently almost killed her. She'd always assumed that she was just more talented, that her light magic maybe gave her an edge in terms of focus and stuff, but this was the first time she'd felt the difference for herself in terms of raw power. And it was pretty damn staggering. Was that down to the Name as well? Was that why the Dark Lord had done it? A path to power that didn't require rigorous training and practice; eh, Myrtle? Had the girl known even back then?
Yes, you're a freak of nature, and probably the next dark Lady if I wasn't around. Now keep your eyes on the task, because something's—
The voice in her head trailed off, alongside with her own. Straight across from them, where the bridge of ice ended, there was... something. All the crystals of ice, all the debris and destruction, they all seemed to gather around a single point, converging onto one spot right at the end of the bridge, where all the ice wrapped in a kaleidoscopic shape around something... something that was trapped inside.
Iris held her breath, and stepped closer. There, encased in ice and molten bricks, frozen in what looked like an explosion or an implosion of elements, was a figure, a humanoid figure, trapped within.
And the eyes...
Iris met the familiar blue, flickering in shades of Indigo, except there was also something else creeping in from the edges, the colors mingling, making it look like there were tiny purple tendrils creeping in from the whites surrounding the Irises and trying to pierce through to the center.
Holy c—
—Cauldron Cakes!
...Yeah, that.
"I... Is that... Greengrass?" whispered Susan next to her.
Shit. Yeah, there was no mistaking those eyes. She couldn't make out much else buried behind all the ice and destruction, but apart from some features of her face, and a few glimpses of her jet-black hair, the only thing she could make out were those eyes. That, and the fact that she wasn't moving an inch. It seemed her entire body was frozen in time. Or at least, in place. Iris had no idea if the girl was even breathing. That was what had happened to her?
"What should we do?" Hannah whispered next to her. "Should we—"
"We can't," Susan interjected. "Whatever this is, it's advanced stuff. Dark stuff. Whatever we do could just as well make it worse."
"But we can't just leave her!" Hannah said vehemently.
"We have to," Susan reiterated. "We'll tell the Aurors if we find one. But unless you want to kill her we can't—"
"She's right," Iris interjected before Hannah had the chance. "It's complicated, but whatever this is, it's nothing we can fix from here. We just gotta move on and get help when we can."
Because whatever was going on was happening inside her mind. And if she was still somehow fighting back, then attempting to move her might just as well make things ten times worse.
Sherbert lemon... I know, and I agree, but also, we can't just do nothing!
Well, but Iris had no idea what or who could have done this, or where to even start.
I think it was him. The one that—
A hand settled onto Iris' shoulder making her jump.
"Iris?"
She whirled around and came face-to-face with... Neville?
"Oh, sorry... I thought you were..." Neville exclaimed, and trailed off.
"Neville! You're alright!" Hannah exclaimed and flung herself at the boy standing in front of Iris, who had somehow managed to sneak up on her apparently coming back from the Magic Neep. "You aren't hurt? Great! Come on, we need to get—"
"We have to help them!" Neville exclaimed.
"Help... whom?" Iris echoed.
"The people in the Magic Neep!" he stammered and pointed a shaky hand towards the building at the end of the road, which was now engulfed by colorful flames.
~V~
"Ron... let go, I... I can—"
"No," Ron wasn't having any of it, took another breath, and forced his legs to cooperate. "We keep going."
"Come on, Weasley," Malfoy sneered. "We ought to leave you behind if you keep dragging us down."
"If you want to go ahead into that all by yourselves," Ron said while jabbing his head at the dark cave ahead, "go right ahead."
"As if you'd be of any help if anything were to happen," Greengrass snorted. "My little pinky finger holds more magic than your entire family combined."
"Then why don't you use your oh-so-powerful pinky and shove it up your arse?"
"I really can't fathom why you keep insisting to drag that loser along. You're a pureblood. Even if... oh. Yeah. I guess it makes sense," the girl giggled, then turned to walk ahead down the dark stone passage. "Vermin always sticks together, after all."
"You know, maybe I should just leave you here," Ron growled.
"And go where?" Malfoy said. "There's only one way out."
"Who said anything about out?"
"Now there's an idea," said Greengrass. "Two for the price of one, what do you say, Draco?"
Malfoy glanced over at her with a strange look. "Let's just keep moving."
~V~
The flames were burning in strange colors. Whatever the fire was burning was definitely magical in nature. But then again, this used to be the Magic Neep. You'd probably be hard pressed to find any plants or seeds on its shelves that weren't somehow magical in nature.
"Come on! They're in the back! I said I'd get help, but I..." Neville called out, and broke off to breathe as he kept running
Iris approached the front door of the Neep, and Susan and Neville followed suit. "The people who did this, are they still in there?" Iris asked.
"Dunno... maybe? I... I didn't..." Neville replied, but that was all she needed to hear.
"Wands out."
"Wait!" Hannah said. "If they're really still here, shouldn't we... I mean are you sure we..."
"Hannah, look at me," Neville grabbed her arms and peered into her eyes. "...Do you trust me?"
Hannah blushed, then faintly nodded.
"Alright. Then just follow my lead. I've got you."
With a few more exchanged looks, everyone gave a nod and they approached the entrance. Iris pushed open the door into a large room that was engulfed in flames on all sides. Whenever they would spread to a new cupboard, the flames would change hue, the smoke would change consistency, but it all kept burning just the same. The right side of the room was covered in fire to the point where she couldn't see the back of the room, but right in front of them on the left, there was a large brass door at the opposite wall.
"There!" Neville pointed out said door.
"Think they are still..." Susan asked the question on everyone's mind.
"Let's check," Iris said, and waved everyone closer to approach the door. She readied her wand and pointed it at the door, and Susan followed suit. Outside she'd seen several footsteps in the mud. Not just Neville, so they might—
There was a shout, a bright flash, and Iris' wand was sent clattering to the ground.
"Now look what we have here..." a distorted voice purred from somewhere behind her, and Iris froze as she realized her mistake. She had just dismissed the flames as a source of danger. But with just a simple first year charm, things could look very different.
She turned and noticed two silhouettes in the flames. Silhouettes in masks. And this time, she didn't have a wand. And a look to the side revealed Susan in a similar predicament.
"Bunch a' lost little school girls..." the other figure mused in a distorted voice, as the ceiling started to crumble in one corner of the room. "And tryna play the heroines, tae..."
Think! She needed to think! Her wand was somewhere on the ground, but if she tried to pick it up, she'd eat a curse before she got even half-way. No matter what she said, she'd have to choose her words carefully, and not only consider herself, but also Susan, Neville... oh, and also the fact she currently wasn't even in her own body and nobody was supposed to know that, and... gah.
"Don't they teach you brats not to poke your nose into grown-up business?"
Actually, why didn't they just burn up? The Flame-Freezing-Charm didn't work against magical flames, and these flames were definitely laden and glowing with magic of all sorts. Although they weren't literal spellfire, she guessed. But no matter how close she looked, it looked just like the real deal, just like actual magical fire, except... that it was missing one tiny ingredient.
"Now, the rest of yeh, stay calm and nobody gets hurt. You don't look like Mudbloods, do yeh? Once we check yeh over you can go."
Iris closed her eyes. It hadn't worked. She'd tried, but nothing had happened. Of course. Maybe it was her Name, maybe her body just had more of an affinity for producing colors, but regardless. Now that she was here, while she had no problems molding and manipulating the light, creating it was quite a different chapter. Especially without the aid of her wand. No matter what she tried, she couldn't call her orb. Not even a tiny glimmer of orange entered her hand. Because with everyone else, it would be their wand that would extract and use the aspect. But she'd been doing magic without a wand for most of her life. Come on, she had to, she just needed one, tiny, miniscule... just a spark, something!
"So what if they aren't? Sure don't look like nobles either. Let's just say they poked their little noses into the fire, and got burned baad..."
There! Her eyes snapped open, and pinched between her thumb and index finger, there was a tiny speck of Orange, so faint it almost wasn't even there. But it would have to do. She dragged it around with her finger, drawing the outlines for the uncontrolled elemental pattern into the air.
"Bloody right they did, not our fault is it then, eh?"
Iris clicked her fingers, flinging the tiny spark of intent at the flames now almost surrounding them. Everything she needed was already here. The fire, the colors, all the magic, it was pretty much a magical fire already in everything but name. All she needed was a tiny smidge of intent to light the fuse.
"Run," Iris whispered.
In the same instant, the spark was swallowed by the flames, causing a shiver to run through the entire room. Not much had changed, really. They were still burning, still in the same colors, still the very same way. But there was one significant difference.
The shockwave was now starting to burn straight through the Flame-Freezing-Charm, and there were twin screams from the two Silhouettes as they threw themselves back towards the far corner of the room, before seemingly distorting on the spot, until she couldn't make out anything anymore. Iris snatched up her wand, and ran with all she had, as fast as her borrowed limbs could carry her, dragging the others along with her, back out the door and into the muddy grass right in front of the Magic Neep.
"Holy..." mumbled Susan.
"...Merlin!" added Hannah.
"You never cease to amaze me," Neville said behind her.
"Did you just... What just happened? Are they... Wait, and what about the people in there? I mean..." Hannah said, turning back towards the burning building engulfed in flames that now seemed even brighter, if anything.
"Yes, exactly what did you just do?" Neville added eagerly, his blue eyes glinting with... hang on.
Had his eyes always been blue?
No. No they had not.
As if he had read her thoughts, his wide-eyed smile became a smidge wider, and almost a smirk.
"'A good day to you,' said the cavalier to the sailor."
Only now did she realize that when they had been ambushed, Neville had never lost his wand in the first place.
"It appears we've both booked adjacent seats," he said, his voice slowly becoming so very different.
Susan's grip started to tighten. "Neville, what—"
"Close enough that it makes me wonder what else you may have brought with you," he said. It was still his voice, but the way he spoke, the pitch he used, it was barely recognizable, and sent shivers down Iris' spine. "And I'm just so terribly curious what the answer might be..."
Morgana, there is no way... It's really him! Look away!
Him? Who?
Daphne think's that it's... the Watcher—
Something seemed to resonate in her mind, to echo back and forth, and Iris realized she'd lost track of her surroundings for a second. Iris shook herself, and whirled around, away from him, blinked heavily several times, until she noticed the other girls. Susan, standing ramrod straight, with her eyes wide glancing Iris' way, and Hannah, with her wand out, eyes wide in confusion and worry, and the shaky tip pointed right at Susan's neck.
The bag Susan had been carrying tumbled to the ground uselessly, followed by Susan's wand.
Susan shot her a desperate begging glance. It wasn't that the girl was scared for her life, but she seemed only all too aware what else the fact he was seemingly in control of Hannah could spell, especially for the girl in question.
Iris desperately averted her gaze and glanced around the area one more time, looking for an out. There were three... no four trails of footsteps on the ground, but...
"They really ought to teach these Gryffindors not to wander into dangerous places all on their own," he said, his voice coming from somewhere behind her. "Especially when they're on fire."
Why didn't he just curse her? Iris was the only one left, and he was at the advantage! Did he want to let her go? Play with her? Did he want her to attack? She tried to read him but couldn't see too much without risking meeting his eyes again, if it wasn't already too late.
But there was no point in trying to unravel motives right now, she had to figure out how to get out of this mess. And there was only one thing she could come up with. But it would require her to put all her money onto that one theory that she'd tried her best to deny all this time.
Taking a breath, she loosened the tension in her arm, and holstered her wand.
What the sweet sugary fuck are you doing?! yelled a frantic voice somewhere inside her mind.
It was the only thing that she could do.
Then what's the plan?
Iris took a breath, still staring intently at the empty field before her, then spoke, "Just be ready. That's the plan, right?"
"Oh, now you've made me curious. Please, by all means. Try to escape," the voice purred somewhere behind her shoulder. "If you manage to make it entertaining, I might even... let you."
Her gaze slowly turned down towards the bag Susan had dropped, then back towards the spot in front of her. Again, and again. She took a breath, and deliberately turned around, before jabbing her head towards the imposter, trying her best not to meet his eyes.
No, what are you doing? If you—
A flicker of Indigo flashed from the corner of her vision, and a short bout of static accompanied by a tinnitus filled her ears.
Ow! What... don't do that!
"Who are you?" Iris asked the question burning on her mind.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" an amused voice echoed its reply in a mocking tone.
Iris jumped as she felt a hand grasp her neck, and she realized Hannah had moved over towards her, and grabbed onto her. A second later, her head was forcefully yanked up, and turned, further and further, towards the one place she didn't want to look. But there was no stopping it. In her desperation, Iris fell back onto the only type of magic she had brought with her. She focused as hard as she could and drew up the little Indigo she had brought with her, and summoned it all the way into her eyes. The tinnitus returned and grew louder, and the static intensified for a moment, and there was a painful pressure building somewhere behind her eye̶͕͒Ȩ̷̑Ḛ̶̉Ȅ̸̡̧̼̙̟̠̭̣̅E̵̡̮̚S̴̨̨̡̨͙̙̘̘̞̼̭͍̤̣͔͓̈͗͆͋̔͜S̸̠̰̫͇̦͙͚̲͊͑͂͐̈́́͝͝S̷̢̡̡̰̦̰͕͚̈́̉̓͛͝ͅS̷̼͒̓̒̄͂͘̚͝—̷̨̢̭̲̣́̉͆
"Gah!" Hannah yelled, clutched her head, and tumbled to the ground. "What was that noise?"
Iris blinked, and jerked her gaze away from the twin burning stars of pure Indigo, just as the figure stumbled. After a second, the ringing slowly faded, leaving complete silence. The voice... the voice was gone.
"Curious," Neville's voice murmured, as he slowly approached her. "Consider me... intrigued."
"N-Neville?" gasped Hannah next to her, jumping to her feet, her wand still clutched in her hand.
"Back off, girl," Neville said lazily, his eyes flashing for a second.
Hannah kept stumbling closer, her hand stretched out. "Are... are you—"
He sighed, and Hannah froze in her tracks half-way towards him as a red spell from his wand impacted her chest, before collapsing on the ground.
"Hannah!" Susan cried out, making to dash closer, but reconsidering at the look that Neville was shooting her.
Alright... alright, focus, Iris! She needed a proper distraction, but... but what? Iris tried to desperately call some orange light into her hand, but other than the faintest shimmer, not much was happening there. By far not enough to cast an actual spell without any convenient magical fire that was already there.
There was only one option remaining. She firmed her glare and turned back towards the man. "You want to see something new then? Something... entertaining?"
Slowly he turned back to look at her, a seemingly interested glint in the glowing deep blue eyes.
"I'll show you something. Something you've never seen before," Iris said firmly. She tried her best to channel the girl that was now occupying Lily's body, and let out a small chuckle, then a laugh. "Something so powerful and magnificent you won't be able to do anything but look on in terrified awe. Something that only I can do."
He just kept staring back, slowly tilting his head, rolling his wand around his fingers.
"Very well then, mystery passenger. Show me. Entertain me, and you might just live."
Did he know? Or was he referring to Lily's... passenger?
No. Of course he knew. He'd even called her by name.
No matter. Iris gave a smirk, then slowly and deliberately drew her wand once more. The glowing indigo widened for a moment in amusement, and Iris cocked her head, twirled her wand for a moment, before giving a grin and whispering, "Watch this."
She closed her eyes, and focused. Harry, Myrtle, herself, the Chamber, that accursed room. All of it was dredged to the surface, given shape, and offered up to the shadows.
And absolutely nothing happened.
Iris cracked an eye, just to verify what she hadn't felt. But indeed, there wasn't a single hint of any sort of change or movement to the shadows on the ground. Why wasn't it working? It couldn't be her emotions, if the twisted snarl on her face were any indication. But then what?
Wait... the faintest whisper echoed through her mind.
Iris froze, but it didn't return. Her gaze turned towards the boy in front of her, who seemed to be quickly growing bored of her. Okay. Whatever it was, whatever the issue was, there was still another way. So here went nothing. She'd never tried the spell before; she had had no need for it. But she knew how to cast it all the same, and from everything she'd read, it should be pretty straight forward. So, once again, she focused, brought all those feelings back, then swung her wand up skyward, forced a bit of extra magic into it for good measure, and shouted "Tenebris!"
That's not... I don't... No! there was that voice again, this time a bit louder.
"Ha... hah hahahah AHAHAHAH!" a chuckle quickly turned into full-blown laughter.
Iris sagged back into herself. Nothing. Absolutely nothing had happened. What the hell?
"For your information... to perform the Arcane, to utilize something as pure as emotion, well... for that to work, I'm afraid all of you must be in alignment with that emotion."
All of her? As in... Oh. That voice. Had that been—
"Well, I admire your dedication, but I'm afraid that we will have to cut this—"
"I'm not done yet!" Iris snarled, and quickly changed plans. If polarized magic wouldn't work, there were plenty other ways.
She jabbed her wand forward, and once again began the raw elemental pattern. She began to painfully dredge up every bit of elemental aspect she could muster, along with more and more white light. This time, however, she stopped when she felt that stretching sensation. If she couldn't muster enough power, then she'd just have to work around it using skill. Light was already all around her, after all. And all magic came from the sun. Of course, there'd be no way to control it, but she didn't have to. Just as Lily had done, she began to draw in Orange light from around her.
At first slowly, but then more and more. At least, her ability to control light seemed unaffected. It had nothing to do with her Name or her body, but instead was a skill she'd honed over the course of her entire life. It was just producing it that was the problem.
Except the more she added, the more unstable it grew. Even the repeated patterns didn't seem to help much, since there wasn't enough of her own magic in there to even allow her to shape it at all. Damn it! Again, by far not enough to actually cast Tempest! But then what? What should she...
There was one spell. One spell that might actually even finish the job if she got very lucky. And with the way they were standing, she should be able to do it without any of her friends getting caught in it, she hoped. If she hadn't managed to gather enough power though... Unlike with Incendio, this spell would just take all the power that it needed either way. It was a desperate shot. But if this worked, then Lily wouldn't have to cast any other spells anyway. The wobbling mass of light shivered and distorted, lashing out again, and she knew she was out of time.
Iris jabbed her wand forward, touching the center of the gathered storm of Elemental aspect, and cried "Imperium Fulgur!"
A deafening crack of lightning, and a bright bolt as wide as her body burst from the tip of her wand, arced in erratic patterns and struck a large metallic rod that had been transfigured out of the ground right between them.
The burning sensation returned, and Iris collapsed to the ground in a dizzy mess.
A slow clap pierced through the tinnitus, as her hearing gradually returned. Iris groaned, turned her head and spotted Neville, standing there, completely unscathed. He hadn't even moved an Inch.
"Magnificent. Not the spell itself, but the way you cast it... yes. Marvelous."
He slowly raised his wand again, and pointed it towards her. "But I'm afraid that's all we have time for today."
There was a second of silence, and his wand began to glow in an ominous red.
"Confringo!"
"Neville!"
A golden shield snapped into place around the boy, and a spell that had seemingly burst from mid-air impacted it, getting caught for a second, before it sizzled and was torn apart by the golden tendrils, resulting in an echoing bang.
"Reducto!"
The spot where the spell had come from was no longer empty. Right over to their side, where the final path of footsteps had led only to just seemingly end, there now stood a boy with short black hair and Slytherin robes, glaring furiously, and slinging spells at the imposter masquerading as Neville. Iris drew in a breath, and relief flooded her chest, followed by instant worry and tension. Theo. It really had been him after all. Now she just had to hope that he'd come through for her.
Two more spells were shielded, before he reflected one of them back at Theo, who was forced to shield in turn. Susan quickly capitalized on the opening and scrambled to pick up her wand. Iris rolled to her side, raised her wand and swung it through the pattern of Expelliarmus, but even half-way through she realized the issue. Her magic... it wouldn't catch. Her wand couldn't connect, there was just... too little left.
Susan threw a spell, forcing Not-Neville to shield once more, allowing Theo to do the same. The ground shivered for a moment, and the rubble came alive. Susan shouted "Wingardium Leviosa!" possibly trying to fight off the moving debris, but it seemed to have little effect. More and more charred wooden planks, rocks, and other things began to pile up and pelt her, beginning to move as one, and Susan was swept off her feet. Theo's gaze met hers and she could see a desperate resolve in his eyes. He flicked his wand in a familiar pattern, and Iris froze as she heard him shout "Imperium—"
He was cut off mid-incantation by a piece of brass tubing piercing right through his leg. "Aarghh!"
Theo collapsed to the ground, and with one wave of Neville's wand, both of theirs came flying his way.
Crap. This was...
Theo met her gaze, his pained visage for a moment twisting into a very intent expression, before he rolled to the side and clutched his head, groaning in pain.
Iris rolled over towards Susan, met her eyes, and mouthed "Copy me, now."
And then she covered her ears.
A deafening crash of noise pierced the backdrop of sizzling embers, clattering debris and distant explosions. A shockwave of pure sound exploded from a spot on the ground right next to Neville, and the pressure wave tossed a shimmering fabric off the tiny metallic monkey sitting next to him in the mud.
Neville's mouth opened in a silent scream, and a small burst of blood splattered from his ears and mouth, the glow of his eyes flickering, then winking out. One second later, his body collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud.
Iris just lay there, holding her breath, and carefully lowered her hands.
She rolled to a sitting position, and gathered her bearings. Susan had apparently managed to cover her ears, and was slowly getting back up. Theo had as well, but he wouldn't be getting back up any time soon with his leg. Instead he shot her an incredulous gaze.
"You just couldn't wait, huh?" he said in a low groan.
Iris shot him back a look. "Not here. Later." Her gaze wandered down towards the depleted monkey, and back towards Susan's bag. "You actually pulled it off," she said, still not quite believing it herself.
"Hey, give me some credit. I'm supposed to be your friend and all."
Susan shot them a strange look at that, but Iris just shrugged it off and moved on before he could give away even more. She made her way over to Neville's collapsed body and stared at the crumpled form for a moment in disbelief. He was just lying there, face down, not moving an inch. Was that it? Had they actually done it? Was he—
A bright pair of blazing deep blue eyes snapped open right in front of her, and Iris felt herself being yanked into the air by the collar of her robes.
Chapter 29: Unbound
Chapter Text
"Are you sure? What if—"
"Hey, I know we might look a bit on the roguish side..."
"And have a bit of a reputation..."
"But we know what we're doing."
Fred gave the woman a reassuring smile.
"We have a way out of here. Is there anyone else here?"
"Uhm... no. It's just me. Everyone already left," the blonde bartender said with a shrug. "Not that there were many patrons to begin with..."
"Alright then, Miss..."
"Mathilda. But everyone here just calls me Maddy."
George flashed his patented cheeky grin number 3, and Fred couldn't help but roll his eyes as his slightly less handsome twin brother did a little curtsy. "Well then, Miss Maddy, shall we endeavor to keep you safe and get you out of here?"
The disheveled blonde nodded, rolled up her stained sleeves and produced a wand from somewhere within her dress. Why the hell was someone like her working in a place like this?
"Alright, I'll take the front and try to find a path, George, you cover our back. Can you cover the sides, Maddy?"
"Uhm... Well, I'm not really any good with a wand, but I guess I know a spell or two?" the woman said reluctantly, fumbling with her wand.
"That's more than enough. The important part is that we stay quiet, look out for any Death Eaters, and try to avoid getting spotted."
"I can do that," Maddy said with a smile.
"Splendid. Fred?" said Fred.
"George?"
"Let's do this."
~V~
Higher and higher, she was lifted up and up, through darkness and incomprehensible shapes, bursting out of the ground, and into the sky. She spotted the large dark tower next to her, glowing stones floating around it, slowly piecing themselves back together, and a large shivering mass of purple tendrils splayed all over the ground surrounding it, stretching out for kilometers.
Once she reached the peak of the tower, she came to a stop, and then was turned. She came face to face with none other than Daphne Greengrass, standing as tall as a skyscraper, her furiously burning eyes right in front of her, as she held her up by the collar using two fingers, dangling above the infinite nothingness.
"Just what... do you think you are doing?" the gigantic girl hissed, her voice reverberating throughout Iris entire body.
Iris glanced around back at the tower, then up into the girl's gigantic eyes. She tilted her head, let the corner of her lips curve upward a bit, and said, "You know, that's a weird way to say thank you for saving my aaaaAAhhh—"
Iris found herself flung right back at the ground, the stone and burning blue fire approaching much faster than should be possible, and right in the center, that room she had found, coming closer at an incomprehensible speed. She could make out the walls, the table, the phone, all the dials, with the one bearing her own face glowing in a bright Indigo. She tumbled towards the receiver, closer and closer, the device rapidly growing to the size of a building, until she tumbled through one of the tiny holes, down the line, through an infinite maelstrom of colors, and suddenly impacted the ground, and tumbled to the side.
Iris spat out the dead leaves she had almost swallowed, and scrambled to her feet. She was back. Right where she had started. In her own body.
And right across from the hill were her friends, now without her being able to help.
~V~
"Daphne! You're back! I... I mean, naturally, not that there was any doubt, I—"
"Quiet," Daphne hissed—cutting through the noise—and proceeded to rub her temple. "Did you find her?"
"Is that how you greet your fellow roommate?"
"Did you, or did you not?"
"...Not really. But I found some others?" Ariel said, gesturing towards the heap of her wayward year mates.
Nott was on the ground, clutching a wounded leg, Bones was hunched over Abbot, and next to them, the crumpled form of the poor sod that he had chosen to possess this time. Not to mention what he'd done to her own mind. That had been way too close. Only after Potter had apparently somehow completely broken his focus, she'd managed to finally reverse the curse and return it to the sender, at least, for the time being. She was sure that it wouldn't stop someone like the Watcher for long. There was no doubt in her mind anymore. It was him. Somehow. So much for her trip to Azkaban.
Another throb of pain brought her thoughts to a halt, and she closed her eyes again to try and focus on her efforts to rebuild. The damage had been severe, but she'd managed to mostly hold the curse back while it had been active. The only reason she hadn't been able to stop it in its tracks was because he had been at the other end, foiling her every single attempt. And still, with even the final traces gone, it had still left its mark. But she could deal with that later, now she needed to deal with this situation first.
"Did you find any information, at least?"
Because there was no way he'd managed that from all the way in Azkaban, right? Maintaining control over such a distance was just...
"Uh..." Ariel muttered, no doubt winding up for another useless grandstanding tirade.
"Just what exactly are you useful for, anyway?" Daphne snapped.
"Hey! She just saved all of us! Multiple times, even," Bones said, her loyalty calling her to the defense of the demon who deserved anything but.
Also, while she wasn't sure what had happened at the start, from what she'd gathered, it of course hadn't even been Ariel who'd saved her. Somehow, Potter had... Potter had...
Daphne shivered. The image of the ajar door once again flashed through her mind. Right in the midst of the deepest corners of her mindscape, Potter had just waltzed in as if she owned the place, and then used her like a Merlin-damned telephone network. But the worst thing was that somehow... somehow, the insane plan had actually worked out.
How was she supposed to be properly mad at the girl for defying all reason, violating the sanctity of her mind, and getting way too close to both Lily as well as...
Maybe you should just try and accept that she's your friend?
Friend. Sure. Why not just jump off the Astronomy tower while she was at it? No. She wasn't making that mistake again.
"Bones," Nott said with a groan as he heaved himself into a sitting position. "Have you... seen Tracey somewhere around?"
She couldn't understand anyway. Nobody ever understood.
Bones blinked, then perked up. "Actually, yes. She was with Ron Weasley."
"What? Where?" Nott said. "Is she alright?"
"Yes, I think so... They were going to take a secret passage in Honeydukes that apparently led to Hogwarts together with the Weasley twins, Malfoy, and this other blonde that was hanging out with him..."
Daphne's eyes went wide, just as Ariel flinched, then shrunk into herself.
"Blonde, long hair, short, first-year Slytherin, golden earrings? That's who was with him?"
"Uh... yes? You know her?"
Merlin damn it.
"Oh, thank Morgana. She's safe then," Ariel sagged in relief.
"...Right?" the girl added with a look, hoping to have found a way to wriggle out of her responsibility.
"That... that was your sister?" Bones replied, perplexed.
"Who else did you say was with them? Weasleys?"
"Not the twins," Nott interjected. "I've seen them only minutes ago sneaking their way into Hog's Head of all places."
So it was just Ron Weasley, an injured Tracey, Malfoy, and her...
"Did they say where exactly the tunnel leads?" Daphne demanded.
She glanced at the downed form of Longbottom once more. She was pretty sure she had managed to expunge the last pieces of the intrusion still clinging onto him, but whoever was at the other end was still somewhere out there. The sensory overload had knocked him back into his body, wherever that might be. Even if she couldn't sense anyone in the mental realm anymore. But he might just be hiding. And if...
"Directly to Hogwarts, at least that's what they said... somewhere inside the castle."
Damn it all. This was bad. She had to do something. But Daphne had no idea where they were, and had no way to contact them, either.
And the only one who was in any position to do anything was bloody Potter... again.
"Come on, we have to get moving," Daphne said instead, starting to help Nott to his feet.
Meanwhile, she hesitantly reached for the dials, and called the one person she'd wanted to avoid second to none, after what had just happened. Or maybe, second to only one.
"Miss me already?" Potter's vexing smirk immediately met her face as she sent a projection down the line, and Daphne felt a strong urge to just slam the receiver right back down.
"I've found T- Davis. She's with my sister," Daphne said without fanfare.
"Oh! That's... Oh," Potter replied, parsing through the implications, even if she didn't know the half of it.
"They are in a secret tunnel leading from Honeydukes directly to Hogwarts. If my guess is correct, it should pass somewhere right under your position."
Potter's mental form blinked owlish, before raising an eyebrow. "You want me to what?"
"Listen. They're not safe. And I'm not talking just about some schoolyard squabble. This is serious! You have to get to them and help them!"
"You think your sister could," Potter began, but Daphne cut her off.
"It's not her that's the problem."
"Now you listen. I have no idea what you want from me, so how about for once you just tell me the actual plan, what's really going on, and maybe that way I can figure out how to help?"
"You mean that way you can figure out how to royally screw it up?" Daphne retorted.
"Like you're any better!" Potter snapped back. "Lockhart's Memory Charm ring any bells?"
Heh.
What?
You're like an old married couple.
Shut up.
"So what exactly—"
"Just find them, alright?" Daphne snapped, and slammed the receiver down. As expected, reaching out at all had been a mistake.
~V~
Tracey groaned as a jab of pain lanced through her body once again from the motion. Iris really had had the right idea with the Wiggenweld, hadn't she? It was hard enough trying to navigate the tunnels when it was mostly flat, but for some reason, they were now climbing and jumping some ancient wooden structure across an underground river. So much for this being a shortcut.
She felt herself impacting the wooden planks as the Levitation Charm was cancelled. At least Malfoy was helping now, no matter how much it grated her, but she'd rather have taken the tumble off the platform without any charms before she'd let Daphne's hellspawn sister try and help.
Tracey didn't remember much about Astoria. She'd mostly ever hung out with Daphne, and her memories were hazy at best. But whenever she tried to think of anything related to Astoria, she mostly drew a blank. Not that there was much of a point to it. She'd much rather do anything at all than spend any additional time thinking about the awful girl. Was this a result of whatever had happened that had made Daphne... well, like Daphne?
Her gaze wandered over to Malfoy again, who stowed his wand with a final glance at her, then turned to walk down the tunnel once more, the blonde girl sauntering after him. Between Ron and Astoria... well, Tracey would never never ever have expected to be in a situation where Malfoy of all people was the mediating force. He had been acting strangely mollified for the entire year, in fact. There was still the usual disdain and sneers, but whenever the time came to open his mouth, he seemingly wavered and then reconsidered.
Especially when Astoria was around. Who somehow was even worse than he had ever been, even in their first two years.
Ron approached her and offered a hand, and she heaved herself up onto her one good side, leaned onto his shoulder, and groaned as a lance of pain shot through her again... Gah. Why was her head hurting now as well?
She noticed Astoria shoot her another glance, before Malfoy drew her attention away again.
"Come on. Can't be far now," Ron mumbled next to her.
Yeeaah. That was a lie if she'd ever heard one. After years of dealing with Iris, these things just came naturally.
Damn it, if only Iris were here. For all of her faults, she'd at least have easily gotten them out of this mess. Even if the shadow realm hadn't been an option, she'd probably just have snapped her fingers and blasted a hole straight from here to the hospital wing or something.
It was sort of crazy how she had gotten so used to this madness that she had even come to rely on it in a way. But now, she was far away, with no way to even... Or was there? Were they already over the ward line? Could Iris come here without breaking the ban on You-Know-Who? Maybe, but then, she'd still have to know where she even was, but even if she somehow figured out where she went, there was no way she could pinpoint her exact location without...
Or was there? Was there something Tracey could do to...
Right! That was it! If what Iris had said was true then she'd be able to feel it, right? At least, she hoped that would work over a distance like this too... but there was just one issue. Tracey had never been able to cast the spell in the first place. When she hadn't managed to make it work after some trying, she'd left that part of their practice to Theo and had turned to brighter and greener pastures.
But maybe... maybe she wouldn't even have to.
"Say, Malfoy... why is someone like you running with his tail between his legs from the very people you've spent the entirety of our first two years openly admiring? They found a Muggle in your family tree or something?"
"None of your business, Davis. Not that you would know anything about that."
"About being a Half-Blood? Oh, I think I know a thing or two... Maybe I can show you a few tricks, if you'd like?"
"I have nothing to learn from the likes of you, Davis," Malfoy said.
"That so? You know what I think?"
Malfoy didn't even deign her with a reply, still not giving her the time of day. Instead, he just continued on along the path, gripping Astoria's hand a little tighter.
"I think you might want to tell your girlfriend the truth... If you're not sure you can even manage spells that a Half-Blood like me with only a single muggle grandparent can do... Doesn't that sound a little strange, Greengrass?"
Tracey was now cringing with every word, but she had come too far already.
"Of course he can—"
"I don't need your help," Malfoy snapped at the girl to his side, and he finally drew his wand. "You want me to show you what a true wizard can do? Why don't you show me how a worthless Half-Blood does it first? I'll even be so kind and promise not to dodge. Wouldn't want them to say I beat you with just a handicap..."
He turned to face her properly, glancing at her leg for a second, and his body shifted into a lazy sort of dueling stance. Ron had drawn his wand too, but Tracey waved him off as she braced herself against his body. This wouldn't work if it escalated into a full on brawl.
"After all, if you're so eager to break the rules, Davis, why don't you put your money where your mouth is, and cast the first spell?"
~V~
"Iucidium Animae!"
A bright bolt of pure Light left the young woman's wand, slammed right through the Death Eaters shield and impacted his chest, causing him to freeze in mid-air. For a second, it looked like the clouds had shifted, like a gap of light had opened up just to shine upon the man wrapped in a dark cloak standing across from them. Fred looked over at his brother, who shared his sentiment, and they both returned to staring at Maddy with awe.
The light began to slowly wrap around the man, seeping into every fold of his robes, dragging out every little wisp of shadow, and letting it float there, in midair, for all to see.
And then, it began to shift. The light wrapped around the wisps of shadows, slowly forming them into long, small daggers.
"N-no... please! I... I didn't—"
The first dagger plunged down, piercing through the man's torso, causing him to scream in pain, and collapse to his knees. But the spell wasn't done.
"No! S-stop it! I can't— Aaargggh!"
One after the other, they struck, leaving Fred unable to look anywhere else, despite how much his stomach started to turn. On the one hand, he knew such a violent curse should evoke some kind of... wariness, some kind of reaction towards the woman who had cast it. But he also knew what it was, even without having learned about it. The curse wasn't the one inflicting the pain. It was turning the man's sins around on him, and laid them bare for all to see. It would only bring unto him what he had brought unto others. Nothing more, nothing less.
At last, when the final dagger of glowing blackness struck, the man became still. Fred had no idea if he was still alive, but he also didn't particularly care, after having watched that, after having understood. Judgement had been delivered by Magic.
"You know a spell or two?" George echoed in an incredulous whisper.
"Uh... well, I..." Maddy muttered and looked down at her own wand with wide eyes, and then blushed. "I don't know how I did that, okay? It just... happened..."
"Alright, Miss 'not all that good with a wand'. How about we get the hell out of here and you can tell us your no-doubt interesting life story over some butterbeer?"
"It's not all that interesting, really..." the blonde mumbled, her eyes downcast.
Fred glanced across the square, and noticed a man stepping into the back entrance of Honeydukes, and he froze. Who the hell? His gaze flicked over to George, and he gave him an equally determined nod.
"Peruvian?"
"Yeah. Cymbal monkey?"
"No. Might be an ally."
"Alright, on your head then."
With everything said, they gripped their wands, and George tossed their last batch of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder into the air, while Fred grabbed onto Maddy's hand. The moment the darkness enveloped them, he started to move, dragging the older girl with him.
He almost stumbled twice over some debris on the ground, but in the end, they made it to the other side, and silently edged their way towards the door, then slipped inside. The moment the darkness started to clear, both Fred and George already had their wands trained on the man in a grey robe hunched over a trunk on the ground that hadn't been there before.
"Freeze! Drop your wand and hands up, we're not taking any risks!" George shouted.
Fred opened his mouth, but was cut off by something sharp and pointy being jabbed into his neck, and he froze.
"I suggest you drop yours, before I drop you, Laddie," a voice growled somewhere behind his ear. Who the hell? How? How had he known where they were? He hadn't felt any revealing spells, or—
"Fred?" George asked, slowly turning his gaze to the side. "What do we..."
"Fred?" the man in front of them repeated, and clumsily stumbled to his feet, and just as he started to turn, he noticed his hair.
"D-Dad?"
Fred drew in a sharp breath of air, and his wand came loose in his hand, before clattering to the ground.
"George? Fred? What are you—" he exclaimed but was cut off by Fred completely disregarding the wand at his neck and flinging himself at their dad, wrapping him into a tight hug, and was quickly followed by George.
"You're here? How? Why?" George mumbled.
"Everyone stay calm, or I'll have to start throwing spells," the voice from behind him growled again.
"It's alright, Alastor," Dad said. "They're my—"
"I can see that. What I can't see is whether they're polyjuiced or not. Verify, then trust!" the rugged man barked, his wand still trailed on the group of them.
"Are you really saying..."
"You wouldn't recognize your very own family?"
Fred gave a roguish grin. "Because we'd be happy to demonstrate some of our trademark tricks..."
"It's fine. Put the wand away, Alastor."
The man who had to be the one people referred to as Mad-Eye, however, did no such thing. Instead, he reluctantly turned the wand away from them and onto the woman standing in the corner looking worried and overwhelmed.
"And who the hell are you supposed to be?"
"That's Maddy, she's the barkeep from the Hog's Head," George introduced her with a smile.
"We've been trying to be the honorable, upstanding sons you've always wanted us to be, and trying to save her and get her out of here," Fred continued.
"But it turns out, she was the one who'd save our sorry behinds instead," George added with a wink.
"We're failures, dad. We couldn't even properly protect one pretty woman from danger without looking like—"
"You're no failures!" Maddy burst out aghast, causing George to meet his gaze with a quick shared grin. "I'd never have made it out of there without you."
"Why are you here, anyway? Is that about the... you know? Also, if he's here, are the Aurors coming?"
"No Aurors," Mad-Eye growled, and his wand finally turned away from Maddy and back at the door. "Put a bloody curse on the village. Don't know what they did, but no Aurors can even enter the village, somehow."
"Then how are you here?" George asked with a raised eyebrow. "Aren't you—"
"I'm retired, sonny," Mad-Eye growled. "You see a badge anywhere?"
Fred shared the raised eyebrow, but then turned back towards Dad instead. "Does that mean the order's here, then?"
Dad shook his head with a worried expression. "There's been another attack, most of them are either helping, or are prevented from coming here by the same Geas that holds off the Aurors. But that's why I am here."
"You? What... what are you doing?" Fred exclaimed, only now noticing the strange trunk he'd been hunched over. "Can we help?"
"I..." Dad began, but both Fred and George shot him identical looks declaring that there was no way he could reasonably argue that they should be sidelined for this. This was too important. And they were already in it together.
"There has to be an anchor point somewhere. Something, some artifact, that symbolizes the Geas. We need to find that."
"And what would that look like?" Fred said.
"That's the tricky part. It can be anything. But more often than not, it's Muggle in origin."
"Then how are we supposed to recognize it?" George added.
Dad sighed, but their combined determination was enough to make him cave once more. "If you look at it, and think about what it could mean, just in a symbolic manner, you'd have to think, yes, that's it. I really would like to tell you more, but this is just one of these cases with Magic where the old saying works the best. You'll know it when you see it."
"So then... where do we look?" Fred said.
"It could really be anywhere, but I'm confident that it should be somewhere around here. Somewhere in the very center."
"Somewhere... like in Zonko's?" George said, and Fred's eyes went wide. No way, it couldn't be... that?
But no. There was no doubt about it. That hadn't belonged there.
"Be right back!" George said, and before either of them could even try to object, he was out the door.
"No, George! Wait!" Dad yelled.
"Get back here ye bloody muppet!" Mad-Eye yelled, and hobbled after him with his wooden leg, wand trailed at the door. "Don't go out there, ye'll get..."
A hand settled onto Fred's shoulder and Dad said into his ear. "What's he up to?"
"There was a sign with a fake Auror badge stuck to it in the back of Zonkos. We didn't think much of it, but there wasn't any point having that in the back, when none of the other boxes were even labeled..."
Dad frowned, then his eyes widened. "If that's it then... George! Wait! You can't touch it, it might—"
"Aarrrggghh!" a scream echoed across the square, and without thinking, all of them broke into a mad dash for the back door of Zonkos.
Fred burst through the ajar door and his heart froze as he met the sight of George, rolling on the ground, clutching his right wrist in his left hand. His right hand—which had a large hole burnt straight through his dragonhide glove—was rapidly turning red... no... it was red, and now started blackening— Crap! Dittany? Maybe together with Aconite, perhaps just to slow the effects and figure out what...
"Out of my way!" Dad yelled from behind him and shoved him to the side. He scrambled forwards, but didn't approach George at all. Rather, he was making his way towards the box of fake badges, and was fumbling with something in his hands. Some kind of shiny... reflective... glove? His right hand was wrapped into a glove that if he didn't know better, he would have thought was some form of liquid mirror...
He approached the box, then closed it, reached up, and firmly grasped the round red and white sign with the Auror badge stuck to its center. The sign began glowing, flickering, and emitting colorful sparks as he started to move it.
"Dad! What are you doing?! We have to help him, we—"
"No," his dad said firmly. "This is the only way we can help."
He stepped back down, the glowing sign still firmly grasped, holding it as far from his body as he could.
"Blimey, it's stronger than I anticipated! I need to get it to my trunk, but I cannot move right now, and the trunk is resistant to magic, so we can't just summon it..."
Fred shot another terrified look at George who was still groaning and rolling on the ground, with his hand now almost having turned entirely black. But this was the first time in his entire life that he'd seen his dad act like this. Like he wasn't just... Dad. The nice, agreeable, father who mostly went with what others said and had little drive of his own except for all the Muggle things he was passionate about. This was different. Dad was certain of what they needed to do, and he needed him to help. Help George. And by Merlin, he would. Fred met Maddy's eyes and they both nodded.
"Hang on, Dad. We'll get it. Be right back," he said, and without fanfare, he dashed back out of Zonkos.
"Stop, you imbecile! Get back in here! There's still bloody—"
Fred didn't hear much more of what the one-eyed Auror was shouting. They ran across the square, and into Honeydukes, where they found the locked trunk on the ground, with one of its side panels open. Fred shut the compartments so they could reach the handles, and with a nod, they picked up the trunk and started to move it out and into the open square.
"Watch out!"
Maddy screamed and only barely ducked a curse from their left, and Fred cursed as he dropped the trunk and drew his wand. Mad-Eye stepped from his hiding spot and lobbed a purple curse, and before either of them could even start to think of what spells to cast themselves, the purple curse detonated mid-air just before reaching the Death Eater's shield, causing the blast to knock him to the ground.
"Keep going! Don't ye bloody stop! More might show!" Mad-Eye yelled, and with another look and determined nod, Fred picked the trunk back up, and they stumbled towards the door, before finally making it inside. Fred collapsed on the ground, and Maddy stepped up to support him.
"Get back, all of you," Dad yelled with urgency in his voice.
Fred wanted to argue, but one glance at the look in his eyes had him reconsider. They stumbled towards the corner of the room, over towards George, but once again, Dad spoke up. "Don't touch him! Not yet."
Fred clenched his teeth, looking down at the strained expression on his brother's face. His hand was already completely black, and there seemed to be small fissures spreading down his arm.
Desperately, Fred looked back up at Dad. He was holding the glowing and sparkling sign in his right hand as far away from him as he could, still with the strange glove. He knelt down in front of the trunk, then raised his left hand, and ran it along one of the decorations in the side, before pushing down on a certain panel, which gave a small click, then a heavy clunk. In the same instant, the temperature in the room seemingly dropped below freezing.
Fred noticed his breath had become visible and Maddy was faring much the same. He glanced down at George, who now was not only struggling with his hand, but there were also small ice crystals forming on the ground around him, which began to grow and start to cover and encase his legs.
With a feeling of pure terror and worry in his gut, his gaze turned slowly back towards the trunk, which was now slowly coming open by itself.
Inside was nothing. A black hole of pure darkness, that seemed to draw in all the light, all the happiness, and everything else too. He almost swore he could make out the rattling breath of Death itself. This was it. He was already here for George, maybe for all of them. Just like in the detention wing. There was nothing he could do. He was useless. It was his fault. If he'd just stopped him, if he'd just... done anything, he wouldn't have gotten his brother killed, he wouldn't be a useless failure, just sitting there, staring down into...
No, it didn't make a difference. It would have ended like this either way, because it was all pointless. Nothing good would have ever come out of this, the only thing to ever come out of this... this trunk...
Was that... was that a bloody dementor?
His eyes wide, he watched as Dad slowly moved the glowing and sparking sign over towards the gaping abyss that was his bloody trunk, and the colorful lights seemed to grow dimmer with every inch. Finally, he took a breath, and dropped the sign right over the opening, causing it to plummet down into the depths of the trunk.
With a heavy slam, the trunk was sealed shut, and locked itself.
Next to him, George drew in a sharp breath, then slowly scrambled to his feet. "What... what the bloody hell—"
He didn't get much further, because he was wrapped into a crushing hug by Fred, quickly followed by Maddy.
"Don't you ever do that again..." Fred whispered into his ear.
"You would have done the same," George replied with his ultimate Get-out-of-Azkaban-Free card.
"But still, I can't—"
A loud crack, followed by a series of more cracks interrupted their reunion, and Fred noticed that suddenly, they weren't alone anymore.
"Drop your wands!"
Fred let out a breath of relief.
~V~
Daphne had no idea what to think anymore. The moment she'd broken free, she'd been completely convinced that it had to be him. It all fit together, it was exactly what he would do, and he even seemingly had just done it to taunt her, but then...
But then they'd broken his link, and he'd just vanished. She'd looked, listened for any sign, every corner of the mental realm, for even a whisper of him still being around. Did he just decide to lay low? Or... maybe... he wasn't here at all?
But that would mean that either it was someone else entirely... or that somehow, some way... he'd managed to bridge a link all the way from Azkaban after all. It should be impossible, over such a distance, but maybe? If he left his body, jumped from person to person, maybe it could be done? If anyone could, it would be the Watcher.
Daphne was sure he was aware of her. That he wanted to finish the job he'd started twelve years ago. Was she just being paranoid? Did he know, and was just doing it to mess with her? Or maybe he hadn't managed to avoid the backlash after all? But no matter how much she stretched, opened every sense, and listened in all directions, she couldn't—
Daphne froze in her tracks, and her eyes met the horizon. All the way across the hills, beyond the forest, even past the castle, on the other side of the valley, hidden in a small alcove, waiting ready to strike, blazing red eyes opened up, and their gaze met hers.
They were out of time. The Geas on the village was down, the Dark Lord could show any second now. And he knew. He was calling them. They had to get to the ward line, and they had to get there now.
Chapter 30: Precipice
Chapter Text
"Expelliarmus!"
"Corrumpo!"
And of course, her wand simply produced a shower of sparks, resulting in a smirk on Malfoy's face. "That's all you can do, Davis? Come on, try a bit harder. Can't have you looking like a Mudblood in front of a Gryffindor of all things..."
Tracey ground her teeth, and narrowed her eyes. Well, if that's how he wanted to play it, that was just fine with her.
"Everte Statum!"
"Corrumpo."
Astoria cocked her head and joined in with her own two cents. "That was it? After all that big talk, turns out that's all you ever were. Just Potter's useless lapdog, completely worthless once she's not around..."
Tracey tried to keep her face blank, and instead gave a snarl. "Just you wait. Flippendo!"
A wildly spiraling blue spell left her wand, but this time, Malfoy produced a small blue shield and one second later, the spell came back, roughly in her direction, but luckily, Ron shoved her out of the way just in time, causing Tracey to collapse to the ground with a yell.
No. This was all wrong. She had to make him... had to... oh. Yes. Thank you, Past Theo. The best and only way to defend against area spells... With a snarl, she rolled back onto her one good knee, aimed her wand, and shouted "Lapsus!"
"Corrumpo!"
Tracey now couldn't suppress a grin, but a second later, she was knocked right back to the ground when the whole bloody cave lurched.
"Gaahhh!"
A deafening sound of rupturing rock echoed through the tunnel, and the entire ground shook and shifted, as a massive crack opened up in the stone wall, all the way through the walls, carving from ceiling to bottom.
"Merlin's soggy underpants! What was that?" Ron gasped from next to her, having finally drawn his wand and aimed it at Malfoy. Said boy, however, was in no position to try casting back, since the sudden motion had toppled him off his feet and caused him to collapse in a tangled mess of limbs and robes.
"What... what did you just..." groaned Malfoy across from her, and scrambled for his wand, which he must have dropped during the fall. Next to him, Astoria began stirring as well. Crap. Had that been it? Had she done it? But before she could even think on what to do next, Tracey froze in place as she heard a new voice.
"Told you there was someone down here..."
Tracey whirled to look back into the large cave they had come from, and noticed a faint glow of light at the far end of the tunnel, and footsteps coming closer from the tunnel leading back to Honeydukes.
"If you're students, we're not here to hurt you," a female voice echoed through the cave, amplified by magic. "Whoever you are, you may want to speak up! As long as your blood's the proper kind, you've got nothing to fear!"
Tracey met Ron's pale look, then as one the two turned back towards the two other Slytherins standing at their backs. Merlin, damn it! If he spoke up now, or if Astoria...
"Don't do anything stupid now, you just want to go back to Hogwarts, right? We're just making sure you're not dragging any mud back into the castle..."
Her eyes inexorably met Astoria's, as the girl's face had slowly broken into a wide grin. Tracey couldn't breathe. She watched, frozen in place, as her lips parted, and the girl took a deep breath—
"Don't. Say. A. Word," came a hiss right next to her, as a hand was clapped over her mouth.
Astoria's expression turned wide-eyed, then confused, and her gaze met Malfoy's. The blonde boy returned a steely look and just shook his head.
"No. We'll keep going. All we have to do is get to the castle. I'll trust you not to mess this up, okay?" he added with a gentle smile, which caused the girl to melt under his hands, and nod.
Malfoy slowly removed his hand, and glanced back at Ron and Tracey, before making to drag Astoria down the tunnel.
"What are you doing? They just attacked us, and you want to..." Astoria grabbed his hand and whispered. "Why are you... I don't understand! Please, talk to me, Draco..."
Malfoy came to a stop, his face scrunched up in an unreadable expression.
"I... I don't know., okay? It's just... something, something I can't..." Malfoy mumbled uncertainly, then shook himself. "No. Let's go, we'll leave them. The castle is—"
"Like hell you are," Ron growled, his wand now also trained on the two Slytherins. "We'll stick together, just like we agreed."
"Oh, of course," Astoria hissed back, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Stick together with the hotheaded loser over there, sounds like a grand plan."
The girl sent a glare her way, and Tracey averted her gaze.
She took a moment to gather her thoughts, before she turned her head to the boy still supporting her arm. "Ron, I... It's alright. They'll catch up to you if you stay with me. I'm sure that I'll—"
"Not happening," Ron hissed. "Either we all leave, or none of us do."
Tracey's eyes darted between the three of them, her wand shaking, still aimed at the girl.
"Merlin... What's that?" Ron exclaimed, his gaze turned down the dark tunnel.
Which wasn't all that dark anymore. The tunnel ahead of them had slowly grown brighter and brighter in a flickering greenish light. And the temperature was rising. The air started moving, drawn towards the end, towards the castle, towards the growing green light—
Tracey's eyes went wide. "There's fire! Get back!"
"What— Gah!" Astoria exclaimed as she finally turned around.
"It's... that... No... it can't be... that's..." Malfoy muttered, before being cut off by Astoria in a just as overwhelmed voice when she finally turned back, only for her complexion to somehow pale even further. "Fiendfyre."
"What?!" echoed Malfoy and Ron simultaneously, and Tracey felt the blood freeze in her veins. No way, right? Fiendfyre? Honest-to-Merlin Fiendfyre?
They were so bloody dead.
The bend at the end of the tunnel lit up, and—
A brightly glowing eye peered around the corner at the far end and stared directly into Tracey's soul. The fire-lizard rejoiced, it latched on, it found, and opened its maw to call its friends. Another beast, a chimera made of nothing but fire, it heeded the call and burst to the stage, it saw them and roared in excitement, its burning eyes reaching out, latching on, dragging them closer—
"Stay back!" yelled... Astoria?
The girl raised her wand up high, swung it in a wide arc, and a bright flash followed by a bang snapped Tracey out of her stupor.
"Merlin, what—"
"Bombarda!" yelled Ron next to her, as he swung his wand towards the fire.
A deafening blast shook the cave, and the ceiling gave way—the whole section of the ceiling all the way from where the spell had struck to the newly opened gap right in front of them. Rocks and stone tumbled down, followed by a massive plume of dust, and a second later, the green glow was drowned out by a massive rockslide.
"Great. Now what do we do?" Malfoy exclaimed, his wand still trained on the two of them.
"We'll obviously go back! It won't hold for long, you know?" Astoria interjected.
"You're not going to them," Ron said. "We've been over this. We either leave together, or not at all!"
The four of them stood across from each other, none of them moving, wands aimed at each other. Meanwhile, the gaps in the wall slowly started glowing. This was it. Any second now one of them would cast the first spell, again, and this time, there was no telling the outcome. Although, given what she'd just done, the Slytherin first-year girl was seemingly a lot more skilled than she had let on.
"Salazar..." Astoria froze, her gaze fixated on a point somewhere behind Tracey, and raising a finger. "W-what is that?"
Tracey couldn't suppress the urge to roll her eyes at the obvious distraction. That had to be the oldest trick in the book. Ron, however, was sadly not as quick and whirled, before exclaiming, "Bloody Merlin! Get back!"
Get... what? She hadn't been bluffing? Tracey froze in place, suddenly acutely aware of the oppressive presence behind her. Her eyes found Astoria's again, which were wide with terror, as the girl hissed, "Don't move. I'm not joking, Davis. There's a... a Morgana-damned..."
Tracey felt a yank from Ron who tried to pull her closer towards him. "A bloody Lethifold!"
A relieved smile broke onto Tracey's face. She turned around just in time to witness the final wisps of shadow squeeze from the newly-formed crack in the wall from the first time that the cave had lurched, and gathered in a dark corner, before finally resolving into a familiar shape.
The redhead gave a grin, and was met with mostly slack-jawed expressions.
"Look who managed to cast Corrumpo when it came down to it," Iris said.
"I didn't," Tracey mumbled in relief, before bracing against Ron again. "But someone was keen on proving a point."
Iris raised an eyebrow, glancing behind her at her two housemates caught between staring at Iris, and at the rising green light shining through the gaps in the stone wall that was blocking off the tunnel leading to the castle.
"The fuck is going on?" Iris finally asked.
"Potter?" Astoria said, perplexed. "What in the ever-loving..."
"Malfoy, good. You can fill in your girlfriend on the way. We need to get you out of here."
"Well, obviously, but how—" Astoria exclaimed, but was
"No..." Malfoy said quietly. "Not again... I can't..."
"No time for chit-chat. If you don't want to deal with the mess at either end of the tunnel, seems like I'm your only option. I promise I'll get you all out of here."
"Why would we trust you? You'd have to be insane if you think we'd go— through that..."
"Hey, it's your choice. But you gotta decide now," Iris said firmly, then turned to Tracey and gave her a sheepish smile. "Sorry, guess you're not getting around another trip this time."
Tracey swallowed. "...Yeah. Just get me out there fast, okay?"
Iris met her gaze and nodded.
"I don't have to listen to this nonsense, let's—" Astoria snarled, but a hand closed around her wrist and held her back.
"Draco! You can't possibly be thinking of going... with her, into... into that. That's polarized magic! It's a death sentence! Or worse! People disappear in there, you know?"
Malfoy just shook his head.
"What are you thinking? We can just go out there! We're purebloods, for Merlin's sake. They won't even—"
"No," Malfoy finally spoke. "I don't know why, I can't explain it, but trust me. No. We're not going... to them. I'm not going."
He swallowed and turned towards Iris. "You promise you'll get me right back out?"
"This time, yeah," Iris said with a shrug. "If I wanted to screw you over I'd just leave you here."
This time? Merlin, Iris.
The flickering green and bright yellow of melting stone grew brighter and brighter, and the shadows were forced back further.
"Time's up," Iris declared, and reached out towards the pool of shadows behind her, growing it even larger still, before stepping half-way inside and reaching out a hand back towards them. "We need to move."
~V~
"Are you sure?" Theo said, groaning again as he almost stumbled on his feet, with Greengrass gripping his shoulder tighter, dragging him back upright with an iron grip of her right hand. He shot another glance towards the girl who still acted like there was nothing wrong, as she kept scanning their surroundings and leading them down the hill behind the Magic Neep where he had originally come from.
"I'm sure Potter will grace us with her presence sooner than any of us would prefer," she simply said.
"We don't need her anyway, I'll just crush anyone who stands in our way myself, not to worry," Moon interjected smugly.
"Better if we don't cross paths with anyone at all. Keep your eyes on the horizon," Greengrass said firmly, to which Bones gave an exhausted nod.
They were already at the point where Theo had separated from Iris, not that Greengrass should have any way of knowing that. He'd always been wary of her. And even more so after she'd started to talk to Iris at the end of last year. He'd been forced to watch from a distance, and now it was already too late. Whatever she was planning, she seemed to have firmly sunken her hooks into Iris, and dragged her along with it. That could only end up in disaster for all involved.
But it wasn't just about Iris. Once again he tried to wrench himself free, no matter how little he would be able to walk by himself, and the girl barely even seemed to notice his efforts as she kept dragging him along. Was it some sort of spell? Or was she doing whatever Iris was doing lately and just using her magic to... do things?
Whatever the case, she wasn't on top of their classes without reason, and that was without her actively participating in any lessons for so much as an inch more than was required to barely keep the teachers off her back.
When he'd first met her, he'd written her off as someone who'd just remain in the background in the mess of willful individuals that were their Hogwarts year-mates. But over the first two years, he'd slowly realized that that was exactly the point. She was trying to avoid attention, and that was just making her stick out all the more so for all the ways she obviously was far beyond the norm, no matter how much she tried to hide it.
Even now, he had no idea what her actual goal here was. He'd found her petrified in the middle of a large-scale zone of destruction, seemingly brought about by masterful use of either Transfiguration or Animation Charms, except solely directed at Greengrass for some reason. And the thing that had brought her down in the end had been none of that, but some other kind of curse, which all of the rest had seemingly just been a distraction for.
Next to them, Bones was dragging a semi conscious Abbot across the ground, and Moon was dragging Longbottom.
That was the other thing that had him on edge. Because right now, it was undoubtedly... well, not Moon, but also, not not her? What he meant was that before, he was sure beyond a doubt that—even if he had no idea how—it had been Iris who had been in control of her. She'd noticed him under the cover of the cloak, and pointed him at the mechanical monkeys in Bones' bag, and all without whoever had been possessing Longbottom even noticing.
Too many things were happening at once. First, Longbottom being possessed, then Iris somehow possessing Moon, and now Moon was still different, except very definitely no longer Iris.
And Greengrass was obviously aware of it, because she'd done everything to subtly divert attention from the girl whenever she made any of her outrageous proclamations by instantly pointing the conversation at a completely different and seemingly very important topic. He wouldn't have even noticed it if he hadn't been suspicious of her already.
And for some reason, she seemed to know what Iris was up to, even if she wasn't sharing.
"Merlin on a broomstick! Look out! There's—" Bones exclaimed, pointing her finger towards the large fissure in the ground ahead of them. A fissure that hadn't been there before. Just what the hell had Iris been up to?
As if in answer to his question, he noticed the shadows moving right at the edge of the crack. "Stay back," he said firmly, gesturing for Bones to lower her wand. "It's fine. Trust me."
Somehow, he wasn't even surprised that Greengrass didn't show any reaction to the Not-Lethifold either. However he still squirmed out of Greengrass' grip and leaned himself against a nearby tree, which allowed him to draw his wand.
Under the shadow of a large oak tree, the darkness gaped, and a hand emerged, followed by a girl. Iris gave a sheepish wave, then turned around, and declared "Alright, just step towards the gap and push through, you'll be right back out.
One by one, Theo watched blankly as students kept tumbling out of the shadows, accompanied by gasps from Bones.
That's six people now who'd seen, excluding Tracey. So much for keeping this whole trick a secret, Iris...
Although he was sure that Greengrass had somehow also known about this already. Probably even before him. Although he supposed he should be glad that Iris was finally no longer keeping everything to herself, but...
"NO!" a wail pierced the forest, followed by another scream. "Why? NO! This can't... I can't..."
Theo froze, and turned back to the group of people that had tumbled out of the shadows. They all looked about as worse for wear as could be expected after experiencing something like that... And Tracey seemed to be the worst off, even if she was still mostly standing. But the person currently screaming had fallen to the ground, clutching his head, and the younger Greengrass had immediately dashed to his side, trying to find out what was wrong.
"No..." Malfoy whispered again, before he broke down completely and actually started crying.
"NOO! I won't. It can't... It has to be... You!" he suddenly wailed, and rounded on Iris, red, tear-streaked eyes as wide as saucers, desperately longing for something.
Theo was of half a mind to try and cast a spell to stop this. His gaze flicked across the trees, over towards the hill they had come from. There was no way that nobody had heard that outburst alone, but it seemed Malfoy wasn't done.
"It's your fault! It's always your fault! You've done something! You must have done something to me... What... WHAT DID YOU DO?!"
"Potter..." the younger Greengrass hissed, and slowly produced her own wand. "What in Morgana's name..."
"I didn't do anything!" Iris hissed. "You just went through the shadows, just like all of us! I don't know what—"
"Liar!" Malfoy roared. "You messed with my mind! You must have done something! And you'll fix it! You... you must... you'll fix all of that or else..."
Malfoy slumped against the arms of the other blonde girl, who was now glaring daggers at Iris.
"You messed with his mind? What exactly... did you do?" she demanded.
But she was no longer glaring at Iris. Instead, the younger Greengrass was now glaring at her older sister.
"I told you... I TOLD YOU. Not him. But no. You have to take everything. Everything that I care about! You're the worst sister in the whole world!"
The older Greengrass just stood there, her expression just as blank as always. Apparently, none of them had any idea about the direction this had just taken. She hadn't even been with them, just when would she have done anything to Malfoy? And why? Or, more importantly, how?
No, that wasn't important right now. They had to keep moving. While they were already within the area that Iris had banished You-Know-Who from, he had no idea if they had entered the actual castle wards yet, so while they were safe from the man himself, he wasn't so sure about his followers.
And Malfoy had just announced their location to the whole bloody neighborhood.
"Come on. We need to keep moving. We can—"
"Nobody is going anywhere until you tell me what you did to my Draco!"
Possessive much? Wasn't she a bit young to have a boyfriend like that anyway? Not that the girl had ever really acted her age to begin with. As far as he knew, their relationship was more of an agreement between their parents, but at least the girl, and even Malfoy to some extent, seemed to have taken it a lot further than that.
"We can figure that out on the way, but for now we need to get to the castle wards," Theo urged.
"He's right. They've probably heard all that," Iris added helpfully, which, considering the situation, was having the opposite effect.
"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" the younger Greengrass yelled, rounding on Iris. "No! I know the two of you are only acting like you don't know each other, when you're secretly all buddy buddy. I bet she even told you what she did, didn't she?"
"That's enough. You'll cease this foolish charade at once. We can talk about this once we get—"
Greengrass was cut off when her younger sister had unexpectedly moved to the side and produced her wand, which was now aimed right at... Moon's neck? That had escalated quickly.
Why did Theo feel that something like that should somehow be Iris' fault?
Theo had never thought that the older Greengrass had ever formed something that would even begin to resemble a friendship with anyone. He knew the two were roommates, but he'd thought that would be the extent of it. But despite the odds, somehow, Daphne Greengrass, the most unpredictable person in their year bar Iris, had paused.
"You'll undo it. Now. Or I'll undo her."
Theo glanced over towards the two conscious Non-Slytherins in their group, who were now staring at the situation wide-eyed. Weasley was just staring dumbfounded, but Bones had already drawn her own wand. Malfoy was no longer crying, he was now just sitting there, staring at the ground with vacant eyes, seemingly impassive to the whole situation. Tracey was glancing frantically between the girls, extracting herself from Ron's arm, before she stumbled closer. "Stop it, please! Let's all take a breath and think, okay? Whatever—"
"Still not enough? Then what about this?" The blonde hissed, before quickly whirling around, dropping her grip on Moon, and instead rounding on Tracey. No.
This time, Theo did raise his wand. But he was too late. She already had her wand up to her face, and was glaring back at her. "Will you listen now?"
Theo was about to damn the consequences and throw a spell, but he held himself. The problem was that Iris was in a very similar mindset, except that his friend had no such restraints, especially when it came to Tracey.
"I'm not playing around. If you even think about—"
A cold tingle suddenly ran down Theo's spine as he heard and felt a sudden shiver in the air, a distinct popping noise... Right behind his back. He tensed his muscles, but in the same second, he found a sharp tip of a wand being pressed against his neck.
"Put the wand down before you hurt yourself."
From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Bones in a similar predicament. A hooded figure with black robes and a white mask had appeared behind her.
"What an interesting situation that I find you in, Draco."
~V~
How had things gone this sideways in just a single minute? Iris' biggest worry had gone from Malfoy making a ruckus to Astoria threatening Lily's life, to seeing red as she had aimed her wand at Tracey instead, to suddenly being surrounded by Death Eaters with all her friends held hostage. The only ones who didn't have anyone with a wand at their throat were Astoria, Malfoy, Daphne and herself. Plus, technically Neville and Hannah who were still unconscious.
Three Death Eaters had apparated in and taken her friends hostage, and then this fourth person had shown up, masked as all the others, but judging by the long blonde hair, the cane, and the way he addressed Malfoy, it was blatantly obvious who this one had to be. She wondered for a moment how anyone couldn't see through such a flimsy facade, but then again, that had never been the point. Everyone already knew whose side he was on. The mask was only there for legal protection.
"Aha! I knew it. Now you'll face the—" Lily Moon was cut right off before she could even begin her tirade by a spell from Malfoy Senior, and tumbled to the ground, quickly followed by Tracey as well.
"No witnesses," the voice spoke from behind the mask.
"No!" Iris screamed as wands flashed red. Susan, Theo and Ron jerked, then slackened in their grips. No! No were they... Destruction and Mind, right. A stunning spell, probably. Hopefully. She managed half a step towards Theo before the Death-Eater behind him jerked his unconscious body back up, and jabbed his want towards his neck for emphasis.
"Nu-uh, Potter. On the ground it goes."
Iris own wand hadn't even made it half-way towards the Death Eater, but she already realized how pointless that was. Stupid. This wasn't the time to be acting recklessly again. Taking a deep breath, she slowly lowered her wand, and let it drop to the ground as well. That left only the two Malfoys, Iris, the three Death Eaters who still held her friends' lives in the palm of their hand, and Daphne, who had apparently slipped everyone's notice in the chaos and now stood right behind Draco. Oh, and of course—
"It was her, sir. I'm sure of it. I've got her right where I... where I-I..."
Astoria trailed off in the middle of her tirade, as Definitely-Not-Malfoy-Senior brought his cane up, gripped it in the middle, and moved the tip bearing a round white crystal directly in front of her face. The translucent gem seemed to reflect back in her eyes for a moment, and her expression rapidly began to slacken, until she was just staring, not saying another word.
"I appreciate the enthusiasm, girl, but please be a dear and hold that thought for a moment."
When the girl finally slumped, her wand slowly came loose, and Lucius Malfoy plucked it from her slackened grip. He lowered the cane again, pocketed the wand, and then turned back towards Daphne. Iris followed his gaze and realized that she'd at some point drawn her own wand on Draco, in a gesture mirroring the three Death Eaters. Oh crap. Why hadn't she thought about that? But then again...
"You may want to put the wand down, Miss Greengrass. We wouldn't want any unfortunate... accidents... now would we?"
"Try again," Daphne replied blankly, wand still trained on Draco.
Lucius stared at her for a moment, and Iris tensed, gripping her wand tighter. Iris' eyes flicked over Tracey's slumped form in Astoria's arms, and Theo, still motionless, held in the Death Eater's arms, with a wand at his neck. It was a stalemate, for now. But Iris really didn't like it. Daphne was gambling with all of her friends' lives. Except that she was really wagering only one or two of them. Maybe the bluff could work? But on the other hand... Damn it! She really wanted to talk some sense into the girl, but ever since her little stunt—apart from the one time she'd tried to get her to rescue her sister, Daphne had basically pretended that her end of the phone line didn't even exist at all, no matter how many times she'd dialed her number. So she was forced to helplessly watch, as she put all of them at risk in a mad gambit to try and get herself out of this. Maybe Iris should...
"How about I just get rid of this one?" the figure to her right crowed, the tip of his wand lighting up in a dark red right at Ron's exposed neck. "Nobody'll miss a blood traitor, right?"
"Now, now... let's... not be hasty," Lucius said, glancing over towards Daphne who still mirrored the Death Eater's gesture. "We're not barbarians. Let's think about this logically."
"My friend here... would just like to set an example. And you, Miss Greengrass, would like to protect your friends. I can respect that. The value in having respectable friends such as... Miss Moon over here... is truly something worth cherishing."
He turned around on her and stepped up towards Ron again. "Now this one, however..." Lucius placed his hand on Ron's cheek, then flicked his fingers into the air as if to get rid of some dirt. "If you do not lower you wand, Miss Greengrass, I will not risk any of your friends. You have my word on that. Unless, of course, you do not keep your own wand in check," he added in a cold voice.
"If you do not lower your wand," he repeated, "you will lose nothing. But this one will have to die."
Iris breath caught. Her gaze turned towards Daphne, furiously throwing her own thoughts her way. She wouldn't dare. He really couldn't have picked a worse person if his plan was to appeal to their sense of morality. Iris had no doubts about the veracity of Lucius' threat. And worse, that same reasoning could be stretched to apply to Susan as well. There was no way she'd go through with this, right?
"Very well, have it your way," Lucius said, as if he couldn't have less of a care in the world, before turning back around. "But you may find that your... friend... might have some issues with the gamble you're trying to make."
She slowly turned her head to face Iris, and their eyes met. Daphne hesitated. Her eyes wandered over the other girls present once again, until they ended on the still dazed form of her sister.
"The blood traitor does not concern me," Daphne said evenly. "If you want me to let go of him, then—"
"This has gone quite far enough."
The rustling of leaves in the wind, the distant song of birds, and the last embers of the inferno in the city, all of them fell quiet and held their breath.
"And I believe..." Lily purred, "I would like to have a word."
Lucius Malfoy turned to meet her gaze, as did Daphne, and his three compatriots, their wands still uselessly held at her friends' throats. Right now, it was an empty gesture, a hollow threat, of something that simply could not happen while she still had the floor. And nobody here held a Name of their own to tell reality otherwise.
Now, what to do here? She could make them listen, make the moment conform to her words, but that would only last until the very second that the moment ended. So whatever she said would not only have to make sense, but also set her up to get them out of this mess.
"You're done with your meaningless squabble. Now... you'll be facing me."
For a single heartbeat, nobody in the clearing seemed to breathe. The leaves overhead stilled, as though hanging on every syllable. Daphne stood eerily still, her mind adrift, her entire being caught in the moment. Even the three Death Eaters holding wands to Iris's friends slackened, gazes empty, their minds adrift in face of raw agency beyond their comprehension. The power in Lily's voice was palpable, like a slight shift in gravity pressing down on everyone's chest.
"Well," he said finally, his voice almost too calm. "So it was you, then. I'll admit my curiosity as to the how, or to where you intend to take this little show. But I am afraid, child, you’ve come to the wrong stage."
Lily’s eyes flashed. He was still speaking. But he held no authority here, and that was the only thing that mattered right now. The Name flared, thrumming with power just beneath her human facade. "This stage... is set only for us. They are not a part of this, so you'll leave them out," she declared. "There is nothing for you to hide behind. Neither mask nor body. Your theatrics end now."
The silence thickened—the moment bending, contorting to Lily’s will. She seized that intangible hush as a seam in reality, weaving her desire into its fabric through the simple act of speaking.
"Lower your wands and face me," she commanded, each word forging a subtle current in the air. It was just them now. Lily, on one side, standing straight across from Lucius Malfoy, with three other nameless nobody standing next to him, as if awaiting the judgement of their very existence in front of the final jury. The nearest Death Eater’s elbow twitched involuntarily, and the others stiffened. She could see grips slacken, their will wavering, their wands lowering. Daphne's arm finally faltered completely, her wand dangling uselessly from her loosened grip. Perfect. This was going much better than her last attempt.
"I see... that you have learned to speak with some authority," Lucius Malfoy finally said. "But do you truly believe that this alone will prove enough to break our conviction?"
He took one measured step forward. Behind him, reality began to trickle back in. Draco watched with haunted eyes, and Astoria wavered between fury and confusion, still half-stunned by whatever Lucius had done with that crystalline tip. Daphne remained where she was—back ramrod straight, just as entrapped by Lily's words as everyone else.
One of the masked Death Eaters exhaled raggedly. "My—my Lord," he stammered to Lucius, "something’s—"
"Steady yourselves," Lucius snapped, never once looking away from Lily. His cutting voice alone seemed enough to snap the Death Eater back into rigid discipline. Then, with that same calm confidence, he addressed Lily again. "Loyalty... is not so easily taken, nor so freely given," he said, before his voice took a lower tone. "It is earned."
Lily’s eyes narrowed. If he were Voldemort himself, she would have expected such defiance; a Name as dreadful as Voldemort might resist her. Yet Lucius Malfoy had no such claim. He’s just a man, Lily reminded herself. And men can be broken.
"You think to stand on ceremony, Malfoy?" she spat the name, making it an epithet, a curse. "Give me a reason not to show you exactly how worthless your pride is."
Her voice rang out again, crisp and clear, laden with magic, plucking him from where he stood to face her directly, inches apart. Instantly, the Death Eaters who held wands to Theo, Susan, and Ron jerked as though caught in a strong wind. Their grips loosened, wands inching away from vital spots. Lily seized on the moment, pushing that pressure further, overriding their agency through her sheer presence alone. The wand at Ron's neck slipped right through the slackened hand and fell to the ground, and the others wavered, only seconds from falling in line with their fate—
But Lucius’s cane came down, a resonant crack against the earth. "Enough!"
That simple word wasn't powerful in a magical sense. It didn't hold the weight of a Name—the whimsy of reality bending by its mere utterance simply due to the very nature of who it was that had spoken—but it held a different sort of power. The power of someone who had spent decades navigating the cutthroat circles of magical high society, who had dedicated his life to bending people to his will with nothing but his words alone. Here stood a man that commanded the obedience of over a third of the ruling class of an entire country on a daily basis. And his words would not be so easily dismissed.
"Look around you," he said, spreading his arms and turning. He wasn't just addressing her, he was speaking to everyone. "You speak with stolen authority, using words which do not reflect reality. You think yourself above such mortal constraints; your friends however..." He turned his head with exquisite slowness, surveying the array of wands. His wands. "...are not. Your power may be intangible, but this situation is very... very real. As are your friends."
He began to slowly walk towards her, step by step, his calm expression never once wavering. "Your words are but a figment of imagination. Will you claim the same delusion when standing before their gravestones?" Lucius said as he approached, until he was right in her face, and tilted his head. "Are you prepared to gamble all their lives on the chance that your Name can overpower the raw inevitability of one twitch of the finger?"
Lily could feel the tension shift, as he turned away from her, and began walking towards her friends, seemingly without a care in the world. Her hold on the moment was fraying, her words slipping through her fingers like through a sieve. If she pushed now, she might manage to turn it all around... but she might just as well break the moment entirely. But she couldn't just allow this to continue. She couldn't let him get away with mocking her authority like this. Lily had to do something.
Lucius stopped next to Daphne's frozen form, and plucked her wand from her unresisting hands. His lips curved in a thin, knowing smile. "You see the logic, don’t you? If you push just a fraction too far, someone will die." His right hand came up to her face, and he slowly caressed her cheek. "You still have a lot to learn, my dear. Your reality is nothing but an illusion. And you appear to be in dire need... of a wakeup call."
There was a blur; her hand lashed out as the moment shattered, causing everyone to stumble for one critical moment. Lily didn't waste a second. Her palm lit up in a bright mix of Blue and Yellow, and she barely even had to think the words to send her wand shooting off the ground until it smacked into her hand where it belonged. With a grin, she spun, a bright orange glow on the tip of her wand, but just before she could form the spell her eyes were caught by something bright, white and shiny... so shiny...
She saw her own emerald eyes reflecting, over and over, it was so close, it was so pretty... She wanted to just...
"Such a shame. He was right, you could have been great, if only things had gone differently."
~V~
No... what was happening? This was almost like... almost like the full body bind, except... something was off.
It wasn't really a spell, she couldn't feel anything on her body, or see anything, that was, anything other than the pretty afterimages of that crystal. And she couldn't think of much else, either.
Somewhere in the corner of her mind she noticed Lucius Malfoy running a finger through her hair, while she felt something being pulled from her right hand. Next to him, Astoria jerked, as she managed to snap out of it, and quickly grabbed Tracey's wand off the ground, before turning it right back around on the girl. Again? Also, how? How had she... could she... could she what? Would waiting help? But then...
"Now... where were we? Ah, right. Draco. You disgrace yourself. Get to your feet."
When Malfoy didn't, in fact, get to his feet, his father whacked the other end of the cane lightly into his arm, causing him to yelp, and quickly follow the instruction.
"Draco... this is a momentous day. You do realize that the primary objective of our Lord today was solely to draw out... her?" he said. Lucius approached once more, Draco slowly following behind him, until he came to a stop in front of her once more.
"And I'm sure you can imagine how pleased he will be, not just at his plan having succeeded, but that it would be you, who delivered her to him..." he purred, running his cane down Iris' nose, her gaze trapped once more.
Next to her Iris noticed one of the Death Eaters shifting around nervously, but he... she? didn't speak up.
"Me? I... what are you saying, father?" Malfoy finally whispered.
"I know that our Lord has taught you well... What you asked of him, what you requested, even if you didn't achieve it in time for his early departure. There is but a single spell you need to cast, to make her... yours."
Lucius stepped up to his son, and ran a hand through his hair, then wiped a tear from his cheek, and rested there for a moment.
"This is the moment you have been waiting for. She is all yours now. Or she will be, once you speak the word. Power, in its most primal, its most visceral, in a way she could only ever hope to accomplish."
Draco swallowed, his eyes flicking between his father, and Iris. He gripped his wand for a moment, before seemingly deciding on something, and pushed the hand off his face. He stood a little straighter, then stepped up to Iris. One step, then another, until he was right in her face.
"Potter... You don't even know.. just how long I have waited for this moment..."
Iris glared back, but try as she might, she still couldn't move a muscle. Nor form a coherent thought.
"Ever since that one night in the corridor. I remember it all too clearly. You, all alone, stuck at the ceiling like the squib you are..."
Iris remembered. That night, where she'd gotten pranked by the Weasley twins, and Draco had sent Harry to the Hospital wing.
"I still wonder... how did you get out of that jinx in the first place? Was it to do with the shadows?"
Iris' eyes widened a bit. At the time she hadn't really thought about it, but... maybe? If spells were light, and the shadows were just... well, that, would any of the light even be able to stick to them once she entered?
"I thought so..." he whispered, before his expression turned steely. "I'll never be fooled like that again."
A hand settled on his shoulder, and Lucius stepped up to him, offering his unspoken support. A myriad of expressions ran over Draco's face, before he snarled, shoved the hand off, and took a step back.
With a fury she'd rarely ever seen on his face, he glared back at her, before swinging his wand skyward, and shouting, "Tenebris!"
The shadows crept, the shadows grew. Over the ground, up his robes, through the trees, and gathering at a single point. It took ages, yet was seemingly also over in a second. More and more had gathered, dredged from the depths by the echo of the word, until he brought his wand forward, and his eyes narrowed.
There was no way, right?
"Potter, you have to—"
Daphne's shout was cut off by Astoria who jabbed her wand forcefully into Tracey's neck, making Daphne stiffen, but in the end, nobody interfered.
The shadows were pulled in. Slowly, but still inexorably, all the little wisps and tendrils were drawn towards the wand. Iris screamed at herself internally to do something to move, to stop this, and she forced all of her willpower, every ounce of her being to wake the fuck up and move. Her left hand twitched. Yes! She could do it. Her eyes flicked over all her friends, most of them still knocked out on the ground around her, and none of them had their wands. She was the only one who could do anything, the only one who could still stop this. Another lurch and this time, her jaw managed to move a little. Just a bit more and—
The final lingering shadows were drawn into the wand, which was now glowing in a color of pure blackness. The wand came to bear, and Draco's eyes met hers. He paused, before he whispered, "This.. is vengeance."
And he swung his wand through a wide arc, before slashing it down, glowing in an angry, bright Red.
"Crucio!"
Chapter 31: Embers
Chapter Text
The only thing more dangerous than ignorance was complacency.
After everything that had happened over the past year, there had been a single topic that had sort of slipped through the cracks. A single topic that had been Iris’ main concern during the summer of her first year, when she’d finally figured out the reason for Harry’s illness. She’d imagined all kinds of scenarios, all kinds of ways for the worst to happen. What if she just lost control? What if she tried something and it went wrong? What if her powers just continued to grow to the point where she was a permanent radiation disaster either way?
Would she just go critical one day and irradiate her friends? The school? Or just go completely nuclear and take the castle with her? Worst of all, she knew there was a single scenario, a single possibility where it would happen again, and where there would be nothing she could do about it. The same scenario where it had happened the first time. Back when it had caused Harry to be bedridden with radiation sickness for over a month.
When the Dark Lord had cast the Cruciatus Curse at her.
But over the following weeks, the scenarios had faded as she had reunited with her friends, from a constant worry, a constant tension in her every step to a vague possibility at the back of her mind, and later not even that. After all, Iris was better than that. She was in control. She was the one who wielded her powers, not the other way around. Especially considering her Name.
And yet, all of that had come crashing down, that single scenario dredged up from the depths of her memories, and painting the consequences all too clear for her to see, only fractions of a second before it happened, when it was already far too late to stop it. All her friends were here; all within a stone’s throw of herself; and worse, her light. Her very own light, which could be twisted from simple, pretty colors all the way into invisible yet deadly radiation. Not through malicious magics, but through raw, uncaring physics.
Draco’s wand lit up in a blinding electric red, arcs of power and light sizzling up his wand, gathering at the tip. Jagged lines of red that seemed to linger, seemingly carving cracks into reality itself, and they spelled out a truth, a power that even her Name could never hope to match. The curse was cast, and Magic would obey.
In an instant, massive arcs of red burst from the tip, branching in many paths, but in a singular direction, all of them heading towards her, faster than she could blink, and everything turned red.
There was a scream. Although calling it that would not do it justice. But Iris had no idea how to describe the wail of raw terrified anguish and despair that pierced the clearing, as the man next to her toppled to the ground, his limbs twitching, his head clutched, his eyes aglow in an angry red that threatened to burst his skull wide open.
The light kept flickering, casting circular shadows, as if the dark red was the only thing illuminating this entire forest. It lit up Draco’s face in a flickering Red, who stared down at the man twitching below the tip of his wand with an expression of unbridled hatred.
On and on, the curse was held, seconds, minutes, Iris had no idea. She still didn’t understand what had happened. Why? Why would he curse his own father?
Tears were gathering, welling up in the corners of his eyes, running down his cheeks, yet he still held the curse. Iris, Astoria, even the Death Eaters; everyone was just staring in shock, unable to think, unable to act at this unbelievable display of sheer violence.
Except for… Daphne. She was slowly moving, edging closer to Iris, until she stood right beside her, giving Iris a meaningful stare. Had she just…
Had she just made him… made him do that? But how? Shouldn’t that be… She didn’t know the details, but from her own experience… if there was any discrepancy in intent, if all of you wasn’t completely on the same page with what you were doing, you wouldn’t be able to summon Polarized Magic. She hadn’t been able to in Lily’s body. There had been something in the back of her mind always interfering. And come to think of it, Quirrell had also been unable to.
So… unless someone had cast an Imperius Curse at him… this had to be his own doing. But she still didn’t understand why, nor what Daphne was trying to say… Oh. It wasn’t about what she had done, but about what she could do. And given the fact she’d gone out of her way to make her way over here, that would mean… Right. Iris wasn’t sure if Daphne was able to do anything without a wand, well, except for Mind Magic, of course. And Mind Magic required eye contact.
The two of them stood off to the side, with all three of the Death Eaters, as well as both Malfoy senior and junior firmly over to one side, well within their vision. Except for one—Astoria.
It was an opening. And even though there were many wands, and many friends in jeopardy, there was a single point of failure that only she could exploit. If she were anywhere as cautious as her housemates, she’d have a countercharm in place. But if her eyes didn’t deceive her, that wouldn’t help in this situation. But could she trust that Daphne would pull through? Even after what she just tried to do to Ron?
“Why?!” Draco wailed, keeping the curse going still. “How could you!”
His father wasn’t in any state of mind to respond in any way other than with more screams.
“You killed her! You. Killed. Her!”
“Draco… please!” Astoria whispered, her trembling wand still at Tracey’s neck, but her attention completely on what Draco was doing.
Alright, screw it. It was now or never. Iris focused, and gathered all her will into her hand, she forced her fingers to move, one twitch, then two, and the harder she tried, the more she could feel the shackles of whatever that crystal had done crumbling. With a final herculean effort, she balled her hand into a tight fist, then opened it again, swirled it in a familiar motion to bring some combined Blue and Yellow into her palm, then poised her fingers, focused her will to weave the single spell with all the power she could muster, and released the spell in a final, resounding snap, adding some extra force for good measure.
Accio Tracey’s wand!
The sound, crisp and sharp, caused a wave of pressure to ripple out from her, much like the Pulsare spell except by far not strong enough to disbalance anyone just by itself. The flash of green light was painfully obvious, even over the hellish red inferno still flickering and illuminating everyone in dancing shadows of pure anguish.
Death Eaters jumped at the sudden snap cutting through the tension. Astoria gasped as Tracey’s wand was yanked from her slackened grip, and came zooming towards Iris. Her eyes widened, and the girl let out a yell. The Death Eater holding Theo realized what was happening, and his wand began to twitch, as all the captors locked gazes with Iris.
But crucially, as a result, also with Daphne right next to her. And that split-second of everyone’s eyes on her was all that Daphne had needed.
“Stop!”
It was a command. Not in the same sense as Lily had tried; she wasn’t demanding the obedience of reality itself. Her voice was laden with the Mind aspect, and it contained a carefully woven suggestion, deception, and oppression, all rolled into a single word.
The Death Eaters froze in their tracks for a second, and that was all that Iris needed. Another flick of her wrist brought her own wand back to her hand, and with an almighty lurch she broke through the remainder of her paralysis, and a second later, the Death Eaters crumpled to the ground from a few well placed stunners, before they could so much as blink.
Daphne just stood there, unmoving, and she was clenching her fists to the point that her knuckles turned white, but she wasn’t saying anything. Iris turned her gaze back at Draco, and was tempted to try stunning him as well, just to end this grotesque display somehow. But apparently, the boy had taken Daphne’s command to heart as well, and finally lifted the curse.
Lucius fell quiet, his arms still slightly twitching, as Draco lowered his wand.
“You killed mother,” Draco spat coldly. “You killed her, just because he said so.”
Lucius groaned and raised his head to meet his son’s loathing gaze. Draco took a step forward and kicked the man across his face, causing him to crumple right back to the ground.
“You killed her, in front of me, and then you made me forget!” he shouted, stomping down on his head once more. “And you dare call yourself my father?”
“I only did it… for you… to protect you. It didn’t matter… if I died, but… if I hadn’t, then he would have—”
“It should have been me!” Draco roared. “If you’d chosen me, at least then it would have all been good for something!”
He was breathing deeply, before he collapsed onto his knees. “At least then… at least then she would still be alive…”
He took another deep breath, then his trembling hand eerily calmed down, and he raised it once again, pointing it at his fathers slumped form one final time.
“My son…” the broken man whispered.
“I am no son of yours,” Draco hissed, his wand starting to glow.
He held it there, seemingly working himself up to something, until he let out a frustrated scream and shouted “Stupefy!”
With a thump, Lucius Malfoy collapsed into a motionless heap under the wand of his own son. Draco just stood there, his eyes unwilling to leave his father’s crumpled form.
“Draco… why?” Astoria said in a whisper, to which he did not reply.
At last, he straightened up, turned, and began to approach Iris. Iris’ breath caught in her throat as she met his eyes. Step by step he came closer, holding her gaze the entire time, his wand still clutched at his side. Iris noticed Daphne next to him retrieve her own wand from Lucius’ body, but Iris gave her a look, warning her off. This… she wouldn’t have anyone interrupting this.
Draco came to a stop right in front of Iris, and looked her straight in the eyes, his robes completely disheveled, tears still streaking his face, and an expression warring with too many emotions to decipher.
“And you…” he growled, his hands balling into fists.
He held her gaze, glaring at her, his mouth scrambling for words. His breathing grew rapid, his eyes erratic, as he opened his mouth once, twice, before he finally snarled, “Don’t you think this changes anything, Potter!”
Malfoy whirled on the spot, and took off running towards the castle, with Astoria scrambling after him. Iris was just staring after his retreating form. She had no idea what to think about what just happened. Or why she felt so… betrayed? As if he’d not only saved her, but somehow also taken that away from her. What was she supposed to do with him now? He’d just betrayed Voldemort, hell, he’d cursed his own father.
But then… Was that it? Iris had really expected him to try and reach out a hand to her, or something, she guessed. But before that little spark of hope for a long forgotten dream had even properly settled in, he had snuffed it right back out.
Slowly, Iris turned back towards the bodies on the ground. Now, what to do… On the one hand, the right thing to do would be to keep them stunned, tie them up, and wait for the Aurors to take care of them or something. She already had far too much blood on her hands, and just executing them in cold blood really wouldn’t sit right with her. But on the other hand, they had seen too much. If Voldemort didn’t know about the connection between her and her Lily Blackwood persona, if they somehow managed to escape, he definitely would. Not to mention that the ministry might learn as well, if they were questioned… What to do, what… no, never mind. After all, she had learned that spell for this exact situation. The only real question was whether to use the scalpel, or the dagger.
Or maybe… Iris glanced over towards Daphne, who was now brushing dust off her robes. No. No way; not after what she’d just tried to pull.
Iris brought a deep purple into her wand, a combination of the Mind and Destruction aspects. She began to shape the spell, working through her practice with the very girl who was now giving her a raised eyebrow. The first half-circle formed, and she imagined the minute-hand moving five minutes back. The second half emerged, and finally, Iris hesitated. Use the dagger, or use the scalpel? One would be harder to detect, but it could be reversed once it was discovered. The other was supposedly irreversible, but it would also be glaringly obvious that their memories had been tampered with. Also, if there was any chance to bring Malfoy over to her side, breaking his father’s mind would probably close that avenue for good, when even the boy himself hadn’t managed to do anything to him after—
“Potter, no. Let me handle this.”
Iris paused, hesitating, the half-formed spell on the tip of her wand, and her decision still unmade. “Like hell you are,” Iris said. “Just like you handled the situation with Ron?”
“You realize I am Promise-bound to protect your secrets? We cannot risk the Obliviation being discovered by either side. I will take care of this. I literally have no other choice. And neither do you.”
Iris’ grip tightened around her wand. “I don’t have a choice, huh?” Iris growled. “I can just do the spell you taught me.”
“And risk it being discovered that they were Obliviated in the first place? Would that still constitute as keeping my secrets?”
The last words echoed in her mind, over and over, slowly forming into a headache, and a foreboding sensation. No… fuck this… and fuck that bitch. How had she… Had she just reasoned her way into forcing Iris to comply by her Promise?
Keeping my secrets.
The headache grew, as the words echoed over and over. Iris still held the spell, the half-formed circles sizzling right at the tip of her wand, but the longer she thought about it, the more she realized it was the only logical conclusion. Fuck!
Grinding her teeth, she let go of the spell, and lowered her wand. “Fine. But make it quick.”
Daphne nodded, approached a downed Death-Eater, removed the mask, peeled open his eyes, and did… something. Whatever it was, it looked creepy as hell. But Iris supposed she had no leg to stand on here.
“I’m removing everything about the encounter. It will take some time, but there should be no way to reverse it, unlike with the Memory Charm.”
Iris watched as Daphne kept peering into their vacant eyes, her own glimmering in a deep Indigo, as she moved from one body to the next. With the three unnamed ones taken care of, she finally approached Malfoy’s father. More Indigo, more silence. Iris approached the bodies, trying to make out anything else. Of course she took a look underneath the masks with some help of the Control aspect, but she didn’t recognize any of them, and it wasn’t like she could just hand this memory to the Aurors either if she didn’t want anyone to look into their actions here in the first place. The tension kept building as she watched Daphne attempt to twist Lucius Malfoy’s mind to hide their tracks, but somehow, this was taking even longer. Way longer. She glanced around the clearing, checking the horizon. The distant explosions and spellfire had now died down, and the only thing she could make out were the dark plumes of smoke above the village.
Daphne let out a groan, and stumbled back. A hand came up, rubbing her temple, but even just raising a hand in her direction made her almost subtly shift away from Iris, and instead give her a blank look.
“This might be a problem,” Daphne said. “The lead up is trivial, but removing the Cruciatus from his memories is tricky. The trauma has buried it deep within his memories.”
“Can you do it?” Iris said.
“I think so. But I will need some more time.”
Time that they didn’t have. Something began glimmering and flashing in the corner of Iris’ vision, and suddenly, the bodies of all the Death Eaters, including Lucius, distorted on the spot and disappeared with several pops. Portkeys. Damn it!
“Did you get it?”
“I removed everything up until the cast, but if he saw any of us while he was under the curse…”
Iris stared back down at the empty spot on the ground. As if Voldemort didn’t already have reason enough to try and go after her friends.
“Look.” a deafening whisper pierced her ears, echoing from all around her.
“Look upon the embers of your own decisions. Look and realize that all of this could have been avoided. I do not condone pointless bloodshed. But not only do you refuse to surrender those who are a living curse upon our precious society, you refuse to do what is necessary to ensure your friends remain protected. This tragedy was brought about not by an act of aggression, but by an act of blind and misguided defiance.”
Iris froze in her tracks, eyes meeting Daphne’s, as Voldemort’s voice began to echo through the trees.
“But above all, know that there is one among you, who could have put a stop to this, if only she had chosen to face me from the start, instead of hiding like the coward that she is. I ask you, is that the kind of person you place your faith in?”
Iris’ eyes went wide at that proclamation, but the voice was not done.
“I look forward to our next meeting, Lily Blackwood.”
Silence fell, and not even the singing of birds returned.
~V~
It was fine. They all were fine. They were alive, they were together, and they weren’t puking out their intestines due to radiation sickness. And soon they’d be back… as soon as the damn forest stopped pretending to be infinite and actually let them go…
Nothing was fine. Iris glanced over towards Ron still supporting Tracey, Daphne and Susan still carrying two unconscious bodies, and Lily trailing behind them like a lost puppy. Half of them weren’t able to walk by themselves, and she hadn’t even been able to wake up Neville and Hannah at all. Iris took another step, almost tripping over one of the roots littering the ground, and barely managed to keep herself and Theo upright. Maybe they really should just take the shadows instead. It wasn’t like bloody everyone of them hadn’t already seen—
“Let’s not jinx it, okay?”
“What?”
“Nothing,” Theo replied with a look. “You just look like you’re planning something you yourself know is a bad idea again.”
Iris almost wanted to argue, but then dismissed the thought. They were pretty close to the castle anyway, but… yeah. Still. So many things had happened that she had no idea where to even start, and she really just wanted it all to be over with, to finally get back and just collapse in a bed, sleep for three days, and then attempt to figure out all this madness somehow. She shot a longing glance up at the dark castle towers finally peeking through the first light at the end of the forest. Heh. Not so infinite after all.
“Uhm… does the castle look kind of different to you?” Ron said.
“What are you… huh,” Iris replied, glancing at the distant towers. It was just there, standing in all of its ancient stony magnificence as always, yet… something… something she couldn’t quite put her finger on…
“The Astronomy Tower!”
The… Astronomy Tower? But… where was—
“Magical Marshmallows! It’s gone!”
Iris just stood there, having frozen in her step as she finally realized it. All the towers, all the walls, all the windows, everything was exactly as it should be, except for a small, but very significant difference. Even if it was just one tower of many, it was technically the tallest one, if not by much. The Ravenclaw as well as Gryffindor towers were still there, and so was the Teachers Wing with the Headmasters Office, and a few of the others that Iris had no idea what they would contain. But towards the left side, right between the Teachers Wing and the Gryffindor Tower, where there should be the thin, tall pillar that contained a myriad of telescopes and other equipment…
There was just nothing.
Given the complex skyline of the entire castle it wasn’t immediately obvious, but once you saw it, you couldn’t unsee it. Was it an illusion? What the hell had happened?
“We need to get back, now.”
There was a loud crack, then another, and Iris felt something sharp and pointy pressed into her back.
“Hold your fire! They’re students!” a tall black man shouted at the other who had appeared somewhere behind her.
“I don’t care what they look like. Wands on the ground, now.”
“Alastor, cut it out! We have more important issues!” the black man shouted again, and only now Iris noticed the bright silvery badge stuck to his chest.
There was a pause, before the man behind her growled “…Fine.”
She felt the pressure dissipate, and Iris carefully turned around to see a painfully familiar rugged man sporting an eye-patch with a large blue eye embedded within a golden frame, which was spinning by itself in various directions. The man she remembered Tonks had fittingly called Mad-Eye. But she realized just in time that this would be her first time actually meeting him, at least, as Iris.
“Look at them. We need to get them to the healers, questions can come later,” the other man added.
The spinning eye had settled in to join the first, both of them now staring directly at her with a frightening intensity, and Iris had a feeling as if he’d seen something he shouldn’t have. Iris froze. Had he found something to link her to her Lily Blackwood persona? Or was it something else?
Finally, with a grunt, he reached out his other hand, and placed it down on her shoulder. The universe squeezed into Iris from all sides, her body forced into a small tube, spiraling and swirling through a black vortex of nothingness, only to one second later re-appear with a crack in what looked like the center of the hospital wing. A few more cracks followed, as one after the other, all her friends were deposited in and around the crowded beds in the room.
Not good.
“How did we just apparate to the Hospital Wing?” Iris asked Mad-Eye, which caused his scowl to deepen for a second.
“Castle wards are down,” he grunted in response, before turning and disapparating on the spot once more.
~V~
“Hermione! Thank Merlin! Are you… I mean… are you…”
“I’m doing better, Ron,” Hermione hesitantly replied. “I’m the last person you should be worried about right now.”
Ron frowned. There was something she wasn’t telling him. “I don’t care about that. I want to know what happened to you. Did Madam Pomfrey find anything?”
Of course he was still worried. Originally, Hermione was supposed to have joined him on their Hogsmeade trip, which, thank Merlin she hadn’t. But the reason why she hadn’t had been that half-way through their trip she’d suddenly started feeling really unwell, and only upon Ron’s repeated insistence to accompany her to the Hospital Wing had finally relented and promised to head there with Percy instead, who obviously had been looking for any excuse to get out of being dragged along anyway. Hermione had insisted that Ron kept going to accompany Tracey instead. On the one hand, he had really wanted to return with her to make sure, but then again, nothing had happened, and she’d been with Percy either way.
But seeing her now trying to suspiciously evade his gaze made him regret that choice. Especially the renewed bandages along her neck.
“Ron, dear! Oh my… Are you alright? What happened? Let me look at you!”
Merlin’s pants, please. Not here. Ron froze up as he found himself almost bowled over by his approaching mum, and consequently rapidly fussed over to check for any sign of injury, or even a single speck of dust out of place. He’d tried his best to avoid her, but ever since the funeral, she’d been around a lot. Apparently, Madam Pomfrey still hadn’t completed her treatment, and so she’d taken to finding any excuse to butt into his life, and also taken great exception to any excuse that he had found to avoid her.
“You weren’t… in the Astronomy Tower, were you?” Mum said.
“No!” Ron said, “I… what happened there anyway?”
“Nothing for you to worry about, dear…” his mother said.
“Mum! I’m not a kid! The whole bloody tower is gone! That’s not nothing to worry about!”
But of course, she’d just double down again. “Now listen here, young man—”
“Fiendfyre.”
…What.
Ron had frozen, then slowly turned to meet Hermione’s gaze once again, who stared back at him blankly.
“That’s what Madam Pomfrey said. Someone… summoned Fiendfyre. They managed to contain it to that tower to prevent the rest of the castle from being destroyed, but anything in the tower… well…” Hermione trailed off.
“Anything… Professor Sinistra?”
“Ron, dear… listen to me. You know that—”
“No, mum! I want to know! What in Merlin’s name happened?”
“Nobody has seen her since. If she was still in the tower, well…”
So they didn’t even know? But…
Ron froze, as he realized something else. Because Professor Sinistra wasn’t the only one. If the whole tower was gone…
Another office was there too, albeit on the lower floors, but still.
“What about Professor Black?”
Hermione didn’t reply.
~V~
Iris’ head spun, trying to take in the situation, and to figure out what to do from here. Aurors, mediwitches, teachers, everyone was popping in and out of the Hospital Wing, without any system of order to it, everyone trying to help, yet nobody seemingly in charge of the whole lot. Over to the side, a section of the room had seemingly been designated specifically for people splinching themselves from Apparating into places they shouldn’t, like walls, furniture, mid-air, people…
The hospital wing was overflowing, nobody had any idea who had made it and who hadn’t, who had been in Hogsmeade and who hadn’t, and people were still missing, but nobody even knew who was still missing, not to mention where they’d be.
And so she’d done the only thing she could, and tried to check. Except no matter how many times she flipped over the sheets of parchment, she couldn’t find any hint of his name, or even of the unnamed paw prints she’d seen the last time. Damn it, Sirius. Of course this would happen. Because there was no way anything ever went right for her.
The moment she’d opened up, the moment she’d tried to bring him in… He was gone. Just like that. And God knows who else. But then again… maybe he hadn’t been in his office? Maybe he… but then why wasn’t he here now?
Just to be sure, she scanned the map again. and again. And nothing. She didn’t even know who was missing from it, since she’d never even gotten to know all that many students by name in the first place, and nobody else could tell her, either.
According to the Auror known as Mad-Eye, apparently, the disappearance of the Astronomy tower had somehow taken the castle wards with it. Luckily, it seemed her Geas apparently still remained in place, otherwise Voldemort would probably be already standing laughing at the foot of Dumbledore’s lone hospital bed in the corner. But she guessed, the banishment would only apply to him directly. So could Death Eaters now enter the castle as they pleased?
This had to have been part of his plan as well. Right as she was put in a situation that was apparently designed to force her to break the Geas, a Fiendfyre attack took out the castle wards. This was too much of a coincidence. But also, it wasn’t like one could simply cast Fiendfyre on a whim.
“No, you may not leave, Messrs Weasley,” she heard McGonagall say from next to the door. “The castle is not safe. You will wait until a teacher or an Auror is available to escort you.”
“But Professor, we can’t just—” a worried voice shouted in reply.
“No, Mister Weasley. This is not the time for your jokes. Return to your housemates or I will be forced to transfigure one of you into a ferret—”
Said Weasley twin opened his mouth with an excited grin, but was instantly cut off, “—and the other one into a cage for said ferret. Now off with you. We don’t have time for this.”
And with that said, the witch turned around, moving on to help Madam Pomfrey, leaving behind a pair of slightly less tense twins who were trading glances as they reluctantly settled down into a corner, where Iris approached them to ask for clarification. They hadn’t told her why they were so eager to try and get out of the Hospital wing, but they had told her a few other things. Specifically, about the way that the attack on Hogsmeade had found a sudden end.
This time, Iris had no illusions about whose fault that was. Voldemort had taken her ritual and repurposed it for his own twisted goals. If there was something in the village that he wanted, a.k.a. herself, then barring himself—plus maybe his most loyal—from entering would count as an adequate sacrifice to keep someone else out as well, or in this case, the Aurors in general. They’d also mentioned that apparently the Aurors were setting up a large-scale Anti-Apparition-Ward, but these things would take time, especially over an ancient and magical structure such as Hogwarts. Apparently, the initial plan had been to set up a quick charm around the Hospital Wing, but after only a few minutes of more and more injured people being apparated in, they had decided that the benefits outweighed the risks for now. But that would leave the rest of the castle unprotected, with the possibility of any Death Eater bar Voldemort at least apparating in at any time, which was probably part of the reason why everyone was still so on edge.
Her current working theory was that the plan had been to take out both the wards and the Geas in one fell swoop, and then have Voldemort just apparate right in the middle of the Hospital Wing and take out his biggest obstacle to any of his future plans in one go. A glance over towards the corner revealed said Headmaster still serenely lying there, in the same spot, almost as if he were just asleep. She guessed there was some silver lining to this entire mess at least.
Iris checked on Tracey and Theo once again, who both had already long since been treated, and were now helping distribute potions under Pomfrey’s instructions. Ron had been dragged off by his family from the start, as had Susan. Hannah and Neville were still in a coma, though the healers couldn’t tell her much without having to move on to someone else demanding their immediate attention. But from what she gathered all her friends at least were still alive—and thankfully not irradiated. That had been way too close. She really had to get her shit together, and figure out what the hell was going on.
She hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Malfoy yet. And Daphne had been sent to wait with the rest of her housemates after having quickly been checked over by a mediwitch, much like herself. Speaking of the girl, it was high time she cut through all the confusion surrounding her once and for all. And since it seemed like she wasn’t going anywhere, now was as good a time as any. Between Lily, Astoria, Ria, the Watcher and Neville, also… yeah. Fuck that. Iris couldn’t focus, she needed a second to think here.
Iris closed her eyes, and slowly brought the familiar deep Indigo into her mind, spreading it to every single corner, and increasing the brightness, until all of the competing thoughts finally quieted down for a second. Iris stood there, taking it all in, then opened her eyes, and glanced around the room she was in, as if seeing it for the first time.
So, concerning Daphne, there was the issue with Lily Moon, also whatever was going on between her and Astoria, then there was also Ria who was either in contact with her, or at least seemed to be hanging out in her Mindscape somehow. And then there also was the Watcher, who she’d never heard anything about except vague, throwaway comments and figures of speech, as well as when Mad-Eye had suspected Lily to— okay, stop.
That was all well and good, but she had just one question.
What the fuck?
How had things gotten this out of control? Why had she just gone along with it? Thinking about individual events, yeah, they mostly made sense, but everything had happened so fast that she’d never had the time to properly work through any of it. Had she actually lost her ability to stop and think without her Mindlight?
Err… yeah. Not that she’d ever been very good with that to begin with. Sure, trying to keep a proper sleep schedule, trying to keep her thoughts in order, and trying to clean up the mess that was her mind could help to reduce the chaos, but it was all pointless if she never stopped to actually use her damn brain in the first place! Or was it…
Her mental image returned to that room, all the doors still ajar, all the contents laid bare and thrown into disarray, none of it put in its proper place, or actually moved to the new room yet. She didn’t even have a new room yet. Maybe she should just hire Luna as her personal assistant, at least that would be less chaotic, probably.
Okay. Okay. She had to tackle this mess somehow, and trying to think about everything at once clearly wasn’t working. She had to approach this methodically, break down the questions into smaller tasks, find the common denominator, and try to close in on the answer to as many issues as possible through the most efficient path.
And that meant, she had to start with Daphne. All of this chaos was somehow tied to her. And even with just her there were still way too many things at once. She had to start small, so for now, she’d start where it had all begun. With Lily Moon.
She’d been aware of Daphne’s skill as a Mind Mage for a while now, and she had a strong hunch that whatever was going on with Lily Moon was somehow Daphne’s fault. Well, except for the part that it was her own fault, too. She’d never imagined that her own Name could have this sort of effect, but if it really worked like the Names of any magical creatures… Lupin had only told her three things about Names. They were powerful by themselves—not just societal power, but real power. They could not be given, but had to be either earned or taken, and they were unique. As he had put it, there could only ever be one Ranrok at a time. If her own magical Name had the same effect on Lily Moon… well, it couldn’t be just because their names matched, right? She was pretty sure every single Lily out there wasn’t descending into madness all of a sudden, and it only seemed to happen when she was close to Iris.
And finally, while she could very much see that being exposed to the one true Lily might weaken or suppress the original Lily Moon, that did not explain the presence of this new persona. The ridiculous girl somehow kept reminding her of every single cartoon villain she’d ever known rolled into one. Iris had only ever seen glimpses of her, even back when she’d suspected her to be the Heir of Slytherin. The girl had spent all this time avoiding her, but then she’d invited her into Lily’s body over the phone link, and had been bantering with her the whole time up to the point where Daphne had yanked her back out again. Whatever was going on, she most definitely wasn’t the original Lily Moon. If anything, this… villain persona seemed to somehow have capitalized on Lily’s weakened state whenever she had gotten close to Iris. And after Iris had accidentally all but evoked the Name in her presence, she seemed to now be in complete control of Lily’s body. Was she a second personality? Or just someone or something possessing her? What name did Daphne call her again? Whatever was going on, given how Daphne seemed to both despise her, and still want to protect her, plus considering Daphne’s skill in the Mind Arts and the fact that they shared a dorm, the one conclusion she came back to was that whatever this cartoon villain persona was, or why she was taking over Lily’s mind, it had to be somehow Daphne’s fault. Back when they had thought that she might be the Heir, Lily had told them that her blackouts had been happening all the way since first year, even. Because of course it had to be Iris’ fault in the end. It had been her own idea to trade rooms with Greengrass, leaving Lily all alone in the girl’s clutches for over two years.
Iris met Daphne’s eyes and gave her an intense look. Too many things had happened, had gone sideways, and almost ended in catastrophe, and all of them somehow revolved around one thing or another that Daphne was still keeping a secret from her. But not this time. Not after what she’d tried to pull with Ron, or whatever she’d done to Lily. She would be getting some answers, whether Daphne liked it or not.
Iris dialed the familiar number, all while still holding her stare intently. The ringing tone kept coming through, once, twice, thrice, but Daphne didn’t give any indication that she had even noticed. Iris didn’t let up and hardened her gaze. They had to talk. Daphne wouldn’t be getting out of this one by just ignoring her again. The phone kept ringing, and ringing, all the while Daphne pretended that nothing was wrong, but she could see her fingers fumbling with the hem of her robes, the corners of her mouth twitching. Iris could play this game all day, and sooner or later, something had to cave.
With a sigh, Daphne finally met her gaze and gave her a glare. Then she turned away and proceeded to continue ignoring her.
But Iris wouldn’t be dismissed that easily. Not after everything that had happened. She firmed her expression, approached, and grabbed the girl by the wrist. Steeling herself, she subtly spread some force aspect through her body to increase her inertia, and then just began to unceremoniously drag the girl with her. She noticed Daphne employing some sort of spell to achieve something similar, but she simply increased the force to match and proceeded to drag her over towards a corner of the room, which had a partitioned section designated for getting changed. Daphne tried her best to pretend she wasn’t struggling not to be dragged around like a little child, while she hissed “What are you doing?!”
“We will talk, now,” Iris said, and reached for the bag slung over Theo’s bed and began to pull out a certain cloak. If she wanted to avoid looking like a petulant child she could always just pick up the phone. Daphne gritted her teeth, but followed Iris behind the partition, where they quickly disappeared underneath Harry’s Invisibility cloak. Iris was a bit worried about trying to get out of here without bumping into anyone, but she forged onwards and led them through the crowd of bustling witches and wizards.
Iris held her breath, gripping the cloak, as well as her wand, but every time someone almost bumped into them, they seemed to step out of the way at just the last second. At least Daphne didn’t seem eager to get caught, either. Just before the door, something huge stepped out of the crowd and bumped right into Iris. Her breath caught, and she looked up to see Professor Sprout. The witch blinked, blinked again, rubbed her head, then stumbled, shrugged, and turned to wander off back where she had come from.
Daphne pointedly ignored the intense stare Iris was burning into the side of her head and continued, now seemingly taking charge herself instead. When they reached the door, they stopped for a second, waiting. Seconds ticked away, with Iris desperately looking around for anyone close enough to bump into them. It would have been much simpler and safer to just talk over the phone, but noo…
The door came open and Severus bloody Snape entered the Hospital wing, almost stepping right into them.
“Severus! Thank Merlin! Is that the new batch?”
Madam Pomfrey squeezed past her without so much as noticing what she’d just bumped into and took the tray of potions he had been carrying off his hands. Iris gave Daphne a nudge, and they both scrambled to squeeze past the door before it closed again.
~V~
“So,” Iris said.
“So?” Daphne replied.
Iris crossed her arms and leaned against the wall of the second-floor bathroom she had all but dragged the girl into, and held her gaze, drawing out the silence.
“Well, what did you want to talk about?” Daphne said impatiently.
“How about everything?” Iris said, pushing off the wall, and squared herself across from her partner in crime. “I think it’s high time for some explanations.”
When Daphne remained as impassive as ever, Iris decided to forge ahead. “How about to start with… just who the fuck is the Watcher, and what does he have to do with you?”
Daphne gave her a long look, before she let out a sigh. “He’s from the last war. They say that he’s the one who takes watch when the Dark Lord is on recess.”
“So he’s a Death Eater?”
“Not… exactly,” Daphne said.
Iris raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
There was a pause from Daphne. “It means that you should stay far away from him.”
“Don’t give me that crap! What’s your deal with him, and why is he after me?”
“He’s not. You just happened to be there, and were sufficiently amusing, is my guess.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Iris said.
“Because it is none of your business,” Daphne replied.
“Oh shut up,” Iris snapped. “Tell that to Neville, or Hannah, or fucking everyone there!”
“You really need to learn to stay out of things that do not concern you. This is my issue to deal with, and I will ask for your support if and only if it is necessary.”
“Just like your roommate was none of my concern?”
Daphne’s eyes narrowed. “If you had just stayed the hell away from her, then Ariel would no—”
“Did I hear my name just now?” a bashful voice echoed from beyond the door, which proceeded to slam open, admitting the subject of the conversation into the room with a wide grin, causing Daphne to close her eyes and take a deep breath.
“Yes,” Iris said, pointing a finger. “That. What is that.”
“I’m not a that!” the short girl exclaimed indignantly, rounding on Iris. “I’ll say it as many times as I need, until you get it through your skull. My name is Ariel. Know it, fear it, for it shall be the mighty Ariel who—”
“Ariel?” Iris said slowly with a raised eyebrow, before turning to look back at Daphne. “Like the detergent?”
“What?” Ariel spluttered. “No! It’s Hebrew, you fizzing buffoon!”
Iris proceeded to ignore the Detergent Dark Lady’s objection and instead asked “How did you get out, anyway?”
“Ohoho… Simple. I went to the dorms with Trelawney’s group, of course.”
“And how did you find us?” Daphne said.
“A sorceress never reveals her secrets,” Ariel said.
Iris turned to join Daphne in pinning the girl under her stare.
Ariel held their gaze with a smug grin, but after a few seconds she faltered, and she muttered “Fine… Ria told me.”
Daphne groaned. “Should have guessed.”
Iris raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Huh… Lady Detergent over there just keeps getting more curious.”
“I told you! It’s not— Ugh… whatever. You can just call me Riel instead—”
“That’s why you chose that accursed name?” Daphne suddenly hissed.
Iris glanced between the two girls for a moment, before her expression turned serious.
“I think it’s high time you told me exactly what’s going on. And what you’ve really done to her,” she paused, and then said in a lower, more foreboding tone, “and more importantly… why.”
“Fool! You could never hope to understand my masterpla—”
“Plan? Don’t make me laugh,” Daphne snapped. “You’re just a parasite. You don’t have a plan.”
Ariel faltered mid-proclamation, then turned towards Daphne, and hesitantly approached her. “I do! I even managed to get you out of that curse! That has to count for something, right?”
“All you did was drag in someone else to fix your mess, which we wouldn’t even have been in if you had just done your job!” Daphne yelled, shoving the girl back from her.
“Daph? I… but I—”
“You don’t get to call me that,” Daphne whispered.
She took a step closer, until Ariel was up against the wall, with Daphne standing inches from her face. “All I ever asked of you was to not do the one thing you ended up succeeding in. You are useless. No, you’re worse than useless. And you’ll always. be. useless! You’ll never be—”
Daphne cut herself off and held her breath, eyes shut, before turning around and exhaling sharply. Ariel didn’t manage a reply this time.
“Get out of my sight.”
~V~
Iris stared after the retreating form of her former roommate, and then slowly turned to look back at Daphne.
“That was…”
“Don’t you start as well,” Daphne hissed, turning to face the sink.
She just stood there, staring in the mirror, until Iris spoke up again. “You don’t really believe that.”
Daphne turned back to face her, a contemptuous sneer on her face. “What the hell would you even—”
“Yes,” a third voice said, making them both freeze in their tracks. “I do not believe it.”
Iris swallowed. Her gaze slowly trailed over towards the door, hoping that it was anyone else, but the voice alone had already spelled out their doom from the start.
“What… in the blazes,” Professor Snape said, “would possess the two of you to sneak out from underneath the Aurors’ watch… when you know only all too well… just what is out there?”
No! Screw that, and screw him! She wasn’t done! Iris shot Daphne a look, who now mirrored her own thoroughly mortified award-winning expression. Not that Snape was buying any of it, of course. She tried to convey her demand with her thoughts alone, but either Daphne didn’t pick it up, or just didn’t care. Pick. Up. The. Damn. Phone.
“I will not have another girl go missing because she thought she could run off during a time like this. You’re both coming with me, now. I’d take you to the Headmaster, if he weren’t in the hospital wing. So for now, detention will have to suffice.”
If Daphne would just go back to ignoring her again, then she’d— hang on. Iris exchanged a look with Daphne, and they didn’t need a smidge of Mind aspect to share that single thought anyway.
Another girl?
“Sir?”
Snape’s glare turned over towards Iris. She almost didn’t even want to ask. The last thing she needed right now was even more chaos on her already overfilled plate.
“Who else is missing?”
“Apart from the seven students who still haven’t been found after the attack, you mean?”
Iris swallowed.
“Miss Weasley has managed to slip out of the Gryffindor common room just before dinner. She hasn’t been found since.”
Chapter 32: Legacy
Chapter Text
When Iris had finally been released from her Snape-inflicted torture through menial boredom, she wasted no time in pulling out the map again to resume her search. And there he was. Sirius, right there in the infirmary. A quick visit in person had then revealed that he had apparently been found in Hagrid’s hut of all places. McGonagall said that he had been caught in some sort of explosion and had been put right back into magical sleep when he had showed up in McGonagall’s office in singed and tattered robes, babbling apologies and looking like he had seen a ghost.
Iris scanned the worn pages of parchment again, and again. She’d found most of her friends safe already, but she’d now combed through almost all the rooms, and had found no trace of Ginny.
Iris still had no idea what to make of what had happened. Too many things had gone wrong, too many things had been left open, and she still hadn’t had time to just sit down and work through everything. Whatever Sirius had been doing in Hagrid’s hut, what would now happen with Malfoy, what his father would tell Voldemort, what new ways he would come up with to try and get her to break the Geas, if he now knew of her actual identity—that was if he hadn’t already. And then there was the whole thing with the Watcher, because she didn’t have enough shit to deal with already. Mad-Eye had mentioned the name once, well actually, he had accused Lily of being the Watcher, whatever that meant. Even Ariel and Ria seemed to know something more about him, and whatever that was had terrified them both. Yeah, because the whole issue with Daphne and Ariel was also still out there, thanks to bloody Snape sticking his nose into— hang on.
Iris frantically flipped back a few pages, something niggling on the edge of her memory. Hadn’t there…
There. Out in an abandoned part of the castle, on one of the towers, no less. Whatever she was doing there, Iris had no idea, but she’d be damned if she didn’t find out. Even if she couldn’t do anything else, this, she could do.
Not wanting to lose any time, she tried to memorize the general direction, pinpoint the respective tower from her window, and then stepped into the shadows. Down and through, taking several turns and trying to peek through gaps to make sure she was on the right track. It was the middle of the night. Why would she be all the way out here still?
Finally, making her way up the tower, she spotted a silhouette through the gaps, and not wanting to scare the girl any more than necessary, she parted the shadows, and stepped outside. As if sensing her presence, the girl looked up from where she was sitting on the edge of the windowsill, and slowly turned her head to meet her gaze.
It took a few seconds, but as she recognized her, her expression wilted even further before Iris’ eyes.
“Iris…”
She stood there, unsure what to say, before taking a hesitant step, then pausing again. Would she actually…
“Ginny… what are you doing here?”
Ginny didn’t reply. She turned back to face out the window into the dark nightly skyline of the castle, then down into her lap again. Her face had looked as if she’d been crying, but right now, she was just sitting there motionlessly, staring, not saying anything.
Iris took another hesitant step closer.
“Are you alright?”
Silence met that statement.
“What happened?”
“…Of course it would be you…” Ginny said.
“What do you mean?” Iris said.
Ginny just stared out the window, down into her lap… no. She was holding something.
As if in answer to her question, Ginny turned, slowly, reaching and holding up the letter in her hand.
“Here,” she said, without looking at Iris.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a letter. For you.”
For her? Why would Ginny have a letter for…
Iris froze in her step, her fingers half-way towards the bundle of parchment in Ginny’s outstretched hand.
No.
Nononono. No!
With all her senses screaming at her to stop, to turn back and leave those thoughts behind, to force reality into some different explanation, some different chain of causality, she did none of that and instead reached for the letter. A bundle of parchment fell out into her hand, and Iris turned over the first one with shaky hands, while Ginny returned to forlornly staring out of the window.
Hello Ginny,
if you are reading this then I am most likely dead.
Iris flinched, as the words sunk their fangs into her like a viper. Her hands trembling, she collapsed to the ground where she stood, resting the letter on her knees. Luna. Why?
There was no way. Not now. Not after everything.
I have set up this letter to be delivered in case of my unexpected death. Which wouldn’t really make it unexpected, I suppose. More like… expected unexpected? Unexpected but secretly expected? Anyway. Depending on when you receive this letter, it can mean different things.
My current schedule of investigations is as follows:
Monday - The Heir of Slytherin Off Day
Tuesday - The Irisistible Investigation
Wednesday - The Allmighty Ariel
Thursday - Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Fraud Off Day
Friday - Sinister Demonic Sisters
Saturday - Stubby Boardman’s Secret
Sunday - Off Day
I’ll try to stick to this schedule as best as I can, so depending on which day you receive this letter, you can check my schedule for the most likely culprit.
I’ve attached the current progress of each investigation and will try to keep it up to date in this letter from time to time, but I might only be able to do so occasionally to not attract suspicion, and to avoid them finding out. That’s why I came up with this neat calendar-based system! Isn’t it great?
Of course, there is also the chance that I die on my day off, but I suppose that just makes things more interesting, doesn’t it?
But even if I don’t, that alone is not proof of guilt, but it’s definitely a great starting point to unravel this grand conspiracy. Who killed Luna Lovegood? I wish I was there myself to find out!
Now please don’t be confused. I know Iris is my friend, and I know she’s on our side, but there’s still way too many things that don’t add up, hence the investigation. But I still want to trust her. So unless you find this letter on a Tuesday, you can bring her in on the investigation, since she is pretty much at the center of most of these.
Whether you solve it together, split up to investigate separately, or if you leave it to her entirely is up to you. All I ask is that once you manage to solve the mystery of my murder, that you’ll send an owl to Daddy so we can publish it. I always wanted to be on the front page myself someday. Ideally, I’d have liked to write the article myself, but since I won’t be around for the final draft, I’ve just prepared a few snippets for certain particular possibilities instead.
You’ll find a set of files, each of which contains all of my leads, theories, and of course, whimsy and witty commentary in case that particular theory should turn out to be true. I’ve also prepared a crossword puzzle that would reveal the final killer’s name for each of them. Although, maybe you might need to adjust the details on those too, depending on how it turns out. I might be getting ahead of myself, sorry. I’m not even dead yet.
P.S. In case I didn’t die on a Tuesday:
Hello Iris,
sorry for not telling you about this, but taking part in an investigation against yourself sounds like something a politician would do, and I don’t think the world would survive it if you ever became one of those.
Although, now that you’re here, you might as well finish it, before nobody does. I sadly won’t be able to, it seems. It’s been difficult, you know? On the one hand, I really want to know, but on the other, I’ve kept putting it off week after week. That one interview was bad enough, I had nightmares for weeks before, imagining what your answers might be, and somehow, the interview itself didn’t really change that. But I still want to believe in you. You’re my friend. And Ginny says that’s what is important. Sorry for not telling you more. And sorry again about the cake.
See you on the front page,
Luna
~V~
Iris stared down onto the jagged rooftop peaks of gothic architecture lining the ground below her dangling feet. She tried to let her thoughts wander, but again and again her gaze was entrapped by the large cylindrical shaft in the center, a gigantic hole carved out of the castle where there was supposed to be its largest tower. A tower that was now gone. A tower that had taken more than just castle walls with it.
She really didn’t know what to think anymore. She’d kept stumbling from one issue to the next, all over like first year again. And now it was too late. Events had piled up, Mysteries left unsolved, and here Luna was trying to shine some light on the chaos by doing the last thing she had ever wanted for her. She was so done. She couldn’t think, it was all… too much. Just what the hell had happened to her?
Glancing down at the tattered parchment in her hands again, she folded up the map again with shaky hands, having been unable to find any trace, any hint that could invalidate the letter before her. Whatever might have happened, whatever chain of events that led to this, no matter how messed up it was, at least Luna had left her with a breadcrumb trail, a starting point to try and find out what happened, to try and find the one responsible, and… and…
And do what?
What was even the point? Instead of avenging her, shouldn’t she be trying to…
Iris squeezed her eyes shut as an all too familiar image of a lone pair of glasses forced its way into her mind once again. At this rate, she’d never ever get around to… No.
One thing after another. She had to… she had to… do something. If she couldn’t fix it, she could at least not let it go to waste, and prevent things from spiraling even further. Alright. First, there was a lead. A name.
“Stubby… Boardman?” Iris asked quietly.
Something about the name rang a distant bell, but not even her Mindlight was any help with that one, especially not in her current state.
Next to her, Ginny stilled, but didn’t look up.
Iris raised her head and shot her a questioning gaze, but said nothing.
“It’s…” Ginny whispered, but didn’t get much further. She was staring at her lap, fumbling her hands, before she finally replied in a hollow voice, “Professor Black.”
Sirius? What? But—
“Don’t ask. Some Quibbler article; it’s just what she calls him.”
Right. She had been suspicious of him, because he was the Defense Professor, apparently. So she’d gone to investigate Sirius? Or rather, to his office? His office, which was…
Oh.
Slowly, a deep, heavy, nauseating feeling began to settle in her stomach. Luna had painted a tale of a grand conspiracy, had anticipated herself being taken off the board for peering too deeply, and had taken precautions to foil the villains plans from even beyond the grave, so she could have her moment of triumph splayed all over the front page at last. Or at least, that’s how she had probably envisioned it. Because even after the first minute of reading through this carefully crafted dagger of knowledge, she ran across the first and final hitch in her plan.
Sirius’ office used to be inside the Astronomy Tower.
Yeah.
“Fuck…”
As much as Iris wanted to think that she had found something that warranted it, that the Fiendfyre had been summoned to take her off guard, to trap her, or even to destroy the evidence, like Ginny next to her was probably thinking, sadly, she knew better than that.
Iris had read one too many books over the summer on subjects better left untouched by anyone. And hence, she knew a little more about those hellish green flames she had seen in the tunnel than she was comfortable with. One such important little tidbit was that it was impossible to summon on a whim. She had found little information on the exact procedure or ingredients, but the overall picture was very clear. You needed careful preparation, deliberation, a strong tie to whatever location you wanted to cast it in, and most importantly, time.
And even then, if you were insane enough to let the flame grow any bigger than a fireplace, it would undoubtedly break its confinement and begin to spread like a wildfire, beyond any single wizard’s ability to control. And the first thing it would try and devour was the caster themselves. So unless you had a portkey, or managed to disapparate before it grew so big that it would cause interference even with that, you were as good as dead. Especially in a place like Hogwarts, where you couldn’t even apparate in the first place. There was a reason why the Dark Lord had only ever used Fiendfyre as a show of force, but never as a weapon. Whatever had happened was either a suicide attack, or something that had undoubtedly gone out of control. And whichever it was, it had been planned for quite some time.
Neither would be a situation that she could see Luna poking her nose into would have any impact on, unless she somehow managed to break the control of whoever it had been. But no matter how she put it, no. The Fiendfyre couldn’t possibly have been cast because of her. It simply wouldn’t make any sense.
Just like Luna’s death. She’d gone off to investigate, and she’d been at the wrong place, at the wrong time. And Iris couldn’t even honor her final wish. Because there was no mystery to unravel. No hidden motive to uncover.
It was so… pointless.
She wished there was something. Anything. Someone to blame, someone to find, to take down, to let out all these feelings swirling in her stomach. But there wasn’t. All that was left was a letter, half of which painted a picture of distrust of her very best friend, no matter how deserved.
Sure, there was the question of why. Why had the Fiendfyre been cast, and by whom. But while Iris would still try her damndest to find out, it didn’t have anything to do with Luna. It would have happened either way, and if she’d been anywhere else, she’d still be alive. Hell, if Iris hadn’t blindly rushed off towards Hogsmeade, if she’d stayed in the castle, then maybe…
Instead, Iris shook her head. She couldn’t really go and explain why there wasn’t any point looking too much into this for Luna’s sake. Now that still didn’t discount the chance that there might be valuable info in there, but there might just as likely be damning evidence against herself.
“Does it say anything else?” Iris asked.
“Dunno,” Ginny gave a helpless shrug. “I… couldn’t even get past the first page. It’s… it’s just…”
“I get it,” Iris replied quietly.
On the one hand, reading this letter felt completely messed up. She hated it, hated every word, hated herself for continuing to read it. Yet, it was undoubtedly the most… Luna thing she had ever read. She knew what Luna had intended, why she had done what she had done, but Iris couldn’t just sit here and pretend to work on this mystery with her first friend, when said friend was already dead while she both acted like everything was fine and that her death was an unquestionable certainty at the same time.
Merlin damn it, Luna. What the hell was the point? Things had never gone wrong like that, not when she’d tried… Or at least, she’d been able to fix it. The only times they went wrong so bad that she hadn’t was when she wasn’t even there in the first place…
Was there something to it after all? Iris paused, and out of options, she engaged her Mindlight once again. She’d already understood that her Name allowed her some leeway to defy reason, to bend reality to her will to a certain extent, both directly as with Tracey, but maybe also indirectly with all the insane adventures she had gotten into and somehow also back out of? Perhaps, just like with her confrontation with Voldemort, her Name had a tacit influence over the outcome, depending on her own intent and actions? It hadn’t been the first time she’d considered this, but she was afraid to follow that thought to its conclusion. Because no matter how she put it, it would have been her fault for not being there. For not being closer to Luna. For not checking up on her. Her first friend had fallen out of her mind, out of her immediate awareness, out of her proximity, and maybe… out of her protection?
The moment Malfoy had gone off by himself was the first time she’d ever had a ritual go horribly wrong that she’d in any way had anything to do with. When she’d been distracted by Not-Dobby, Salem had gone and gotten herself killed. When she had dismissed Harry’s worries about Quirrell and he went off on his own, he’d gotten Lupin almost killed. When she’d been trapped in her own mind, unable to think or want, unable to affect the outcome, she’d gotten Harry killed. And now, her friends had almost gotten killed, burned, possessed, all because she hadn’t been there, and when she’d shown up at the last second, instead Luna had paid the price. And now that the outcome was here, it was too late. Her Name was powerless to change it. Would she not be able to fix this? Once she found a way to bring back Harry, then surely… Right?
Was she just seeing things? Was this her mind just messing with her? Was this her thinking, or her Name? Thinking that the world would revolve around her, that everything happening was somehow linked to her, assumptions like these seemed like the height of narcissistic delusions. But what if there actually were something to it? Somehow, that possibility seemed even worse. Who knew what else might have gone wrong without her there in the first place? But that didn’t change anything about the fact that it felt like it was her absence that had caused this.
Iris couldn’t be everywhere at once. And even if everything else went right for her, the rest of the world would move on without her.
Maybe she was just deluding herself. Maybe she was just losing her mind to the Name, or developing some sort of complex. But was it a complex if it was true?
If… if it were true… if there was something to it, what could she even do about it? Was it due to proximity? Was the issue that she hadn’t been thinking about her? Iris shot a guilty glance over at the youngest Weasley sitting next to her on the windowsill, eyes downcast and hands buried in her lap. Would it have helped if she had kept her closer?
What if even this letter was her own fault somehow? Was it all so pointless just because she was just too exhausted and overwhelmed to look into it in the first place? Would there have been a proper lead otherwise?
Was this how God would feel—if there actually were a God—when he looked down at his people, trying to keep them safe, trying to keep them from making bad decisions, but every time he looked to one group of people, all the others would suffer for it?
If it was real, if it had something to do with her Name… well, she couldn’t just force all her friends to stick to her 24/7, could she? But did she have to? Voldemort didn’t stick around, yet his Name still had an effect on the whole country, and especially on everyone who knew it…
Was that… could there be a way? If she… built a Name of her own? As in… if Voldemort’s power hinged on people fearing his Name, knowing what it stood for, and keeping him in the back of their minds all the time… even if they didn’t know the actual Name… Maybe he had found a way to invert the scales. His Name held the power that his infamy would suggest just because people didn’t know it. But Iris was pretty sure the same should go in reverse. She didn’t want people to fear her, and it was too late for nobody to know her Name, but… if she could make her Name into something bigger, a Name that people would think of in the same breath as his…
Maybe. Maybe it would gain enough leverage to affect the world as he did, and not just her direct vicinity. Maybe… maybe, it just could be enough to prevent this from happening again.
And if there was a way, then she’d be damned if she didn’t at least try. She owed that much to Luna. But to do that, she’d need help.
Iris took a deep breath and shoved all her thoughts to the side. Luna, Sirius, everything that had just happened was slowly put on ice. She could finish her breakdown later. But for now, she directed her Mindlight to focus completely on the here and now. Of all the plans, of everything she could do, there was still one item at the top of her list, again. Or rather, one person. One person that all the leads converged around, only to disappear within the web of secrets. One person that had once again been ignoring all of her calls the whole time ever since being rescued from their last chat. This time, they would be having their talk. No matter what the girl thought about it. And Iris knew there was one way she could get through to her, no matter how much she hated the idea. But she was past caring at this point. Iris was done playing nice.
~V~
The white walls, the cracked mirror, and the tense atmosphere were all creating a strong sense of Deja-Vu. Except this time, things were different. She had thought this through all night, and now she had a plan. Iris glanced across their dorm’s bathroom over at the girl she had all but dragged in here using nothing but her words alone. She had a hunch. And if she was right, blowing up in her face would be the wrong approach.
“Alright, talk,” Daphne said, her expression cold as the Black Lake. “Now.”
“And here I thought you didn’t care about her?”
“Potter…”
“I mean didn’t you say—”
“Where. Is. My. Roommate,” Daphne said, her voice very quiet, yet coating the room like hoarfrost.
“She’s safe… probably… if she didn’t wander off too far into the shadows, that is…”
Daphne’s eyes widened, and her grip tightened around her wand.
“Actually, she’s stunned in your dorm, underneath the cloak. I didn’t really do anything to her,” Iris replied while inspecting her nails.
When Daphne glanced at the door and made as if to go and check right away, Iris continued, “Maybe. Or maybe not. Does it matter? It’s not like you’re going to trust me either way.”
Iris slowly and deliberately met Daphne’s eyes. “But of course, I could just Promise you that she’s fine… if only you’d pick up the phone…”
Daphne’s eyes flicked between the door and her, and before the girl could make her decision either way, Iris pushed forward. “We. Need. To. Talk. I didn’t want to have to do this, but you’re leaving me with no choice. I don’t want to do anything to her. But I also won’t let you brush me off for one. more. day.”
Daphne’s glare was growing, but she hadn’t replied yet. Had she perhaps overestimated how much the girl actually cared for her roommate?
“Fine!” Daphne said. “You want to talk, then talk.”
Iris crossed her arms, leaning against the wall in the very place where they had first made their initial deal. “You still want to convince me you loathe her that much, after this?”
Daphne just glared back.
Iris slowly pushed off the wall. “Then just tell me one thing,” Iris said, taking a step closer. “Why? Depending on how you look at it, one way or another you risked all our lives yesterday… all because of her.”
“That had nothing to do with that… that thing.”
Bingo.
Iris kept her gaze pinned on the girl, but no more information was forthcoming.
“You wouldn’t mind elaborating on that?”
Daphne shot her a glare through the mirror, but didn’t say anything.
“Alright. If you’re not going to talk, how about I just tell you how I see it?”
Iris paused for a moment, then turned and started to pace down the row of sinks.
“From what you told me, and from what I’ve seen, I’m thinking it’s not so much a malicious entity that’s possessing her, but more of a curse.”
Iris glanced over towards Daphne, but the girl gave no visible reply.
“Whatever it is has been going on since first year. It seems like you’ve been trying to help her, but without much success so far,” Iris said, then hesitantly added, “and thanks in no small part to me messing things up even more.”
The fact that it could have been avoided if Daphne had just told her sooner, she left unsaid.
“Somehow, whether through the curse, or as a byproduct, Ariel emerged. And thanks to the unique nature of Names, every time Lily grew weaker by being close to me, Ariel instead grew stronger. Did I get that right?”
“I told you, Potter, we’re not having this conversation. Ever. This is my business. My issue to deal with.”
Iris just continued undeterred. “So, there is some sort of curse, just the kind of thing that you said you need to study, that somehow warps a person’s mind, or creates a second personality, or something. And given your particular interest in curses that spread, and specifically, what you thought was the Dark Lord’s Name, well…”
Iris noticed Daphne freeze in the corner of her vision, and she added the final nail in the coffin. “That makes me all the more curious about your peculiar relationship with your… sister.”
“Potter…”
“What if—and I’m just spit-balling here—it is the same curse? What if it somehow… spread?”
Daphne’s fist smacked down on the porcelain, causing a crack in the pristine white material. “This conversation is over,” Daphne hissed, her voice as cold as a frozen lake.
The black-haired girl turned, and stalked from the room.
“Fine, have it your way. But I guess if you won’t tell me…” Iris added with an innocent smile, as she approached the emergency roadside telephone, “then I’ll just have to ask someone else…”
She reached for the receiver, picked it up, then slowly raised a finger and pressed three random buttons, while slowly and deliberately spelling R I A.
The dialing tone sounded from the receiver, and time seemed to slow to a crawl, as Daphne froze, turned around from where she’d been half-way through pulling open the door, and there was a click in the line.
“NO!”
The receiver was yanked from her grip and Iris found herself tossed back, both in the mental as in the physical realm.
Iris groaned, tried to heave herself upright, but found herself being pinned by Daphne’s wand stuck to her throat.
“No,” Daphne said, face pale, her voice almost pleading, a shaking wand still pressed to Iris’ skin. “You have no right! You’ve got no idea what—”
“And whose fault is that?” Iris hissed, her voice gaining a dangerous edge. “In case you haven’t realized it, I’m stuck in this mess too. And as you so kindly keep reminding me, I’m already promise-bound to keep your secrets. I’m literally your best and only option.”
“Why?!” Daphne jabbed her wand, the tip almost piercing her skin. “Why do you care so much? This has nothing to do with you! Why can’t you just let it lie!?”
“Maybe because your secrets almost got us killed more than once now? Maybe because Luna is gone?!” Iris snapped. “Maybe because I’m worried for Lily? Maybe because it’s my fault?” she growled defiantly, holding her gaze.
“Liar! Why would you care for her of all people? You hardly know her! You don’t even care about your friends!”
“That’s not—” Iris paused. That was… wasn’t it? But… Well, she meant… Of course she did, it was just that Harry—
“You don’t care about anyone other than your brother!” Daphne spelled out the words that her mind had refused to.
“That’s not true!” Iris said, this time more firmly. Maybe at one time, yes. But ironically, the very girl accusing her right now had been the very person who had managed to somewhat knock that sentiment out of her.
“And you’re one to talk!” Iris added reflexively. Although, that wasn’t fair either. She seemed to at least care for Lily on some level. And come to think of it…
“No, shut up!” Daphne shouted.
Iris opened her mouth, but Daphne shook her head and buried her fists in her hair, “Both of you, shut up!”
Daphne froze, as did Iris. She held her gaze, Daphne staring back at her like a deer caught in the headlights.
“…was that Ria?” Iris asked quietly.
“Shut up,” Daphne whispered.
“Maybe,” Iris said, reaching for the wand, and gently moving it to the side. “Maybe it is because I’m your only option?”
Daphne was gritting her teeth, the wand still shaking in Iris’ grasp, but she didn’t attack again.
“Maybe I care…” Iris said quietly, “because I can relate?”
Daphne was now shaking her head. “You could never understand… Nobody ever un—”
“Then make me understand,” Iris said.
Daphne’s eyes flicked back between her, and someplace else, her mouth opening, but somehow words not coming forth.
“No. No! This is how he gets you. I won’t… I can’t just… Shut up!”
Iris met her eyes, following her pupils erratically moving back and forth, before she quietly said “I think Ria agrees with me.”
Daphne’s eyes finally snapped to hers, wide as saucers, the truth all too clear to see. Iris held her gaze, before reaching out a hand, and placing it on the girl’s clenched fist.
“She’s your sister, isn’t she?”
Daphne’s eyes flashed, and Iris reflexively countered in the only way she knew how. The girl’s eyes seemed to grow larger and larger, reflecting infinitely in all the mirrors around them. From all sides they grew, flying at her, as she was at them, taking up everything and plunging her into a tunnel of pure Indigoo̵͎̒͂̔̔͝ö̶͚͚̳̖͋̑͗͋̈͝o̶̲̺̥͍̩̒̅̒̎̉̀̈́͒̈́̓̄́ơ̸̧̝̬̤̜̹̼̥̺̖͈͉̓̐͛̒̀̽͗̚̚O̷͕̞̐̃̅O̶̥̠͎͖͔͂̑̄̅̄̃̅̑̕Ö̸̢̨̩̏̍͌́͗͂̿̕O̷͍̍̿̈́͆̈́̎̍́́̽̃̃͌̌̕͠O̶̢̢̢̱̹͇̼̞̫̺̹̺̹̖̝͂̐̆̀́̇̎͑͆͑͐́̿̑̀̏͆̈̐̑͘̕̕͝͝͠Ơ̷̧̧̡̡̛̮̰͈̺̹͙̙̰̖̗̮̺̣̠͈̒̎͐̈́̽̊̉̐̌͋̔̇̑̓͆́̈̕̕͠͝͠Ǫ̷̛̪͂̎͒̾̒͝Ö̸̘̼͔̪̦͈̬̠̙̯̫̠́͋͊̆̓̃͗̊̃́̆̿̔̿͝͝͠Ỏ̴̪͉̻̯̙̰͉̗͓͕̙͙̤̮̘͙̓̾̌͐̂̾͒͛͊͝—
Chapter 33: Little Princess
Chapter Text
“Daph! Get up!”
“Mmnngh?”
Sleepy eyelids opened in protest, and she spotted bright blue eyes, a button nose, and a wide grin that was missing a few teeth.
“It’s Sunday!”
She raised a hand, her limbs still not quite awake, and tried to push the face away, which only seemed to get the girl more excited. “So?”
“Don’t you know what that means?” Ria chirped excitedly, still enthusiastically leveraging her entire body weight to try and shake Daphne awake, before she suddenly let go. She jumped back and raised her hands towards the ceiling, almost knocking the ugly black tiara off the messy black curls adorning her head. “It’s time to take over the world!”
Daphne’s head hit the pillow once more with a groan.
“Also, it’s Lunar Crescent!”
At once, Daphne’s eyes snapped open, fully alert. Four weeks already? “Why didn’t you say that first?” she asked, quickly sitting up and throwing aside her blankets. Lunar Crescent meant meticulously arranged hair, impeccably styled gowns, polished manners, and precise conversation. Most importantly however, Lunar Crescent meant Tracey.
“Come on come on come on come on! I need you to do my hair!” Ria demanded. “It only looks properly evil when you do it!”
Daphne had no idea what would constitute an evil haircut, but apparently the bird’s nest that was no doubt her sister’s proud creation didn’t qualify. She tried to get up, but Ria started pulling at the sleeve of her night dress, causing Daphne to stumble and flop back down on the bed. “Cut it out! Let me get up first, you menace. Also, you know Father is never going to let you wear that thing, right?” she added, gesturing at the cheap black tiara with some embedded red-ish gems sitting lopsided on the girl’s head.
“No! You’ve slept the whole day already! Let’s go!”
Daphne finally managed to get to her feet, and she stood up a little faster than her sister expected. This in turn caused Ria to lose her footing and plant her bum on the ground, followed by the ugly piece of headwear bouncing off the stone with a loud clang. There was a clattering noise from a few red gems coming loose along the way.
“Ow! You meanie! That was my Shadow Crown! How am I supposed to use my Elaina powers without—”
“You’ll get a new one with the next Witch-Weekly Halloween Edition,” Daphne said flatly.
Ria was already back on her feet, the now gem-less tiara back on her head. Literally, backwards. “Come on! Last one to the mirror is a Squib!”
And with that said, the black-haired whirlwind took off running, and Daphne could hear the distinct crash of something porcelain hitting the ground in her wake.
“That wasn’t me!”
~V~
Daphne sat upright, her posture impeccable as she gently held the porcelain cup between her fingers, precisely as she’d been taught. She glanced carefully around the table, noting each girl seated just as straight, cups held delicately in small hands. Across the table, Flora carefully stirred her tea with three precise movements—clockwise, as was proper—before setting the silver spoon silently aside.
“It is lovely weather for the Crescent gathering today,” Gemma began with practiced elegance, inclining her head slightly toward Daphne.
“Indeed,” Daphne replied, voice calm and clear. “We are fortunate the skies honor us so graciously.”
The other girls murmured polite agreement, each careful not to speak out of turn.
“Father says clear skies at Lunar Crescent are a blessing,” Pansy added evenly, her movements restrained and careful.
Hestia delicately tapped her chin, her posture perfectly formal but her eyes beginning to wander slightly toward the far side of the room. “My mother says blessings come not from the sky, but from those who gaze upon it.”
Daphne blinked at the unfamiliar reply, trying to figure out a response. That didn’t even make any sense!
Then Ria, legs swinging gently under her chair, loudly placed her cup back onto the saucer with a clink. Daphne’s gaze darted toward her younger sister, whose messy curls had been tamed as much as she’d been able, almost straightened out entirely, twin braids running from the front and tied around the back of her head.
“Are you attending the Winter Solstice ball this year, Daphne?” Gemma swiftly asked, returning the conversation to safer waters, her tone carefully balanced between formal and curious.
“Father plans to announce our attendance soon,” Daphne replied promptly. “We anticipate it eagerly.”
“So do we,” Flora said, “Mother tells me emerald robes are particularly suitable this year.”
“My mother prefers blue,” Pansy interjected, a slight impatience beginning to edge into her voice. “Blue is always fashionable.”
Daphne tilted her head politely. “Both sound perfectly suitable.”
“I prefer black!” Ria declared, swinging her legs harder and nearly toppling her teacup.
Daphne subtly increased her grip on her own cup, eyes flicking across all the assembled faces.
“Black is quite…dramatic,” Gemma said with a raised eyebrow.
Ria grinned toothily. “Of course! A proper evil witch needs to wear all black! Everyone knows that!”
A round of suppressed giggles followed. Daphne felt unease building in her stomach as she tried to think of something to say—but the correct phrase simply wouldn’t come.
“Mother bought me a new tiara,” said Pansy. “Goblin-made silver. She says I’ll wear it to our family’s next gala.”
Daphne offered an approving smile. “Goblin craftsmanship is known for quality and beauty. It will surely reflect well on your house.”
Pansy practically glowed with all the attention on her now, and Daphne felt a quiet sense of satisfaction. She was good at this. This was the world she understood.
“I had a tiara too,” Ria suddenly chimed in. “A black one, of course! But Daph broke it this morning.”
Daphne’s composed smile faltered just slightly, her cheeks tinting faintly. “It was an accident,” she clarified quickly, trying to reclaim the conversation. “And besides, it wasn’t appropriate attire, Ria.”
Ria scrunched her nose dramatically. “That’s silly. It was perfect for being the Shadow Queen.”
Flora covered a laugh behind her teacup. “Shadow Queen?”
Ria nodded vigorously. “Yes! I’m Lady Ria and I’m going to conquer the whole manor! Maybe even Hogwarts!”
Daphne cleared her throat gently, hoping to redirect attention. “Ria, we’re discussing formal attire right now. Perhaps—”
“I think being Shadow Queen sounds far more exciting,” Flora giggled, no longer bothering to hide her amusement. Daphne felt a bit adrift as she watched the structure of the conversation seemingly coming apart around her.
Pansy rolled her eyes openly. “Oh, who cares about conquering manors? Did I tell you about my parents’ business meeting last weekend? You’ll never guess who came over to our place…”
Daphne’s stomach tightened. This wasn’t what they were supposed to talk about.
“Oh? Was he cute? Did he do the thing with your hand?” Ria gushed excitedly.
“Sure did!” Pansy replied, a mischievous grin spreading on her face.
“That’s unfair! I said I wanted to marry him first!” Ria shouted indignantly.
Daphne swallowed quietly, her fingers tightening in her lap. She shot a glance over towards Gemma, hoping the older girl might be able to—
“You haven’t even met him yet, silly,” Gemma laughed softly.
“You’re silly! I said it first! Once, twice, thrice, mine; Babayaga gets your spine!”
Daphne opened her mouth, hoping to offer something—anything—to lead things back on track. “Perhaps at the Solstice, we might—”
“Well I jinxed your spell when you called it. Your fault!” Pansy replied with a grin.
Daphne closed her mouth again. It seemed that the formal part was now well and truly over.
“You can’t do that!” Ria exclaimed aghast. “My binding was the most powerful in all the lands!”
Maybe if she tried to ask about something from Witch Weekly? What had the headline been again? “Have you—”
“I can,” Pansy said.
“Can not!”
Daphne shifted slightly in her seat; her gaze now firmly fixed on the patterned tablecloth. The girls just kept talking and talking, one to the next, leaving no chance to enter the conversation without cutting anyone off. And even when there finally was a pause, the conversation had already moved so far off course that she couldn’t even interject what she’d thought of anymore without making it awkward. This was why she preferred the more formal parts of these gatherings. She really hoped they could finally get this part over with so she’d get to talk to Tracey a bit.
“Can too!”
“How about you go meet him first before you decide to marry him?” Tracey interjected.
Alright! Thank, you, Tracey. This was her chance.
“Nobody asked you, Davis,” Pansy cut in.
Daphne’s smile turned stony. She hated this, but she still had no idea what to say.
Next to her, Ria instantly rounded on Pansy. “Well I think she’s right. I wanna meet him. Maybe you were just making it all up!”
Tracey was still smiling just as always, but Daphne couldn’t meet her gaze. Some friend she was.
“Now what’s this I hear about my daughter falling in love?”
“Eww! Who said anything about falling in love?” Ria exclaimed aghast. “I wanna marry him, not kiss him, Dad!”
That caused a round of giggles from the entire table of pre-teen witches.
“Ah, I see. Well, as long as it’s only that,” her father said with a gentle smile, before placing a hand on each of their shoulders. He met her eyes, before glancing over her appearance, judging her hair, her posture, her expression most likely, before giving her a small smile. It was hard not to notice the pride all but shimmering in his eyes, and it made Daphne feel warm on the inside, even despite everything else.
“But I’m afraid you ladies will have to excuse us for today. An issue has come up that requires my immediate attention, so we sadly have to take our leave. Could I ask you to wrap up your talk and join me and your mother at the Floo?”
“Awww, but I wanna stayyy! We were gonna play Watcher! I’ve never been the Eye before!” Ria exclaimed, grabbing onto their father’s robes and trying her best to shake him, unsurprisingly to absolutely no effect.
“I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to make up for it on the next Crescent Moon,” Father said. “But for now, we’ll have to bid our farewells.”
Daphne’s gaze wandered over to Tracey, who returned a smile. It wasn’t one of the good ones. She’d really wanted to at least get the chance to—
“Okay, Dad! But only if we get to invite Tracey over tomorrow.”
Daphne’s gaze snapped over towards Ria, who flashed her a toothy grin, before returning to making doe-eyes at the black-haired man, who tried his best to look dignified behind his glasses, even when he was obviously cracking under the pressure.
Once, it had been her who had been able to get her way like this. But ever since a few years ago, he’d slowly made it clear what would be expected of her in her role, and Daphne had only been all too willing to follow. She’d wanted to make him proud, wanted to make their family proud. And for the most part, she did. Even if he wasn’t allowed to say so when on display. But the looks he kept giving her were enough.
However, that had come at the cost of her no longer being able to break propriety to get what she wanted anymore. It just wouldn’t do for her to ask her Head of House for someone of such low standing to be formally invited over. Thankfully, however, Ria had her covered once more. In a way, she envied her sister. But she also couldn’t imagine her any other way.
Mum was indeed waiting by the fireplace, a smile on her face. Daphne’s eyes passed over hers, before she quickly averted them again from the jab of pain. Instead, she turned back towards Father, who had entered the foyer behind them. There was some concern now, but not for her, but… Daphne’s head snapped back towards their mum, who was still wearing her perfectly polite smile framed by her long brown hair. Trying to glimpse anything else was bound to end in even more hurt, so instead, she narrowed her eyes at their father, and looked a bit closer.
He was worried. Worried about something… that would happen soon. And Mum had asked him to leave early because of it. Daphne was getting really curious now. What would happen? Was mum in danger? She tried to look again but got nothing else.
“Have you said your farewells? Good. We will be leaving,” Mum said, still wearing that same smile, and then turned to reach for the Floo powder.
Daphne clenched her jaw, but remained silent. If only people could understand her like she could understand them.
~V~
“Daph?” Ria whispered.
Daphne shushed her, and leaned closer against the door.
“…already?”
She could barely make out words through the door of her father’s study. Worse, she wasn’t sure if she wanted Ria to overhear whatever they were discussing, even if she could hear it.
“…even sooner this year, I think it’s—”
“What are they saying?”
“Shh!”
Her admonishment had come too late, however. The voices inside the study had fallen quiet. A few moments later, the door came open, revealing Daphne with Ria hiding behind her shoulder to the two adults standing inside, their worried looks quickly hidden, but their worried thoughts not so much.
“Daphne. Astoria. It’s good that you’re here,” Father said, stepping up to them.
Ria peeked from behind Daphne’s shoulder and exchanged a look with her.
“How would you like to go on a short little vacation?”
“Vacation? To the beach?” Ria perked up.
“Beach it is,” Father replied quickly. Too quickly. Daphne tried to sneak a glance at Mum, but she’d wandered off towards the back of the study to sit down on the armchair.
He threw another glance over his shoulder, then turned back and said “How about you go and pack your things?”
Didn’t they have elves for that? But before she could voice her thoughts, Ria asked something else. “What’s up with Mum?”
Father’s smile remained, and it stung her eyes. “She won’t be coming with us, I’m afraid. She has something to take care of, but I’m sure she’ll be eager to hear of all the fun you had swimming, playing, eating ice cream…”
“Ice cream?” Ria exclaimed, successfully distracted.
“As much as you want,” Father replied.
“Yay! Let’s go conquer the beach!” Ria exclaimed and bolted for her room.
“Ice cream? I want some too!”
This time, Father couldn’t keep his expression. “Look after your sister, Daphne. I’m counting on you.”
The door was shut in her face, and with it, the begging voice as well.
~V~
“Weee— aaah!” Ria exclaimed as a large wave, twice as tall as she was, swept her up and spat her out back on shore. As promised, they’d spent two weeks filled with nothing but beaches, ice cream, and… fun, or something.
Daphne was staring at the horizon, her gaze once more following the ships going in and out of the harbor. They’d made their way to a small magical settlement somewhere in the south of France, right next to the shore. And apparently, said harbor handled both non-magical as well as magical transport. There was a distinct difference, even if the ships mostly looked the same. None of the magical ships made much noise, or smoke either. They either used large sails, or some other method that she couldn’t pin down over the distance, and they each were so very… different. She wondered where they came from. Magical Britain? The Spanish enclaves? Austria? Or was that Australia?
“Daph! Did you see me just now? First it was so small, but then it suddenly got huuge! It was all woooshh and then waaah! And blubbbblubb! I think I drowned. Can you check?”
She glanced over at the three-and-a-half-foot-tall humanoid pixie and gave her a once over. “I think you’ll survive.”
“Oh, that’s good. The ocean is no match for Lady Ria! Wohoho!” she proudly proclaimed to the sky, before turning towards Daphne once again. “What’cha looking at?”
Ria sidled up to her and squinted over in the direction Daphne was looking.
“Where do you think they’re going?” Daphne said.
Ria blinked, then said, “Maybe they’re going home?”
There was some silence “Maybe…” she said, still staring at the moving ships, going in and out, heading in all and any directions. “But where is that?”
Ria just kept sitting there, following the various masts and sails along with her, before tilting her head. “Wanna find out?”
~V~
“Look, Daph! It’s a dolphin!”
She did look, and there wasn’t a dolphin.
“Aww, it’s gone now.”
Daphne turned back towards the boat itself. She’d never seen things like this in Magical Britain. The entire vessel seemed made from wood, large, arched rooftops, one atop the other, somewhat reminiscent of a temple, but they all were shaped into a structure that was not only completely symmetrical, it also followed a pattern. She couldn’t describe it if she tried, but there was a bit more than just aesthetic meaning to it. Pillars painted in colors, fine brass and silver tubes running along them, branching, merging, gathering around small, round bulbs at the edges of the roofs, that seemed to glow in different lights, but most of them running along the walls and the ground towards the back of the ship, where they sank into the deck to do something no doubt important. If she had to guess, it had to do with the ship’s propulsion.
The most interesting part however were the pests. Her only experience with salamanders was to tell Father to call the ministry if one of them had managed to make its home in their stove again to get them removed as quickly as possible.
But here, at the center of the ship, there was a large round copper cauldron, with glass windows on all sides, bright flames flickering within, and a seemingly content group of cat-sized red and yellow lizards, with short limbs, and red glowing spikes dotting their backs. Some lazing about at the bottom, others climbing along the walls, or even pressing their faces to the glass and peering out the windows. All of it while being surrounded by brightly burning orange flames. Why wouldn’t they just get rid of them? Did they just not care? Didn’t they have a ministry here that would take care of such things before they became a problem? Maybe it wasn’t an issue since they were surrounded by water anyway, but then, the entire ship was made from wood…
“You foreigners, always so curious, always quick to judge,” grumbled the elderly man standing next to the set of tubes and pipes leading from the cauldron, as he adjusted a few of the valves built into them. “Yet you never question why.”
He had picked up on that? Daphne waited for a bit, but he seemed to really be waiting for her to speak her mind first.
“Why wouldn’t you just…”
“Remove the Hotaka?” he replied, shooting her a contemptuous look through his squinting eyes. “Pfeh!”
He slowly turned one of the smaller valves, causing a hissing noise, and the salamanders perked up, suddenly bouncing around excitedly, and the flames changed to a brighter yellow. “To walk you need only legs, why not remove the heart?”
Daphne blinked, then turned to look back at the excitedly chittering cauldron of flames. If you didn’t get rid of the salamanders quickly, they’d melt down your stove at some point, and you’d risk a house fire. But maybe… that was the point?
“You use the… Hotaka? To power the ship?”
“Use? Kono futodoki gaijin…”
Daphne blinked.
“Do you… use an owl?”
“Well… yes?”
The old man sighed.
“There you are! How’s my little princess doing?
Daphne tried to suppress a blush as a hand came down on her head. “Father, please…”
“Am I not allowed to spoil my favorite daughter a bit?”
Yes.
“No.”
He sighed, and moved the hand from her shoulder to remove his glasses, but when he met her eyes, there was that warm feeling again.
“You know this is as far from on-display as it gets, do you?”
“Nevertheless,” Daphne said.
Even if he acted like he wasn’t sure some times, even if he offered her to take it easy on the formality, she knew better. She knew every time she looked him in the eyes, every time he said it, that this was what he really wanted from her. She’d never been all that great with making friends, doing most of the other things that the girls her age would do, but this she could do. He knew it, she knew it. Every time she wanted to take a break, to return to simpler times, there were two things that were holding her off. This was the only thing she was good at. That she was good for. And it was enough.
She glanced at the marvel of magic, culture, technology and what was apparently a completely different approach to magical creatures, and nodded. As interesting as it was, as much as she wanted to explore… she turned around, schooled her expression, and replied “I’m still your daughter, as you said.”
And there it was. Pride. Happiness.
~V~
Over the first half, Father had left almost every evening to do some work—by which he meant to check on Mum—but as their trip went on, after the first week he’d stayed more and more, not that it seemed to have helped his mood.
Daphne still hadn’t been able to glimpse what exactly was going on, but something was definitely wrong with Mum. She’d tried to tell him a few times that she’d rather be going home sooner, but of course he hadn’t listened. Nobody ever understood, other than Tracey. Ria, bless her heart, while she neither understood, nor even listened most of the time, she still seemed to pick up what Daphne was trying to say, and just went along with it.
But at least, he hadn’t moved the date of their return. He’d said they would be back in time for Mum’s birthday, and he’d kept his word. They were always back for Mum’s birthday. After two weeks of beaches, followed by another week of traveling the seas on an amazing ship from Wizarding Japan thanks to Ria badgering their father into taking a trip, they’d finally reached the shore of said country, only to sadly immediately head for the nearest Portkey office. But on the other hand, at least, she’d get to see Mum again, right?
The spinning green flames calmed for a moment, and she spotted a familiar grate approaching, and stepped forward in a practiced motion, emerging from the grate inside Greengrass manor once more. Her gaze flicked around the room, and immediately spotted her, standing over to the side, smiling as if they’d never left in the first place.
“Mum!” Daphne exclaimed, and before her father could return, ran towards her and pulled her into a hug. She met her eyes and… She was so happy, but she also felt like crying and…
Daphne wrenched her gaze away, unable to look any further. She just closed her eyes as mum rubbed her head gently, whispering words she couldn’t hear, with her own replies just as silent. As much as she liked being with her mum, lately it had been harder and harder to actually be close to her without feeling like… like this. Crushed, lost, suffocating, all at once. And she didn’t even understand why.
Daphne thought for a moment, thought about all the things she wanted to say, all the things she wanted to ask, but the Floo flashed once more, and she knew that there was no time. So instead, she just settled on “Happy Birthday, Mum.”
~V~
Daphne dashed around a corner, glancing into open doors. The footsteps on her heels grew louder, still trying to sound inconspicuous, but at this point, both of them knew that the jig was up. She needed to find someone before it was too late. Daphne pushed open a random door and dashed inside. There had to be someone here, they couldn’t all be—
“Nighttime!”
The yellow metallic band on Daphne’s wrist flashed, and she felt a cold sensation rushing over her body, as her movements scattered to a halt, and one second later, she was frozen in place yet again. Flora burst into the room with a grin. Daphne’s eyes turned to the side as far as they would go, trying to spot the girl, but she knew it was already too late.
“Tag. You’re the Watcher.”
“Damn it,” Daphne mumbled through her frozen lips, just as her own bracelet gave a small flash of confirmation.
“Too slow,” Flora chirped. “Better look out next time!”
Daphne groaned as much as she was able, as the girl bolted from the room, while she stood there, ramrod straight, while some footsteps slowly passed by the hall and peered into doors. Finally, after some waiting around and nobody else showing up, her release came in the form of Pansy’s shouted “Daytime!” from somewhere down the hall. The bracelet flashed green this time, and the spell drained out of her stiff limbs within a second. Very well, then. Watcher it was. Daphne started off down the hall, peering into doors, looking for the other girls.
“Oh, hey Daph,” Tracey said, looking up from where she’d been admiring the miniature animated unicorn that decorated the center of the atrium, as it trotted small circles around the lone bonsai tree in the center of the small podium. “You gotten tired of the game already?”
Daphne gave a shrug in return. She had used to enjoy it alright, but it had gotten pretty exhausting, especially with what was going on.
“So… How was your trip?”
Daphne looked back, unsure what to say. Tracey’s smile faltered a bit, or as close as her friend ever got, at least.
“We went on a foreign ship,” she finally said. All the other things she wanted to say were right on her tongue. She was sure Tracey wouldn’t care too much for the details, but she tried regardless. “They had salamanders.”
“Huh? How so?” Tracey asked.
“They use them to power the ship,” Daphne explained. “In a large cauldron at the center.”
“Oh! That’s neat! Imagine if they did that with the Hogwarts Express!”
Daphne found herself smiling. “True. People would lose their minds.”
Tracey giggled. “Someone calls the ministry, and suddenly nobody can get to school.”
“Because there is simply no way to get to the school without the train.”
“Shame you purebloods never heard about elekitticity…”
“Hey! I know how to pronounce that!”
“Oh yeah? You know how to pronounce eklekti—”
“I know it’s not that,” Daphne rolled her eyes. “So what? Even the Prophet gets it wrong.”
Tracey shot her a smug grin.
“Shut up.”
There was a short pause.
“So, anyway. How’s your mum? I heard that…”
Tracey trailed off, once again having understood a little too much.
“I’m sorry,” she said instead.
Daphne just looked back; her smile long gone.
“Do you know what…”
That was followed by yet more silence.
At least she could count on Tracey to get it.
“Oh, you’re all here! Mind if I join?” Ria called, as she skipped into the room.
That was another thing that was funny about the Watcher. You didn’t have to avoid everyone and run around; you could just as well find strength in numbers. But, of course, that still wasn’t a guarantee.
“Nighttime!”
Both Tracey and Daphne froze in place as their identical bracelets flashed, awkwardly glancing at each other, while Ria skittered to a halt, trying desperately to find her balance as the spell took over her limbs, before she would get stuck in a position that would topple her over onto her face. Finally, she managed to settle into an awkward stance with both arms stretched out half-way balanced onto one foot, causing Tracey to giggle through her frozen lips.
Daphne stood there for a bit, playing along, before she began to move. With a smile she reached out and booped Ria on the nose, causing the girl to sway a bit. “Tag.”
Ria’s eyes widened, and a red blush spread on her cheeks, accompanied with an excited gleam. Tracey gave her a quiet glare, and Daphne returned a shrug.
“A-ha!” exclaimed Pansy’s voice from the door. “Now… what do we have here…”
None of them moved an inch while Pansy strode into the room, but she could all but feel Tracey’s glare on her back.
“Oh, something definitely happened here…” Pansy chirped, then popped up in front of Daphne, examining her face for a moment, before moving on to Tracey. When she finally turned to look at Ria’s red face, she broke into giggles. “Hmmm… I wonder just who it could be this time…”
“No, I— hang on, it’s not…” Ria blurted, somehow managing to blush despite the spell.
“I spy with my all-seeing Eye…”
“No, wait!”
“The Watcher underneath your hide!”
“Noooo! You idiot!” exclaimed Ria in a wail.
“Dammit! Read the room, Pansy,” Tracey exclaimed.
“What? Wasn’t it…” Her gaze turned around towards Daphne who gave an unapologetic shrug. “Oh, come on!”
“That’s three strikes,” Daphne said, just as all the bracelets flashed red, signifying the end of the game, and the spell along with it.
“You’re so mean! I almost had it!” Ria exclaimed. “I want a Watcher win for once, dammit! I had it all planned out!”
“I’m not sure I want to even imagine the depths of evil you’d come up with for your victory dare,” Daphne said.
“We were gonna have a pillow fight, except that I get all the pillows!” Ria declared with a smug grin on her face.
Daphne facepalmed, causing all the girls to giggle for various reasons.
“The world dreads the day you actually figure out what the word evil means,” Daphne said dryly.
Ria turned on her and gave her a grin. “Just because you’re evil doesn’t mean you gotta be a bad guy.”
And with that declaration, she whirled and dashed from the room, and Pansy took the opportunity to pretend she’d forgotten about the looming dare and ran after her. Not that Daphne really cared, anyway. Her mind had never really been on the game to begin with. Because even after all this time, whatever was going on, she still—
“Hey,” Tracey said.
Daphne blinked, and then met her friend’s gaze.
“Come on. I know what we gotta do.”
~V~
“…So?” Daphne said.
Tracey didn’t elaborate, but just dragged her the final few steps all the way underneath the large oak tree in their backyard.
Then, she let go, dashed around the roots for a second, before re-emerging with something held behind her back.
“Here’s the deal. You,” she said, pointing an accusing finger at her, “are barely ten years old. You really gotta slow down with the growing up.”
Daphne gave a wry smile. “Tracey, you know I—”
“Nu-uh!” Tracey exclaimed, covering her ears and shaking her head. “I’m just a silly Half-Blood. I got no idea what that means. Anyway,” she said, her grin returning. “You gotta turn that frown upside-down. And I know just the right medicine!”
With that, she reached behind her back, and produced a small bundle of various flowers.
“I got no idea about what’s proper, so it’s not my fault. And you can’t be rude and turn down your friend. So here’s the plan,” she said, and her grin went feral, as she raised the bundle up to her head. “I’m gonna do your hair!”
~V~
“Celene, listen, I’m sure you could…”
“I’m sorry. It was stretching it last time, but I really had no idea what to say. They kept asking and…”
“Whaat’s up? Why are we being sneaky?” Ria quipped, poking in her head next to her, causing Daphne to stiffen, and raise a finger to her lips.
“Sorry. I know it’ll break Daphne’s heart, but we can’t… I can’t. We’ll have to make up some excuse or something…”
What on earth was her mum talking about?
“You know she’s her only friend, right?”
Daphne’s breath caught. No. What? Why?
“I know. Maybe you’ll find another way, another reason. But I can’t… we both know it’ll only get worse.”
Ria was now staring at her, face pale. “What are they saying, Daph?”
“Maybe we should just tell them that we’re separating,” Father said.
Ria stumbled, looking back and forth, but as Daphne reached out a hand, she instead took off running.
Daphne was about half a second from going after her, when the door clicked open behind her.
“Daphne,” Father said. “How much did you hear?”
~V~
“What do you mean, for now?”
Mum still refused to meet her gaze, so she turned back towards her father instead. “I don’t understand.”
“Daphne, I know you’re very mature already, and I’m very proud of you, but this is not something—”
“Please!” she blurted out. He thought that she wasn’t old enough, that this was something that she shouldn’t have to deal with yet, or never. But there was no way she would accept that. She was perfectly able to understand complex problems, and this was no different, was it? Except it was much more important than any of her studies. “I want to know. I need to know.”
Daphne tried her very best to make him understand, even if he never understood anyway, hoping that maybe… maybe for once, he’d actually listen. He just stood there for several seconds, not saying anything.
“You’re not separating, are you?” Daphne asked, but she already knew the answer.
“I wish it were as simple as that.”
It was never simple when it came to Father. But would he actually tell her the truth? What was really going on?
Finally, he straightened up, and just from his posture she instinctively reflected him. If he wanted formal, she could do formal. He straightened his black and green-trimmed robes, then sat down on the chair behind the desk, took off his glasses and gestured for her to sit across the table.
“Before I tell you this, daughter, you must promise me one thing.”
Daphne gave a simple nod. “Of course, Father.”
“You must not tell Astoria about this. Not now, not ever.”
Daphne hesitated. This was easier said than done. Even if she didn’t say anything, she might just pick it up regardless.
“I promise.”
Father sighed, before he got up, made his way over to mum, and took her hand, causing her to finally look up.
“Nine years ago. Do you recall what I told you about the political situation, and our stance?”
The end of the War. The height of You-Know-Who’s power, his fall, and the subsequent aftermath. The Wizengamot trials, the sacking of the Minister, the weekend of Bitter Tea, and the various concessions everyone had to make to stay out of the Dementor’s reach, only to all be finally wrapped up in the farce they call a Truce.
“1996, it started with fragile Neutrality, it ended on a knife’s edge. Everyone was forced to take sides, just before the war ended, and everyone tried to take their vengeance when the balance of powers finally broke. Anyone not choosing sides was assumed to be secretly on the other side by both sides. So in the end, the Greengrass family sided with the Dark.”
Father gave a grim nod. Of course, the last part wasn’t public knowledge. It had lasted for all but a day, after all. The only ones who did know were the very same ones that now kept inviting them to all sorts of social gatherings.
“But I never told you the reason why,” he said.
Daphne simply nodded.
“October the thirtieth, 1996. There was an attack at St. Mungos. Your mother was caught up in it.”
Her eyes widened, and she glanced over at Mum, who was averting her gaze again.
“Then, the very same evening, she suddenly steps through the Floo, as if nothing had ever happened. And along with her came another.”
“Who?”
“He never introduced himself. He just walked in here, a man with a face I wasn’t familiar with, and sat right there where you are now sitting,” Father said, causing Daphne to suddenly feel uncomfortable sitting in this particular chair. “And then he told me exactly what he had done.”
“What… he had done?” she repeated, as her gaze slowly wandered over towards the end of the room. “…To Mum?”
“A Curse.”
Even without meeting her eyes, she noticed some tears running down her mum’s face.
“A Curse of the Mind.”
Daphne involuntarily thought back to the last time they’d eavesdropped on the office, and particularly that last image, right before Father had shut the door. Her mum, sitting there, much like she was now, eyes wide, fists balled, and excitedly begging for some ice cream.
Daphne swallowed, processing that. “Did you ever learn who it was?”
“Of course. It took two days, but still two days too many. My study is protected against Polyjuice impersonation, so whatever really had transpired, there is no doubt it must have been him in my office that day. But before I had the chance to question him, he was murdered by Sirius Black.”
Chapter 34: Curse or Blessing
Chapter Text
“He said that it was time to make up our allegiances. And that for every day we hesitated, for every second thought we bore, the curse would grow.”
“But… why? Why would a man who was threatening us to join with You-Know-Who be murdered by one of his most loyal?”
Father fell quiet for a while. “That was because it wasn’t him in my office that day, or at least, not only him.”
“What do you mean?”
He took a breath, and then sighed. “When you notice his gaze on you, you know it’s already too late.”
Daphne swallowed. “T-The Watcher? But isn’t that…”
“He’s very real, trust me.”
Daphne took a moment to try and process that. The Watcher? As in… The Watcher sees; the Watcher knows, he’s hiding underneath your clothes; you better smile, sit and behave, ’cause there’s no hiding from his gaze?
“How do you know?”
Father’s fist clenched. “I don’t. It’s simple deduction. A man we have never seen, who has never been associated with the Dark Lord showed up, threatened my wife, and claimed to have placed a curse of the mind upon her. He seemed to know everything about me; he answered every question before I had even voiced it. And then he proceeded to be killed by someone whom he should have been allied with. I have been thinking about this for years. There is no doubt in my mind.”
Her mind was still reeling. The actual honest-to-Merlin Watcher? He was real? She’d only ever heard stories, about some mysterious person that would never show his face, that would only ever act through others, that would always show up just at the right time, and hold the solution to all their problems. He’d spend years convincing people he was their friend, he’d just wear someone’s face, or just make up a new identity altogether, and then he’d slowly… act. He was the one who took watch when the Dark Lord was on recess. Although whether he was working with him, or just followed his own agenda, the stories had never been clear about. There were the wildest of tales out there, everything from him posing as a year-long friend to some nobody only to get him to tell him one little secret, to him holding several seats at the Wizengamot by pretending to be different people and influencing policy, all up to him literally being able to read even the mind of the dead. If there was one common theme across all his stories, it was that his goals were just as nebulous as his identity. Nobody had been able to piece together a common theme, a common result of all the times he had been suspected to be involved, other than to just seemingly cause more chaos in the Dark Lord’s absence.
Daphne nodded. “So that was why…”
“Of course I agreed. I don’t know whether the curse was supposed to judge our actions, whether he intended to return to adjust it himself, whether he had a counter curse, or whether it was all a lie. But we also might never find out either way, because things turned out very different than anyone had planned.”
Daphne swallowed. Just the next day after, the Dark Lord had fallen.
“In the wake of the Dark Lord’s fall, there were a few last-stand attacks by his most Loyal. Most of them were arrested on the spot. And others, only all too eager to jump ship, attempted to sell out the rest of those who weren’t, while only those with sufficient money and connections managed to avoid a sentence.”
Daphne tensed. “And… the Watcher?” she whispered.
“He disappeared. Nobody knew what happened, nobody ever heard anything from him ever again, and he became the Watcher from your bedtime stories instead.”
“And what about the curse?”
Father just met her eyes in silence.
“It didn’t stop…” Daphne concluded. She found her legs trembling now, but she still struggled to maintain decorum. She had no idea what else to do in this situation.
“No, it did not.”
Daphne glanced over to Mum again, and then gathered herself, and demanded, “tell me more.”
“Every year, before her birthday, like clockwork. At first, it was just a few hours, then an entire day. This year, it even started almost a month earlier. But every single time she returns once more for her birthday—”
“Stop! That’s enough,” Mum cut in.
Father turned to look back towards mum in a way where she couldn’t read him.
“Please. Let me talk to her.”
After a second, Father nodded and excused himself from the room.
Daphne just stared, still sitting at attention, because she was pretty sure she’d start crying if she stopped.
“Daphne… please…”
She still couldn’t meet her eyes, afraid of the pain, of the despair, of all the dark clouds inside them drowning her again.
“Mother?”
Mum got up, and moved up to her, holding out a hand. Daphne hesitated, then grasped it as etiquette demanded, getting to her feet, and lowering her head.
“Please don’t act like this. You don’t have to… you shouldn’t… that isn’t you, Daphne.”
Daphne’s gaze remained downcast, and she clenched her jaw. It wasn’t her? What even was her? She tried to risk a peek, and she understood.
It was all useless, there was no point to it. They had tried everything, and it would only get worse, and—
Daphne clammed up and forced herself into posture again, looking down as her station demanded.
“It’s only proper,” she replied. “I just want to make you proud.”
“No. Don’t you understand? You make us proud either way, dear,” mum whispered.
But Daphne knew better. Adults never said what they meant. And she knew what Father really wanted, what really made him happy. But with her mum, she couldn’t tell what she actually meant anymore, without feeling like…
Daphne closed her eyes for a second, before gathering herself, and then put on a polite smile.
“I’m just doing what’s best for the famil—”
“Stop!”
Daphne flinched, the burning sensation this time physical. She reached up to touch her cheek, unable to process what had just happened. Had she done something wrong? She was sure that her father would approve. And Mum was usually okay, so long as she was smiling.
“Mum? What… I don’t understand…”
Her mum however stumbled backwards, breathing heavily. “No… I can’t… not now, please!”
“Celene?! What is going on?” Her father had entered again, standing in the doorway, his wand at the ready.
“It’s happening again… I can feel it.”
Daphne turned back from Mum to face his father who had frozen in his tracks, and watched as his wand slowly lowered, then slipped from his slackened grip, and tumbled to the ground.
“Father?” Daphne said.
“You shouldn’t be here for this,” he whispered.
What was going on? Was it… the curse? Now? But it had only been six months since her mum’s birthday, did that mean…
“Daphne… my beautiful baby girl… I never wanted… you never should have…”
“Mum?”
Despite her better judgement, Daphne found herself approaching closer and reaching out a hand. Mum grasped onto it, as if she were drowning.
“Please, look at me,” her mum whispered.
“Mum, I…” Daphne began, but couldn’t find the words to explain. She hated this, she hated the pain, she wanted it to stop, she wanted to look at her, be in her arms, but also be as far away as possible.
“Just promise me one thing,” mum said, placing a hand to the cheek, soothing the itching skin.
Daphne knew what it would mean, knew what it would cost, but she also didn’t know if there would be another chance. So she gathered all her strength of will to grant her mum that one request, braced every fiber of her being, and finally met her eyes.
“Promise that you’ll give me lots of hugs!”
There was no pain. There was no darkness. There was… there was nothing at all that she recognized. Just a single-minded focus, so loud it was almost deafening.
“Hugs?” Daphne echoed, unsure what else to say.
“Hugs! Hugs are the best! I want hugs! Now!”
Why? Why? Just why? After over two years, this was the first time she could meet her eyes and hold her gaze. The first time it didn’t hurt. It was all that she had ever wanted. And yet, it somehow hurt even worse, except not from the outside. Because something else was missing.
Because it wasn’t her mum in there.
The smile, which was neither polite nor cute. Was it happy? Was that what happiness was supposed to look like? She didn’t think so.
Unsure what else to do, she awkwardly reached out, and pulled the woman into a hug. It felt like hugging a house elf. Except said house elf began squeezing her so hard that she couldn’t breathe, and she found herself lifted off her feet.
“Hugs!” the woman screamed, then unceremoniously dumped Daphne on the floor and stumbled over towards the window. “Look! Pretty bird, there! Bird! Daph! Come, look!”
Daphne glanced back and forth, her arms still awkwardly held aloft. A hand settled on her shoulder, jolting her out of her daze. “Sorry, dear. Playtime’s over.”
“Already? But we didn’t play Gobstones! You promised we’d play!”
There was something deeply disturbing about hearing the voice of a grown woman shouting screaming and begging like a small child, her voice strained to the point where it was almost past recognition, yet not quite. Daphne found herself unconsciously recoiling from the yelling, and she heard the sound of wood being slid along the floor, until she saw Father’s wand being brought up next to her.
“Another time. How about we go take a nap now?”
“No nap! Boooring! Come on, Daph, let’s go have—”
“Somnus,” her father whispered.
“Have… I…” the woman muttered, then yawned loudly. “Or maybe… later… after…”
Daphne stared down at the brown-haired woman curled up on the windowsill who looked so much like her mum. The same elegant blue dress, the slight crease in the corners of her mouth, that same nose as she saw in the mirror. But just one look into her eyes had made it perfectly clear that this was a complete stranger. A stranger who knew her, called her Daph, and wanted to play with her, and… hugs.
“You… put her to sleep,” Daphne said.
Father said nothing.
“There has to be something we can do, right? You said the Greengrass family—”
“What do you think I’ve been doing over these past eight years?” Father said.
He whirled around, and placed his hands flat on the desk, breathing deeply.
“I’ve talked to mind healers, curse breakers, master Legilimens. I’ve talked to his inner circle. Nothing. Nobody could tell me what to do.”
Daphne couldn’t look at the woman in the corner anymore, so she turned to face Father again.
“What about the Watcher? We don’t know what happened, right? So maybe… if there’s any way to find him, any way to…”
“No,” he said, more quietly this time. “There just isn’t.”
Daphne’s eyes went wide, and her stare intensified, wanting to know more.
There was no point. Because it was worse than that. The Dark Lord’s inner circle hadn’t been able to tell him much, but they had told him that the Watcher wasn’t missing at all.
He had been discovered, arrested, and carted off to the high-security wing of Azkaban. Except that the Ministry didn’t even know who it was that they had arrested. Nor did anyone else. And once someone entered that place, there was no coming out of it. No visitors, no escapees, no survivors.
“But there has to be… any curse can be broken, right? The fairy and the water maid, the Babylonian…”
Daphne trailed off as he turned his head to meet her gaze. This was stupid, he was right. Those were fairy tales. But then again…
“What about Gringrotts, the Department of Mysteries, Grindelwald’s mark, or…”
“You know as well as I do, there are just as many stories where the curse wins in the end. This is just one of them.”
“You…” Daphne whispered, but broke off. She wasn’t supposed to contradict her Head of House, but… “You’ve already given up?”
He whirled around to shoot her a furious look.
“Of course not!”
Of course he had. He’d tried for years and years, and everyone had told him it was impossible. The curse could not be undone without destroying what was left. What was he supposed to do? At some days, he wasn’t sure if it wasn’t the better outcome for her, but killing her was the one thing he’d never be able to—
Daphne wrenched her gaze from him and turned. “No.”
“Daphne, you must understand that—”
“No,” Daphne repeated. She didn’t dare turn around and face the disapproval in his eyes, but she had already made up her mind.
“I will not give up, Father. I won’t let you down; either of you. I shall be in the library if you need me.”
She half expected him to say something, to contradict her, to forbid her, but when she only got a sigh in return, she took that as the best she was going to get and left the study. She had no idea where to start, really. But there had to be something. Their library was huge, and it held a lot more than just the stories and fairy tales from all over the world she’d used to read, or the historical and political books that she was supposed to read, and that nobody except Tracey ever had seemed interested in.
There were texts on magic there, too. And if there was one thing she was good at, it was studying.
~V~
“Mistress is being asking for Missy Daffy!”
Daphne sighed, placed her bookmark in the page, put the book back on the stack, and got to her feet to follow the little elf. She wasn’t sure why she even bothered, really. It wasn’t like it really was mum in there.
Over the past weeks, a lot of things had suddenly made a lot more sense. At first she’d been confused about the few books on the Mind Arts, specifically on Legilimency. Because what they described were very detailed, very complicated and apparently dangerous methods, practices and spells all to achieve something that had no point to it. Only when she’d found a section on Natural Legilimens had the point suddenly made sense. She’d never asked, of course, because people never understood her anyway, but she’d always had a feeling. She thought she was just a bit different than the others, that she just used less words, and more thoughts. At least Tracey and Ria seemed to have always understood her thoughts, even if the others often didn’t. But it turned out, this wasn’t the case at all. What she had been doing was Legilimency. And others weren’t doing that at all, at least, not without learning it from the ground up.
On the one hand, this meant a lot of the lessons from the books she had found were more or less useless to her. But on the other, it had just given her additional hope. She had found something else she was good at. And it happened to be the exact thing that could help her fix the curse on Mum. So she’d doubled down, and tried to work out how to apply the lessons from the books to what she could already do. And very soon, she’d made progress. She’d learned a lot of things that had given her more insight, more hope. There was a way. She just couldn’t quite put it all together yet. But she’d also learned some things that she rather hadn’t.
Originally, she could mostly just tell what people meant when they either talked to her, thought about her, or were particularly… intense… about something.
But now that she’d figured out how to focus in on one person, and parse out specifically what she was looking for…
She’d always thought that her father had been fine with the way Ria was acting. He’d always been doting on her, and seemed to treat her just like he had Daphne back then. And he was still very happy with Daphne, most of the time. But now she also understood that he didn’t dote on her because he was happy, but because he thought that it was expected of him. That despite it all, he still wished that Ria was more like Daphne.
And she also understood that Ria would only ever do something if it was fun. She liked to play dress-up, pretend to be all posh and follow all the other witches during their gatherings, but she only did it when it was fun. When she either got bored, or something didn’t go the way she wanted, she’d default back to being her usual chaotic self to get her way, and Father would let her, because she was still a child. And even if all looked fine on the outside, the more she looked, the more she could see the inevitable crash coming down the road. At some point, he would decide that she was old enough. And Ria would obviously disagree.
And the situation with mum wasn’t helping matters. So far, they’d told Ria that mum had been pranked by one of her colleagues, and Ria had taken it in stride, and proceeded to fully embrace the thing now replacing her as her new playmate. As much as she disliked the idea, it had at least given her some quiet time to study in peace. If anything, Ria had just been glad that their parents weren’t separating after all. Not that she really understood what that would mean, but she’d seen it happen with Millicent, and had been rightfully terrified.
“Daphne, have you seen Astoria somewhere?” her father said, passing her by in the corridor, to which she shook her head.
“Well, if you find her, tell her that she may wear the black tiara to her party.”
Daphne blinked, then turned, shooting him a raised eyebrow.
“Didn’t you say she’d wear that over your dead body?”
“Well, I reconsidered. You can tell her that I very much appreciate her efforts.”
And with that said, he turned to leave for his study, leaving behind the glimmering warmth of pride echoing in her stomach.
Daphne had no idea what had been going on, but she supposed she must have really made an impression if he allowed her to wear that silly thing for her birthday party.
“Daaaph! Ria is being mean!”
Those words caused her to freeze up on the spot. Something wasn’t right.
“You’re supposed to be my mother! Can’t you at least be normal for one day? I told father I want everything to be perfect. Draco is invited; all our friends will be there. And you’re covered in jelly!”
“Yesh! Jelly, squishy yellow jelly, hehe! Look, Ria! It wiggles when I move!”
Ria sighed, and then slowly turned to face Daphne. “Could you try and talk some sense into her, sister?”
Daphne felt something cold climb up her spine. This couldn’t be happening. “…Ria?”
“My name is Astoria. Maybe you should start using it.”
No. It couldn’t be that. But she had to be sure. And there was only one way to be sure. Now that she had a bit of practice, it should be a lot easier to separate their thoughts from her own. Daphne met her eyes, and in the next moment, she wished she hadn’t.
Daphne was there, once again, wasting time doing nothing, when she was here trying her best. And Father still only had eyes for her. She bet Draco would too. It was so unfair. Why couldn’t Astoria have been the pretty one? She hated this, hated looking like this, hated being compared to—
Daphne wrenched her gaze away, turned on the spot, and fled the room.
~V~
“I’m telling you. You need to send her to see mind healers. I’m not making this up!”
Father’s gaze flicked to her for a second, before he hunched back over the table.
“Daphne,” he said quietly. “I know what happened to your mother is worrying you greatly, but—”
“Ria was the one who spent the most time with her by far. What if it somehow spread? Couldn’t that—”
“Daphne, no. That’s not what this is.”
“You said you’ve been really proud of her, especially today, right? Do you think it’s coincidence that tomorrow is her birthday?”
“Enough,” Father said, but Daphne was undeterred.
“I’m telling you. There is no doubt. I saw it. I know it. Maybe it’s not too late! We need to—”
“I said enough!” his hand came down on the desk, and when he met her eyes, Daphne was almost knocked back from the onslaught of emotions. She fought with herself for a moment, but then instead closed her mouth again. Of course he wouldn’t understand.
Her father was fumbling with his hands for a moment, before he looked back up at her, and she could see he hadn’t gotten anywhere close to a resolution. “I need to think,” he said instead, and gestured for the door.
~V~
“Happy Birthday, Ria.”
“Thanks, Daph.”
Ria glanced at her, and for a moment her expression drooped. They’d both really rather Tracey had been here. But without mum around, there was no acceptable reason to invite their mother’s friends, and especially not their Half-Blood daughter. None of them liked it, they all would rather ignore that part of their societal rules, but Father was still right. Or at least, that’s what she’d told Ria.
“Oh, what is it?” Ria gushed as she took the small parcel from Daphne’s hands.
“Nothing much, maybe just some decoration for your evil tree-castle…”
Ria didn’t need to be told twice, and disregarding everything her father had told her, immediately tore off the wrapping of the small box right there at the desk.
“Oh… Merlin, that looks…” Pansy exclaimed.
“What’s that?”
“Oh wow! It’s Elaina’s blood-dagger!” Ria gushed excitedly.
It hadn’t been easy getting ahold of the thing after it had sold out. A small, elegant dagger made of black metal, with a single large red gem encrusted at the bottom. The edge gleamed in the sunlight, almost emitting a reddish sheen as Ria turned it in her fingers with awe, trying to keep it out of Pansy’s grubby hands.
“No, mine!” Ria exclaimed, and repeatedly stabbed Pansy with the incredibly sharp-looking pointy end. Of course, even with all of its craftsmanship, the perfectly forged edge wouldn’t be able to slice so much as butter with all the child-proofing charms it had to come with in order to be sold as merchandise for a children’s book series.
Daphne hadn’t been able to bring herself to explain to her sister that she herself had in fact un-invited Tracey via letter, just the day before, in order to make Father proud. Daphne hadn’t seen Tracey in almost a year, ever since her mum’s last birthday party. She’d been really looking forward to meeting her again. They hadn’t seen much of any of their friends, really. At least some of the girls had shown for Ria’s party, even if Malfoy hadn’t. At least that was a lucky break there. Even with everything else that had changed about her, small things like her facetious obsession with a boy she’d never even met seemed to have persisted somehow. Daphne wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She didn’t trust Malfoy. He mostly did what was proper, he did what was right, but his reasoning changed from day to day. The few times she’d been forced to meet him he’d always followed propriety as society dictated, but she hadn’t been able to understand why. Sometimes for his father, sometimes because he wanted to be a part of it all, sometimes because he truly believed himself to be superior to everyone else. And she had no idea which side the coin would land on when he met her sister. She knew Ria was still interested in him, or more like the idea of him, but Daphne didn’t think he would return her friendship. Ria was far too much of a free spirit. And as soon as the topic of Tracey came up, the two would inevitably clash.
“Astoria, what did I tell you about the presents?” their father said, having just entered the room, after having seen off the final guests.
Ria froze, then looked downcast. “I just took a little peek…”
“We talked about this. You promised me that you’d be on your best behavior. Did you at least thank everyone individually before—”
“Well, yeah, I gave them all a hug!”
“Astoria…” he sighed. “Just yesterday, you promised me. I had you recite the proper words three times…”
“No you didn’t. Also, what’s the deal? We all had loads of fun!”
Daphne shot Father a meaningful look, and when he met her eyes, she felt a flash of… no… this wasn’t good. She blinked, shaking her head, and found that she had subconsciously pulled Ria into her embrace.
“Father…”
“No, Daphne. We will not talk about this,” he said, turning, and taking off in a fast stride towards his study. Something was off with his thoughts. It wasn’t anything like the curse. But Daphne didn’t like it either way. And she wouldn’t let this stand. Not when it came to Ria.
She followed his footsteps, knocked on the door of his study as decorum demanded, and when no response came, she decided to let herself in regardless.
He sat, hunched forward in his chair, holding something in his hand, but he did not look up. She stood there for a while, trying to gather her thoughts, but then she realized that it was pointless. He wasn’t like Tracey. He wouldn’t understand. He’d never understand, unless she spoke up. Not for herself, but for Ria.
“Go to your room, Daphne,” he said.
Daphne forced herself to ignore his instruction, as well as all the other lead-up, and cut right to the core of his thoughts. “Ria is not better off with the curse.”
He didn’t even look up.
“Just like Mother, neither is she. You know it will only get worse.”
“Will it?” he muttered, then raised his hand, and brought it to his lips. He drained the glass and set it back on the table. “How do you know it won’t just get better? Just for once?”
The desperation in his voice was such that she could almost feel it without meeting his eyes.
“You’re just a child. You don’t understand anything. You don’t have any idea what I’ve been through. There. Is. No. Cure. There is no countercharm, there is no way to reverse it.”
Father was right. He was always— No. Even if— No, not even that. He didn’t understand, but she just had to say something.
“Father, even if you say that, I will—”
“Just let it lie! After everything, all these years, is it really a curse? Why can’t it be that finally something good has come out of all this?”
“You call your daughter insulting Mother for having her mind cursed good?” Daphne said desperately.
Every fiber of her being was squirming. She wanted to leave. She wanted to be anywhere else. But she had to stand her ground. Even if he would never understand.
“You really need to stop questioning my decisions, Daughter. You have no idea about this. You don’t have the right to tell me—”
“Neither do you. Ria should decide that for herself. And I can already tell you what her answer will be.”
“Get out.”
“And Mother would say the same.”
“Get out!”
Daphne fled the office, and the door was slammed behind her.
~V~
Of course, Ria had at some point figured that something was up. She’d always understood a little more than the others, except for Tracey. But neither Father nor Daphne had managed to tell her of her own fate yet. Daphne, because she still hoped to fix it before it became a problem. Father because…
The door opened, and there she was. Just the same as every day, the same face, the same smile, the… eyes. The eyes were so very different.
“Mum…” Daphne whispered.
“Daphne, dear, what are you…”
“Happy Birthday, mum.”
Mum didn’t manage to say anything else, and even the huge warning sign in form of her tears couldn’t stop Daphne from meeting her eyes and forcing a smile.
It didn’t even hurt all that much. She’d been getting better and better at controlling it, both at using it, but also at not using it.
“Muuum! You’re back!” Ria exclaimed as she bolted into the room, and this time, Daphne didn’t manage to keep out the heartbroken stab echoing from mum at the realization that Ria knew.
“I’m so sorry, girls. I… I’m sorry that I wasn’t…”
“It’s alright, mum,” Daphne whispered.
“Yeah. We’ve been waiting for you, but now you’re here! I wanna show you my cool new dark castle we built in the garden! And the court of Gobstones! And the…”
“Of course. I’d be happy to, dear.”
That, and she’d have to tell mum about Ria. No matter what Father said. Maybe she could talk some sense into him.
~V~
They’d spent the rest of the day eating cake, ice cream, recounting their adventures, and the yearly holiday trip they’d just returned from. This time, they of course hadn’t been away for the entirety of mum’s… episode… but as always, they had returned in time for her birthday at the start of July. Tomorrow, they’d planned to go on a trip around the grounds, and then to visit mum’s favorite Pensieve Theater.
Except of course, it could never go as planned.
“Theater? No. Booooring! Exploding Snap today!”
Was that all she would get? A single day, every year, on her birthday? Or would the curse take even that next year?
She didn’t even know which would be worse.
“Play, play, I wanna play! Now, Daph, come… come…”
As the woman started making a ruckus again, she put a hand to her lips, made a shushing noise, and pushed calming thoughts into her eyes.
“Ehehe… fluffy…”
Daphne turned around, away from the door to mum’s room, only to find Father, all dressed up in the proper formal wear, ready to head out. He just stood there, his gaze flicking between the door, and Daphne.
This was it. This was what his life had come to. His wife cursed to be an insufferable child, only to return for her birthday to remind him of what he had lost, while his youngest daughter was a useless failure that was now cursed to start resembling a caricature of what he had always wished her to be, while his eldest daughter who had always been all those things was throwing it all away to chase an impossible, foolish dream that had already ruined his own life over the past ten years.
“Daphne,” he said. “Could you please tell your sister that we won’t be going out today?”
“It’s not a foolish dream, father,” Daphne said quietly. “I know I can help them. I will only need—”
“Daphne, No!” Father yelled, causing the woman behind Daphne to start wailing loudly. “This foolishness ends today. Can’t you see that this is what it leads to? It’s over! It has been over for ten years now!”
She knew that he was probably mad, but she shut out his thoughts and forged onward. He couldn’t hurt her if she couldn’t feel it. “Maybe you can’t. Maybe you’re the one who is a useless failure.”
“You ungrateful— Fine. If you won’t listen, then let me make myself clear. This ends today. I am banning you from the family library. You’re to return to your studies—your proper studies. I will not allow this family to—”
“No, I will not. I told you, I promised you. I will—”
“You do not get a say in this, daughter. I have been watching this for far too long.”
“No,” Daphne whispered, and pinned his blue eyes under her own. “You’re the one who does not get a say.”
She reached out, and this time, she pushed. If he didn’t think that she could do it, then she’d make him think. She’d read enough about Legilimency to know it should be possible. And it had worked on the thing in mum’s body well enough. All he had to do was leave her alone.
Daphne pushed, imprinting force into her thoughts, pointing it right where they needed to go, and suddenly hit a wall.
Father gasped, and stumbled, before his eyes widened, then narrowed. She met his eyes again, and… there was nothing. Silence. Just… What?
“What… what did you do, Daphne?”
His eyes flicking back and forth, his breathing growing erratic, and Daphne tried to understand, but for the first time she couldn’t read him.
Oh. Was this… Occlumency?
Merlin, damn it. She hadn’t thought… but of course. It made sense that he would know… at least part of it, right? Rudimentary occlumency was simple enough, she had managed to learn that from the book in a month. But was it advanced enough? Could she maybe still…
Daphne narrowed her eyes and pushed again.
“Daphne. Whatever it is you are doing, stop it right this instant.”
No. She could feel it. The wall wasn’t solid at all. There were cracks, grooves, if only she had a bit more time, maybe she could—
There was a bright flash, and pain shot through her. The last thing she saw was his wand, in his hand, glowing in a bright red, just before everything went black.
Chapter 35: Silence speaks volumes
Chapter Text
Daphne had been confined to her room ever since that day, for the entirety of the remainder of the summer until she’d be off for her first year at Hogwarts. Ria hadn’t been supposed to be able to see her. But a door that was spelled by Father hadn’t stopped her sister, not when there was a ledge outside the window that was wide enough for her to tiptoe over to her own window.
Father hadn’t talked to her at all. She had no idea what he thought. If he knew what she had done, or had tried to do, or if he had just felt something and was now afraid, or if he thought that it might have been the curse somehow.
She’d been sent shopping with a house-elf in tow for her school supplies, which had garnered her a lot of strange looks, but luckily, she hadn’t run across any of her friends. After which, she’d been unceremoniously locked in again, without even being allowed to keep the books she had bought. Not that that had stopped her, though. Even if father had managed to block her out using Occlumency, the house elves had no such luxury. And they wouldn’t be disobeying Father if they didn’t even know they were doing it. So in the end, she’d spent most of the summer just like she’d spent most of the year. Reading.
That was until September arrived. She’d spent the entire night with Ria, who had insisted on staying up to chat. Somehow, the events of the past year still hadn’t broken her spirit.
“Give Tracey a big, fat hug from me, okay?”
“Of course.”
~V~
“So, Daphne, we haven’t seen much of you over the summer.”
Daphne just gave a polite nod. She’d really rather be anywhere else right now. But the plan was different. She needed to study. The Hogwarts library was supposed to be unlike anything she’d had at home. And the best way to do that, was if people left her alone. Except that if she made an enemy out of her tacit allies, that would only make it harder. They’d already mostly ignored her other than when it was required during their meetups anyway, so this was just as well. She knew none of them would want to be her friends if it weren’t for her social standing anyway, but since they were, she might as well use them to keep everyone else off her back.
“I’ve been studying.”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “What else is new. Oh, did you read Year with the Yeti yet?”
The compartment door came open, and Daphne glanced up from her book. It really was her. She’d just hoped that… She didn’t know. And Daphne still had no idea what to do.
“Hey Daph, uhm…”
All the girls had stopped their conversation and were now staring at Tracey. “Oh, it’s you, Davis,” Pansy said, shooting a look of disdain, before turning back over to Millicent.
“Long time no see?” Tracey said, giving a small smile, and awkwardly making her way to the last free spot across from Daphne.
Indeed. A glance at her immediately revealed the very longing she had been dreading. And the exact bond she had been craving. If Tracey knew what she’d been up to… if Tracey knew what was happening to Mum, or… to Ria… or if she ever met the other—
“You uh… haven’t been writing…”
Daphne steeled herself, closed everything down and held herself back, before she met her gaze. There was no way she’d do to her what she’d done to Father. Tracey didn’t deserve that.
“I was not allowed,” she replied, hoping Tracey would get it.
The other girls ignored them and continued on with their conversation.
“What?” Tracey said. “But why would you not be allowed to send letters? Or was it just because of me? I mean… I get you need to be all…” Tracey glanced around the room “…and stuff, but…”
Tracey didn’t get it.
“What about Ria? She doing okay? I really wanted to see her again too, you know? I still have a bunch of evil-looking necklaces from mum for that lair of hers…”
Tracey didn’t get it. Why wouldn’t Tracey understand? Tracey would always understand…
“Talk to me, Daph. You in there somewhere?”
Of course she was! But Tracey wasn’t listening!
Daphne desperately glanced at her friend, trying to understand what went wrong, but got just as much confusion in return.
“Why?” Daphne whispered.
Tracey blinked. “What, why?”
Daphne thought for a moment. What should she say? Why wouldn’t she just get it?
“Is… is it something with your mum?”
Yes. No. Both.
“Daph… I don’t know what’s going on, but you still got Ria and me, right?”
This wasn’t working. If Tracey would just stop asking about Ria—
Daphne blinked, then wrenched her gaze away. Merlin. Merlin! No! She’d just… she’d… had she just.
“Do you… want to maybe… talk about classes?”
Tracey… no. This wouldn’t work. Tracey didn’t deserve that. This was her problem. And if she wouldn’t understand, maybe it was better to just—
“Daphne, I—”
Daphne snapped her book shut and looked up, pointedly avoiding Tracey’s gaze,
“You know, I think you should find another compartment.”
Hopefully she would understand that. There was just no way that this would turn out well for Tracey. Maybe… maybe after she’d found a way to undo the curse, maybe after her father would just see… yeah. But as things stood, she had no idea what Father would do. He was unpredictable. And Tracey would be a prime target to try to get her to agree with his demands. He knew that; she knew that. And Tracey was a Half-Blood. She was completely without protection here, especially from those from the Dark. But it wouldn’t be valid if he thought they weren’t even friends anymore. But maybe, if she did not end up in Slytherin, she could find a way. Maybe. But until then—
Pansy turned back from her conversation to look over at Tracey. “Yeah, Davis. Nobody wants you here anyway.”
“W-what are you saying, Daph?”
“I’m saying that I don’t think you should be here.”
Please, Tracey. Please understand.
“It’s better this way.”
“I… but…” Tracey mumbled, looking back and forth between her and all the others, before she finally mumbled. “I understand.”
She didn’t.
~V~
But of course it wouldn’t go like that. Not only did Tracey end up in Slytherin, she had been assigned as her roommate. Daphne hadn’t been sure what to say to her, but luckily, after a few words as decorum demanded, Tracey had readily agreed to go to sleep, giving Daphne more time to think over the past day.
She continued to read her book in silence, pondering what to do about her friend. On the one hand, maybe they could pretend? Maybe they could get away with it, if it was only in their dorm room? Would Father fall for that? Would he even consider her in the first place, or was she just giving him too much credit?
The problem was that she didn’t know. She couldn’t tell. Even if others didn’t understand, at least she usually understood them. That was, until Father had found her out. She hadn’t been able to slip past his walls, in the few times she’d been able to take glimpses, and he hadn’t given her many opportunities to, either.
“Daphne…” Tracey said quietly. “I don’t know what… if you don’t want to talk, that’s alright. But… could you at least… just tell me why?”
Daphne looked up, met her eyes and saw worry, confusion, and… yeah. At least she could read Tracey, but that still didn’t help her if Tracey wouldn’t…
Understand…
No.
Why had she expected Tracey to understand, anyway? Tracey had always understood, but it didn’t make any sense. But she didn’t think Tracey was a Legilimens as well. What were the odds? No, but then, why? If Tracey had just been able to understand her regardless, then why couldn’t she now?
It didn’t make any sense.
Unless she’d never been able to understand in the first place.
Unless it had been Daphne making her understand all along.
Daphne’s breath caught at the thought, and she turned to avert her gaze.
If it had never been Tracey… if it had always been herself…
Would that mean that…
She had only understood because Daphne wanted her to? Because she’d shared her own thoughts without knowing?
Because Tracey had been the only friend close enough to her that she trusted her with her thoughts?
But had it just been that? She’d made the house elves do a lot more than just understand. She’d made the thing occupying her mum’s body do and feel even more. She’d almost made her father—
Daphne dropped the book she was holding, and Tracey let out a gasp.
“Sorry. Did I… I mean.. Forget it, I just don’t…”
“Tracey,” Daphne whispered, unable to look at her.
Was Tracey even her friend? Would she ever have been, if she hadn’t wanted her to be?
Was there even a difference at this point? Because she couldn’t change the past anyway. And right now, she was so far curled up into herself there was no way she was making Tracey think anything. And that’s why she wouldn’t understand.
And she still wanted to be her friend regardless.
Because of what she’d done.
“Daph? Talk to me, please,” Tracey whispered.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? Daphne wanted it, Tracey seemed to want it. Even if it might be Daphne’s doing in the first place, even if that wasn’t the actual Tracey—
A cold shiver ran down her spine at that thought.
No.
No, she could not.
Because if she did that… if she just continued like this, if she just made her understand, made her be her friend, or even just accepted that she now was this way since it had already happened…
Then she wouldn’t be any better than Father.
“You should never have made friends with me,” Daphne whispered.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It had never been supposed to be like this. And she couldn’t just sit down and accept this new reality, even if she liked it better, if that wasn’t who Tracey was supposed to be.
Daphne turned to face her, carefully keeping every single bit of herself separate from her friend. Or… not-friend.
Tracey was staring back, eyes glistening, her expression looking… well. Daphne had no idea. She couldn’t tell what she felt without looking. So for this, words would have to suffice.
“I know you just wanted to be happy, you just wanted friends. But this… us…” Daphne said, thinking of how to phrase it that she would maybe understand. “That was never what this was.”
Tracey’s breath caught. Did she understand? “You understand, right?” Daphne added. “It’s not real.”
“What are you saying?” Tracey yelled. “Of course it’s real! You’re my friend, Daph! Or are you saying…”
Daphne nodded. “Yes. I never was. It was always just…”
But she couldn’t say it.
Why couldn’t she just… Oh. Was that what this was? Was she still clinging on to that fabricated friendship, even if she knew it had never been real? Just like Tracey? Was it her who didn’t want this to end, or Tracey?
Daphne tried to risk a glance, but almost groaned from the sudden pain. She had made it worse! Why? Why couldn’t she just under— No. Not that. But… What should she do? She couldn’t force Tracey to do anything. Never again. She wasn’t like Father. Tracey was supposed to be who she always had been, not what Daphne wanted her to be. Just like Ria.
Maybe she could help? Help her let go? Maybe if she took the initiative?
“Here, I’ll… try to make this easy for you,” she said, and began to place the few books she had withdrawn back into her trunk. Daphne gave Tracey a small smile, closed it up, and then got to her feet.
Was she doing the right thing? Was this the way Tracey would understand?
“Just tell me if you understand,” she added, just to be safe.
Tracey stared back, not even looking her in the eyes, not that she wanted her to, anyway. Finally, she nodded. This much, Daphne could understand, even without looking.
She picked up her wand, and made her way for the door. With one final look back at Tracey’s shivering form, she once again stopped. Should she risk another peek? Was Tracey alright after all?
No. No she should not. The temptation to just make her understand was so strong, she wasn’t sure if she could resist. And if she started with that… No. Father, you’ll see. There is a better way. There is always another way.
Daphne firmed her expression and slammed the door, leaving those tempting thoughts behind once and for all. Maybe, she could convince Moon to trade her roommate for one with slightly higher standing in her own house. That was something these girls would want, right?
~V~
Daphne threw another glance over towards the corner of the room that Tracey and Potter seemed to have taken up refuge within. Really, she should have just gone through with the original plan. At least if she’d made friends with Moon, then Tracey would still have her family’s name to fall back upon. But with her ill-advised and blatantly public friendship with Potter, they now firmly occupied a rung on the social ladder that was somewhere barely skirting the realm of Muggleborns, at least here in Slytherin. It was easy to place someone according to a pre-defined set of rules, no matter how convoluted or nonsensical, because at least, there still were rules, not just… I don’t want to be your friend, because you’re weird, because you’re scary, or just because.
And also, this arrangement now left her with Moon instead. Of course she’d noticed the looks from Tracey, all but screaming her longing for that very spot that Moon now occupied. Thanks to their circumstance, as well as her families general standing, Moon had now slipped her way into Daphne’s circle. Which was a problem. She wasn’t supposed to have a circle. How was she supposed to pursue her goal in peace without people constantly threatening to stumble onto her research, when she now had this girl to take care of?
She didn’t even need to look to all but feel the awkwardness, uncertain and worry rolling off the girl as she stood there, next to the sofa, glancing around for a free seat, but unable to speak up when it wasn’t her place to interrupt, and nobody seemed eager to give her the time of day, either.
Yet, social etiquette was a concept beyond any single person to mold, so she’d act as her station demanded for now.
“Pansy, would you mind giving some space to my roommate?”
Pansy threw a short glance towards the approaching girl, then scooted over to the side, and continued her chat with Milly without so much as another glance at Moon who now awkwardly settled in on the sofa across from Daphne, while she returned to her book.
This was pointless. She’d spent all week combing through the library for anything on the Mind Arts, Legilimency, or anything related to curses of that kind. And apart from warnings, the only thing she had found was a single reference to one other book—not that she’d been able to find said book. When she’d asked the librarian, she’d instead just received a stern telling-off that she was very much not allowed in the Restricted Section, and that she’d better not meddle with books like these either way.
So now, it was time for plan B. From Malfoy she had learned that some of the upper-years seemed to have access to the restricted section, and that they might be able to share it. She didn’t have much she could trade in exchange—nothing that she was comfortable with trading anyway, but then again… maybe she wouldn’t have to.
“Is it true that Professor Snape reads the student’s minds?” she said, pretending she was worried about the persistent rumor.
“Well, yes, everybody knows that,” Pansy said off-handedly. “But of course, he only reads the minds of Half-Bloods and Muggleborns, so what’s the deal?”
Daphne internally hoped that what everybody knew was either all true or entirely made up, but either way, the answer had never been the point.
“Well, but still… doesn’t it worry you? There’s this person running around that ‘everybody knows’ reads minds, and I’ve been looking, but there’s nothing in the library on how any of this works, or how to stop it… And when I asked Madam Pince, apparently all those books are conveniently in the Restricted Section…
“Yes, of course! If all the Mudbloods could just read it, there’d be no point to it!”
Daphne met the eyes of Warrington, who was sitting across from them on the sofa, pretending to still be immersed in his homework, and she reached out and pushed. It was a simple thought, a simple desire, no attached reasoning, context, or logic. He could come up with that himself, especially given the conversation he had just eavesdropped upon.
He looked up and gave her a raised eyebrow. “You said there’s books on Mind Magic in the restricted section?”
Daphne blinked. “Well, that’s what Madam Pince said. I wouldn’t know.”
“Daphne, I told you. You’re making a fuss about nothing. It’s Snape! Your house badge is a better defense against him than anything you could ever read in a book.”
“Sorry, I just… had an idea. Maybe I’ll just…” Warrington mumbled, as he slowly struggled to his feet and took off at a fast walk.
“Wait, you forgot your bag!”
~V~
“I’m sure you know why it is I have asked to speak to you, Miss Greengrass?”
Daphne gave a polite smile and calmly nodded, while she was completely panicking on the inside. She’d been found out, again! And by him of all people. She had no idea what to make of her Defense professor on a good day, but—
“You… have a gift, Miss Greengrass.”
“Sir?” she said.
The man in the purple turban slowly approached and lifted her chin to meet her eyes. She half-way expected something to happen, but she held herself back, tightly wound up in whatever flimsy Occlumency she could command, and all that met her was that deep blue gaze.
“Indeed. Do you know how rare natural Legilimens are?”
Daphne paused, but then nodded again. She’d never met anyone else, to her knowledge, and the books had provided very sparse information. First she had thought that Professor Snape would be one, since she’d felt him try to push into her mind a few times, but after looking a bit closer she realized that no, that wasn’t what this was at all. Where her attempts had always been like carefully reaching out with her fingers, his felt more like being poked with a stick. His Occlumency, however, was something else entirely. She hadn’t been able to spot a single crack anywhere, and trying to push just a bit harder to find one seemed like the best way to get a one-way ticket back home.
“Anyone can enter the mind with the use of a wand, but to just brush their thoughts with but a glance, to listen in without them so much as raising an eyebrow, to glance through the window and see… that is a rare talent, a talent that is only seen in natural Legilimens.”
“But it’s not merely your talent that is remarkable…” her Defense professor continued on, as he started pacing. “No, you seem to have taken great efforts to hone your skills already.”
He could tell that much? Was he… was he like her?
“But you seem to lack the necessary… experience.”
He turned and came to a stop right in front of her again.
“Tell me, Miss Greengrass. What is it you… desire?”
“Sir? I don’t follow,” Daphne said, despite being very sure what he was asking.
“Nobody goes through the effort you have endured without a reason, without a goal. So tell me, what do you wish to achieve?”
She couldn’t just tell him… that. But…
But she’d be a fool not to take this chance, if he really was offering what she suspected. If he really understood the Mind Arts, if he really could teach her how to…
“I need to learn. There is a curse, unlike any other. I need to learn to understand it. To control it, and to lift it.”
“A curse?” he said, peering at her intently. “What kind?”
Daphne steeled herself. Should she tell him that much? Could she even? Or should she just return to confounding upper-years to aimlessly try and retrieve books which they would then conveniently lose in the common room?
“It is… a curse of the Mind. I’m not sure what exactly it does, but… it seems to cause a second… personality to emerge,” Daphne admitted.
“An emergent personality? That… is curious. Very rare,” he muttered, before he turned and began pacing again. “How far has it progressed?”
Good question. Because there were two answers. But could she tell him that much?
“Why do you ask?”
“Depending on how deeply it has festered, there may be a chance to either disarm it or carve it out entirely. If it has spread too far however, your only chance may be to completely undo the curse the way it was meant to be.”
“And how would that work?” Daphne asked before she could help herself.
“The key to undoing any curse, whether of the Mind or otherwise, is to comprehend it. To study it, to understand all its ins and outs, as if you had created it yourself.”
Daphne held her breath, hoping for more information to come forth. But after some more time, it became clear that none would come. At least, not by itself. He definitely wanted something from her. And that was a problem. She had no idea what kind of person he was, what he was thinking, or what his goals were. She had nothing to hold over him, no leverage whatsoever. There was no way she could trust him. Especially with something like this. He just wouldn’t understand. She had to get out of here. Except right now, he had all the power in this situation.
“You see, your situation is somewhat similar to my own,” the Defense professor said.
Daphne blinked, before turning to look at him fully.
“Sir?”
The professor stared at her impassively for a moment, before there was a distinct shift in his eyes.
“M-m Miss G-Greengrass… I p-presume? Right. S-sorry. I… it… it is… n-nice t-to m-meet y-you…”
“Professor?”
“Q-Quirinius, please,” the man stuttered, now standing hunched forward, fumbling with his hands awkwardly.
There was no way. Was he… was he cursed too? Maybe… maybe he had been cursed by the Watcher too?
“You… you found a way to… control it?” Daphne whispered, before she could even think about it.
This wasn’t just an act. It was reflecting in his eyes as clear as day. There was another man, another person, trapped inside him. Just like Ria. Just like Mum. Except that he had been able to control it.
“I…in a way… of course… I’m just glad that… my L-”
Something shifted in his eyes again, and he stood a little straighter.
“As you see, there are many ways to deal with a curse such as this.”
Daphne couldn’t hold herself back anymore. “Can you teach me? …Sir? I want… I need to understand it!”
“Ah…” he muttered, raising his hand to scratch his chin. “In that case, if you wish for my advice, I will only ask one thing in return…”
“What is that, Sir?” Daphne said.
“You, Miss Greengrass, you have potential. You could be great, a pinnacle of magic. You could be so much more than your peers. I’m sure even you yourself have come to understand that.”
Daphne said nothing in reply. Maybe. But she didn’t care about that. What was important was—
“But… you have decided to focus all your efforts on this one, albeit admirable, goal. And while I cannot fault you for that decision, I would really… hate… to see such talent go to waste.”
Daphne didn’t like this. This sounded exactly like the point of temptation in any of the stories she had read, especially the very point that the Watcher would get you over to his side, except that the protagonist had no idea who he even was at this point, or what he was agreeing to. What if he wasn’t cursed by the Watcher… but just the Watcher himself in disguise?
There was no way it was actually him, right? He was supposed to be in Azkaban. Was he just trying to play her? Pretending to give her a solution to a problem he had created? But to what end? Or was she just being paranoid? Daphne knew exactly what she wanted, what she needed. And her Defense professor had just demonstrated exactly what he was putting on the table. Whoever he was, he definitely had his own agenda, that much was clear. And the stuff he wasn’t telling her could probably fill tomes. But just in case he really was the Watcher, just in case whatever his goals were conflicted with her own, she would have to make sure that no matter what, she wouldn’t give up her trust completely. She would have to move carefully, give him just enough, everything she could give up while still ensuring that, even if everything else would go wrong for her in the end, she’d at least be able to achieve her goal before it came to that. But that all depended on what it was he actually wanted from her.
“What do you want from me, Professor?”
He turned and offered her a hand, and a deal. A deal that had Daphne almost convinced she was dreaming. Because he asked for neither sacrifice nor gold, neither boon nor debt. All he asked was to be what he already was. Her teacher.
“I will teach you. Not just what you seek, but the entirety of Mind and Magic alike. Allow me to help you realize your potential, and I will in turn help you realize your goal.”
~V~
Daphne stared down at the final page for a while, then flipped the book closed. Her professor had told her not to attempt anything on her own, since other people might be able to tell. Daphne had declined his offer of him entering her mind in order to help her learn faster. Even with all the things she would give up, her trust was not among them. The stories of the Watcher were still firmly stuck in her mind. If there was a way to learn without risking giving up everything, including her goal, should he choose to betray the sanctity of her mind, then she would take that path, no matter his assurances. Adults never said what they meant, and she couldn’t read him either, just like Father. Except he was far more skilled than anyone she had known. She had no idea what would happen if she granted him full access. The one trump card she still held, the one little bit of agency she had left, was her freedom to give verbal agreement. Or rather, her freedom not to. Something like this could never be forced, no matter the amount of mind magic involved. So in turn, he had just smiled, and instead offered her an alternative. He’d told her that he would only practice with her directly once she was good enough with Occlumency that she could trust that he wouldn’t be able to take advantage of the situation, and only then would she instead practice entering his mind.
But before that, she would have to study. At least, she had been provided with books like this one, which held some very interesting theory on a much more invasive method of Legilimency. But all the theory in the world wouldn’t help save them if she never put it into practice.
“Daphne?”
“It’s nothing,” Daphne replied.
Moon had mostly kept to herself from the start, but after Daphne had offered her to help with her Potions homework after having been unable to watch the constant worry in the girl’s eyes the closer they got to the next lesson, Moon seemed to have got it into her mind that she needed to repay her somehow. Really, finally being able to look at her half of the room without feeling artificially stressed was payment enough.
Also, there was nothing she wanted from the girl anyway, other than…
Or… did she?
No. Even if her professor hadn’t explicitly told her, she obviously wouldn’t let anyone else know what she could do. If she ever did slip up, the first person anyone would be pointing fingers at was definitely the resident Legilimens.
But also… where could she even go from here? She’d reached the point where she wouldn’t be able to progress any further with just glances. She really had to attempt to fully enter someone’s mind. And no matter what he said, no matter what his actions indicated, Daphne still felt very reluctant of placing all her trust in her professor to the point of leaving her own body to try and enter his mind.
If there was no other way, then fine. But maybe, there was another way…
She glanced over towards her roommate once again. The worry and desire to help was still clear as day. There was no way she could ask, explain something like that, and risk… But then again, it wouldn’t even be an issue, right? Moon wanted to help, and she needed help. They were all but in agreement already.
But not speaking up had been the cause of half her problems. And getting agreement beforehand would make things so much easier, especially for her first attempt. Moon had now noticed her stare, and had begun squirming.
Then again, they had barely talked so far, other than stuff related to potions. Daphne couldn’t just ask about something like that out of the blue. It wasn’t like they were friends or anything. So she needed some way to get the conversation started. At least this time, she’d have enough time to figure out what to say beforehand, without the conversation moving on before she was ready.
But what should she say? She let her thoughts and her gaze wander for a bit, thinking of what she knew about Moon. Well, not much, to be honest. In the few weeks she’d known her, they had barely exchanged a few words beyond schoolwork. Daphne glanced down at the book in Moon’s hands and blinked. Oh. Now there was an idea.
“You know, my sister is obsessed with these,” she said, gesturing at her book labeled Adventures of Elaina in the Dark Forest.
“With… oh, you mean Elaina?”
Daphne gave a nod.
“Really? I mean… isn’t that… aren’t you…”
“Purebloods, yes. My sister has some ideas of her own what that means,” Daphne replied. “Can’t say I blame her.”
Slowly a small smile crept over the girl’s face. “You know, you’re the last person I’d have imagined agreeing with that book.”
Daphne gave a small smile. “Agree is a strong word. There’s only so many sentences to death by pillow fight I can endure.”
That statement caused her roommate to giggle. “Well it’s your fault for being a bad minion.”
They spent some more time talking about the series, and about Ria and Lily’s shared affection for its eccentricities. And before Daphne knew it, an hour had passed, and it was almost time to head to bed, but she still hadn’t gotten around to asking what she’d actually wanted from Lily.
Daphne took another breath, and then said, “Would you mind helping me with a project of mine?”
“Wh— Me? I mean… sure, if I can? I don’t know if…”
“Don’t worry, it’s very simple,” Daphne said.
“I would like to practice trying to enter your mind.”
“What?” Lily spluttered. “I… I mean… why? No, how? There aren’t any classes about…”
“It’s for the extra curricular assignment I got from our Defense Professor,” Daphne explained. “If it works, I could create… sort of a connection.”
“What? How would that work?”
“It doesn’t quite say, but I think it could allow us to talk, like… over the Floo, you know? Even when we’re not in the same room.”
Lily blinked, trying to digest that. “Anytime? Like… wherever we are? You’d be there?”
Daphne met her eyes for a second, trying to parse that look. Anywhere? She’d be there, they could talk? She wouldn’t be alone? Apparently, Lily was more interested in the idea of what they’d be able to talk about, or that Daphne wanted to talk to her in the first place, rather than the marvel of using magic to connect two minds together, which was the actual interesting part here. It wasn’t like they didn’t already spend enough time talking about random things in their dorm room. But she wasn’t one to judge. If it would help Moon feel better, that was just another bonus for her peace of mind, she guessed.
Daphne nodded. “Whenever you need to talk. Whatever you need to talk about.”
Lily stared back for a moment, before after some long seconds, she finally nodded. “Okay…”
She fiddled with her robes for a bit, then glanced over at her wand. “So… what do I need to…”
“You just need to sit and relax, and look me in the eyes. I’ll take it from here,” Daphne declared matter-of-factly.
Or at least, that was how she imagined it. In truth, she was mostly winging it at this point. But it couldn’t be all that difficult, could it? She’d done Mind Magic her whole life. This was just taking the next step. Daphne settled down on the bed across from her, legs crossed, and leaned back against the wall. She had no idea how literal the books were talking. But if she’d actually leave her body, then she’d better be safe than sorry.
“Alright. Do I have your permission to enter your Mind?” Daphne repeated, just to be sure.
Lily met her eyes and hesitantly nodded. Daphne held her gaze for a moment, still returning an expectant look, before Moon finally got it and said, “Y-yes, okay, you uh… have my permission.”
Daphne nodded, then slowly reached out and placed her hands onto the girl’s shoulders. “Look at me. This could feel a bit odd, but honestly, I have no idea.”
And before Lily could reconsider, Daphne finally reached out, and peered open the windows to her soul.
~V~
“Hello sister,” Ria said, lowering her head into a curtsy.
Daphne froze, just staring back, alarm bells blaring in her mind. No. Not now. Not already! Her birthday was still some days off, she shouldn’t… There was no way! Was she too late already? The more she stared, the seemingly more uncomfortable her sister grew, before finally she blushed and muttered “Am I… doing it right?”
“…Ria?”
“Daph? What—”
Daphne let out a breath, and leapt forward to pull her sister into a hug. She didn’t know what to say, so she just held her, not letting go.
“I missed you,” mumbled Ria.
It had been the longest they had ever been apart. And it would be the longest they would ever be apart. Because once she forged a proper link with her as well, then they’d never be apart again.
“Daphne,” another voice said from behind her.
Without even turning she knew who it was, but she was surprised either way when she finally did. In a way, he was still the man she had always known. But also in a way, he really was a shadow of his former self. His sunken eyes hidden behind his glasses almost seemed yellow, the additional wrinkles, his expression that all but screamed the helplessness in his eyes. But still, that same wall. Although, at second glance, it seemed much less like a wall and more like a flimsy barrier now, especially when compared to her Head of House.
“Father.”
“Please come speak to me in my study,” he said, before turning and leaving.
Daphne turned back and barely just caught the look on Ria’s face that she was trying to hide. She gave her a look, but Ria didn’t say anything. Something was definitely going on there. And she’d go right to the source.
“Talk to you later, okay?” Daphne said, squeezing Ria’s hand tightly, who gave a reluctant nod, and she finally let go to follow him.
Closing the door behind her, she made her way over to the chair and sat down. They sat there in silence for a moment, just staring, emotions flashing from behind the cracks. It would only be all too easy. Maybe she should just risk a peek?
“Daphne,” he said again, taking a deep breath, before he said, “I hope you are keeping up with your studies?”
Were they not even going to talk about the elephant in the room?
“I manage,” Daphne replied.
“I’m sure you do,” Father said, staring back for a while, before he seemingly decided to change the subject. “I wanted to speak to you about Astoria.”
Daphne tensed, and slowly nodded.
“You know how she is, but lately she has been making some very good progress.”
Daphne just stared back. What exactly had he done? How had he gotten Ria to do… that?
“I noticed.”
Father returned a tense nod.
“You really believe that to be necessary? The Watcher is gone, the curse remains, and it grows whatever we do. We have no idea how it works. Don’t you think it’s fine to just keep up public appearances, and let your daughter enjoy even a little bit of her childhood? Does she really need to be forced into a role of propriety, grace and high societal nonsense? Isn’t it enough for me to be all these things?”
That statement was followed by some quiet. What the hell had he done?!
“I don’t know what may be necessary. But I will not allow this family to fall apart. And if we have to embrace the conditions of the curse, then so be it.”
“But what if that’s not what Ria wants?”
“Her name is Astoria. She needs to get used to it.”
Daphne clenched her jaw in reply. Like hell she would give up Ria to that thing.
Okay, screw this. Daphne reached out for the wall, or rather for the cracks right there. But just inches from the wall, she was stopped dead in her tracks. It felt somewhat like pressing her face against a window. She could see everything behind it, but she couldn’t reach through, and the window itself also was pretty opaque, somehow. What in Merlin’s name was going on? Was that… Daphne felt something cold run over her skin as she realized what she was looking at. It wasn’t his eyes that were yellow. It was his glasses. They were slightly different than his normal glasses, and now that she looked closer, they had a soft yellow tint to them. Were they… somehow blocking her out? Was that even possible? She stared back at him, just sitting there with his stoic expression, carving a future for her sister like he was talking about the Merlin-damned weather. A future that none of them even wanted, but that he believed to be necessary.
“What else will you do, before it is enough?” Daphne whispered. “Lock her in her room, like you did with me? Take away her Dark Witch Elaina books? Forbid her from seeing Mother? Marry her off to Malfoy? Will you curse her yourself, if she does not measure up?”
Father was now clenching his fists so hard that the table gave a groan.
“If I must, to be rid of this curse—”
Daphne could not believe what she was hearing. “And if that does not work?”
She was now out of her seat, on the table, and had grabbed her father by his robes. “Why not kill her yourself at that point? After all, the curse only requires the family’s allegiance… But if she’s no longer part of it, wouldn’t that solve the problem?”
“Solve… the problem?” he whispered, his whole body trembling beneath her touch.
“I…” he said, his eyes darting left and right, his breathing going ragged, before he seemed to make a decision. Taking a deep breath, he placed his hand on hers and gripped it tightly. “No. There will be another way. It will never come to that.”
“Then why not just let the curse take hold? Why not trade your useless daughter for your wife, and a new daughter you could be proud of?”
His eyes were wide, and his grip faltered, as he sagged back into his chair. He did not reply.
“I see how it is,” she whispered, letting go of his robes, and getting to her feet. “Don’t talk to me anymore. I’ll be the perfect daughter you so desperately wanted, so long as you leave Ria alone. But if you see this through… I’ll be gone. And Ria with me.”
With that said, Daphne turned around, and left the room, slamming the door behind her.
Chapter 36: Stop the clock
Chapter Text
“Daph?” Ria said, shooting her a worried look as she entered her sister’s room.
Daphne didn’t offer a reply, or an explanation. She had three more days to find out how to stop it, how to undo it, or at least delay it. And if not that, at least learn enough so she might be able to until next year. But Daphne wasn’t sure if their family could survive another year of this. She had no idea what their father was thinking, but no matter his true intentions, her own words had burnt too many bridges to just return to how things used to be.
But none of that would be an issue, if she could figure out the curse. But to do that, she needed to enter Ria’s mind. And for that, she first needed her permission.
“Ria… do you trust me?”
“Of course! Why would you even ask that?”
Because she herself would not, if she knew everything she had done until this point. Daphne swallowed.
“I’d like to try something,” Daphne said. “There’s a special kind of magic that I learned at Hogwarts. It’d allow us to create a sort of link that we can use to talk.”
“Talk? How do you mean?”
“Over a distance. Like over the Floo, except without the fireplace.”
“You can do that?” Ria gushed. “That’s awesome! So like Elaina’s cursed mirror?”
“Not quite. It’s just in your mind, you just… talk. I can’t really explain it better than that.”
“Well, come on! I wanna try it! What do we do?” Ria said excitedly.
Daphne paused for a moment. This was the hard part.
“I’ll first have to enter your mind, in order to set it up.”
“You’re not making any sense, Daph.”
“Remember Elaina’s trip to the hidden library? It’s sort of like that.”
“You mean… I have a whole library somewhere in my head? And it has dark pixie minions? And two moons?”
“…Sure,” Daphne said flatly.
“Alright, what are we sitting around here for, then? Show me these magical new territories to rule!”
Daphne sighed. “If you’re sure… then may I enter your mind?”
Ria vigorously nodded. “Yeah! Come on! Let’s go! I wanna see!”
Blanket permission. There. Because while of course she would also look to establish a link, the primary goal was to try to find and examine the curse.
Daphne reached out and gently peered open her blue eyes. Ria’s eyes widened, first a fraction, then a mile. Daphne plunged, rushing past images, visions, dreams of becoming a Dark Witch in her own right, of having an army of minions that would all be the best of friends, and ruling over a kingdom of love, hugs, pillows and ridiculous looking tree houses. Daphne reached out a hand and snatched one of the flecks of memories that were floating around her.
“Daph?”
“Mh?”
“Dad said that I can’t go to the muggle theater with Tracey!”
“Well, what did you expect?”
“But why? She’s our friend! I wanna—”
“Because she’s a Half-Blood.”
“But what does that have to do with—”
“It’s just our place in society. We’re purebloods, and they’re not. Associating with her like that would tell everyone that she’s not beneath you.”
“What? Why would you say that? Isn’t she your friend too?”
Her memory self swallowed, and gathered her words. She still remembered the struggles of trying to get Ria to accept this complex view of the world, when things like for the good of the family meant so very little to her five-year-old mind.
“It’s not about what I think. Telling everyone that she’s not beneath us, without an adequate reason, would just mean telling everyone we’re just as low as them.”
“What do you mean?”
Her memory-self sighed. “The Greengrass family is an ancient, powerful family. In order to keep that place, in order to keep mum and dad and us safe, we must accept that. And to accept that, means to accept that Half-Bloods are beneath us. That we are simply superior to them.”
Daphne closed her eyes at the words. Father’s words, echoed from her own lips, spoken solely to seek his approval. They hadn’t gotten any easier even without that.
“But…”
“We cannot be friends with someone like that. We can tolerate them, but taking them to our level means taking us to—”
“But that’s… that’s evil! That’s like… what a villain would say!”
There was no reply for a while. Part of her still wished that it were as simple as Ria made it out to be. And that wasn’t even getting into the whole issue with the curse.
“You love mum and dad, right? You want to protect them too, don’t you?”
“W-of course! But why—”
“I know it’s difficult to understand, but that’s just our place in this world. If you want to help keep our family together, if you want to continue having fun in the garden, meeting Flora, Milly and all the others, then… we just have to accept that.”
“You mean…”
“If we want to protect our family, we will have to play that role for now, even if we don’t like it.”
Ria just gave her a confused look. “But what if I don’t wanna be the villain?”
Daphne returned a small smile. “Well, just because you’re supposed to be evil, doesn’t mean you have to be all bad, right?”
“…You mean like Dark Witch Elaina?”
Her memory self reached out and pulled her sister into a hug.
“Yes. Like Elaina,” Daphne whispered, happy to have found a way to get the message across. If only she’d known just what she’d signed their whole family up for with that one conversation.
The memory faded, and Daphne resumed wandering the space, looking around for traces of anything that resembled a curse. It was a mind of contrasts, of willful ignorance, always seeing the best side of even the worst of things, always observing the world through the warped lens of a children’s story. Ria had not accepted the role that society had forced upon them. Instead, she’d taken the concept of being evil, and made it into something of her own design. Sadly, however, as with all things her sister did, she’d taken it above and beyond, to the point where it defeated the original purpose. But of course, Daphne wouldn’t have her any other way.
A sharp, hot prickling sensation ran down her arm, and a sharp tinnitus permeated her ears for a second. Daphne whirled around and yanked her arm back. A blue… tendril of sorts, weaving through the air like a viper on the prowl. It was long, narrow, was made entirely of light, and had a central body that looked like a spine, yet a more ordered, more geometrically ideal structure to it. It was slowly weaving through the air, and where it brushed against her arm, it had left behind a sensation as if she’d just been struck by lightning.
Without a word, Daphne began to follow it. She passed more memories, more shapes, and the blue light brushed against some of them, causing them to flicker and sizzle, before they whizzed away again. Ahead of her, there was more blue light. She couldn’t quite make it out yet, but as she passed more and more memories, the shape of something large slowly came into view. One particularly brightly glowing image fluttered ahead of her, and her eyes followed it for a moment, before it brushed against the tendril, causing a spark, and the whole thing to twitch for a moment.
Daphne looked closer. It was… was that it?
No words were being spoken, it was just an image, just Ria, being held in Mum’s arms, and… and…
Nothing that was being said, or that she could see, but she could feel it. This wasn’t just any memory. It was the last time that Mum had been back. That it had truly been her. Daphne clutched the glowing white picture involuntarily in her hands. Yes. She wasn’t just doing this for Ria, was she?
Firming her mind, she forged onward, and soon, her vision cleared, and the blue light resolved into… into…
What… in Merlin’s name…
Before her was a thing beyond comprehension. A complete map of Hogwarts castle. The inner workings of a time turner. A biblically accurate angel. It defied understanding. But it very definitely… was.
If she had to describe it, she’d equate it to a machine, made of light and magic. Shapes of blue light, formed into tendrils, into large circles, gears, rings, pistons, locks, and fine intricate works of magic that seemed to almost fold into words. The whole thing was floating before her, as large as a house, and it was moving. Spinning. Whirling. Ticking. Draining the seconds, all the way down to her inevitable birthday.
Daphne hesitantly reached out a hand as if to feel it, to understand, to do… something.
The light shivered and bent as she approached, it gave creaks and groans, and the tinnitus returned again, yet the contraption just continued business as usual. Ticking. Whirling. Running down the clock.
Was this really it? Was this the thing that had taken over both her Mum, and then spread to Ria? Had it even spread in the first place? Thinking back, there was also another possibility… Because if the timeline matched up, at the time when Mum had been captured and cursed, she’d already been pregnant, hadn’t she?
Just what kind of curse was this? With Mum, it had caused her to regress back to what appeared to be the mind of a three-year-old, but with Ria… What was the common denominator? Why would it act so very differently? How would she even begin to try and make sense of this? Much less unravel it, or undo it?
But one thing was certain. She was looking at a masterwork of Mind Magic. Whatever this was, it was the cause of what was happening to her sister. And to Mum as well.
There was no way she was unravelling this right now. Given how it had spread across this entire place, and how it had reacted just to her trying to touch it, she knew she couldn’t risk trying to make any changes to Ria’s mind for now. But just the fact that she made it this far proved that if anyone could do it, it would be her. She had time. She had talent. She had a teacher. And now she knew exactly what to ask him.
The gears’ clicks and clacks seemed to grow deeper and deeper as a tiny piece tumbled down to the very bottom of one of the pistons, and latched something loose that caused the whole tube to light up and the symbols on it to start spinning. Gears began rotating, spinning faster, whirling and whooshing in all directions, until with a final clunk it slammed to a halt. In an instant, the entire behemoth of magical engineering turned into a bright and angry Red.
All the tendrils on all sides flashed Red, and then rapidly grew outwards. Tiny arcs of red electric light burst from all over the tendrils and spread out through her entire mind. They wrapped around pictures, memories, thoughts and feelings, all of them freezing in place, darkening, twisting and turning into something… different. Everything was entrapped by the overwhelming presence of the angry light, until it all grew to a halt.
Daphne stood there, gazing upon the massive web of destruction, the thing that was tearing apart her sister’s mind, and she knew exactly what had just happened.
There was another heavy clunk, and the central gear began to slowly tick backwards instead. Astoria was back. This time, two days early.
~V~
“I have completed all the assignments,” Daphne said, throwing a glance at the Potter girl who was currently making her way out of the room. This was the second time she’d seen her in his office. Had she… was she learning Mind Magic as well?
“Already?” her Defense teacher raised an eyebrow.
“The visualization was simple enough, I have completed several rooms, as well as the overall structure. Also…” Daphne trailed off, not sure if she should tell him that much, but the look on his face made it obvious that she had already said too much.
“Yes?”
“I have managed to successfully establish a mind link.”
His eyebrows went all the way up into his turban. “Indeed? Do you recall what I said about you not attempting anything on others? About them—”
“I received permission first, of course.”
“…Of course,” he said, falling quiet.
Daphne stood there awkwardly, while he began pacing. Had it been a mistake to tell him? But from what she’d read, with a master Legilimens, especially if she used it in his vicinity, he might be able to tell anyway. So she figured it was better to be honest upfront.
“Miss Greengrass… Just what am I supposed to do with you?”
Daphne swallowed and tensed.
“It appears that one detention per month is… obviously not sufficient,” he said, staring at his bookshelf.
“Sir?”
“Starting today, you shall meet me here every Saturday. I think you have more than proven your… dedication.”
Daphne rapidly nodded, trying to suppress the feelings elicited by that look he was giving her. “Of course, Sir.”
“Now, as for your progress, given what you’ve told me, I think you are more than ready to progress to the next stage.”
The next stage, which would involve… Daphne’s eyes widened.
“I am hereby granting you permission to enter my mind in order to practice your Legilimency.”
Merlin. He had actually said it. And blanket permission, even.
“Are you ready?” he said, standing right in front of her.
She didn’t think she’d ever be ready, but here went nothing. Daphne reached out, first hesitantly, but slowly gaining confidence. She’d earned this. She’d proven herself, and now he’d truly teach her.
The eyes grew, first slowly, but the more she pulled, the more she grew confident, the more detail they gained. A deep shade of Indigo layered over a dull grey blue, color like a ring of magic wrapped around the windows to his soul, so beautiful, infinitely deep and vast. She peeled away the layers, the irises seemingly gaining depth, one wrapping of color layered above the other, the Indigo, the Blue, the Purple, the R̸͎͕̜̹͙͉̭̽̈́̓̏̋̽̉̔̿͜͠E̴̢̢͓̲̟̪͔̭̟̗̓̇̎̑͒͗̄̓͊̏͆̇͘̕͝͝ͅD̸̬͍̙̘̣͎͓͓̥̬̰̗̄̊̈́̿̚͜͠
For a moment everything seemed to shudder, but a blink later she’d all just imagined it. The giant irises flashed, seemingly spinning right in front of her, as she stood right at the precipice, waiting for her to take that one, final step. Was she about to make a massive mistake? She hadn’t granted him permission to anything, and he had given her blanket permission. The scales couldn’t be tilted any further in her favor, and yet…
And yet, this was the only way forward. She needed this. She had to do this, not for herself, but for Ria. For her mum. And for their future. Even if he was not who he pretended to be… even if he actually was… the Watcher—
That thought suddenly seemed to shift everything around her for a moment. She’d dismissed it earlier, just on account of how ridiculous the idea was, but what if there truly was something to it? Would he really go to such lengths? Would he pretend to teach her how to undo the curse of his own making? What would be the point?
Daphne wrapped herself up in her Occlumency as she kept staring at the spinning rings of Saturn. What should she do? Just a moment before she had…
Hesitantly reaching out again, she pushed just a little, just in the right way, pulling the layers apart once more, just an inch. And once the top had been peeled off, the colors underneath resolved into more detail, and the faint layer of Purple was exposed, it resolved into a coat of Violet, wrapping up the vast R̴̨͍̮͇͓͎͙̰͖͗͐́͒̔̚͝e̵͇͚̰̔̂͒̈́̐͜d̸̡̧͓̪͈̊̿̏̂͋͆̏. No. This… this was something else. This was something entirely different. This wasn’t the Watcher. Because… because… The longer she stared at it, the longer she held this precarious position of all the layers peeled apart, all the truths laid bare, the more she understood. The one fact, the simple truth, that she didn’t understand anything at all. Just who was he? Just what was his name? She’d never heard it, she’d never questioned it, and nobody else ever seemed to…
She should run. She should turn and run, get out of here, get as far away as possible. Because what this was… who this was… She couldn’t put it into words. It was more of a feeling. A raw and primal certainty. There was only one person who would ever evoke this kind of a reaction. And it was not the Watcher. It was someone worse.
Someone who should be dead.
Someone who had been known to disappear for years on end before his fall, with the public left in the dark to his whereabouts. Someone who according to Father, had told his inner circle the truth of his regular absences. Someone who—when he wasn’t busy attempting to tear apart society—would take on students as his personal disciples.
This was a horrible idea. Her worst one yet. She was definitely not thinking clearly. Was it some kind of allure? Knowledge, power, the deepest and darkest secrets of the universe, right there for the taking. All she had to do was take that one… final… step… and risk a peek.
The original hook he had dangled, the proof he held exactly what it was that she sought, was a complete lie. He wasn’t cursed like Mum or Ria. He was just possessing this man against his will. It had nothing to do with any mental curse whatsoever. It was just an active act of oppression, perhaps just seduction, or loyalty, but it was nothing that would help with understanding her own situation in any way.
Though none of this diminished the veracity of his claims. Instead, it only cemented the fact that he could deliver what she sought regardless. For if there was anyone in this world who would be able to undo such a masterwork of mind magic—even one woven by the Watcher himself—it would be the one man, the only man who had truly claimed the title of Dark Lord.
And before she even knew what had happened, Daphne’s feet had moved all on their own.
~V~
The next months had passed more like a fever dream. He had promised knowledge, and knowledge was what she had found. More than she had bargained for. She wasn’t sure if he knew that she had uncovered his true identity, but she was pretty sure at this point that even if he did, it wouldn’t make a difference. He knew she wasn’t going anywhere. He still had exactly what she wanted, and now she knew that he could deliver with certainty. And she also knew why he was doing this. She—well, she guessed they, because apparently Potter and Malfoy seemed to be in a similar position—they were being… groomed? Honed? Made into something of his own design. What the purpose was, and what he would do once he was done, she didn’t know. Her only hope was that she could gain enough knowledge out of him that when that point came, when he would show his true face, that it wouldn’t be too late, that there was some way out, or some way to use what she had learned against him. But all of that was just secondary to her main goal. Even if he dragged her all the way down with him, even if it would be her life in the end, she was fine with that. She’d made her peace with that idea a long time ago. So long as she got what she wanted before it came to that, it would have all been worth it.
So she’d continued, learning all that he had to offer. Their first practice had been how to contort her mind into a shape that would allow her to create what he called constructs. This was a technique that one could use to sort of… practice on yourself. And practice, she had. When she had reached a point where she was able to enter a mind even without agreement beforehand, she’d at first used it to try and learn everything she could about the people around her. Until, during one practice session with Lily, she suddenly had an epiphany.
“What’s that look on your face?”
Daphne glanced across the bed at Lily, who was giving her a curious look.
“You’re plotting something, aren’t you?”
“Nothing like that,” Daphne said.
“You’re always plotting something,” Lily replied.
“Shut up.”
“Well?”
Daphne just sighed. She still didn’t quite know why she’d done it. She’d broken her first rule, with the first girl she’d come across, almost after a single month even. Even when Lily had been almost too shy to speak, she’d still constantly reached out, screamed at her with her eyes, longing, worry, loneliness far too loud to ignore. And so, after weeks of constant exposure, Daphne had caved. And although she didn’t really understand why, she’d kept talking to her. She didn’t need her, it was just distraction, liability. But still, after over a year and a half of her quest, the thought of returning to her room, and… not having someone to talk to…
Especially someone who she could trust explicitly. Because no matter where she went, no matter what she did, she would always be able to reach her. There was no way for Lily to betray her without a mistake on Daphne’s part. Or at least, that’s what she’d kept telling herself.
“Well, you know how with people without Occlumency, memories just sort of look like… pictures? Floating around in the void?”
“Uh… well… yeah, I mean, that’s what you said it looks like in my mind, right?”
Daphne nodded. “So… What do you think would happen if you were to… take a picture with you?”
Lily furrowed an eyebrow, before she worked through the entire implications.
“You mean like… but that’s… no! Don’t do that! You said you won’t!”
“But just think! What if you’d never have to go through that yourself, if you could just… place it in your own mind and…”
“No. Bad Daphne!” Lily said, whacking a pillow at her head. “Elaina does not approve.”
Daphne just gave her a mock glare. She knew why she was upset, and she knew why it was wrong. But…
“What do you think your sister would say?”
Daphne still regretted that she’d spoken up when she’d found Lily reading that book.
“You said she’s the kind of evil that wouldn’t hurt a kitten. What was it you said? About evil like that?”
Daphne glanced down. “The kind of evil we all should strive to be.”
“…Soo?” Lily glared.
“Fine, you win,” Daphne sighed. “But—”
“No!”
“Let me finish,” Daphne said. “What if you could make a copy instead?”
“A copy?”
“Yes. So both would keep the memory, but you’d still get to take it with you.”
“…I suppose that would be fine.”
“So do I get the Elaina seal of approval?”
Lily grinned. “I wouldn’t go that far…”
Daphne took the pillow and tossed it back at the girl.
“Alright, fine, stamped and signed,” Lily yielded with a giggle.
Daphne smiled and turned back to her thoughts. What she wouldn’t tell her was that while you could definitely make a copy, it would never be as good as the original. The real question was which part to keep for herself.
~V~
Daphne stood in the wooden library perched atop a small hill, leaning against the bookshelf. Every time she visited this place it gave her the shivers. Everything looked so peaceful, so simple, so… neat. Too neat. Too peaceful. Because whatever she touched, whatever she brushed her fingers against, if she just latched on a little, the layers began to peel apart again.
This illusion he had crafted within his mind. Was it just for her sake? Was it his fake persona? Was it for himself? Whatever the purpose, she didn’t want to even try to imagine what his true mind looked like. But so long as she was allowed to wander these aisles, read the books, and receive mentoring from their owner, she was content with the status quo.
“Intriguing. So you’ve found a way to not only extract memories, but experiences? Knowledge? Skills?”
“It’s just a matter of how you look at it. With fully developed Occlumency, it is them who set the rules, the order to their own mind. But take someone without occlumency… then you make the rules. You create the shape, you have to… guide their mind, as you said. That means the difference between a memory and a skill is just in the eye of the beholder.”
“Very well reasoned. It’s a technique I myself have not quite explored, in fact,” he said, and Daphne couldn’t help but feel a sort of pride in his words.
Was… was he saying that she had just given him ideas? That probably wasn’t good.
“How are your projections coming along?”
“See for yourself,” she said, and opened a window in the wall where there had been none before.
He approached and took a look. Inside there was mostly blackness, except for small, floating fragments of memories, and a large, blue glow. A glow that slowly began to resolve into a gigantic construct of deep blue gears, bolts, circles and pistons, tendrils and pillars. It was the best replication she could manage. It was far from functional, of course, but maybe it would be enough for him to actually give her some useful advice for once.
“Fascinating. It really does resemble a clockwork.”
“Indeed. The curse does trigger every year before their birthday, every year earlier than the last. And it ends exactly at their birthday.”
He just stood there, at the window, absently rubbing his chin, and running a finger through her hair. Daphne had long since learned to suppress the shiver whenever he pretended to show his affection.
“Perhaps, my original advice was not the best one after all,” he mused.
Daphne raised her head to look at him. “Sir?”
“If it looks like a clockwork, ticks like a clockwork, functions like a clockwork…”
“Then it is a clockwork.”
“Indeed. So, given that assumption, how would you remove the curse?”
“You mean other than taking it apart piece by piece without it collapsing?” Daphne said, which had been the original plan.
The Dark Lord nodded.
“Maybe… set a different time?”
“Your idea is along the right track, but I am thinking of something much simpler.”
Daphne stared for a moment, but she wasn’t sure what he was getting at.
“If you can’t completely remove the curse yet, why not render it inert instead?”
Daphne blinked. “You’re saying… If it really functions like a clockwork, and what it does is trigger on a timer…”
“…Then all you have to do is stop the clock.”
Daphne let that sink in for a moment.
“It wouldn’t remove the curse.”
“Indeed,” he said, removing his hand from her head, in order to inspect his fingernails. “But if you stop it while it is inert, chances are it would never reactivate again.”
~V~
“T-today we will be r-returning to the t-topic of… w-w-werewolves.”
What in Merlin’s name.
There was no way this was happening. For whatever reason, everything had changed. The curse was broken, but the wrong way. Everyone suddenly knew his name. At least they didn’t know he was the bloody Dark Lord. Or had been, she guessed. Was he still in there? Because for some reason, the man she’d met for that brief moment was now seemingly in control of his body. And Daphne had no idea what to do with that. Would he remember? Would he work with her, or would he rat her out? He certainly couldn’t teach her like this. Also, there was no way that this went under everyone’s radar, even with whatever he’d done with his name seemingly twisting around reality to make it happen.
She’d eat her hat if Dumbledore wouldn’t figure out that something was off. And if it came to that… then there was also a chance that people would realize that she’d been having detentions with him the whole year. Of course, it was one thing to inadvertently have detentions with the secret Dark Lord—she’d have a hard time arguing where she learned the Mind Arts with just that bit of knowledge revealed—but it was a whole different can of worms if they figured out that she had been a willing participant; that she had known. Whatever would happen to her if that were revealed, she didn’t even want to imagine. But she wouldn’t let it all be in vain. She’d have to make sure that it was worth it before it came to that.
Luckily, the Easter holidays were just around the corner. It would be too early to try and use the technique he had devised on her mum, since she wouldn’t return until summer, but she’d be damned if she didn’t at least attempt to save Ria before she was shipped off to Azkaban.
~V~
“Are you sure?” Daphne said, as if some part of her was hoping that her sister would turn her down.
“Yes. If you say you can do it, then I trust you. If it can help to fix Mum, if it can help to fix… me… then I’ll do it.”
Daphne held her gaze for a while, and the determination was only all too clear in her eyes, even without risking a peek.
“Alright. Hold tight. It might feel a bit odd. Ready?”
Ria gave her a resolute nod. Daphne swallowed, and then finally took the plunge.
It was even larger this time. Massive blue tendrils permeating her mind, she couldn’t miss it even from where she’d entered, despite how far she was from the center. Step by step she forged on, closer and closer, and with every minute she had to take all the more care not to touch any of the blue light weaving all over the place. Whenever she got too close, the tinnitus would return, and she wasn’t sure what would happen if she let it grow too loud. Finally, slipping underneath a woven mesh of gigantic strands of light that looked more like tentacles, she straightened up, and took in the thing before her. Even if the rest of it had grown, the core was still the same. Gears, pistons, rings and tendrils, ticking away idly all the way to her next birthday.
Daphne spent what felt like hours, just standing there, staring, studying how it moved, how it worked, what made it tick.
She had narrowed down that most of it seemed to just guide or move the tendrils, everything attached to it, the whole logic, and many parts that seemed inert, that would only activate once the time was out. But speaking of the time, there was just one central main gear, meshing with a second one that was almost as large. One of these two had to be the source of the motion. If she could stop these, then she could stop the clock. None of the other parts would lose their function, it would still be there, ready, waiting to strike, but without the clock… that time would never come.
Now that just left the question on how to actually do that. Her teacher had suggested to sort of… throw a spanner in the works. She could see that, well, if she found a way to maybe… but what should she use? There was nothing here! Nothing except… memories.
Daphne glanced around the place over all the tiny little glowing pictures floating around the place. Could that work? Could she…
Without thinking, she reached out and snatched one of the pictures out of the air. It was a memory of herself and Ria, sitting in the tree house she’d gotten Father to build, and reading her favorite book series. She supposed this was as good as anything. Daphne took the glowing picture, then gently began to roll it up. It bent only with great difficulty, and at some point, she couldn’t bend it anymore, and it was folded into a sort of… glowing white scroll. A tube. A spanner. There we go.
A shiver ran down her spine as she gazed up at the gigantic gears, clutching the tiny piece of memory in her hand. If this would work, then…
Well, there was nothing for it, she’d just have to try. Taking a step forward, she reached out, raised herself onto tiptoes as she stretched, and gently shoved the rolled-up memory into one of the grooves of the large gear. She watched it tick down and down, further and further, until it finally met with the second gear. A shower of sparks exploded from the point of impact, and the whole thing gave a gigantic groan as the gears ground to a halt.
Daphne stood, holding her breath. Had she done it? Was that it?
Glancing around, she couldn’t spot any more movement. The tendrils had frozen, only the tiny words engraved within still softly spinning, but the entirety of the structure had ceased up in place, stuck in time.
There. Slowly, a grin began to spread on her face.
Turning around, she started to weave through the frozen tendrils, making her way back across, but she was stopped by a sharp noise. A thin, piercing crack, almost like the sound of cracking glass. A cold feeling ran down Daphne’s back, and she turned in place. The tiny rolled-up memory was glowing, flickering, and shooting a spark, and she noticed something, a tiny change on its surface, a small white glowing crack spreading, running down the center.
The memory shattered into a thousand pieces, and the gears lurched into motion, spinning wildly, making up for the lost time. The tentacles almost came alive, and Daphne threw herself out of the way as they swung around wildly for several seconds, while the tiny gear tumbled down, down, down. Only when she thought she’d irreversibly broken it, it finally calmed back down. The gears settled into their ordinary rhythm, ticking down the clock, and the tendrils returned to idly weaving through the air.
Merlin, damn it. She’d thought… she was so sure… even the Dark Lord had been sure! But… what was it he’d said? Maybe… maybe it wasn’t the curse that was the problem. Maybe her spanner hadn’t been powerful enough.
Because thinking back, yes. There were definite differences. Instantly that image of the one memory came back to mind. It had been so much brighter than all the others, and it hadn’t even moved. It had just been one solid, static image, one moment of pure happiness, frozen in time. And glancing across the glowing mess of light, she could spot it. There, behind one of the large strands, one floating white image that glowed as bright as a star. It fluttered close to the light, and in another shower of sparks, the tendril recoiled. Yes. This was it.
Daphne lurched, and started sprinting, running, trying to catch up to it. She wouldn’t let this chance escape her grasp. There. Her hands closed around the memory, and she could feel the warmth permeating through her entire arm. Glancing down at it, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that it would work. Daphne began to gently roll it into a scroll, all the way until it wouldn’t bend any further, and then approached the gears again. She placed it on top in one of the grooves, and watched it tick down. The other gear approached, closer, and finally impacted the spanner with a clang. A shower of sparks erupted from the machinery and tossed Daphne backwards. A heavy groaning noise permeated the space, and she could see the tendrils almost shudder as everything ground to a halt. And this time, it stuck. Daphne stood, staring, for a minute, then two. The entire machinery seemed frozen in time, glimmering in a soft, blue light, while the two main gears clutched a tiny rolled up piece of memory that seemed to glow as brightly as the sun. And it wasn’t going anywhere.
Chapter 37: What makes it tick
Chapter Text
Daphne returned from her Easter break to find everything falling apart before her very eyes. At first, Quirrell had still been in control, but then, the following Saturday, just before her next detention, he had suddenly disappeared. The next morning, the castle had been abuzz with rumors. Apparently, Potter had been involved in another ridiculous adventure, and this time, it had involved the actual Dark Lord. Again. From what she’d heard, the Potter boy was stuck in the hospital wing after having rescued his sister from something in the third-floor corridor. And at lunch, Aurors had shown up in the castle. She was so bloody screwed.
If Quirrell had talked, it was over anyway. If Potter would talk… she definitely knew that Daphne had been there, too. And she hadn’t been able to get ahold of her at all. And the few times she’d been able to catch glimpses, there had always been that ominous, oppressive feeling that she’d only ever felt from him. She couldn’t risk trying anything with her mind, and she couldn’t force her to do anything either. But maybe she could simply excuse it as having had regular detentions…
Well, that could work, until someone decided to question Lily. How much would Lily know? How much would she have put together? Would she tell anyone? Would… Snape. Snape might be able to tell.
Merlin damn it. Daphne knew she could protect her own mind from intrusions like that, but Lily certainly couldn’t. Could she risk trying to teach her? Could she trust her with this? She was this close, she just needed to make it all the way to summer without anyone finding out, then she’d be able to fix Mum too.
But there was another option. She could make sure. She… well… had she told her? Had it… yes. Damn it, damn it, damn it! But… thinking back, it wasn’t like they’d talked about this all that much… if she found the one or two times where she’d told Lily about her detentions… maybe… just a little tweak would be enough?
“What’s on your mind?”
“…”
Words hadn’t really gotten any easier, either.
“You’re worried about something,” Lily said, scooting up next to her, her eyes wide open in an unspoken invitation.
“It’s just… you know… the things that I can do. If the wrong people find out, if someone…” Daphne was now trying to justify herself for what she hadn’t even done yet.
“You know I’d never tell anyone. You’re my friend.”
Daphne held her gaze, right there at the precipice. “You might not have a choice.”
Lily just stared back, almost as if inviting her to come in, to make sure, to…
“You know… if… anything happens… I know I might not be able to do anything about it, but… but I know you can.”
A hand touched her own, and Daphne couldn’t quite believe her eyes. Was she really suggesting…
“If… anything were to happen, if anyone were to… you know… I promise I’ll give you a call.”
“…Promise?”
“I promise. No matter where, I’ll call you, and you get me out of there.”
Just like in their dueling practice sessions. Maybe… maybe she wouldn’t have to remove everything after all.
~V~
Everything was ready, everything was as it should be, everything was perfect.
Nothing was as it should be. Ria was wearing one of Daphne’s old dresses, one of the very same dresses she hated with a passion, unless it was for playing Lords and Ladies during Crescent Moon. Father had tried to make an effort, yet no amount of charms, robes and perfume could undo the fatigue in his step, the wrinkles drawing his lips into a permanent frown, and the hopelessness in his voice that was palpable even from behind his accursed glasses.
If only she could tell him that she’d found a way to fix it. But at this point, she wasn’t sure how he’d react. He might not believe her. He might get mad for preventing Astoria from making a return. The only way this could work was if she managed to fix Mum, and he’d see it with his own eyes. Only then she could tell him. Only then it would all be alright.
Except she’d never get that chance.
“What do you mean you’re considering? Are you, or are you not trying to marry off our daughter to that—”
“Celene, please listen to me. I told you things are not as simple. It’s not just the curse on you that we have to worry about. The Watcher all but demanded that—”
“That you marry her off to Malfoy?! I can’t believe you. You promised. We made a promise that they’d get to choose!”
Daphne was still hiding behind the door, now regretting trying to set up the surprise. And worse, she regretted trying to bring Ria in on it. Said girl was visibly on the verge of tears next to her, and if she hadn’t sworn to herself to be better than Father, she’d have already sent her to her room and made her forget any of this ever happened.
“Just what else has happened while I was gone? Next you’ll tell me you forced them to break their friendship with Tracey—”
“I didn’t force her to do anything! She did that all by herself!”
“What?”
There was a longer pause.
“Please forget I said anything.”
Oh merlin. This was just getting worse and worse.
“Why would Daphne—”
“It wasn’t her,” her father mumbled, and that caused the barrel to finally overflow.
“You’re telling me that Astoria would—”
“I’d never!” Astoria yelled, now bursting into the room, followed by a very hesitant Daphne. “It wasn’t me! I mean, well, I guess it was, but not like that!”
There was some silence that followed that statement, with all eyes on her sister, before Mum’s gaze traveled over her and back onto Father, speaking in a very low voice. “What is she talking about, dear?”
“It’s no—”
“It’s the curse,” Daphne cut in. “It’s spreading.”
Mum stumbled, her eyes wide, glancing back and forth between Daphne and Ria. “It’s … no… no it can’t. Not my baby. It—”
“We can’t know that,” Father cut in.
“Yes, we can. I’ve seen it,” Daphne said.
“You will stop this right now, daughter!”
Stop what? Telling Mum the truth? She has a right to know! And this was her one chance to maybe make Father see reason, even if it had to be Mum who would smack it into him.
“It’s manifesting differently, but it is definitely the same curse. Oh, but it’s worse than that,” she said, slowly approaching her parents. “She’s becoming everything she shouldn’t be, everything that he wants her to be, everything that the Watcher wants us to be… so our dear Father decided that she is better off with the curse.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Father roared. “After you’ve spent years pretending to be the perfect Heir, finally there’s someone to take your place? As I see it, you should be happy to have a sister like her!”
“Well then you don’t understand anything at all. It was never about propriety, it was never about etiquette, it was never about being a proper pureblood heir. It was about you.”
It was about making him feel happy, making him feel affection, and pride. And as a result, getting to feel those very same things too. “But it seems I was naive.”
“I won’t let you take her away too,” Father whispered, and she noticed his wand was now pointed at her.
“Enough!”
There was a loud smack. Mum had sent Father stumbling to the ground, his wand clattering across the wooden floorboards.
“No! Stop!” Ria yelled. Daphne’s gaze found Ria’s and for a moment, she spotted a flicker and sparks, and she couldn’t help but risk a peek. The gears were groaning. The tiny rolled up picture—the memory of Mum—it was… flickering, it was wavering, crumbling at the edges. No, what was—
There was a snap, a burst of white sparks, and the gears lurched. The contraption sprang to life, the gears whirling at an incomprehensible speed, grinding against each other in a shower of sparks, until the two gears gave a crack, and the entire thing flashed Red.
“Mother,” a voice said, and Daphne froze in place. “Father is just doing what’s necessary.”
The gears were now spinning freely, no longer meshing with each other, and the Red continued to spread.
“But… You’re okay with that? You can’t be okay with… I mean, have you ever met the boy? Also, you’re way too young to—”
“But it’s my duty. I couldn’t ask for someone better. And I definitely won’t let my sister have him.”
This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t even… she was half a year away from her birthday still. Had she somehow made it worse?
Mum was breathing rapidly, her eyes flicking back and forth, before settling on Father. “Just what have you…” then she turned right back onto Astoria. “If he forced you to say this, if he did anything that—”
“Oh please, Mother. You don’t have the right to decide my future, after you spent the entirety of my childhood stacking blocks in the nursery.”
“I think you’ve very much made your point,” Father whispered, pinning Daphne under a death glare. “You’ll go to your room. Now.”
~V~
It was all her fault. She’d finally gotten the chance to risk a glance, one moment alone with Mum, only to realize that she had no idea what to do next. The blue tendrils inside her mind were already everywhere, and even if she could find the center, her one plan to try and fix Ria had instead made things ten times worse. She had no idea what would happen if she attempted the same thing on her mum. And even if she were desperate enough to try, even knowing what the results could be, there was another problem with that. The memories. All the memories were tattered, grey dull afterimages, none of them holding even a fraction of the brightness that Ria’s memory had. And even that hadn’t been enough. Instead, the wheel was broken. She couldn’t try the same thing again, and worse, from what she’d seen, it looked like Astoria now was here to stay.
Daphne was lost. Out of ideas. And the only person who she could ask was well beyond her reach. Even if his original idea hadn’t worked, maybe he…
Maybe… that had been his plan all along? Give her… an idea, something she’d think she could try herself when she got desperate, only to fail and come crawling back to him, begging for his help?
She certainly felt on the verge of begging right now.
Daphne stared out the window of her growing tower, the architecture inspired after Ria’s favorite book series. Once more she recalled the patterns, the gears, the words wrapping around the tendrils. She raised her finger, lit it up in a blue glow, and began to draw a circle, then two, then tree…
And it once again fizzled right back into nothingness. It had no use. Her Occlumency was too far developed for something as fragile as an incomplete product of mind magic to be able to fester.
Even with everything that had happened, even with everything telling her that it was a bad idea… it was also her only idea. The only other piece of advice he had given her in regards to the curse, right at the moment he had first heard about it. And that was the reason why she thought it might work. Maybe he had just said it not out of wanting her to do something, or wanting to force her into this position, but just out of his desire to… teach.
The best way to learn how to unravel a curse is to learn how to create it yourself.
Except she couldn’t even manage that.
~V~
“Daphne?”
Blank eyes stared out the window into the depths of the murky green waters of the Black Lake. What was the point? She’d done nothing but embrace her task of Sisyphus of the past month, and she hadn’t gotten any closer to a resolution. Trying to reduce and lower her Occlumency had no effect, now that her mind was material already. Trying to work on one of her constructs had no effect either, since they were essentially part of her own mind. Trying to build just the shape, and then realize it all at once into a finished and less vulnerable spell was her last idea, but that had only driven her down an endless spiral of failures, further convincing her that it simply couldn’t be done. That she just wasn’t good enough.
“Daphne, please. I can’t… I mean… just tell me what’s wrong? I want to help,” Lily said, awkwardly sitting on the bed next to her.
Of course she’d thought about it. She’d thought about nothing but that ever since she’d returned to Hogwarts. But…
But it was Lily.
She wouldn’t do that to Tracey. She’d never even think of doing it to Ria. And Lily was… Lily was…
A hand touched her own and she met the girls bright blue eyes, the gates to the palace miles ajar, lush fields of knowledge ripe for the picking, waiting, waving at her and beckoning her to—
“Please. Daphne, you’re… it hurts to see you like this. You didn’t answer the phone all summer, and now you’re just…”
Her fingers brushed against the threshold. It sort of felt like coming home, in a way. She’d been in and out of Lily’s mind so much over the past year that she was sure that even if the girl had decided to learn Occlumency, her mind would just accept her presence as a part of herself at this point. This was the whole reason why she’d distanced herself from Tracey in the first place. Daphne was pretty sure that even under Veritaserum she wouldn’t be able to tell whether she had made Lily be her friend, or whether it had been Lily’s decision. Or why she had done the exact thing she had been trying to avoid after Tracey once again. Why she kept coming back, talking to her, only to tweak her mind to remove all those times again where she’d told her a little too much, and yet kept telling her the same things over and over again.
“I know there’s something. I know there’s something that I can do. That you’re afraid to ask.”
Was she slipping again? Was she making her understand again? Or had she just spent too much time around Lily?
A hand came to rest on her shoulder. “No matter what, if it can help you smile again, I’ll do it. I promise.”
“Lily, I… I can’t,” Daphne whispered.
But in reality, it felt like she was arguing with herself.
“Please,” Lily whispered. “I just… want to be useful to you.”
“But I—”
“Whatever it is, I trust you, Daphne.”
Ria had trusted her too. And she’d broken that trust. She’d failed her; failed Mum, Father, and herself.
But she hadn’t failed them yet. The last option was right in front of her, begging to be used. If she did this, she’d have to make sure. Make absolutely sure that nobody could ever find out. Because this wouldn’t be finished overnight. She’d need time. She’d need to work step-by-step, learning how to cast and undo all the parts, until she could see the whole picture. And only when she finally fixed them all… maybe they could…
~V~
Daphne took a breath, raised a finger, lit it up, and began to draw. Circles, lines, gears, symbols, whatever fit the bill. The first few times she’d just added a few components each, then removed them again piece by piece. Mostly, she could just do what she did in reverse order, but with some parts, once they clicked into place, they couldn’t be undone without considering the current state, the tension, which way they were moving. Sometimes, it would only work with a specific added component whose sole purpose seemed to be a designated point of failure, a breaking point designed to be able to take it apart again, even if she only recognized it after the fact.
She’d been at this for the past weeks, but she was definitely making progress. The glowing blue construct floating in the darkness before her began to slowly resemble the core of the contraption she’d found in Ria’s mind, even if the small details were still missing, and there were no tendrils whatsoever. From what she understood, those would result from the curse itself latching on and trying to turn the mind according to its design. A design that she was now just a little closer to understanding. Whatever the goal, the curse was not tied to the target’s mind at all. Of course it would fester there, and become a part of it, but it was guided neither by its own instructions, nor by the mind of the target. Instead, it would latch on to those closest to the target.
The whole goal of the curse was not to hurt the target, but those around them. It would reach out to the people around it, latch on, and then twist the mind into whatever will hurt them the most. It was as simple as that. The difference between them hadn’t been within the curse, or even in Mum or Ria themselves, but in their circumstances instead. Mum had become everything that Father would despise in a wife and a lover, while Ria had become a caricature of what Father had wanted her to be; a warped mirror image of what Daphne had tried to be. An image designed to hurt them by its mere presence. Because every time Father looked at her, he knew that while she was everything he had wanted, she was at the same time the last thing he had ever wanted. When Daphne looked at her, she knew that it wasn’t Ria underneath that mask. It was someone else. Something else. And she was doing all the things Ria would never have done, would never have agreed with, as if solely to remind Daphne of that very fact.
Daphne inserted the final gear, and it latched into place. There. This was the first time she’d assembled the entirety of the core at once. She tensed, glancing at every little bolt, every tiny gear, looking for the smallest reaction. But it simply floated there, frozen in time, as if waiting for something. Waiting for her. Even now, after having done it so many times over, she wasn’t worried. She knew exactly which bolts to pull, which nuts to twist, which gears to remove in what order to take it apart to the very last piece. But there was still an underlying sense of tension. Even if she understood how all the pieces fit into place, she had only ever tried to move parts of it, but never the whole thing at once.
The center of the main gear held a faint glow, and it drew her in, as if waiting for her command, and she knew what to do next. It was her own creation; she’d checked it over so many times that she was sure it matched with what her memories could come up with. It was by far the longest and most difficult project she had ever embarked on. But if it would work, it would be worth it a thousand times over.
“Are you ready?” Daphne asked, giving Lily a hesitant look.
“You mean you did it? You… You’ve figured it out?”
Daphne nodded. “It’s complete, but I won’t know if it works unless I… try to engage it.”
“And you’re sure you… can remove it?”
Daphne took a breath. Just as if to prove it to herself, she pulled the smallest gear from its slot, and tried to disassemble the central part. “Yes.”
Lily squeezed her hand a little tighter. “Alright. Let’s try it.”
She re-assembled the curse in a matter of seconds, then firmed her resolve. She knew what she had to do. Daphne reached out, and rested her hand on the center of the largest gear. It lit up, blue lights and letters spreading out from the center, wrapping around the whole gear, until it slowly began to move.
As expected, she immediately felt it reach out, and latch onto herself. Except… it wasn’t quite… something wasn’t right. She’d expected it to try and assess her, to try and find the ways the curse would hurt her the most, but instead, the connection felt… different. Not like something between a curse and its victim; there was no feeling of vulnerability, of having yourself be targeted, judged and laid bare. If anything, it felt like… like a bond? Like…
Her eyes flicked to the intricate parts she had just re-assembled. Had she made a mistake, or…
No, this was something else. This wasn’t part of the curse’s regular function. But she had no idea what its purpose would be. Suddenly, she felt another connection. A swarm of fine, thin tendrils, lashing out in all directions, brushing up against her, and now she felt it. This was it. Vulnerability, weakness, fear. This was the curse trying to judge its target, its direction. But what was the other part? A few seconds later, it faded again, as if nothing had ever happened. Except for the first, unexpected connection. Was it because of the link they shared? Was it something else? Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to be fading yet.
After a few more seconds of the gears idly spinning, and Lily giving her a strange look, she finally spoke up. “Was that it?”
Daphne blinked. Apparently, Lily hadn’t even felt a thing. “It’s working,” Daphne said, eliciting an uncertain smile from Lily.
“You did it?” the girl said uncertainly, to which Daphne nodded. “You figured it out?”
“Indeed.” But for now, she’d get to the tricky part. From everything she understood, the best way would be to first remove the tiny gear underneath the large one… there, and—
Daphne reached out, pulled, and something was caught. There was resistance that hadn’t been there before. She felt like something was pulling… at herself. At the bond that they shared. And the harder she pulled, the stronger the resistance. It was as if something was holding the gear in place, and the more she tried to pull, the more uncomfortable it grew.
Merlin. Had she just made a giant mistake? What did it mean? Daphne grew tense, and Lily noticed her expression and gave her a look. “What’s wrong? Did you—”
“It’s alright. I’ve removed it,” Daphne said, returning a small smile. “Thank you, Lily. I really appreciate it.”
Lily blinked, then finally gave a nod, and returned the smile. If Lily would panic, if she’d go and tell someone, then it would all be for nothing. Then Ria would be gone for good. She could fix this. She could fix both of them. She just had to figure out how.
~V~
It was getting worse. At first she thought she’d have a lot more time, since with Mum it had taken years, and with Astoria even longer, even if she’d managed to inadvertently speed it up by a lot. But either something was off about her construction, or something was off about Lily. Every day she returned from her classes, it had grown yet further. It just wasn’t making any sense. Nothing she’d tried had worked. It seemed that whatever the first link that the curse had established actually was, it sort of tied the whole thing to herself in a way. There were a few ways to interpret this. Maybe it would just mold the way the curse would develop into a path that would be to her advantage, that would cause the resulting person to be incentivized to be loyal to her. Maybe, it would tie it to her own mind—even if she couldn’t find the connection anywhere so far—and would work somewhat like her phone link already had. Maybe it would move the point of failure into her own mind, and she had to do something very specific to undo it somehow. That possibility was all the more worrying, since it would mean that only the Watcher would be able to completely undo the curse on Ria and Mum.
Of course, there was also the final possibility. The one that she refused to think about. Because the simplest, most effective way would be to just tie the weak point of the curse to her own life instead. It was a possibility that truly scared her. Not only for what it would mean for the only way to fix Ria and Mum, but even more so for what she had done to Lily.
But whatever the case, it still wasn’t enough. She had to keep studying, until she could find a way to unravel the curse completely. At least before it would take over Lily, too.
So far, it had only activated twice. Just a day ago she’d received a distressed call from Lily, and after just a minute of rummaging she’d figured out that Lily had a break in memory and had found herself somewhere else. And the curse had grown, a lot. And even though she tried to rationalize it away, it seemed that Lily was getting rapidly concerned, especially given all the gaps in her memory over the last year, which she’d now started to notice and link to the incidents as a result.
There was only so much light compulsions could do, without breaking anything in a more permanent way.
“It was… I-Iris, I… I don’t know what happened. She was there, and she was asking me something, and I just… I just lost it! I don’t understand! Is there something wrong with me? Did she do something to me?”
Potter…
For some reason, Lily seemed to feel a sort of existential dread whenever she was around the girl, but ever since Daphne’s folly, it had grown that much worse. As if in reaction to the memory, she noticed the curse flare, the tendrils wiggle excitedly and spread further. She had to do something, or at this rate, Lily would be gone by the end of the year.
“May I have a look?” Daphne asked, just to be sure, to which Lily gave a shaky nod.
Stepping over the threshold felt odd, like coming home into a house that hadn’t been hers for a while, that had been lived in by someone else now, and where she… no, she still felt welcome all the same. Very well. She knew sabotaging the clock was a last resort, but since it was still much smaller than it had ever been for Ria or Mum, there maybe was another option.
Can you help her, Daph?
Daphne had no idea if this would work, but she’d be damned if she didn’t give it everything she had. Taking a deep breath, she reached deep within herself, drawing forth her magic, her mind, letting it flood this space, every corner, marking it as her own. Her declaration was fierce and unyielding, a boundary etched into existence by sheer force of will. This was her domain, and it would yield to her alone.
Slowly at first, the world around her began to respond. Shapeless shadows sharpened into edges; hazy outlines crystallized into reality. Brick by brick, her magic shaped walls from nothingness, assembling them with determined precision. The emerging structure rose steadily around her, sturdy and impenetrable, sealing off every weakness until the construct of radiant energy was fully enclosed.
Only when her creation was complete, fortified and unwavering, did Daphne summon all her strength and begin to push.
The room gave a groan, yet it started to move, and the curse with it. On and on, she dragged it from the center of her mind, all the way into the deepest corner, where she locked it tight, burying it under layer upon layer of concrete. Of course, it wouldn’t fix the curse, but it might just prevent it from spreading too far, too quickly, while she figured out a solution.
~V~
Of course it would just make things worse again. Every day the curse grew again, every day it cracked open the walls of its cage, and every day, Daphne would spend hours trying to shove it back in once more. It was taking a toll on Lily, that much was clear. This was the exact reason why she shouldn’t be friends with anyone in the first place. But Daphne had been weak. And now she was paying the price. It was her own fault. Even if Lily still believed that it had been Potter’s doing.
“Did you… is it done?” Lily whispered, seemingly out of breath.
“Almost there, just one… final… push…”
The tendrils struggled against her, but Daphne had created these things herself, she wouldn’t be subdued by them now. She reached out, an all-encompassing grip around the entirety of that section of her mind, which had grown and grown still with every day, and she gave one final, all-mighty squeeze.
There was a crack, and something gave way. But it hadn’t been the curse. There was a rift in reality, a fracture in the very fabric of space, separating the area containing the curse from the rest.
All the memories started to zoom and whirl around in confusion, until they either settled on one side, or folded in half and settled for both. Daphne reared back from the shock, and as a result the tendrils broke free, bursting out, trying to fill the whole mind, but now ran against a new, impenetrable barrier, carving Lily’s mind in two.
The gears flared, and in a flash, the entire construct turned Red.
“Why hello there, Lily.”
Chapter 38: Broken
Chapter Text
Whatever her chances had been to reverse the curse the way it had been intended to do, Daphne was very sure she had already long since left that Floo exit behind. The curse had been designed to twist her mind, to periodically warp it into something different, only to revert back to the way it had been, leaving the victim mostly unaware. But this…
“Daphne! Lily is slacking again! I think it’s about time someone started pulling her weight around here, don’t you agree?”
This was so far beyond the scope of the curse, she was pretty sure if the Watcher could see her now he’d laugh at her out of pity. Instead of the curse changing what was already there, the stress of Daphne’s attempts to fix it had caused her mind to fracture in two. Now both Lily and… Ariel… somehow existed… at the same time. Even if it was still Lily who was in control.
“No. For the last time, Lily’s body and mind are not yours.”
“For now!” the girl cackled, causing her to slam the receiver down with a groan. Of course she wouldn’t even get some respite within the sanctity of her mind from the demon of her own creation. The moment Ariel had figured out that Lily and Daphne had been in contact over the phone, she’d somehow figured out how to use their… connection, and apparently rigged up a phone of her own.
In some respects, the demon was scarily competent. But in others…
“Daphne! I need your help! It’s… I’m...”
Daphne lunged for the phone again, and quickly answered the call. “What is it?”
Lily’s distressed voice only said two words, but even that was more than she had bargained for. “I-It’s Lockhart!”
Without a second’s hesitation, Daphne withdrew the key, and opened the line. Colors, darkness and magic drenched her eyes as she plunged through an infinite tunnel for a second, losing almost her entire grasp on reality, until it suddenly came back, hard. Unlike when she’d enter another mind, this place already had plenty realism to go around, so there was no delay between her arrival, and her surroundings resolving into a very concrete and detailed scene.
Except even with all this detail, she didn’t understand a thing. Potter. Both of them. And Lockhart, too. Right behind them was the frozen form of a red-haired Gryffindor girl. And even after Lily quickly brought her up-to-date, she still had no idea what to make of the situation. The Heir had attacked another student. And not only had Lily almost been caught up in it, she was now somehow the prime suspect. And… worse… the combination of the Potter boy and Lockhart both tugging at her heartstrings had somehow gotten her to spill a critical number of details about her own situation. Details that would not only lead to people further looking into Lily, but into herself by extension. There was no way she could allow that. Drawing on all the emotions whirling around inside Lily’s head she composed a reply that would hopefully finally break this line of questioning, even if only out of concern for the girl.
“I… I don’t know. Please! It wasn’t me! I’d never do something like this! You have to believe me!”
Lockhart returned a gentle smile, though it was just as empty as her own expression. She could all but hear the hurricane of conflicting desires whirling behind his eyes, and it took all she had not to peer too closely. Someone of his reputation would definitely notice a Legilimency attack, and she also couldn’t even attempt to leave her mind to overwhelm him and take over by force without losing the link with Lily, so for now, she stayed firmly at the surface. Her housemate was sympathetic, but of course the Merlin-damned Boy-Who-Lived would realize that something was off. Even if he had nothing to base it upon, his thoughts had firmly embraced the idea that she had just lied to him in some way. Which was ridiculous. There was no way for him to read her thoughts like this, right? Even if she had left most of her Occlumency behind, but—
No. She had no time to ponder the ridiculousness of the Potters right now. Of course his sister would pick up that the boy realized something, and since she trusted him implicitly, Daphne wouldn’t be talking her way out of it, either. So the only option left was distraction, and escape. But other than the two, the only one capable of steering this any other way was an even worse idea, right?
Right. Like she hadn’t had her fair share of those already. But she also had no other options left. In a last-ditch effort, Daphne reached out for Lockhart, and to her surprise slipped right through.
And a moment later, she wished she hadn’t. If she’d known this… no, if she’d only ever known this, she’d have firmly locked him in as secretly being the Watcher. It wasn’t quite like what he did, or rather, what the curse did, but the result was way too similar. He wouldn’t only remove their memories, but the subsequent rituals would change not only the person but also everything around them completely, in order to fit the story he had thought up for themselves. In essence, what remained of the original person was sometimes even less of a shadow than what the curse left behind. Except, of course, had he actually been the Watcher, she’d be dead right now. But instead, Lockhart seemed blissfully unaware to Daphne blindly wringing his mind for everything that it had in search of a solution.
Right, she still had this situation to deal with, and she couldn’t delay any longer. The rest of his memories would have to wait. She couldn’t simply possess him like she had Lily without either getting his consent, or completely entering and overwhelming his mind—which wasn’t an option either since she’d lose her connection with Lily in doing so, which would send her on an uncontrolled tumble through mental limbo back to her own body instead. So in the end, she had to resort to subtler compulsions for this one. Daphne began to draw, paint a simple idea, a single desire, a logical conclusion that was so obvious that he would have to follow through right away, except that the train led nowhere at all, simply feeding back on itself in a loop that should at least last him several minutes.
Go. I have to go and check, right now, and bring the Potter kids with me. Every second counts!
“Mister and Miss Potter, both of you, come with me, now.”
One second later, two thoroughly bewildered students were dragged out of the library, and Daphne breathed a sigh of relief. But she wasn’t out of the woods yet. They were still looking for the Heir, and Lily was still a prime suspect. She could remove the memories from Lockhart and the Potter boy, but his sister was a whole other issue. Whatever was going on in her mind, going in unprepared very much seemed like suicide. And she couldn’t just remove the memory from everyone else and risk Potter noticing the discrepancies between them. So for now, Daphne would have to run interference. She’d make sure that none of them thought about the conversation too much, and that they’d be occupied with other issues and leads until the real Heir was found. And if she had to be the one to actually unmask said Heir, then so be it. And as for the Potter girl… she’d have to come up with some sort of plan to at least lower her guard enough to snatch that memory of Lily out of her mind, so she could finally tie up all the loose ends.
~V~
But as expected, Potter wasn’t having any of it. Every class she found herself trying to maneuver Lily out of her clutches, to the point where Daphne had to take control for the entirety of her duel until she finally managed to give her the slip.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, it’s allll going according to my plan…” the parasite giggled.
“Does your plan include getting obliterated for being a nuisance?” Daphne snarled.
Guys?
“Of course it doesn’t, otherwise you’d have already done it. Now better watch out or someone might end up petrified~”
“Oh please,” Daphne groaned internally. “You wish you had the power to petrify even so much as a Niffler.”
“Guys!”
“What?” Daphne snapped.
It’s Lily! She’s—
Daphne’s attention snapped back towards her roommate sitting across from her, who was now clutching her head.
“As I said, all according to my—”
“Just shut up,” both Daphne and Ria snapped.
Daphne peeled open her eyes and risked a look. It was worse. So much worse than it had ever been. Whatever was happening to her, it definitely was linked to Potter for some reason. Whenever she got close to the accursed girl, for some reason the parasite just emerged even stronger from the encounter. By now the tendrils had spread all over the part of the mind that contained the curse, and apparently the pressure had grown to the point where the barrier had begun to shift. Originally, it had just been a small fraction, but by now it was almost half. And apparently, there had already been moments where the curse had broken through, and Ariel had taken control for a short while.
What could she do? Confining it hadn’t worked. Undoing it hadn’t worked. Brute force couldn’t work anymore. But…
The only thing left, the only idea that her mind kept coming back to was the trap, the shiny solution dangled outside the dragon’s den by the Dark Lord himself. The spanner.
Except even if she could find a memory of a similar intensity, of a sufficient brightness, she knew that under the right circumstances, or rather the wrong circumstances… If something happened that shattered her image of that memory, that challenged her trust, her conviction, the reason why she gave it so much significance, then it would break apart all the same.
But what if…
Daph, no. Do you even know what that would mean?
“I’m with her on that one. That’s not just evil, that’s like proper evil!”
Would the two of them just shut up? She hadn’t even really decided yet.
“That’s the peppermint poppin’ point, you egghead!”
Just the fact that the demon was so vehemently disagreeing made her all the more sure that there might be something to it.
“No, I… Sorry, I didn’t mean to call you an egghead. But… think about Lily for a moment, about what—”
“Oh that’s rich, coming from you,” Daphne snapped.
It’s not like it’s her fault, you know?
If everyone would just shut up for a moment, Daphne was trying to concentrate.
Nobody? Good. Now, where was she? Right. If everything else she’d tried was a long shot, this was like trying to hit the proverbial Snitch out of the air with a Bludger. Back in the Dark Lord’s mind-library, she’d stumbled across a single book that contained something she’d never even heard about, something that was so far beyond anything else she’d read, something that spelled implications that she didn’t even want to think about. The book had called it a phylactery. She’d only ever heard the term in old texts speculating about immortality and soul magic, but from how the book had described it, it had nothing to do with souls in the magical sense. More in the metaphorical sense, she guessed.
If a mind was under your control, if it wasn’t material by itself, then you would make the rules. And if you made the rules, then the projections floating around the mind wouldn’t necessarily be limited to memories alone. Just like she’d been able to form and withdraw other representations, experiences, skills, knowledge, any kind of concept that was linked to the mind, as long as she could imagine it and give it shape, it could exist as a mental object, and therefore be interacted with. And here lay the idea.
What if instead of memories, knowledge or skills, you’d want… something more abstract?
Daph? I really don’t like the sound of that…
Daphne closed her eyes, and reached out a hand, right in the center of Lily’s mind. What she was looking for wasn’t something concrete. She wasn’t looking for memories, knowledge or skills. She wasn’t looking for any specific part of her mind. She was looking for the thing that tied it all together. The idea that would make out of all of this chaos… a person. What she was looking for… was Lily.
The girl, the person, the name. Everything that made her… Lily Moon.
A bright large square shimmered into being on her outstretched palm, and the edges began to glow in a bright white, while the surface slowly faded into a thicker, darker color. Memories seemed to whirl, glow, brighten up, all around her, swirling in a storm of remembrance.
“Show me… just who you are, Lily Moon.”
A single bright image began fluttering from some corner of her mind, soaring above her, looping around her head, before it settled onto the square, one of the edges welding to the center. More and more images were brought forth, not discrete memories, no experiences, no knowledge. Just little bits and pieces from all over. All the parts that defined her, that made her Lily. They all settled in around her, sorted, and attached themselves to the center, one by one, until the tome was full at last, and she snapped it shut.
All the images, all the pages, now wrapped in that black cover, still glowed from within the confines of the book, and as she turned it over, she found an inscription on the front in simple, large and bold letters. Lily Moon.
It wasn’t glowing particularly brightly, nor giving off any sort of powerful aura, smell, or other indication of its significance. It was more subtle than that. Even with everything around it, even with herself as reference, this single book, no matter how simple and plain it appeared, was somehow a lot sharper than it should be. It appeared as though the rest of the world was just slightly out of focus when compared to it, but nothing had visibly changed.
On the one hand… something like this… she couldn’t even imagine what this would be used for… could be used for… had been used for. But she was also pretty sure that what she intended to use it for was something nobody had ever even conceived of. Because she knew, even just glancing at it, that this was by far the most solid thing in her entire mind. No matter the experiences she would encounter, no matter how or which memories might be affected by the world around her, nothing would ever affect this. Nothing except for the curse itself. And here lay the idea.
In that moment, not even the constant voices in her head managed any objections anymore. Ariel should know that if this worked, what it would mean for her. But Ariel would also never dare to stand against Daphne. Not when it came to something like this.
Clutching the tome firmly in her grip, she crossed the barrier. She ignored all the red tendrils, wildly swinging around her, reaching for the book in her hands, but never daring to touch her. Her steady march took her all the way to the core, to the large, central gears. This. This would work. This could work. If anything would, it was this. Daphne took a breath, and with determination in her eyes, she threw the spanner in the works.
“Hang on! Let’s talk about this! Wha—”
The gears clanged to a halt immediately, groaning, sparking, and all the Red tendrils crashed to a shuddering halt, and Ariel’s voice with it.
Was… was that it?
Daphne glanced around the frozen Red chaos around her. Unlike with Ria, she’d stopped the clock when it was already active, so she wasn’t sure what the exact effects would be. But whatever the case, it was no longer moving, it was no longer growing.
It was the perfect Catch-22. The curse could not grow unless the phylactery was broken, and the phylactery couldn’t break unless the curse was freed.
“Why?” a faint voice echoed, fading further, until it receded to almost nothing. “I just wanted…” She could still hear her. Ariel wasn’t gone, but she also didn’t hold any power over Lily anymore.
“Is… is she…” Lily whispered, as Daphne retreated from the site of her final stand at last.
“How do you feel?” Daphne asked.
“It’s… strange. I know she’s still there, but I also know that… it’s… I don’t know, she’s just in the background now, like no matter what she says, it doesn’t feel like… dying anymore…”
Daphne reached out a hand to take hers, but received the entire girl instead.
“Thank you…” Lily whispered, pulling her into a crushing hug. “Whatever you did, thank you. Thank you so much!”
Ria joined the mental group hug, and at that moment, Daphne just wanted to sit like this forever, never get up again, and… But she couldn’t. She wasn’t done yet. There was still the Heir. There was still Potter. There was still Ria and Mum to fix, too. But at least, she was making some progress now.
~V~
Daphne had spoken too soon. Because apparently, whatever effect Potter was having on Lily, it wasn’t strengthening the curse. No, it appeared to somehow be weakening Lily instead. And not physically or mentally, but critically it seemed to be chipping away at the very concept of Lily, at everything that made her… herself. At everything that made up the phylactery, the very spanner that was keeping her entire mind from falling apart. How was this even possible? This shouldn’t even be possible. Not even the Dark Lord had ever entirely wiped out someone’s existence to her knowledge… The only one who had ever come close was whatever Lockhart seemed to be doing. Speaking of the man, she had just about had enough. With everything that was happening, everything he had done, which was only all too uncomfortably close to her own situation, Daphne was now determined to do… something. Maybe, there was a way to fix all her issues in one go. Maybe some way to make Lockhart inadvertently spill the beans, preferably in a way that would get the Potters tied up in the whole affair. If they’d get preoccupied with unravelling the fraud instead, she’d have both some more time to find the actual Heir, and to keep them away from Lily.
Whoever that might be, really. Because the list of suspects—if the library incident was anything to go by—was drawing painfully short. She’d ruled out both Potters by default, simply due to the Boy’s mind all but screaming that he had nothing to do with it, and the fact the two could never keep secrets from each other anyway. But what if…
Though the Boy-Who-Lived had somehow known she was lying, that didn’t mean he’d know if his sister was.
Could it actually be her? She’d certainly have the power. With all the impossible stunts she’d seen her pull just in class, never mind during her misguided attempt to get her to lower her Occlumency shields…
A scream from outside her room snapped her out of her thoughts.
“Lily!”
Daphne jumped to her feet. “Where is she?”
I don’t know, she’s not answering! Both of them aren’t!
Something was wrong with the phone? Well, there was one way to check. Daphne took up the receiver herself, and dialed again. But the receiver just emitted some static. She wasn’t even sure if the connection had gone through at all. As a last-ditch effort, Daphne produced the key, inserted it into the dial, and twisted.
She found herself soaring through the tunnel of colors, slowly growing darker and darker, until she noticed something at the end. At the point where she spotted the eyes, the windows out into the real world, she also saw yellow. Growing out from the irises, and starting to flood her entire mind. Memories began to freeze in mid-air, as the wave of yellow washed over the vast space, until it crossed the barrier as if it weren’t even there. The tendrils of Red seemed to all but turn to stone, even the small spinning of symbols stopped, and everything froze in place. Daphne only just barely managed to fling herself back towards her own body before the light latched onto her too, but in that last second, she had seen an image, only faintly, right through Lily’s very own eyes.
Potter.
It had been Potter all along.
~V~
Daphne held up the impossible girl with one arm, leading her along the platform step by step, bumping into students and parents alike. She had to maintain a constant effort to keep anyone’s attention from drifting their way. Potter’s friends had been persistent. They obviously knew that something had been up, even despite the various compulsions she’d tossed their way to keep them off her back. Things were different now. Instead of trying to keep the girl’s nose out of her business, somehow she’d ended up trying to keep everyone away from Potter instead. Even after everything that had happened, even after grudgingly admitting that it hadn’t been the girl’s fault really, even after discovering that what had knocked Daphne out of her mind hadn’t been the girl herself after all, she still hadn’t managed to bring herself to try and tie up that final loose end. Daphne wasn’t even sure why, exactly. Chaos seemed to follow Potter either way, so her plan of staying under the radar seemed mostly doomed from the start, no matter what she’d told her.
Was it due to the Name? Was it having an influence even on her? Even despite all her Occlumency?
Whatever the case, thinking rationally, there were just as many red flags about this whole alliance as there were unexpected possibilities. Not just power, but a true Name, a metaphorical free pass by Magic to skirt the rules. And on top of that, dedication. To the point where she’d been able to extract a Promise—within the girl’s own mindscape—to always keep her secrets. She wouldn’t be getting anything better than this. But the final nail, even if the girl had seemingly had no idea what to offer Daphne, at that moment, right before their deal had been struck, Daphne had seen the potential. She was sure that Potter hadn’t been a natural Legilimens, otherwise she’d have firmly felt the backlash during her numerous surface glances over the years. But somehow, when she’d tried to risk a peek at that moment, they’d stumbled into a mental feedback-loop. Something that was only ever supposed to happen between two natural Legilimens. If she could combine the ridiculous shifting of scales due to her Name with the possibilities of a natural Legilimens… Maybe, undoing a curse even in this stage of catastrophe wouldn’t be entirely impossible after all. But if anything, that would be a very definite last resort. Because while she’d managed to get both her friends and herself out of various impossible situations, well, she’d also managed to get her own brother all but killed, too.
In the crowd she spotted the face she’d glimpsed from Potter’s memories, and she had to suppress a frown. She knew Potter could handle herself, but in her current state? Well, from what she’d seen, she was almost all the way through whatever it was she was going through. Her mind seemed to be returning, it was getting clearer and clearer by the minute. But she also couldn’t afford to delay any further. She’d just have to trust that her compulsions would do the rest, and if all else failed, there was still the seed of the link she’d implanted, too. Although that was useless without somehow getting Potter to engage her own end of it as well. It would have to do. She’d find a way, if it came to that.
“Girl! There you are! Come on, we’re—” the man grunted, before he blinked and did a double take. “What’s with the look, girl?”
“She’s a bit ill from the train, it should pass in a few hours,” Daphne replied, adding a bit of authority to her words.
“Hm,” the man grunted, before turning back towards Potter. “Don’t you go sick all over the car, you hear me?”
And with that said, he grabbed her by the wrist and started dragging her towards the exit, leaving Daphne to ponder what to do next. Because while she would like to think that the hardest part was over, she knew she was just lying to herself. Behind her, by the Floo, stood the last two people she wanted to talk to right now. Father… and worse, the thing.
~V~
“Stop that,” the thing snapped.
“Stop what?” Daphne replied.
“I know what you’re doing.”
Daphne had no idea what Astoria thought she was doing, but she was pretty sure that she was not.
“He. is. Mine. You better stay the hell away,” the thing growled, before whirling on the spot, and making her way over to the Floo grate towards the matching blonde who had just arrived.
Because apparently, Astoria had dyed her hair sometime over the year. Daphne hadn’t managed to bring herself to return for Christmas break last year. Of course there had been the foolish hope that despite everything, once the clock struck midnight on her birthday, that Ria could perhaps return just one final time. But since she understood enough about the curse at this point, she wouldn’t dare take that leap based on a fool’s hope, when there was just no possible realistic outcome other than to have her hopes crushed all over again. She’d much rather keep remembering Ria the way she had been, and spend as little time around the thing as possible.
And now she was acting as if… did the thing even realize she was supposed to be barely eleven years old?
“Heiress Greengrass,” Malfoy said, earning a scowl from Astoria.
Daphne didn’t even so much as nod, much less perform the customary curtsy. In the corner of her eye, she noticed Father enter the room. He shot one glance at her, then at Astoria, his expression unreadable behind his glasses. Finally, he turned to properly welcome Malfoy into their home in Daphne’s stead. Under different circumstances, her deliberate neglect of etiquette would have resulted in a disapproving glare, followed by a stern talking to in private. Not that she’d ever gotten many of those to begin with, Daphne had always been quick to learn how to garner his approval. But with their situation being what it was, both of them knew that she’d firmly left that girl behind. With Ria no longer around, and Father seemingly all too content with the status quo, Daphne didn’t have much of a reason to stick to her role left, either.
“What is this?” Daphne said.
“A formal visit, Greengrass,” Malfoy said, waggling his gloves, “in case your etiquette lessons have slipped your brilliant mind.” He performed the slightest of bows, more in a mocking effort to display the silky qualities of his robes, rather than out of any respect for either of the hosts.
“Just you?” Daphne replied, glancing back at the Floo. A formal visit was one thing, but any conceivable circumstance that would call for one would have the boy usually accompanied by his father.
“Daphne,” Father said in a low voice, “would you please tell the elves to prepare us some tea.”
If he thought he could dismiss her as easily as that, he was sorely mistaken. Daphne had learned to speak up for herself, for better or worse, and whatever this was definitely would be for worse if she just let it continue.
“What… is he doing here?”
“I invited him, of course,” Astoria said, “not that it’s any of your concern.”
“You invited…” Daphne trailed off as she picked up on a few more things. Not just the almost identical shade of blonde they now shared, the long thin golden earrings that Astoria would never have had the allowance for purchasing for herself, much less have had the desire to wear in the first place, and the matching amulet dangling around Malfoy’s neck.
Alright, that was it. Even if she wasn’t going to risk any more incidents with the curse, there was another source of information right there. Within a single second, Daphne reached out, and dove right into Malfoy’s mind.
“You must be Draco Malfoy, it’s an honor.”
“Likewise,” Malfoy’s voice said with the minimum viable amount of interest.
“I heard you’re supposed to be really good at dueling, is that true?”
“Naturally.”
“Is it true that you beat the top student in your year?”
“Obviously. She’s just a Mudblood after all.”
Astoria’s eyes went wide, and there was a certain gleam in her eyes. “Did you show her her proper place?”
Daphne swiped her hand, moving the pictures along.
“You actually beat Potter? You must tell me everything! How did you do it?”
Another wave, another picture.
“Maybe you’d want to hang out sometime over the break? I’d love to hear some more of your stories…”
Daphne dredged through the images, more and more. They’d met several times, first formally, then also just for fun, and every single time Astoria had pushed all of his buttons, had expertly nudged him into being a little more than just friendly with someone he shouldn’t even have glanced twice at. Astoria could dress up in as many expensive robes as she wanted, apply unending amounts of make-up charms and even change her hair color to match him, but in the end, she was still… while not ugly, well, she also wasn’t exactly pretty either. Definitely not the sort of beauty that people would have expected Malfoy to fall for. But the curse had proven the critics wrong, and had wormed her way into his heart with nothing but sweet words alone.
Daphne was really starting to regret not returning over the winter break, or the easter break. She already felt like she was about to throw up, and waved her hand again, but suddenly hit a wall. There was something, something inside his mind, blocking her passage. But it wasn’t just blocking her. His own thoughts were just as cut off. This wasn’t some form of advanced Occlumency. This was a memory charm. Someone had meddled with his mind—
Her eyes flashed towards Astoria for a second, but after another moment she dismissed the idea. Even if she was sometimes scarily competent, she wasn’t Memory Charms at eleven competent. But then what? Should she try to peel it apart like she’d done with Potter? Was it worth the risk?
Snooping a bit further, she glanced at all the memories that followed right after the end of the block.
“Not yet. The banquet is still ongoing.”
“What’s all the commotion about, anyway?”
“Haven’t you heard? The Boy-Who-Lived is dead! This isn’t the time to be moping about, today we’re celebrating our Lord’s victory!”
Potter… no, there was no way, right? After everything they had seen, after all the crap they went through he was… How would they even know?
“Come on, Draco. We don’t have to deal with her. She’s just jealous.”
For a moment, Malfoy and herself let out somewhat identical snorts. Jealous? Sure.
Astoria giggled. “Not of me, silly, of you,” she said, despite her earlier words indicating quite the opposite. “Because I’ve found someone far more deserving of my time.”
Could someone cast a bludgeoner at her or something? This was supposed to be a joke! Ria had never been serious about that! She hadn’t even met him yet! It never would have worked out. It never should have worked out. But this…
“My dear frigid sister could never even imagine even half of the things you’ll do one day…”
She took one of his hands, and gently rubbed her fingers against it. “The things you’ll do… with your own hands… that would definitely make her blush.”
Daphne couldn’t watch this anymore. “Father?” she repeated.
“Not here, Daughter.”
Her gaze finally tore itself from the demon and she rounded on the man in the corner. “Your study, then.”
Daphne wrapped herself in her magic, and formed her intent. She reached out, countless invisible fingers stretching before her, feeling around in search, until they found their prey and latched on, slowly weaving themselves into the fabric of the spell. Even if she couldn’t do anything to him directly, in modern magical society people were far from the only things that could be affected by the mind.
There. Daphne raised a finger just for emphasis, and made a small tugging motion, as she adjusted the resizing charms on his robes.
“Lead the way, Father.”
The reply was a strangled nod. He hadn’t the breath for much else.
~V~
“Now. Explain.”
Her father glanced back, his mouth came open and… oh, right.
Daphne flicked her finger and relaxed her control over the resizing charm. Father stumbled and took a deep breath, bracing a hand against his desk.
“I… signed a contract… with Lucius Malfoy.”
He did not.
“A contract.”
Father returned a stony glare.
“Ria never agreed to this.”
“Of course she did—”
“You mean the curse did,” Daphne said quietly.
Father took a deep breath and turned his gaze from her to look out of the window behind his desk.
“All parties involved agreed.”
“And what about Mum?”
Father whirled around “You dare—” but his reply faltered once he met her eyes.
Daphne held his gaze, before making a decision. “You have two days until Mum’s birthday to fix this. Because in two days, I will tell her exactly—”
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” Father shouted.
Daphne flared her magic a bit and threw herself with everything she had against the glasses. Father flinched, and took a step back.
“I have barely gotten started.”
She hadn’t even managed to crack them. But at least, she seemed to have gotten her point across.
~V~
“Aaand… done!”
Daphne looked up from her desk and glanced at the clumsily potted bundle of honking daffodils.
“Did you add the fertilizer?”
“Wha’s a ferliser?”
Daphne met her Mum’s curious gaze and for a moment was reminded of Ria. Sometimes, when she was just happily exploring the world, even if none of the lessons would ever stick, it was almost like… ugh.
“It’s the brown bag next to the Mandrake pots.”
“Oh, that. No, I forgot. Sorry!” Mum said, shooting her a sheepish look, before scrambling to her feet, nearly knocking some of the pots from the table in the center of the greenhouse.
“Careful,” Daphne said off-handedly as she turned back to reading her pilfered copy of Names of Magical Creatures.
“This one?” her mum asked, dragging the sack over, to which Daphne gave a nod.
“Just watch out that you only add a lit—”
With a heavy woosh half of the bag emptied itself inside the pot.
“Uhm… whoops?”
Daphne sighed, waved her wand to vanish the pile, but the damage was already done.
“What do we do?” Mum asked.
Daphne glanced warily at the yellow flowers that seemed to all but glow with life all of a sudden.
“We need to add some anti-magic salt before the daffodils get any… ideas.”
“Uh… where’s that?”
“The kitchen. It’s the largest one of the jars, can’t miss it.”
“I’ll get it!” Mum blurted and took off in a sprint out of the greenhouse, leaving behind a thoroughly exhausted Daphne.
“What’s that, she seen a ghost or… oh. Worse.”
Daphne’s head hit the desk with a groan. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
“It’s five p.m.”
“Yes?”
Astoria shot her a glare, while Daphne pretended to be able to return to her book.
“We need to talk.”
“What’s there to talk about?”
“You know exactly what!” Astoria snapped, marching up to her, until she stood right in front of her desk in the corner of the greenhouse.
“If this is about Malfoy again—”
“It bloody well is. Will you listen to me while I’m talking to you?” Astoria demanded, bearing down on Daphne who returned an unimpressed look.
“I really don’t care what you have to say.”
“Always! It’s always just about you!” Astoria threw her hands up and turned, stomping down the aisle. “Everything, everyone always talks about nothing but the bloody perfect little—”
“Are you done?”
Astoria whirled around to face her again.
“I’ll be done when—”
A loud crash made Daphne’s gaze snap up, and in a split-second she noticed the situation and began to move. Astoria, in her anger, had carelessly knocked one of the plants off the desk and caused the pot to shatter on the ground.
One of the Mandrake pots.
Her hands barely grazed her ears and Daphne’s vision started to distort and turn grey as the screams began. With everything she had left, Daphne forced her hands over her ears as hard as she could, and tried to block out everything else with her Occlumency. Across from her, Astoria’s mouth opened in an unheard scream and she tilted over, almost frozen in her step, and toppled face first onto the ground.
Daphne summoned her magic, and lacking any free hands to pick up her wand, she used the only magic left. She found the tiny crumpled wiggling humanoid-shaped root, and met its eyes.
Sleep!
With everything she had she forced that one command down the plant’s throat, and it had no options but to swallow. One second later, the screams fell silent, and Daphne removed her hands from her ears. The entire surroundings had fallen into complete silence. Or at least, she couldn’t hear anything else other than a faint ringing still lingering in her ears. Slowly she made her way over to the pile of shattered clay, grabbed the comatose plant by the leaves, dragged it into the air, unceremoniously dumped it in an empty pot, and flicked her wand to send a pile of enriched soil to come flying from the bag, until the plant was firmly buried once more.
Only then she realized the implications of what had just happened, and she was almost afraid to turn around to check. But in the end, she gathered her courage, and turned to face her fate and check on Astoria.
The girl just lay there, and as Daphne rolled her over onto her back, she could see her mouth still opening and closing, her eyes unfocused, darting all over the place, until at last, her mouth formed into a single word.
“D-d… Daph?”
Daphne’s breath hitched. It was still there, right in her eyes, the red construct shining so brightly it almost hurt to look at, and yet…
“What’s going on, Daph?”
“…Ria?”
Chapter 39: Hope
Chapter Text
“Hey Daph, what’s wrong? You look like…”
Daphne swallowed. What the hell was going on?
“Oh… is it… did I…” the girl mumbled, eyes darting around wildly, until her gaze fell down onto the floor. “It happened again, didn’t it?”
Could it… could the Mandrake’s scream somehow… affect the curse? Or rather… Astoria? If only one of the two was active at a time—unlike with Lily—then possibly… Maybe only Astoria heard the scream? But what would that mean?
“Did I miss Mum’s birthday?”
The yellow daffodils gave a synchronous honk, and their hair fluttered from the resulting blast of air.
“Not quite…”
Her sister perked up. “Oh… so she’s still here?”
“It’s… tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? But—” Ria blurted, before comprehension came over her features. “Oh.”
“I’m sorry” Daphne said.
“But…” Ria said quietly. “But how? I mean… shouldn’t it… didn’t you…”
“It didn’t work. But I… I think…” she said, taking a deep breath and admitting, “I might have made it worse.”
Ria reached up a hand to take one of hers, barely even raising an eyebrow at the perfectly manicured fingernails, and Daphne slowly pulled her to her feet.
“Well, at least I’m back now,” she said with a small smile. “Let’s just hope it lasts.”
Yeah. Daphne wasn’t too sure about that. The curse was still there. She had no idea what the exact effects had been, but she was also reluctant to try and check and possibly risk upsetting whatever balance of circumstances had allowed this miracle to happen.
“Oh, right, if it’s really been a year then… that means I missed your birthday!” Ria gasped.
Daphne’s stomach clenched, she tried to keep her expression blank, but—
“But I’m here now, so that’s good. Come on!” Ria exclaimed and began dragging her towards the door.
“What… where are you going?” Daphne said, stumbling after her.
“I’m gonna go get your present!”
~V~
The wooden boards groaned, and with a final swish of her wand, Daphne peeled the last barricade off the entrance of the wooden tree-castle. It was more of a dilapidated shack, really, but it was the thought that counted, according to Ria. With the entrance finally free, Ria wasted no time and dragged her into the confines of the place she used to call her Lair. Father had boarded it up after Ria’s departure last year, but apparently, even he hadn’t had the heart to get rid of it entirely.
“Oh, look! It’s still here!” Ria exclaimed, bouncing over towards the small desk next to the window right by the door. On a black stone podium the size of a Quaffle there sat a small, black metallic dagger, with a red gem glinting in the sunlight peering through the gaps in the boarded windows.
“Ha!” Ria called out, drawing the dagger and piercing it straight towards the ceiling as if she were striking at a dragon. “Ha-ya! Hehe! I have returned! Tremble before—” she declared, attempting to spin it between her fingers, before immediately fumbling her grip and sending it clattering underneath the couch next to it. “Whoops. Uh… You saw nothing.”
She whirled away from the sight of her display of silliness and dashed towards the back of the room instead, where she kept all sorts of games and other utensils, as well as her Elaina book collection. “Now… where did I put it…”
Daphne followed after Ria as she dove into one of the crates at the back of the tree house, pulling out all sorts of things, sending them clattering to the ground. A transfigured skull, a pack of black candles, a box of Dungbombs with the bold red words Extra Evil scrawled onto it in warbly handwriting. Daphne approached the desk, and she noticed a small box sitting there, with a set of what looked to be metallic bracelets stuffed mostly inside, and two of them having spilled over onto the desk. She picked it up, raising the yellow bracelet against the light, until she recognized it.
“You still have these things?” Daphne replied incredulously.
Ria looked up towards her, then snatched the other band from the desk. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I?”
She began twirling the bracelet on her fingers. “You never know when it’s a good time to play Watcher!”
Daphne just stared back, following the bracelet move, her own hands idly copying her sister. It seemed so far away now. Well, it was. The last game she’d played had been about… almost three years ago? More even? A lot had happened since then. It felt like the person who had had some fun chasing the other girls and pretending to be one of them was so far away now, but to Ria, she supposed, it wasn’t all that long ago yet.
Ria slipped the bracelet over her wrist, and her eyes lit up in excitement. “Look! It still fits!”
With a smile, Daphne’s fingers caught her own bracelet and inserted her hand within as well.
“And now we match!” Ria exclaimed, holding out her wrist next to Daphne’s, and up against the light. The two yellow metallic bracelets were almost identical, except that the one Ria was wearing had a slightly different spell on it… Daphne narrowed her eyes, until she noticed the small triangular mark at the bottom of Ria’s band that signified this one belonging to the Eye.
She turned her gaze away from their hands and met Ria’s once more, where she found her eyes gleaming, and her mouth slowly twisting into a smirk.
“Nighttime.”
From the corner of her eyes she noticed the flash—just a second too late. She felt the spell run over her as the bracelet activated. A cold shiver like a frozen iron cage wrapped around her arm at lightning speed. It spread out, through her chest, down her legs, one by one her limbs were locked in position, until her entire body was frozen by the spell of the bracelet, leaving her unable to move so much as a finger. That smirk was the last thing she would see of the demon’s face. Her sister spun around, the windows to her soul now out of sight, taking even the last recourse for Daphne to get out of this away from her.
The girl stood there, her back facing Daphne, before she broke into giggles, and then full-blown laughter.
“I can’t believe you fell for that.”
Still giggling, the girl reached up to her head, stuck her fingers underneath her long hair, and retrieved a set of small, green earplugs. Daphne ground her teeth as she slowly overcame her shock. Damn that bitch. Damn her! How had she not seen this coming?! Why had she not just looked, just to be sure? Daphne desperately glanced down at her chest, at her limbs, trying to tweak it, to do… something. But the source—the bracelet—was firmly outside her vision, and it just kept overriding anything she tried with the unrelenting stubbornness of an enchanted object that had been designed for nothing but a singular purpose.
A wand slipped into the girl’s hand—her own wand, she realized—and its tip slowly lit up in a red glow. “I do hope you’ll forgive me if I mess this up on the first try. I did practice a bit, but let’s see if I can do it with my eyes closed.”
Astoria turned to face her again, her eyes firmly shut, and a vicious grin now on her face. Her wand came up, not quite aimed at her, but it was close enough.
“Now let’s see here. A jab, a downwards slash and… Stupefy!”
~V~
The first thing she felt was pain. A rush of tingles through her whole body, and Daphne was jolted into wakefulness with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. She noticed that she could move again. Although, apparently, not by much. She looked down onto the thing restricting her movement, and she found that she had apparently been tied to a chair with ropes of some sort. Also, her robes had been removed, replaced by plain white fabric wrapped around her body. And obviously her wand was gone. But that shouldn’t be an issue.
“Wake up.”
Daphne raised her head and noticed someone standing in front of her. Immediately, she lashed out with all her might, only to once again slam into that accursed yellow glass wall. Father. Glancing around, she looked for a way out. For something, anything that—
“Don’t bother,” Father said in a cold voice. “I removed all enchanted objects from this room. It’s just you… and me. Daughter.”
Daphne’s glare lanced out, swept all across the room, but she found depressingly little. The boxes were gone, as were the bracelets, and any of the trinkets that had ever been contained within. The whole room stood barren, and no matter where she looked, she couldn’t find a single hint, a single trace of… except, there, behind him there stood—
“You did well, Astoria. Thank you. You may leave.”
“But—”
“You may leave,” he repeated, his voice gaining a slight edge.
Behind him, Astoria, with her gaze still firmly averted, shot him another hesitant glance, but then proceeded to shuffle out of the tree house without another word. The wooden door clicked into the lock, plunging the room into silence. The only light in the empty tree house originated from thin gaps in the boarded windows. From the outside, she could hear the groaning wooden steps as Astoria began to descend the staircase leading up to the tree house.
Slowly, a feeling of desperation began to settle in. Was she really out of options? With all the skills Daphne had acquired over the years, even among all those people, well, most of them had been students, so there hadn’t really been much to learn about wandless magic. Not that she hadn’t tried, of course, but as much as she was loath to admit it, she wasn’t bloody Potter.
She couldn’t do much without a wand, except for Mind Magic. And Mind Magic required a target. A mind, a spell, something that had either thoughts, or a purpose, something she could alter; something she could twist. But no matter how much her eyes darted around the room, it appeared he had truly removed any and all non-muggle furniture, decorations, and other utensils entirely. He was even wearing muggle clothes; a dark green T-Shirt and blue jeans that seemed to be haphazardly put together without any regard for style. And here, outside on the grounds, she couldn’t even attempt the fool’s quest of trying to twist the wards of the house itself.
Daphne really shouldn’t have tipped her hand like that just to make a point.
“Now… we will have a talk,” Father said in a low voice, as he stowed his wand in the pocket of his jeans. “And this time, I will set the terms.
Daphne took a deep breath, gathered everything she had, and threw herself with all her might against the glasses. A heavy gong reverberated throughout her entire mind, and the spectacles on his face seemed to vibrate for a moment, but other than that Daphne was left with nothing but a pounding headache. Just what the hell were those things anyway?
Father just stood there, and gave a cold smile. “It will not work.”
The desperation was clear on Daphne’s face as her father slowly strode closer to her, until he pulled up a chair, and sat down in front of her. “You like them?”
He reached up a finger to the side of his yellow glasses, adjusting them for a moment. “This is a little something a friend of mine has acquired from the Warehouse. I’m sure you know what that means.”
Well, Daphne didn’t, but luckily, he spelled it out either way. “It’s futile. The glasses cannot be undone; no matter how powerful you are.”
Impossible? Or just impossible for her? Because she still wasn’t good enough. She still—
“And now, you’ll listen,” he said, his voice falling very quiet.
Daphne glared back, but didn’t speak, not that she’d have any idea what to say.
“You are not getting out of this,” Father said. “This ends one of two ways. You either give me what I want, or…” he trailed off.
He reached a hand and grasped her head underneath her hair. He gave a sharp pull to force her to look straight into his eyes through his Merlin-damned glasses, and he whispered in a low growl, “or it does not end until you do.”
Goosebumps slowly formed on her skin, but she refused the urge to squirm under his grip. Instead, she just glared back.
“Well, look at that, it appears there is only one way after all.”
“What… do you want, Father?” Daphne finally spoke. “If you want me to let go of her then you can forget it.”
“Is that so?” he said, slowly opening his hand and pulling it back, long black strands of hair trailing through the fingers. “Then I suppose we have nothing to talk about.”
Father slowly got up, no longer looking at her. He turned around, bent down, grabbed the chair, and gently set it over to the side. He just stood there, facing away from her, his unmoving outline visible against the rays of light piercing through the boarded-up windows. With an eerily slow motion he reached into his pocket, and withdrew his wand.
Daphne desperately searched the room again. Nothing. There really was nothing. The only charm she spotted was the haphazard Locking Charm on the door, but even undoing that changed nothing about her situation whatsoever. He rolled it around in his fingers for a while, back and forth, back and forth. Then his back straightened, and his fingers clenched tightly around the wooden handle. He whirled on the spot, raising the wand up high, until the tip was pointed at her face.
“Augendae Dolor.”
Daphne winced as the curse struck. She hadn’t heard of that one before, but just from what she’d gleamed, she managed to understand enough about it to discern its purpose. At first, it was just a dull throb, like she had stumped her toe on the sofa, except echoing throughout her entire body. Pain. It was pain, and even if it wasn’t all that bad, it would only get worse. Except he had made one crucial mistake. Daphne glanced down at her chest, and she reached out, and began twisting it around, altering its purpose. Instead of rising, the pain now lessened. The curse didn’t fail outright, but the longer she kept at it, the more it turned from a looming danger into a mild inconvenience at best. Of course, Daphne realized only too late that if he caught on to what she was doing, then he would just…
Daphne groaned, but apparently, her acting had come just a moment too late. Father frowned and lowered his wand. “Right… You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
He just stood there, breathing deeply, his face completely blank, but he wasn’t speaking.
Daphne gritted her teeth, and spat, “If that’s how you treat your favorite daughter, do you really expect me to believe that you have Ria’s—”
A heavy smack and a flare of pain cut her off, and she was sent stumbling in her seat, tilting over, until she toppled to the side along with her chair, and hit the ground hard.
“I am done letting you mock me.”
He raised his wand up above his head, took another deep breath, and said in a low voice, “This ends today.” He paused for a moment, before he spoke in a firm voice, “Tenebris.”
The word froze Daphne’s insides cold with its mere sound. No. He wasn’t… he wouldn’t… Not even he would do that to his own daughter, right?
“Father?” Daphne whispered, as she watched the shadows grow and gather around the wand, second after second, plunging the dim room into a Darkness blacker than even nothing. Part of her didn’t want to believe it, that he would do this, that he could do this, that he would go that far, but she was also terrified. Terrified of this magic still beyond her reach, that she had never been able to overcome. She felt like she was in that corridor in front of their dorm room all over again, and no matter what she tried, it would all lead to the same outcome anyway.
“I am sorry, Daphne,” he whispered, just as the shadows were drawn all the way into the tip, and he brought it down on her with all the finality of the Chief’s gavel.
“Crucio.”
~V~
She had no idea how long it had been. How many times it had been. Somehow, after the first time, he seemed to have only grown less hesitant. She lay there, in a heap on the ground, still tied to the toppled chair, her limbs twitching from the aftermath. She had no words to describe the feeling. The entire neighborhood must have heard her screams by now, well, if they had any neighbors to begin with.
“All this time… you thought you could take me for a fool?” Father shouted.
His wand flashed red, and she found herself thrown back. Her body hit the wall with a crash, causing the chair to shatter. She felt no pain from the impact, her nerves still too overwhelmed from the Cruciatus. At the back of her mind, she noticed that the ropes had come undone, not that it made any difference. She couldn’t move so much as a finger right now.
“Why…” Daphne rasped. “Is it really… that important to you? That you would… curse your own daughter—”
“Crucio!”
Her awareness dissolved into pain, and Daphne fled. Once more she curled up, buried herself in the deepest corner of her Mindscape, watching it all crumbling apart around her, hoping, hoping that it would stop… that it would just end at some point. Maybe… Please…
“You have the power to stop this,” Father whispered, breathing deeply. “You know what it is I want. You’ve known all these years. All you have to do is give it to me. I know you don’t really care. Not about her, not about any of us.”
Daphne took deep, shaky breaths as the dull droning haze threatened to consume her, but she managed to gather all her magic, all her Occlumency, to just push it aside for one second, and get her limbs to obey. She raised her head, met his eyes, and spoke, “You understand nothing. If you think—”
Another flash, and this time, she couldn’t suppress the screams before she managed to retreat. The red lights flickered, casting rapidly moving shadows of their silhouettes against the wooden walls, and the entire tree house groaned, again, again, rhythmically, getting faster and…
The door burst open from the outside, and the Curse faltered in an instant.
“Daaph! I… what’s…what…”
Her mum stood there, clutching the jar of anti-magic salt, eyes wide in horror, glancing between them, tears already on the verge of her eyes. Another pair of rapid footsteps followed, before Astoria burst into the room behind her. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t manage to stop—”
The rest of her words were cut off by a desperate wail, as her mother collapsed to her knees and began bawling her eyes out. Father stood there, wand still trained on Daphne’s shivering body, his jaw clenched, and his eyes darting back and forth between all of them.
“Not now! I… Get her out of here!”
Astoria awkwardly made her way over to mum’s crumpled and crying form, but as she started trying to drag her, Mum instead began kicking and screaming. Finally, Astoria looked back up and said, “I can’t—”
“Keep your eyes away!” Father snapped, and Astoria blushed and spun around before Daphne got the chance.
Astoria glanced down, trying to drag Mum again, before quietly suggesting “Maybe you should—”
“No! Stay back!” Father roared, and with a flash of his wand, both Mum and Astoria were sent stumbling to the corner of the room, where the wails only redoubled. “You must not interfere.”
Daphne slowly managed to get her limbs to obey again, just enough to be able to speak once more. “Don’t you see?”
With a groan, she rolled herself onto her side, glancing up at him, trying her best to convey her loathing with a simple look. “Don’t you see what you’re doing to the very family you claim to want to protect?”
Father took a step forward, and he grabbed her hair to pull her up and look straight into his eyes. “I am the head of the Greengrass family. And I will do everything I deem necessary to keep this family together. You will never take that from me. You will never break me. And I will always do what is best for this family. Because in the end, this is who I am. No matter what you say about it.”
He suddenly let go and Daphne’s head hit the wooden floor with a thunk. “I told you, there are only two ways this will end. And this is your last chance as to the first.”
He turned to the side and jabbed his head at the door. “Astoria.”
Astoria nodded, got up, and hesitantly made her way over towards the exit. Daphne couldn’t tell whether the thing was excited, worried, or didn’t even care at all. She’d still had hope to find another way, some way out of this. Some way to go back. But there simply was none. This was the end. There was no way Daphne would agree to give up on Ria, and in turn, he would resort to the second, unspoken option. She wouldn’t be getting out of this alive. It was over. After years of learning, setback after setback, and too many mistakes to count, this was the end of the road. She was too dangerous for him to just let her continue with this issue unresolved.
That’s right, she was that dangerous, wasn’t she?
And now… now she had options.
From her spot on the ground she saw something. A faint glimmer, right across the room, on the floor, underneath the sofa that mum was sitting on while having her breakdown. Her eyes locked with the gleaming dark red, and she began to alter the spells wrapped around it, slowly twisting their purpose into the polar opposite, layer by layer, layer by layer.
“You are no father of mine,” Daphne whispered, straining to push her head off the ground. “You’ve betrayed everyone in your family. You betrayed Mother, you betrayed Ria, you betrayed me, and even yourself. You do not deserve to bear the name Greengrass.”
She managed to push herself into an almost sitting position, her legs still uncooperating, as she perched herself on her outstretched, shaky arms. “Nor any name at all.”
“Enough with your games!” Father roared, his face twisted in fury as his wand slashed forward. “I know that you are him!”
A wet, slick sound pierced through his words, cutting them off, and a small, dark red tip burst from the center of his chest. His eyes widened, slowly, very slowly a realization began to sink in, horror, despair, as he understood. Everything slowed down, even as he began to stumble forward, his body completely off balance, and it would surely fall, yet it moved slower with every second, now almost imperceptibly, before it entirely came to a halt.
She felt like she was standing beside herself. The perspective seemed to shift, even as everything was frozen, this one moment stretching out into infinity, simply refusing to end. To her left stood Ria, by the door, hands covering her mouth in shock. In the center of the room stood Father, the wand having slipped his grasp, still arrested mid-air. And directly behind him, stood their mother, eyes aglow in a deep Indigo, and the hilt of a black and red metallic dagger clutched in both her hands, plunged as deep as it would go into the back of their father’s T-Shirt.
And all the way to her right sat Daphne, her eyes glowing just as brightly, with her arms braced against the ground, a look of shock and realization etched on her face.
And time simply refused to move forward.
To her left, there was the faintest of motions. A soft blur, almost imperceptibly, as Ria began to turn her head to the right, and met her eyes. The eyes of a person that wasn’t even in the room.
Ria’s face was a deeply saddened, bittersweet smile. And her hair appeared almost black now, even with the light still shining through the gaps of the windows.
“She still hasn’t quite realized it, you know?”
Ria took a step forward, up to her parents, glancing between them, and placing a hand on her father’s cheek. “And I’m afraid she won’t take it well.”
The girl stepped up to her sister, and placed a hand on her head. “Please don’t be mad, Daph. But I’m not sorry.” A small smile came upon Ria’s lips. “You told me to never change, didn’t you?”
Finally, she raised herself back up and turned to the right once more, and she locked eyes with her. With Iris, apparently. Merlin, this was weird. “I really think the two of you can help each other. But this was the only way to get you to understand. Both of you.”
Iris still hadn’t quite come to terms with the fact that she wasn’t Daphne but, well… Iris.
“Just what… you did this? This whole… whatever this is?”
Ria gave a shrug. “You managed that all by yourselves. I may just have nudged things along, so it wouldn’t be over before… well, you get the point.”
Iris blinked, trying to figure out what to make of that. “And… Daphne?”
Ria looked at her sheepishly. “She may or may not be in the same situation. Sorry about that. There was no way I was going to keep her occupied long enough otherwise.”
“Just… who the hell are you? You’re obviously not her. I mean… her mind isn’t actually fractured like with Lily, right? Astoria and Ria… they’re not different people, at least, they can’t exist simultaneously…”
Ria’s smile turned bittersweet.
“You know the answer to that already,” she said sadly.
And before Iris could manage another reply, Ria clicked her fingers, and the entire room dissolved into colors, along with the girl herself.
The sound of shattering glass from all sides snapped Iris back into reality. All around her, all over the place, the mirrors had cracked simultaneously, and were now clattering to the bathroom floor. It was her dorm’s bathroom. It was Hogwarts. It was… it was her own body. Holy fucking shit. How long had she been gone?
How long had they been stuck in that…
It had felt like a lifetime. But then, on the other hand, it couldn’t have been all that long, otherwise someone would have probably found them and taken them to the hospital wing by now.
She looked down again, and right there, atop of her, still clutching her arms, she found Daphne. She hadn’t moved an inch, but her face was completely pale. A myriad of expressions running over her features, but she didn’t manage any words as to what had just happened. What she’d just seen. What they both had seen.
Iris really wanted to punch the girl in the face, but also hug her at the same time.
So in the end, she settled on neither, and collapsed back onto the ground, her head hitting the ceramic tiles with a thunk.
“Fuck.”
Chapter 40: Conjecture
Chapter Text
Slow, arrhythmic drops of water hitting a puddle on the ground were the only sounds in the room. Even the ragged breathing had calmed down, but none of them had spoken yet. Iris had no idea what Daphne thought about what Iris had seen, or about what she herself might have seen. She’d have expected sarcastic insults, maybe for the girl to laugh at her, to attack her, to run away from her, something.
Not this… whatever this was.
They sat there, on opposite sides of the destroyed bathroom, staring at the ground. Occasionally, Iris would raise her head, only for Daphne to meet her eyes. But the eye contact never lasted more than a fraction of a second before one of them broke it again.
Hesitantly, Iris tried to carefully broach a single, innocent question.
“So… Lily.. I mean… is she… does that mean she’s…”
Their eyes met for a moment, but all Iris got was a nauseating feeling in her stomach, like despair, loathing. There was no response. Maybe this was the wrong way to go about it?
“I guess you saw what happened in the chamber?”
Another glance, this time hesitant.
“How much did you see?”
Even more silence followed. Yet, it seemed as if little by little, glance by glance, some unspoken understanding began to form.
Was that what she was doing? Was she… trying to communicate? In her own messed up way?
Iris just stared back at the girl, now no longer trying to avert her gaze. Daphne was just sitting there, slumped against the tiles underneath the cracked mirrors, and the broken sinks above her still slowly drenching her Hogwarts robes drop by drop. Her black hair was a mess, looking almost worse than Iris’ on a good day, and it seemed like even the smallest movements cost her a great deal of mental effort. Their eyes met, and emotions flashed back and forth, before finding equilibrium in their shared grief.
“Merlin,” Iris groaned and let her head collapse against the tiles behind her with a thunk. “Even I don’t know which one of us is the bigger screw-up.”
Definitely Daphne. At least Iris hadn’t intentionally cursed her own friends and then not managed to undo it. At least she hadn’t murdered her own father based on a misunderstanding.
Definitely Iris. At least Daphne hadn’t been manipulated by the Dark Lord like a fool to place her brother in mortal danger, and needed him to save her. Twice. At least Ria was still alive, in a way. At least she’d just cut off Tracey instead of lying to her for the whole year.
Iris blinked, holding her gaze, trying to parse out which of these thoughts had been her own.
“You know, you may be the one who cursed her, but I was the stupid idiot who couldn’t keep my nose out of it until it actually broke her.”
Daphne raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “You want to play the blame game? I knew about the Dark Lord in first year, I knew what he was doing with you, but I did nothing. I figured out that it was you in second year, and I still managed to do nothing.”
“You at least tried, then,” Iris wryly pointed out.
“Is that supposed to change anything?” Daphne deadpanned.
If Daphne just had power like her, or the courage to speak up and act, she might have been able to change things, but…
If Iris had just been able to think as clearly as her, had been able to keep her emotions in check, she might not have ended up in these situations, but—
“This is stupid,” Daphne mumbled.
A wry chuckle left Iris’ lips, and before she knew it it turned into a series of hoarse giggles.
“…Shut up, Ria.”
Iris shot Daphne a reluctant smile. “You know that’s probably not uh… healthy, right? I mean… she’s—”
“You think I don’t know that?” Daphne said quietly.
Iris swallowed.
On the one hand, yeah, but on the other… “At least you still get to speak to her, I guess.”
“Be glad that you don’t.”
Iris had no idea what to reply to that. If she could talk to Harry again… even just a little… even if it wouldn’t really be him… although, would that make it better, or just worse?
The look between them shared some deep longing, until Daphne’s gaze dropped into her lap. “You know, it’s strange. I’ve never even talked to him and yet…”
She missed him. Every day. Another day without Harry was just another day where the sun didn’t shine like it used to.
“Just when they thought we couldn’t mess up this situation any further…” Iris said.
Daphne’s head collapsed back against the wall, and somehow, even through all the regret and loathing, there was a self-deprecating smile. “There’s always room for improvement.”
Iris reached for one of the shards of broken mirror on the ground and picked it up. She slowly spun it between her fingers, gleaming her own mess of tangled hair and the green eyes that had grown a lot colder over the years, yet now also had some dried tears clinging to their corners, which she hadn’t even noticed. She had mostly kept her promise to herself. Iris hadn’t really cried at all ever since her first few weeks in Hogwarts, with the one hazy exception of her ill-advised trip to Germany, but that didn’t count.
“Have you found out who it is?” she mumbled, looking up to meet Daphne’s gaze once again. “It’s why you wanted to go to Azkaban, wasn’t it?”
Daphne sighed. “I wasn’t sure. For a long time my guess was very wrong. And now I’m not even sure if he’s in Azkaban at all. He did possess Longbottom, yes. It should be impossible to do that over this long of a distance, but… well, he is the Watcher.”
“But why would you think he wasn’t there, then?” Iris asked.
“Mainly, because there have never been any break-outs, or anyone released from the high-security wing in the first place. At first I assumed that he must have somehow slipped underneath the radar and escaped anyway, but now I’m not so sure anymore. The thing is, nobody knows his true goals. He always shows up at the most unexpected times, often revealed to have been behind events for quite a while, and maybe even hiding in plain sight, but… nobody can figure out his motives, or his goals, because… there is no rhyme or reason to it. Not his individual actions, whatever his scheme is always fits together into a greater whole, but the final outcome… the result of his actions is the biggest mystery.”
Iris raised an eyebrow. “How do you mean?”
“Individually, it all makes sense. Sometimes the scheme goes off without a hitch, and he flips a whole block in the Wizengamot to the dark, sometimes someone or something foils him at the end and it has the opposite effect, and sometimes everything goes seemingly according to plan, yet the outcome still crosses right through the Dark Lord’s plans instead. Sometimes he even seems to intentionally work against the Dark Lord entirely. The individual impact is always significant, yet overall it seems to just sum up to… well, that’s the strange part. Nobody has been able to piece together any overall strategic goal so far, other than seemingly just to create chaos.”
“So you’re saying… We don’t know his plan, or even which side he’s truly on?”
Daphne just gave a shrug. “I wasn’t able to pin down his overall goals, but what remains consistent are his methods, and his personality.”
She sat up a little straighter now, her expression turning a little more serious. “Much like the Dark Lord, he enjoys an audience. He wants everyone to know that it was him, and he never misses an opportunity to remind people of that fact at the conclusion of his plans. Whatever the outcome, you can be sure he will stick with it all the way to the end. He won’t miss a single chance, he won’t retreat if it isn’t lost, and he will overextend himself if he thinks he has the upper hand. And he takes people foiling his plans very personally, especially if it was through trickery instead of force.”
Iris slowly nodded, trying to parse all that.
“Which is why I don’t think he was present that day. Because if he had been close, he definitely would have returned for immediate payback. Disguise or no, a group of schoolchildren would have stood no chance. So either something else prevented him, or he simply was not close enough to make it in time. And if it was the latter…”
Iris slowly nodded. “Your father said that the Dark Lord’s inner circle believed him to be in Azkaban ever since his fall. And since there weren’t any break-outs in the news…”
“Exactly,” Daphne said, before falling into silence once more. “And there is one more thing.”
Iris placed the mirror shard back on the ground and met her eyes.
“Do you know the stories about him? Specifically the one about him being able to read the mind of the dead?”
Iris’ eyes widened a bit as she remembered. Yeah. But that would…
“That isn’t something that can be achieved with pure Mind Magic. Magic of the mind requires you to connect to something alive, something that can either think for itself, or at least have a sort of purpose, even if only magical in nature.”
Iris slowly nodded. “That means either, it’s just something that the rumor mill has cooked up, or it was a trick he did by reading the mind of someone’s relatives…”
“Or,” Daphne interjected, “If it was true, then it has to be either a form of Divination, or…”
“Necromancy,” Iris concluded.
“Exactly.”
Iris just held her gaze for a while as Daphne seemed to be expecting something from her.
“You know, I would have helped you either way,” Iris said. “After all that… there’s no way I could just—”
Iris paused, but when Daphne still looked skeptical, she decided to spell it out for her. “You don’t need to manipulate me into doing this by dangling Harry’s life out there. I’ll do it just for Ria’s sake.”
Daphne didn’t look away. She held her gaze. And she understood. Their shared experience had left them with a bit more than just mere lingering memories of the people in their past.
“But,” Iris added. “If we’re going to do this, then there is one more person I’d like to bring in on this whole thing. If we’re really headed to Azkaban, we’ll need someone who knows the place inside and out.”
~V~
“Are you actually out of your mind? You told… him? Of all people?”
“Relax, I didn’t tell him anything about you, other than the fact you know about my own plans,” Iris said, making her way down the corridor.
“He’s been stuck in Azkaban for over ten years!” Daphne hissed. “In the high-security wing no less! You think he’d be able to manifest so much as a No-trespassing Sign? Much less anything resembling proper Occlumency?!”
“It’s not as bad as that. At least Dumbledore thought he was strong enough to be trusted with the wards at the funeral—”
“You’re just making my point for me!”
Iris scattered to a halt, resting one hand on the door to the hospital wing. “Listen. I know the word trust doesn’t mean much to you, but I trust him, alright? He’s the closest thing I have to anyone who… well, understands, I guess,” Iris mumbled, before glancing up at Daphne again. “Or, well, he was,” Iris said quietly.
“Just… don’t do anything stupid again, alright? You know I don’t have to remind you about—”
The image of Myrtle flashed through both their minds for a second, and Iris scrunched her eyes shut.
Yeah. Never again. With one final breath, she pushed open the door, and the two friends that would never admit it stepped through.
“Well, isn’t that convenient.”
“What the hell do you want from me?” Sirius’ voice exclaimed. “I’m sorry, okay? I fucked up! I thought I could contain it in the wards, but—”
“I don’t care what you say you thought, I care about facts. Can’t trust anyone in this ruddy situation, not with the bloody Watcher about you can’t,” Mad-Eye growled, jabbing his wooden walking-stick into the foot of the hospital bed, causing Sirius to groan.
Iris shifted nervously, making to turn and come back whenever this scene was over, but apparently, her gesture had been pointless.
“Potter! Anyone ever told you that eavesdropping isn’t polite?”
The curtain came open and revealed the towering form of Mad-Eye Moody, both his eyes glaring down at her, before flicking over to Daphne awkwardly standing off to the side.
He regarded them for a moment, before he said in a gruff voice, “Greengrass! You and I, we need to have a chat, now.”
Iris swallowed. Was this about…
“I hear you encountered… someone, out there in the village,” Mad-Eye said. “I’ll need you to tell me everything.”
“The… Watcher, Sir?” Iris said, just to be sure.
In an instant he was in her face, his magical eye spinning around the center, seemingly growing larger, and his expression grew steely. “And just where did you hear that name?”
Iris swallowed. Crap. First word out of her mouth and she’d already screwed them both. Nice going, Iris.
“It’s what the others called him,” Daphne said without pause. “So, you’re talking about him?”
“No, I mean the bloody tooth fairy! Yes I’m talking about the Watcher!” Moody growled, before leaning closer. “Longbottom over there has been through the ringer and back, so we won’t be able to get anything out of him for a while. Now, talk. Bones tells me you encountered him first, and he did something to you. What did he say? How did he act? How did it… feel?”
Iris blinked at the sudden interrogation. She couldn’t tell him that… well a lot of the things, really, now could she? Maybe she should just try to be vague, look for an excuse, or…
A look from Daphne cut right through that line of thinking and caused her to blush. Right. She hadn’t even been there for it, and had no business knowing anything other than hearsay about what happened anyway. She really should just keep her mouth shut and let Daphne handle this.
But then again, Mad-Eye was the first one to ever think of the Watcher, before he had ever shown up. If he really had been on the Watcher’s tail, even over that long of a time, then maybe…
“Well, we were— Uh… I actually don’t… know if it was him? It’s just what Daphne thought,” Iris amended her words. “I wasn’t really there at the start. Daphne was, but she was… well, not really conscious at the time. I think he did something to her? Like some sort of curse…”
“The last thing I remember,” Daphne cut her off before she could make things any worse, “was Longbottom stepping out from between the burning buildings, and acting erratically. And for some reason, the two other Death Eaters seemed to… well, not quite defer to him, but also kind of grudgingly did what he said. I was about to get the hell out of there, but he met my eyes and… the next thing I remember was waking up with a headache, after… well, apparently, the others did something to knock out Longbottom, from what I heard.”
“Is that so? Then tell me, princess…” he growled, now barely an inch from Daphne, “why would the Watcher go after you in particular? And how does Potter over here play into all this?”
“I found them after it was already over. I only know what Theo told me,” Iris said, hoping to bypass his first question, and also maybe get some more information out of him. “He was… well, at first, they thought it was Neville, he just showed up, and tried to convince them to help him save some people in the Magic Neep, but…” Iris swallowed. Somehow, this was a lot harder than usual. Something about his presence just made her super conscious about every single omission or stretched truth in her words.
“At the end, they said he just… dropped the act and… wanted them to try and… entertain him?”
“Aye, he does that,” Mad-Eye rumbled.
“He does?” Iris said with a worried tone. “Is that… he used to do things like that? Just… possess people and try to blend in?”
“Oh, no no no… Fucker’s worse than that,” Mad-Eye said, grinding his teeth. “He might possess someone alright; he might take their place and play pretend, but he might just as well show up wearing an entirely new face altogether. He’ll have the perfect background, check all the bloody boxes, and jus’ blend in as if he’d been here the entire time. But he doesn’t just stop at that.”
The wood of his staff gave a groan as he leaned forward, and his face turned into an ugly grin. “He’ll make ruddy doe-eyes, need to be rescued from pixies, solve your silly everyday problem, or strike down your enemy. And before yeh know it, you’ll be the one trying to butter up him. He doesn’t just trick you, scare you, or hide in plain sight trying to avoid you.”
Iris felt a strong urge to squirm underneath his stare as his second eye came back to rest on her face as well. “Bastard gets yeh to like him.”
“Can’t be you, then,” Sirius said, his chuckle turning into a hoarse cough.
“Course it can, yeh been ruddy sleeping through everything I told you? CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” Mad-Eye shouted, causing Iris to jump.
“Lay off them, Alastor, please. I think Iris wants to talk to me now.”
Mad-Eye gave a grunt, before saying, “We’ll finish this talk, Black. Count on it.”
And with that said, Moody whirled, and began hobbling down the Hospital wing, and out the door. Iris glanced after him, still feeling as if his gaze hadn’t left her body, before awkwardly turning back towards Sirius, and approaching the bed. He looked worse than he had after Harry’s funeral. There were bandages all over his hands, even some on his face, and a veritable array of potions was set out on the table next to his bed.
“What happened?” Iris asked.
Sirius let out a long sigh. “I messed up. Again,” he whispered.
Iris stepped a little closer, and stopped her impulse to reach for his hand. “You were… at Hagrid’s? Just what…”
Sirius was quiet for a moment, his eyes flashing between both of them with indecision, before he finally tensed, and his gaze fell. “I… thought I could stop it… You know, since… Dumbledore showed me how to use the wards, I thought I could…”
He swallowed, and wheezed from the resulting pain.
“I tried to use the key, but… It was too late. I tried to set the wards to contain it, to… I don’t know… but…”
She noticed his fist clenching underneath his bandages, causing yet another groan. “I was too late. Just when I brought them down on the fire, the key… it just… blew apart. Burst into flames, right in my hands. Right in front of…”
Iris swallowed and followed his gaze over to the curtain next to him, where apparently several beds had been put together. She couldn’t see who was resting on them, but she didn’t need to. “Is he…”
“They don’t know. It’s… not looking good,” he whispered. “If I’d just…”
“But… what happened to the key? Why did it…”
Sirius sighed. “Professor Babbling tells me that it’s very likely that the main wardstone was somewhere in or underneath the Astronomy Tower. But nobody knows for sure; if anyone knows, it’s Dumbledore. All we had was the key, but, well… bloody well managed to screw that one up, too.”
“No you didn’t. You tried. You had an idea, and it didn’t work out. You almost died trying to save the castle. You shouldn’t be…” Iris trailed off at both of the glances now on her.
A half-giant like Hagrid is in critical condition, yet Black got off with two bandaged hands from holding the thing that caused the explosion?
Iris met Daphne’s challenging eyebrow head on, and directed her own mind back to the memory of Harry, stuck in his bed for months due to radiation sickness, then Luna, and finally Lily. It wasn’t always the people at the center of an event that would suffer the worst consequences.
“Black,” a new voice jolted her out of her thoughts, and Iris whirled around.
“Oh, joy,” Sirius groaned and sagged back into the sheets.
“Believe me, the pleasure is all yours,” Snape drawled, plucked a set of two colorful vials from a box he was carrying, and handed them to Sirius. Her godfather reached out a weak hand and plucked them from Snapes’ grip with an expression as if he were dissecting flobberworms, causing snape to suppress a wince as he tried to hide his left arm from view, opening and closing his fingers with gritted teeth.
“You brewed those with your good hand, right?” Sirius said slowly.
“Potter,” Snape said quietly.
Iris turned to look at him, or rather, in his direction, to avoid that weird conflicted feeling whenever she looked at her Head of House. “Sir?”
“Make sure he drinks those within ten minutes. By force, if necessary.”
“Uh…”
Snape whirled around and stalked off towards the exit of the hospital wing.
“Ugh,” Sirius groaned and sagged back into his sheets. “Bastard hasn’t changed one bit.”
“What do you mean?” Iris said.
“He was… ugh, how do I explain this… It wasn’t that he himself was that nasty to us, that was a given, but… well, he sometimes tried to get Lily to do something messed up to either James or me, too…”
“M-mum? But why would he…” Iris trailed off with a dawning horror on her face.
“No, he didn’t…”
Sirius said nothing. But he didn’t need to. With what Lupin had told her, and how he always acted around her, always calling them both Potter’s spawn when he was angry, except that he still seemed to let her get away with things anyway…
“He wasn’t just childhood friends with mum, was he?”
Sirius swallowed. “They’ve been friends, yeah. But later, especially when James got interested in her… Snivellus has been getting… ideas about Lily.”
Iris didn’t want to hear this. How does one un-ask a question? Maybe she should ask Daphne for a memory charm?
“He was so bloody obvious that it hurt, especially when Lily pretended to not even realize what he was doing.”
“And you think he’s still…”
Sirius slowly shook his head. “My guess is that’s how Dumbledore managed to turn him.”
Fuck. Not only the fact he was treating her differently than Harry just because she apparently looked like mum, but… yeah. If that was kinda fucked up, she didn’t even want to get into the whole issue surrounding her Name. Iris really didn’t want to think about this too much. She’d always been wary around him, even if there had always been that faint, unexplainable feeling of tacit trust, that he wouldn’t do anything to directly harm her at least, which she’d never been able to understand. Maybe it was just some subtle intuition about his feelings. Or maybe, it was her Name messing with things again.
Either way, she had bigger concerns. And right now, Snape of all people should be the smallest of them, especially if nothing about him had changed in any way. Iris shook herself, and gave Sirius a nudge.
“He was right about one thing, though. Drink up.”
“You wouldn’t do that… right?” Sirius said slowly.
Iris gave Sirius a look. “Drink, and you won’t have to find out,” she said with an innocent smile.
Sirius returned a hesitant look somewhere between amusement and worry, before he raised the vials to his lips and drained them one by one with increasing levels of disgust marring his face.
“Anyway, we uh…” Iris glanced around the still busy hospital wing. “We need to talk. It’s about… you know. Stuff that only the three of us know about.”
“The three of… oh,” Sirius mumbled, seemingly only now realizing Daphne’s presence in the first place. “Oh.”
Daphne shot her another glance.
You telling him about your plans is on you, but I’m not hooking him up to the phone. And if this goes sideways…
Iris sighed. If Daphne would keep her Memory Charms in check for now, then they could first try and see how far he’d be willing to go. If Iris turned out to be wrong, they could always pick Daphne’s option. He was already tied to the bed and wandless, they’d just have to make sure nobody would interfere. Iris drew her wand and flicked it through the patterns of several privacy spells. Daphne, for all her faults, joined in and added something that looked like a variation on the Notice-Me-Not on top.
“Ookay… there’s privacy and then there’s… whatever this is,” Sirius said incredulously. “Seems like a sure-fire way to summon Mad-Eye from the shadows, if anything.”
Iris returned an unamused look. “This is serious. We need to talk to you. It’s about something only you can help with.”
He seemed to struggle over something for a moment, before his expression settled into a more determined look. “Right, so, it’s about Harry?”
Iris paused. “Well, sort of. It’s not really related, but there is a chance that it will help with Project Harry as well. But it’s something we need to do regardless. I have a whole trip planned out, this is just the first stop.”
Sirius returned a skeptical look. “You know, the whole idea was an insane long-shot from the start, but you’re not exactly inspiring confidence here…”
“It’s about the Watcher,” Daphne said.
Sirius’ eyes widened a bit. “The… you mean it was actually him? I thought Mad-Eye was just…”
“Oh it was him alright,” Iris said. “What I didn’t tell Moody was that I’ve encountered him in person.”
Sirius gave an incredulous look.
“And why exactly didn’t you…”
“It’s complicated. There’s a lot going on that we really shouldn’t get the Aurors involved in, no matter how retired they are. You know that.”
Sirius’ face twisted into a frown, but he didn’t object to her words.
“So… what exactly is it you’re trying to… do? And what does it have to do with the Watcher?”
“There’s reason to believe that he is involved in Necromancy,” Iris said, causing Sirius to pause.
“That… you know that’s just one of these wild rumors about him, right? Did you find anything that would…”
“No, we didn’t,” Iris sighed. “You’re right, it’s a very long shot, but it is also not the main reason why we’re doing this.”
Sirius gave her a very skeptical look.
“There are several people who he has placed under a sort of Mind Curse,” she added, “and the only way to fix it might be to find him.”
“And you think you… know where he is?”
“Not for sure,” Iris said, “but D-”
“We think there is a strong chance that he might still be in Azkaban,” Daphne cut her off before she could say a bit too much. “And that’s where you apparently come in.”
Great. Convincing Sirius would be hard enough, but if she had to fight this battle on two fronts they wouldn’t be getting anywhere at all.
“In Azkaban?” Sirius said. “The last I heard he had just disappeared, I haven’t heard anything about him ever being arrested at all…”
“That’s what You-Know-Who’s Inner Circle thinks, at least. Except that apparently the Aurors have no idea who it was they had arrested. And there haven’t been any break-outs reported, or anyone released from the high-security wing at all.”
“So you’re planning to… what? Try to arrange a visit, sneak a note, or ask the Wizengamot…” he trailed off at the shared look of determination on both their faces.
“You’re… Merlin, you’re actually insane! It’s Azkaban, Iris! The place has never been broken out of, much less broken into! I don’t know what your deal is with him, but— Do you know what I went through in that place?! How long I… and you want me to…”
“Pettigrew is there, too,” Daphne said.
Sirius’ protests died on his lips in an instant. He swallowed, and fell very quiet.
“So, you’re planning to… what, exactly? Try to break in, find him, and…”
“Force him to tell us what we need to know,” Iris said.
“And make him regret the day he was born,” Daphne added. “Both of them.”
Sirius sagged back into his sheets, his eyes wandering back and forth between the two of them.
“Merlin, I can’t believe I’m actually considering this madness,” he mumbled, before sitting a little straighter. “Please tell me you at least have a plan. It’s one thing to get into Azkaban in the first place, but in case it slipped your mind, the entire island is filled with literal soul-sucking demons.”
“The Dementors aren’t an issue,” Iris added, causing Sirius to goggle at her for a second. “What is are the Aurors, the prisoners, the layout, and any extra protections we don’t know about. Basically, the whole reason why we need help from someone who has been on the inside.”
“Alright, slow down, start from the beginning. I’m still not convinced that you aren’t entirely pulling my leg here, but if you’re serious, I’ll have to ask. What exactly is the plan?”
Iris took a breath. “First, we wait until Dumbledore has recovered.”
“What?” both Daphne and Sirius echoed.
“You know that I’m not just Iris anymore. If I take even one step beyond the castle grounds, it will break the Geas. I’m not going to leave the castle unprotected, especially with the wards destroyed. So the only way I’d be comfortable with breaking the Geas is if another deterrent that’s just as effective takes its place. Namely, Dumbledore.”
Daphne shot her a look, but finally sighed. “Fine. So we wait until the Headmaster is back to trying to stick his nose in our business to actually perform the plan we don’t want him to know about. Great.”
“Exactly,” Iris replied dryly. “We use the shadows to get to the island, and I take care of the Dementors. We’ll slip in, find him, Imperio him, and if all else fails…”
“Whoa… whoa… slow down! When did we go from waiting for Dumbledore to actual Unforgivables?”
“Just what did you expect, Sirius?” Iris replied. “If you’ve been honest about Harry, do you truly believe Unforgivables wouldn’t have been part of the road? Just what did you think would have been necessary to get—”
“No, I… you’re right. Sorry, I just… this is all rather a lot. But I did think this through. And I did make that decision.”
Sirius took a deep breath, and firmed his expression. “Alright, so you plan to have him break the Curse using the Imperius; that can work, if you can pull it off.”
“I can,” Iris interjected, causing Sirius to stop and question his reality once more. Iris knew she was really pushing it, but this was also the best way to get Daphne to understand that Sirius was with them all the way, or… well, find out ahead of time in case he wasn’t.
“Okay, apparently my goddaughter feels confident about casting Unforgivables. This day just keeps getting better, and better…” Sirius muttered.
“Would you rather be doing it yourself?” Iris asked.
“I… well, no, I mean, I do, but I…” Sirius stumbled over his words, unable to come to a conclusive reply.
“Well, someone has to, and I know I can, so unless you’re volunteering, this is the plan.”
“And you’re planning to… what? Just Imperio everyone there one-by-one and ask them if they’re the Watcher?”
Iris traded a look with Daphne. She actually had no idea where to even start on that.
“Please tell me you at least have an idea who it could be,” Sirius said.
“Well,” Daphne said, “For the longest time I was convinced it was you.”
“You what?” Iris blurted out.
“…You are pulling my leg,” Sirius said.
“You were arrested over a fight that escalated with Peter Pettigrew,” Daphne said, “the same person who was somehow involved with the Watcher in the first place, possibly controlled by him, and ever since then he’s never been seen or heard.”
“…And you’re thinking that now that he was released,” Iris said incredulously, “it matches up with the Watcher being active once more?”
Daphne met her gaze. “No.”
“Wait, wait, wait, what’s this about Peter being involved with—”
Daphne’s expression hardened for a moment, before she reluctantly explained, “He delivered a threat to my parents while acting as if he was the Watcher, just days before the Dark Lord’s fall.”
Sirius eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, trying to take that piece of information in. Iris kept up her stare until Daphne finally elaborated. “The original story fit. But ever since Pettigrew’s arrest, it just doesn’t work out.”
“But…” Iris mumbled, trailed off, unsure what to think anymore. She did trust him, and here Daphne was even defending him. Why? Why was she always this paranoid even about the people closest to her? She’d already almost lost Tracey over this! But still, what if…
“Pettigrew, well… while he had been acting to deliver the Watcher’s messages towards the end, I’m all but convinced that he had to have been under his control, as opposed to him being the Watcher himself. Why? Simple. I can’t imagine any reason for someone with the Watcher’s… ego… to willingly spend ten years as someone’s pet rat.”
Iris gave a slow nod. That much she would agree on.
“And as for you…” Daphne continued, and turned to face Sirius with a frown. “I really don’t see the Watcher willingly getting himself arrested for ten years, nor ever acting so foolishly that it would land him in the situation that led to your arrest in the first place.”
“Gee, thanks,” Sirius mumbled.
Iris swallowed. Yeah, that did make sense, but that still didn’t preclude the chance that something went horribly wrong with his plan, and he truly had been arrested against his will. After all, the Watcher’s schemes could go either way in the end.
“But the main piece of evidence is of course your Veritaserum testimony upon your release trial,” Daphne said.
“Veritaserum testimony?” Iris echoed.
“Haven’t you read the article?” Daphne said with a raised eyebrow.
“Uh…” Iris mumbled, blushing. She really hadn’t read much past the headline, the most she’d read was the letter that Sirius had sent them along with the news.
“He testified against his three original charges under Veritaserum, and he was cleared of both having any affiliation with the Dark Lord, as well as murdering the thirteen Muggles, and after some clarification also of having had any hand in or knowledge of the Secret of the Potters’ location being leaked to the Dark Lord, past having originally suggested to switch Secret Keepers to Pettigrew.”
Sirius gave a reluctant nod at the memories.
Iris really hated that she was like this. “But… I mean… Veritaserum? Couldn’t you… if you can use Mind Magic to change the properties of spells like that, or even just employ advanced Occlumency… or what if you put a construct in control of your body, or…”
“That would work if we’d be talking about regular off-the-shelf Veritaserum. What’s used during a Veritaserum Trial isn’t that. In order to be admissible in court, it has to be Non-Annealed Veritaserum, independently verified by several experts, and then forcefully administered.”
Non-annealed… but wouldn’t that mean…
“You…” Iris mumbled, and met Sirius’ eyes. “You brewed it yourself? Right after…”
“Most agonizing Potions exam I’ve ever had. But it was damn worth it,” he said with a gentle smile.
If he brewed the Veritaserum himself, and it had never been annealed, if it was a pure Reflective Potion, brewed by the drinker himself… The same kind where just a few drops had been able to heal a bloody gunshot wound through her liver as if it had never been there in the first place and literally bring her back from the brink of death… Yes. There could be no way to trick it. Much like with the Wiggenweld, without annealing it, it would be much closer to a ritual than a potion. And rituals were absolute. You simply wouldn’t be able to trick it by definition.
“It’s the whole reason why Veritaserum Trials are still rather rare, and why it is a mandatory potion that needs to be brewed for your OWL despite the difficulty being around a seventh-year potion.”
Iris slowly nodded.
“Anyway, his testimony clears him of any affiliation with the Dark Lord, as well as having any part with betraying the Secret of the Potters to the Dark Lord.”
“Well, I mean…” Iris interjected, before she could stop herself, “from what you said couldn’t you stretch that to be true if the Watcher wasn’t truly affiliated with the Dark Lord?”
“No, because of the second question. We know Pettigrew was acting as the Watcher’s messenger back then. If it was not Pettigrew himself, then he must have been under the Watchers control. If he was under the Watcher’s control, it would be rather difficult to argue that the Watcher didn’t have any part in Pettigrew betraying the Secret to the Dark Lord.”
Oh. That… actually made sense. Wow, she really had thought this through. Iris hadn’t even known half of this stuff, much less considered it. But of course, even all that didn’t stop Daphne from treating Sirius like a landmine about to blow up. Not that Iris was one to talk.
“Alright…” Sirius finally said, blinking a few times, before seemingly deciding to put the thinking off for later. “So we’ve established that it’s not me, that’s… progress? But you still have no idea who—”
“I have narrowed it down to two options.”
Both Iris and Sirius shot her identical incredulous looks at that point. She’d waited all the time until now to reveal that?
“Simply based on when they were arrested, their rough personalities, skills with a wand, and excluding other factors that couldn’t match like age, other than Black there are only two people who were arrested right after his fall in sufficiently nebulous circumstances, and who have never been given a Veritaserum trial.”
Iris leaned a bit closer. “Well? Who are they?”
“One is Barty Crouch’s very own son, and the other is an Unspeakable by the name Augustus Rookwood.”
Chapter 41: A hitch in the plan
Chapter Text
This was still a horrible idea.
“Okay… let’s say you’re right,” Iris said. “If it actually is one of them, and we manage to get in, find them, then what? If the Watcher is doing the same thing as he did just now, he might not even be there. What if he just leaves his body again?”
Daphne shook her head. “That’s not how this works.”
Even if you left your body behind and completely entered the mental realm, at the end of the day, you were still human. Even if in a magical sense you might be disconnected, in a biological sense, in a physical sense, your body is still right there.
“So you’re saying that if we can get to his body…” Iris began, picking up her thoughts again.
“Then we can force him to return, yes,” Daphne finished.
“You’re seriously… thinking about going through with this?” Black muttered.
Daphne still had no idea what to make of him. His surface thoughts were like an open book, that much was true. But her first instinct of trying to just ensure his compliance by force had backfired in a completely unexpected way. If anything, it was similar to Mum. Except ten times worse. If she even so much as brushed against his eyes for more than an inch beyond the surface, then… the emptiness, the suffocating despair, the impenetrable cold… Daphne still remembered how it had felt in the Warehouse, when they’d been surrounded by dementors from all sides, and she’d been unable to do anything. It was that, except ten times worse. Well, she might not be able to mess with his mind directly, at least, not without dredging through years and years of dementor exposure. But that might actually be an unexpected benefit, too. Maybe, there had been something to Dumbledore’s idea after all. If she wouldn’t be able to mess with his mind, then neither would most of anyone else. And definitely not Snape.
Also, as much as she hated to admit it, they really needed him. Or at least, his knowledge on the insides of Azkaban. Once they had that, well… There were options.
“What about you?” Iris asked hesitantly, “I, well… not to make my own case any more fragile, but why are you going along with this?”
Daphne turned over from Iris back onto Professor Black, and she frowned. If anything, it would be because of Pettigrew, right? She wasn’t sure if she’d pegged him right, couldn’t be sure without actually entering his mind, but just from what she’d picked up, what kind of man he was, as well as what had been revealed during his Veritaserum trial, she’d assumed that Pettigrew might be the one irrational hook she could dangle out there to get him to agree to their insane plan.
“We both know that the rumor about him being able to read the mind of the dead is likely just that,” Iris added. “And don’t tell me it’s just because of Scabbers. You remember what happened last time, do you?”
What the hell was Iris doing? His obsession with the traitor was the perfect gateway to get him to agree with their plan despite all rationality. Why was she…
“I can’t deny that I really… really need to look that rat in the eyes and ask him something. But, well…” Professor Black trailed off.
Daphne pinned him under her gaze, palming her wand. With whatever hellscape his mind had turned into, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to just waltz in and snatch this memory out of it if it came down to that. So if all else failed, it would have to be the Obliviation Charm. Iris wouldn’t like it one bit, of course, but she’d also understand. Above all else, this she was certain of. More than even Tracey, when she’d looked at her for the first time this morning, right after they had returned from their mental odyssey—even if they both still hadn’t really worked through everything they had seen, the one thing that they both were sure about was they’d understand. Every single glance held more certainty than she’d ever felt in years of trying to get others to understand even a single one of her thoughts. But also, that sort of intimate connection kind of… scared her. Especially if it was with someone who she had been tacit allies with at best, and openly hostile towards at worst.
“So there is something else,” Iris said, pulling Daphne from her thoughts.
Black sat there in silence for a while, before he nodded. “Yeah. I’ll help with going after the Watcher, and I’ll definitely make sure that Peter gets what’s coming to him, but…”
He trailed off, eyes far away, and finally, his expression resolved into one of determination.
“…But?” Iris said.
“If… we’re already going to be breaking into the high-security wing anyway,” Sirius began slowly, and a dark shadow crept over his face. “Then I’d very much… like to have a word with my dearest cousin.”
His cousin… in Azkaban? Only one name came to mind there.
Bellatrix Lestrange.
The Dark Lord’s left hand, of sorts. The Rumors surrounding the woman were of a similar notoriety of that of the Watcher, except that people knew her actual name and identity, and that she was very firmly on the Dark Lord’s side all the way to having even been rumored to have been his lover.
Her first instinct was to shoot this down right from the start. On the one hand, there were already so many things that could go wrong with their plan, but on the other… If they were already going to be breaking into an inescapable prison, and go after the Watcher himself, then why not take out yet another major threat ahead of time while they were still harmless, before the Dark Lord could get any ideas. Because while Daphne herself might have been able to stay under the radar at one point once her own mission was concluded. Iris would not be afforded such luxury. And Harry even less so.
Merlin, this was still strange as hell. She knew those thoughts were not her own, she felt it all the way, and yet…
And yet somehow, it still sort of felt like it had been herself who had gone through all those things, like it had been herself that he had saved from Vernon’s wrath, that he had protected from Dudley’s gang, and that he had given his life for.
Mind Magic was both beautiful and terrifying like that. You could achieve the greatest of accomplishments that would never have been possible the regular way, and yet, it was also a very slippery slope to lose your grasp on reality, to find yourself within the mind of another and simply… decide to stay, out of false habit, out of imprinted attachment, or simply because you’ve forgotten who you were actually supposed to be.
But Daphne had never known who she was supposed to be in the first place. But what she had known were the people around her, and who they were supposed to be. And trying to preserve that had also taught her to preserve her own goals, her own path, even with all these conflicting desires. Because otherwise, she really wouldn’t be any better than Father.
Which was why, right now when she looked at Sirius, even with all the emotions and longing from Iris, and the cold despair tinged with hope leaking through from Black, and all the memories of both never having had any parental figure like him, and the shared desire with Harry when they had first received Sirius’ letter all swirling through her mind, it was her own mission, her own goal that allowed her to keep hold of her wand, to keep the pattern of the Obliviation Charm at the very front of her mind.
But now, she knew Harry as well, who he had been, who he was supposed to be. She still didn’t know what to make of that, where it would lead, or if she was making a massive mistake. But she also could no longer deny it.
Ria and Mum would always come first. But maybe, Harry could come second, too.
~V~
In the end, they hadn’t Obliviated him after all. After everything he had told them, after everything Iris had told him, Daphne at least trusted that he wouldn’t just run off with the knowledge, if nothing else. She had even managed to extract a promise while tacitly brushing his mind, not that it would be worth much if it was not made within his own mental space.
Iris had tried to check up on her friends, but both Longbottom and Tracey had been asleep, and the others had already apparently been released. So in the end. they’d left the hospital wing for their dorms again, this time without an Auror escort. The Ministry had managed to set up some rudimentary wards around the castle. They wouldn’t actually keep anyone unauthorized out, but they’d definitely prevent apparition, and that in combination with alerting charms, and Aurors patrolling the perimeter, plus Iris having checked the Map for any unknown names was good enough for now. That meant, now they had some time.
“So, if we’re really doing this…”
“We are,” Iris interjected.
“If… we are really doing this,” Daphne repeated, “then we need to talk about another issue.”
“Fine, what’s on your mind?”
Daphne reached out and dialed Iris’ number, and once the line clicked, sent a Projection over to her side in order to talk.
“This,” she said, gesturing to the abomination that Iris still called her Mindscape. “If we’re going to wait until Dumbledore wakes up, then now is as good a time as any for you to finally get a handle on your issues.”
Iris shot her a hesitant glance, but just one look at the chimera of a building behind her was enough to get the message across.
“Yeah, maybe,” Iris said. “But,” she added with a smirk, “I’m not the only one with some homework.”
Daphne raised an eyebrow at her. “Is that so?”
“Yup. But for that, we’ll need to find an empty classroom somewhere.”
“You do realize I handed your arse to you during all our last duels?”
“Heh… guess I am rubbing off on you,” Iris giggled at Daphne’s language. “And sure, you handed my arse to me, because you cheated your arse off!”
“I think that’s what they call being a sore loser,” Daphne said.
“You hand me some copies of those memories of spellcasting knowledge you keep gobbling up like a Niffler, and maybe we’ll see how it goes then,” Iris grumbled. “Besides, you know there’s more to it than that.”
Daphne just kept walking, but didn’t reply.
“Sure, you can get all the knowledge, skills and stolen experiences you want, but there’s still one thing you’re still missing out on.”
“Oh, and pray tell, what’s that?” Daphne said in a droll voice.
Iris just gave her a smug grin. “You also need to get good.”
Daphne rolled her eyes.
“I’m serious, though. If we’re going to do this, we can’t coast by on just instinct or knowledge. A good party combines their strengths, you know?”
“You really want me to kick your arse again, do you?”
“You’re welcome to try,” Lily said.
Daphne blinked, gathering her thoughts for a moment, but it was over before she even realized that she had stopped walking. Merlin, she would never get used to that. It was one thing to deal with her Polarized Magic, but now that she’d figured out how to use her Name… Daphne still remembered that moment out in the forest, just stuck, enthralled by her words alone, unable to do so much as lift her hand. A shiver ran down her spine, until she realized that Iris had kept walking down the stairs, and she quickened her pace to keep up. Yeah. It was one thing to know she would understand, but it was a whole other thing to trust unconditionally like with Ria. Especially when she was able to shift the scales between them to such a ridiculous degree.
But either way, one thing was clear. They really did need to find a room.
~V~
Daphne clicked the door shut after Iris stepped through, and turned to face her.
“This seems like it’ll work,” Iris said, glancing around as she made her way towards the center of the abandoned classroom, and sat down on the leg of a toppled desk.
The large room was littered with old classroom furniture; it had a blackboard that still contained what looked like a half-completed explanation of the Wizengamot body, and a row of tall windows illuminating the room in the faint, orange glow of the evening sun still peeking above the mountains.
“Before we start with… well, whatever this is, there’s one more thing we need to talk about,” Daphne said. “I didn’t want to sabotage our chances of getting Black to agree with this any more than necessary, but…”
“But?” Iris said and turned to look at Daphne.
“It won’t be quite as easy as you made it out to be,” Daphne said. “Admittedly, other than my guess of the possible identity of the Watcher, I don’t really have an idea on how to pull off the rest of the plan, and especially how to get what we need out of him.”
“What do you mean?” Iris said. “We can just use the Imperius. It’s absolute. There’s no resisting it, so if I—”
“No, we can’t,” Daphne said. “It gets more complicated when accomplished Occlumens are involved.”
Iris raised an eyebrow. “How so? There should be no way to defy it, it’s not that you’re forcing them to do something, but like… they simply want what you want, you know? Like… there’s no free will of their own.”
“Exactly. Its main strength is also the curse’s greatest weakness.”
Iris was about to argue, but she swallowed her words as her mind flashed back to that one second in the dilapidated shop at the back of Knockturn Alley. She’d just wanted him to forget, but he’d simply decided that the best way to do that was…
“Well, yeah… I mean it’s up to them to interpret how to achieve what you want, but still, if you just ask them questions, then—”
“The issue,” Daphne said, “is that there is a technique called Associative Poisoning.”
“Associative whatnow?”
Daphne sighed. “It’s a mental practice that requires a very accomplished Occlumens to pull off. I found a book on it in the Dark Lord’s mind.”
Iris’ eyes went wide. “In his… in that library, you mean?”
Daphne nodded. “It’s a mental technique to attempt to preempt any possible coercion that bypasses free will like the Imperius.”
Daphne began to walk up to the blackboard, and leaned against the teacher’s desk, crossed her legs, and met her eyes again. “It is aimed at the fact that the Imperius does exactly that; not make you do a certain thing, but instead want a certain thing. Those things are not the same.”
Iris gave a grim nod. Yeah. It was close enough for simple commands, but just one slip, one discrepancy in interpretation, and then a simple ‘forget everything that happened’ would turn into ‘better just kill myself to make sure’.
“So, if you can mold your own mind using Occlumency to a sufficient degree, if you can prepare your mind to truly believe that the best way to achieve a certain goal is to do a very specific action…”
Iris’ eyes went wide. “You mean… If you could program your mind to believe that the best way to reveal your secret identity is to, say… just cast the Killing Curse?”
“Exactly,” Daphne said. “Any goal, any action that they know they would never want to do, they can forcefully associate with a different most effective path of action. It has to be a very simple and precise association, otherwise you run the risk of tripping it yourself if you’re just trying to do something close enough to the conditions of your poisoned association, and then you’d just start cursing your allies, or whatever the embedded association dictates. In order to completely bypass a loss of free will like with the Imperius—where your mind would be actively working against you—it can only ever work if you bend your own mind to the point where even tripping it yourself would leave you with no recourse or even realization until you followed through on it, which makes this incredibly dangerous to use for anything that you’d ever want to do outside a possible Imperius scenario.”
“That sounds… messed up as hell. But I guess I can see it,” Iris said. “The Imperius removes any active resistance, but that doesn’t help if you’ve turned your mind into a minefield of dangerous associations beforehand. Even if they want to help you—to tell you all their secrets with all their heart—they could still trip one of those prepared associations in attempting to do so.”
“And hence, if you know you’re up against an accomplished Occlumens of the highest order, you never use an Imperius on them if they still have their wand or are able to attack you in any other way. And even then, their answers cannot be trusted. You can try to form the perfect desire, the perfect demand to get them to reveal all the hidden truths, but they had years to come up with a system to hide exactly that even from themselves, and while you very much can get the answers if you ask the right questions, the other issue is that while it is easy to come up with a carefully worded order to try and work around that, what is a lot harder is to control what you desire. Because the curse does not make them follow your orders, it just makes them share your desires. Obviously, if the caster desires to have something for himself, then the target would also desire for the caster to have it—instead of themselves—otherwise the curse would be pretty much impossible to use without the target immediately ending up in conflict with you. The desire does get mirrored, but it still only reflects your desire, not your precise commands. And trying to shape your own desire to avoid any of the possible associative traps that someone could have set inside their mind years in advance, that is a level of control I’m not sure even the Dark Lord could pull off.”
Iris took a moment to parse through all that. “So what you’re saying is… that even with the Imperius, they might still lie if they’ve managed to convince themselves it’s the best and most efficient course of action to tell me the truth?”
“In essence, yes,” Daphne said. “Short of non-annealed Veritaserum, I’m afraid you can only ever get so close to the truth.”
Iris pondered that for a moment. “What about a spell like Interdictio Mendacium?”
Daphne’s expression turned thoughtful. “I’ve only ever heard about that in Lockhart’s class, how exactly does it work?”
Iris frowned. “Well, it’s Polarized Magic, so again—as with the Imperius—it cannot be defied or broken, but it can be tricked. Lockhart said that it would be impossible to outright lie, but if the target knows that the spell is active, they can try to deceive you with half-truths, talk around the issue, or use omission or other wordplay in order to conceal the truth.”
Daphne pondered for a moment. “Well, as you said, with someone like the Watcher, that would open a litany of ways he could—”
“Yeah, obviously. But what if you used the two spells in conjunction? You could force him to tell you his secrets using the Imperius, disarm him beforehand to avoid any possible landmine associations, and then…”
“…Bypass all the implanted forced lies by using Interdictio Mendacium,” Daphne concluded.
“And since the Imperius overrides his free will, he also won’t try to work around the restrictions of the truth-spell, which I assume does require an active effort as opposed to pre-implanted lies.”
Iris gave her an expectant look, and Daphne’s eyes darted back and forth for a moment, again and again, mulling over her words, before her mouth twisted into a shadow of a smirk. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but that might actually work…”
Iris returned a grin. “Guess Professor Vector was right.”
Magic did not deal in absolutes. There was always a chance, no matter how small, you just had to look hard enough to find it.
“Splendid, so… do you know how to cast that spell?”
“Uhm…” Iris said.
Never mind the spell; it would be a cold day in hell before she’d even manage to summon Light polarized magic in the first place nowadays.
“I think there might be just a slight issue with your plan,” Daphne said.
“Yeah. Thanks for reminding me,” Iris deadpanned.
Not that Daphne was any better. And even Sirius wouldn’t be summoning a Patronus any time soon, not after all that time spent in the dementors’ bloody care.
Daphne’s gaze dropped into her lap. “We really are quite the team.”
“Yeah,” Iris said. “And I guess trying to break into a high security prison really isn’t helping our case.”
The two of them just sat there and watched the outlines of owls fly in and out of the tower on the hill behind the slowly setting sun.
“But speaking of not having all the brooms in the closet, you’re right. I really gotta get onto fixing that,” Iris said. She sidled up next to Daphne and joined her in letting her gaze drift outside the window. “And maybe, you should too.”
Daphne barely raised an eyebrow. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Riiight,” Iris said. She settled down onto the desk next to Daphne, leaned over to the side and turned her head slightly to face her. “I’ll sort out my mind in time, but you—”
“Of course, because you’ve been doing such an admirable job so far,” Daphne cut in.
“Hey, I did what you asked, I just gotta figure out how to put it all together.”
“What you need is someone to talk things over, look through your issues, and most importantly, keep you from procrastinating on this.”
“And that someone is supposed to be you?” Iris sniped back.
“No,” Daphne said dryly, “you obviously have a whole army of mind-healers to fall back upon.”
“Shut up. I don’t need a— I mean… What exactly do mind-healers do anyway? Are they like… a magical version of a shrink?”
Daphne waved a hand. “More like a therapist and healer rolled into one.”
“So… exactly like a shrink?”
“Call it whatever you like,” Daphne said with a shrug. “You know you can’t keep putting this off. What do you think will happen if you let it fracture even further? Hell, you took Lily hostage! Just what did she ever do to you? Just because you own her Name, you now think that you own her too?”
Iris paled. “I… I didn’t— That’s not—”
“I don’t care what you actually did,” Daphne said. “We both know just the fact that you went this far means you at least considered it. Who’s next? Tracey?”
“So I guess you wouldn’t mind explaining what exactly you had planned when you tried to sacrifice Ron?” Iris countered, but she didn’t even wait for a reply. “I told you, I’ll handle it. I’ve got a plan, alright? Also, don’t think I didn’t notice you changing the subject.”
Daphne was having none of it. “You mean like you are doing now?”
“Ria?” Iris chirped. “Would you mind making my point for me?”
Daphne groaned and buried her head in her hands.
“Listen, I know what she means to you, believe me. But…” Iris trailed off, trying to find the words to make her understand.
“Let’s see… she has access to the phone network, she knows where to find your key, and is even able to violate the rules of your mindscape. Hell, she trapped us both in our minds for Merlin knows how long,” Iris said, and slowly reached out for Daphne’s hand, but the girl instantly snatched it back. “You can’t tell me that you’re still in control of the situation, when you’re obviously treating her as so much more than just the mere construct that she is. A construct you created yourself.”
“She’s not—” Daphne said, trailing off, then she sighed. “So what if she is? She’s still…”
Iris sighed and gave her a saddened look. “Believe me, I get it,” she said. “Most days, I still question if I remember what he looks like, how he talked like, if he really was as amazing as I remember him…”
Daphne didn’t reply at first, seemingly lost in her thoughts.
“But think about this,” Iris continued in a whisper. “Do you really think she’d want you to replace her like that?”
“If she thought it’d make me—”
“Yeah, bad example,” Iris frowned. “But if you did it once, what’s to stop you from just replacing all the people in your life with mental copies of your own creation?”
“…” Daphne’s gaze fell down into her lap. She opened her mouth a few times, but it seemed Ria voiced her objections before she could even get the words out.
“You’re not asking me to give up on Harry, to get rid of his room, or to change the way I think about him, and I won’t ask the same of you, either.”
Iris reached for her hand again, and this time, Daphne didn’t pull away immediately. She met her eyes and gave her a determined look. “But I will… ask you to practice what you preach.”
Iris picked up the phone and gave her an expectant look. “I want you to promise the same thing I promised you. That you’ll look at it, work through the entire situation, and honestly think about it. Because we both really, really need to figure some things out.”
The line clicked, and she met Daphne’s eyes, both sitting across from her, as well as standing next to the roadside telephone, which was now even closer to the city of mindlessly blended buildings, but the sky was a similar orange sunset now, even if the moon was still very visible. Iris shot her an expectant gaze, but Daphne didn’t seem inclined to respond.
“You can’t keep living a lie like this,” Iris said quietly.
Daphne held her gaze for a while, until she honestly said, “Why not?”
“Because it’s not real,” Iris said.
“So?” Daphne didn’t look away. “What does it matter?”
A strong gust of wind tore across the mountain road, causing the trees to groan, and blowing their hair across their face.
“But… she’s a construct! That’s like… making friends with a portrait you painted yourself!”
Daphne raised an eyebrow. “Says the one making friends with a book for most of her childhood.”
“Exactly! Remember what happened the last time I tried that?”
The phone rang once more, even while Iris held the receiver in her hands, and a second later another face joined the gathering. Shoulder-length messy black hair framed a familiar cute face that seemed both a bit older and more… tired… than she remembered.
Daphne sighed. “Ria,” she said. “We’re not talking about this.”
“That’s right,” Ria said. “Because you’ll agree. You know she’s got a point.”
“Like hell I will,” Daphne said in a low voice.
“I’m not asking you to actually get rid of her, you know? Just that you actually think it through,” Iris said carefully.
It wasn’t like she really had a good argument here, or even a good reason. She knew from a logical perspective that her point made sense, but from an emotional standpoint, well… she’d pretty much done the same with Sabrina, except without the Mind Magic. But still… this whole thing… just the fact she had a voice in her head that she had a questionable degree of control over… Of course she knew it wasn’t rational, but ever since she made the connection, every time she saw Daphne talking to her, just like… The picture of a face with black pigtails, round glasses, and a wide, cheeky grin flashed through her mind again.
“Maybe you could just try it for a little while? Just… put her on pause, or something? You know, just to see—”
“Maybe you… should keep your nose out of my business!”
“Guys?”
Iris sighed. “Listen, I know she means a lot to you, but—”
“Guys!” Ria clapped her hands, the sound somehow echoing a lot louder than it should have in the mental space, giving Iris a pulsing headache.
“See?” Iris exclaimed, gesturing towards the black-haired menace that shouldn’t even exist in the first place.
“How about,” Ria cut in, stepping right in between them and giving them an all-too-innocent grin, “we settle this by solving two issues at once?”
Daphne raised an eyebrow.
“I’m listening,” Iris said.
“Well, you did come here to practice dueling, right?” Ria said. “So how about we settle this with a duel? You both don’t want the other to meddle in your affairs, so prove it.” Ria twirled around and gestured around the room, arms wide, and quipped, “Winner get’s their way, Loser has to obey!”
“No, I don’t think that—”
“If Daphne wins, then you,” Ria said, pointing at Iris, “promise to let someone help go through your mind and sort this out. Aaand… if Iris wins, then you,” she continued, now pointing at Daphne, “gotta promise that you’ll figure out a solution for little old me.”
Ria shot Iris a look, and Iris returned a smirk. So… that’s what she was up to?
“Sure,” Daphne said flatly. “I wonder how that will go…”
“How about some ground rules, then,” Iris proposed. “No using either Names, Polarized Magic, or Legilimency on each other. Sound fair?”
Daphne frowned, but then hesitated.
“How about it? Just knowledge vs skill; raw aspects vs white magic,” Iris continued, before shooting her a smirk. “Didn’t you say you’d hand my arse to me? Or was that all talk?”
Iris met Daphne’s eyes and held her gaze. The silence kept stretching, both of them locked in an invisible standoff.
“You want me to stay out of your affairs? Then prove it.”
“You’ll come to regret those words,” Daphne said.
Iris returned a smile. “We’ll see.”
Alright. So it looked like they were actually doing this thing. Slowly, her smile widened into a grin. That… was just fine with her.
Chapter 42: Showdown
Chapter Text
Iris could barely contain her excitement. All this time, with everything she’d learned, with how far she’d come, nothing had ever gotten close to this. She’d either been completely overwhelmed from all sides—hopelessly outmatched and just barely surviving by the skin of her teeth, or she’d been the one who was overwhelming her targets, whether through force, Name, or both. As a consequence, even with all the Death-Eater encounters over the past year, the only time she’d been able to truly cut loose, use all of her skill and training to its fullest, had been that last duel against Daphne in Lockhart’s class. Even in Hogsmeade, she’d either been stuck in Lily’s body—and consequently, with her magic—or she’d been in a standoff decided only by words, Names, Legilimency, some quick stunning spells, and sheer, dumb fucking luck. And practice with Susan or Tracey could only take her so far. But this…
Iris could almost feel the wand hum underneath her fingers, an electric shiver slowly making its way up her arm and down her spine. She stared down the abandoned classroom and found Daphne looming at the opposite end, breathing just as heavily. Desks and chairs had been moved to the side, stacked against the walls, and she’d even spelled the windows unbreakable, even though they usually were anyway, hoping that some additional protection using pure aspects might do them at least some good in avoiding Snape’s ire. Not that it had been any help in reducing the damage whatsoever.
Piertotum Locomotor.
Whatever chairs and desks that hadn’t been completely dismembered yet came alive under the guidance of her wand, raised themselves to their feet, like a small, wooden army under her command. Iris grinned and flicked her wand, setting the tops on fire as well for good measure. As one, the army of furniture rushed towards Daphne. The angry horde poured in from all sides, gained speed, and was about to crush her underneath the mass of burning debris, but just one second before they could, Daphne snapped up her wand to the ceiling. It pulsed in a bright white, raw, aspect-less magic bursting from the top, and she began to shape it into a dome. It reminded her somewhat of a Protego, except the way the magic was woven was very different, almost more like… Transfiguration?
The faint white bubble enclosed her entirely at about a distance of a meter, and the wooden army began to pile in. Any part of the furniture, whether wooden or brass, set on fire or not, turned to sand as soon as they crossed the threshold. Even her follow-up overcharged Depulso was easily deflected by yet another reflective shield.
Iris frowned, but her eyes went wide as Daphne brought her wand down, and the sand started to reshape mid-air, first into smaller blocks, then bricks, until they slowly combined together into something… larger.
It hovered in the air right above Daphne, and whatever it was, it grew with every piece. First as big as a couch, then bigger. A faint glow of Blue gathered behind it, growing brighter as she kept charging the spell. Iris decided she had to stop this somehow. But it was of no use. She went through her standard repertoire, Depulso, Stupefy, Flippendo, Reducto, Incendio, anything she could think of that wouldn’t be outright lethal even despite her Name shifting the odds. But no matter what she tried, Daphne blocked, shielded or countered it all the same, before returning to building up this… whatever the hell it was. Now the thing was even wider than she was tall, shaped into a long, cylindrical shape of nothing but dark gray bricks until suddenly, it wasn’t.
Daphne’s wand lit up, and the entire creation seemed to blur under the faint Violet of the Illusion aspect. The shape gained detail, edges growing smoother, from a rough approximation into a perfectly rounded gray cylinder. The gathered humming blue behind it flared, and it started to move, rapidly.
The massive block was gaining an insane amount of speed as it began to move across the classroom. And it was coming right at her.
“Depulso!” only did so much good, as it broke a large chunk off the front, but the entire rest of it just kept going, and now she was out of time.
The illusion resolved into its final shape, over half-way across the distance towards her, into something cylindrical, metallic, painted both black and red. Daphne added a Ventriloquism Charm for good measure. And of course, she set the bloody chimney on fire.
CHOO CHOO!
Fuck.
Iris goggled as the bloody Hogwarts Express came barreling at her with the speed of a Bludger. Offensive spells wouldn’t help here, even a Protego would probably be pointless—not that she could cast that anyway—and it was too late to try dodging now. She still hadn’t figured out a solution to her vulnerability to bloody bullets, and this was essentially the same thing, except a lot slower, and a lot bigger. But that would mean, she still had time to do one last thing.
Dropping everything—including her wand—Iris drew up all the Blue light she could muster. The strain was intense, a headache starting to form just like with the Cerberus, but she produced as much as she was able. She couldn’t just borrow raw force, if it wouldn’t obey her properly. It was all or nothing.
She spread out the blue glow, from her hands, to her chest, up her spine and down her legs. Her entire body now aglow in a bright Blue, she gave it one single, absolute directive, one demand, one thing she needed above all else right now.
Inertia.
Iris bent her legs, balled her fist, and braced for impact. At the last second, she struck. As fast as she could muster, she brought her fist forward, the Force multiplied to a magnitude of what her dainty limbs would suggest. She guided it towards the center of the burning tank engine, and delivered a single, impossibly heavy punch.
Bricks groaned and cracked, and an explosion of dust and debris shattered the illusion, and sent all the pieces flying across the room, demolishing whatever furniture was left standing past repair and then some. Iris ignored the pounding pain in her fist as she shook it, opening and closing her fingers gently, then raised it up to her face to blow some dust off her hand, before giving Daphne a cheeky grin.
“My turn.”
Iris raised up her left hand, reaching up towards the window. The dust slowly parted, opening the way for light to pour through, and she reached out for the sun.
She latched on, and peeled the colors apart. Sunlight trickled in, refracted in her hand, and she pulled out the very faintest, but also strongest one of all of them, at least in terms of frequency, even more powerful than the Mind aspect. She had no idea if or how that would translate to magical power, but she guessed it was probably incredibly dependent on the specific circumstances, as with most of everything revolving around aspect-based magic. Iris brought her hands together around the gathered ball of Illusion aspect, forcing it tighter, bending it and imprinting the most basic of commands as she gave it purpose. She clapped her hands together and the ball detonated, and a billowing wave of Violet spread across the room.
Reality shifted, distance, size and shape lost its meaning as everything was twisted by a raw tidal wave of Illusion. Walls, doors, windows, furniture, all of it began shifting and moving, rotating and folding, dancing in a mad symphony of shattered reality, which rapidly closed in on Daphne. Her eyes lit up in a deep Indigo, and the wave of chaos shuddered to a halt. In the next second, everything shifted again, except this time away from her, chaos turning into order, erratic shapes into perfect symmetry, and slowly combining in a landscape of not only immaculate design, but it even started to resemble a field of flowers, except it was made entirely from furniture.
“Didn’t we agree you wouldn’t use Legilimency?” Iris said, breathing deeply.
“Not on you,” Daphne replied, a small smirk now on her face.
“Cheeky bitch,” Iris grumbled, but returned a smile of her own.
“Are you forfeiting the match, Potter?” Daphne said, twirling her wand. “If you ask nicely, I might even accept…”
This was how this fight had been going for the most part of the last fifteen or so minutes. Iris wasn’t quite sure, she had kind of lost track of time, since the old classroom clock had been one of the first things to go.
Iris would think of some new way to overpower a spell, or just the aspects directly, trying to somehow overwhelm her, but Daphne would either have the perfect counterspell, or just figure a way around it with her vast collection of charms and transfiguration. Or apparently, she’d just use Legilimency to twist Iris’ own spells around on her, the bloody cheater. And of course, then she’d return the favor in kind, forcing Iris to pull one ridiculous death-defying stunt or another to avoid getting obliterated in various increasingly creative ways. She was pretty sure that without her Name’s influence, one of them—most likely Iris—would have already landed in the hospital wing a long time ago.
Daphne had her outmatched in terms of knowledge. She’d had her almost matched in terms of skills and speed—if her claim that she wasn’t just reading her mind was to be believed. And on top of that, she could use White magic and Legilimency. Yeah. All those things combined consistently gave Daphne the edge in this intricate dance of finding new ways of breaking magic in half. But there was one thing that Iris still definitely had the upper hand on, even without any Polarized Magic or direct invocation of the Name involved. Just like Daphne was still using Legilimency, Iris was still using the Name. It was part of her—though even she didn’t know to which extent. She wouldn’t humble herself anymore by thinking she either just was that smart, or somehow born superior to everyone else. No, it was her Name that gave her a very tangible edge in terms of raw power. And while Daphne certainly was no slouch either, there was still a world of difference between what regular humans could accomplish, and what was possible if you were part Magic yourself.
If she was going to beat Daphne, then it wouldn’t be through knowledge, skill or deceit. It would have to be through sheer force. But how? Whatever she tried, most spells she just figured out some way around them or to negate them. Her only solace was the fact that apparently some of her more powerful aspect-based spells that were condensed into a single beam were apparently worrying enough that she consistently had to resort to using either Protego, or the Reflective Shield in case of her Depulso.
Iris ground her teeth, flicked her hand, and summoned her wand from the floor. Daphne shot her a smile, swiped her wand over her head, and promptly vanished into thin air.
“Oh, come on!”
Right. The main problem weren’t her spells, but the fact she had to spend time drawing the corresponding aspects before each spell, giving Daphne ample time to prepare a fitting shield every single time, resulting in not only her own spell being blocked, but also often enough a prepared counterattack from Daphne that she now had to deal with.
Iris tried her best to remain calm and not let any change in expression cross her face, while she followed the outline of pretty shimmering air making its way across the room. Yeah. Maybe, she was a bit of a cheater herself, too.
Whatever Daphne would try, she would be ready, but until then, she had to figure this out. She couldn’t keep going like this. There was no time to charge up a massive spell like Tempest, and Polarized Magic was banned as well, so she’d have to overwhelm her using her strongest point-cast spells somehow. She could just draw a massive amount of Force and keep casting Depulso over and over without a break, since the aspect was already there, but the problem here was that she could just put up a reflective shield and negate her whole barrage entirely. If she tried the same with Stupefy, she could just use Protego, and while that shield would fail after some time, it still gave her way too much time not having to think about Iris’ attacks where she could prepare something of her own. What to do, what to…
Right, but would she have to? Daphne didn’t draw the aspects, neither did anyone else. Everyone just used all of them at once, and the wand would just take the aspects that the spell needed, right? So theoretically, drawing additional aspects that the spell didn’t need shouldn’t be a problem either.
Slowly, a grin made its way across Iris’ face. She guessed all her work over the summer might be good for something after all. Still pointing her wand in a different direction, while keeping Daphne’s outline very much within her sight, she began to draw a combination of the three aspects that would allow her the most versatility in her choice of spells. Destruction, Force, and Control.
Once the tip of her wand had reached the point where the purple light was almost blinding, she snapped her wand around, pointed it straight at Daphne’s invisible form, and a grin began to spread across her face as she started to cast.
~V~
Ouch, almost had you that time.
Daphne hissed, flicked her wand and sent up another reflective shield just in time.
Look out— Oh, whoops, that’s gotta hurt.
Just whose side was Ria on anyway?
Another barrage of spells came her way without so much as a wand motion, never mind an incantation. Daphne sent her transfigured crows to intercept, but realized that it would not be enough and brought up yet another reflective Force shield. At least Iris was still somewhat predictable when it came to her more powerful spells. But then again, even though Daphne had—much to her internal chagrin—already long since resorted to supplementing her guesswork with some actual surface-level glances, that hadn’t helped her situation much. Apparently, Iris had figured out a way to avoid having to draw the aspects every time before casting her spells. It did seem to limit her to just a narrow range of attack-based spells, but Daphne had quickly realized that didn’t make much of a difference. Even reading all of her next moves wasn’t doing her much good anymore if the plan was to just overwhelm her through the sheer number of attacks—while apparently giggling like a maniac, with each spell being in a league of it’s own in terms of power of course—because why the fuck not?
Language, Daph!
She groaned and tried to drown out the giggles at the back of her mind. Ria seemed to be having way too much fun over this. If she didn’t think of something soon, this fight would reach its inevitable conclusion without her getting a say.
You sound like you’re giving up, Daph! I thought you cared about me!
Well if Ria was going to be a brat about it, did she at least have an idea how to get them out of this mess? No? Of course not. Daphne hadn’t thought so. So if she’d just shut up while—
I’ve got some ideas, actually…
Daphne sighed. Sure. Unless Iris had developed a sudden weakness for pillows and cakes, she wouldn’t—
Listen. I’ll distract her over the phone, you keep up the pressure. I’ll tell you when I’m ready, and if I manage to knock her off balance, then you toss in the final strike.
Sure, because… well… actually, that… didn’t even sound like that bad of a plan.
Of course, it’s your own plan after all.
Daphne groaned.
~V~
Depulso. Reducto. Flippendo. Expelliarmus. Descendo. Depulso. Expelliarmus.
Iris was jolted out of the flow by a sudden ringing noise, and her vision shifted slightly out of the red again. She just about managed to keep her pattern going, and not about to be tricked this easily, she kept up the pressure on Daphne and carefully reached for the phone.
“So, you calling to surrender?” Iris told Daphne over the receiver.
The voice that replied, however, wasn’t Daphne’s. “That’s right! I’m here to request asylum!”
“Ria? What—” Iris almost broke her spellchain yet again at the unexpected reply, but she quickly recognized Ria’s voice. Apparently, she’d resorted to trying to distract her by any means, then. Daphne really must be getting desperate.
“Kind of busy here!” Iris said and swiped her hand, bending the light around her fingers, knocking two incoming stray curses aside while she kept her barrage going.
“Listen, I’ve got a deal for you. We both know Daphne needs help, right?”
“Hang on,” Iris said, eyebrows sky high. “You’re saying you wanna… betray her?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Ria said, “but maybe just a little.”
Iris gave Daphne an incredulous look.
“And here she keeps convincing me she has things under control…” Iris said, grinning. “Alright, so… what’s your plan?”
“I’ve told her that I’m going to distract you and give her a window to try and cast something more powerful that might get through. All you gotta do is drop everything and throw something quick and strong dead center as soon as I tell you.”
“And you think that’s going to work?” Iris said incredulously. “I’ll need a bit more power to get through anything she can whip up in a second, so if she isn’t occupied with her spell, I’ll be left open to smaller attacks.”
“Oh, it’ll work,” Ria said giddily. “She’s getting desperate. Daph doesn’t really have any options left.”
Iris frowned, thinking it over for a moment, before she shrugged. If all else failed, she’d have to go with her one-trick spell. Even if Daphne managed a shield, it’d go right through. And if she’d managed a reflective shield, she’d just follow it with her own reflective shield just to be sure.
~V~
Alright, here’s the plan, listen up. She thinks you’ll be occupied with casting something major, so she’ll try hit you with something quick and hard, most likely her signature spell. That’ll give you an opening to try that injection thing you’ve been working on.
Daphne dodged another two spells, shielded a third, and desperately tossed a few stunners and blasting hexes in return. At this rate, she wasn’t even going to manage any minor transfigurations as long as Iris didn’t let up. Alright, yeah. If Ria was right, if she’d try this, she’d at least get a little bit of breathing room to cast one spell. It wouldn’t be anything that Iris wouldn’t be able to block, shield, or dodge, but maybe, she could figure out something else. There was one trick she’d been working on; something based on her Mind Magic. If she could infuse a spell with Mind Magic, if she could give it not just purpose, but also direction, agency… Maybe, she could turn Iris’ own spell around on her. She had already used Legilimency to great effect to twist the purpose of spells that were already cast onto objects, people and such, but if she could use it to try and twist a spell while it was still mid-air…
There was no way it would work using just her eyes. She’d need time, eye contact, and a lot of back and forth, but spells traveling in the air were simply too fast to keep track of like that. But if she could prepare the attack beforehand, knowing exactly which spell was about to come, and weave it into her reflective shield…
Iris would probably cast her spell and immediately put up Reiecto… But her own spell would infuse the attack with an additional aspect, every time it went back and forth, until at some point…
~V~
“Alright, it’s now or never. Ready? On my mark,” Ria said, causing Iris to grin. This might be another trap, or just a way to cut this short, but either way, she was ready.
“Oh, and Iris?” Ria chirped. “Just in case, you should know Daphne might have a trick up her sleeve when it comes to the reflective shield.”
“…What?”
“Yeah, if the spell comes back, there might be some Mind aspect mixed in, so make sure your shield holds up to that.”
“You’re telling me this now?” Iris said incredulously.
“Three, two, one—”
“Hang on!”
“Go!” Ria chirped, and clapped her hands.
Iris snarled, but pretended to stumble. Alright, screw it. Better safe than sorry. Shielding additional aspects had never been a bad idea anyway.
Iris dropped her barrage and drew up Blue light, but with a little Indigo mixed in. Time seemed to slow down as it grew brighter and brighter, and she noticed Daphne furiously working her way through a spell that looked a lot like the reflective shield, except somehow, slightly different. This was a trap, wasn’t it?
“Depulso!”
A bright blue bolt left her wand and raced towards Daphne, clashed with the deep blue shield and was reflected in a shower of sparks, causing the shield to pulse. Iris drew the remaining aspects together and answered with her own “Reiecto!”
The spell came closer and closer, and something was off. It was still definitely her Depulso, but also, there was something deeper, some faint tinge of Indigo mixed in. Just what would that…
The spell impacted her own shield and bounced back without so much as a single spark, entirely reflected by her combination of Force and Mind. Daphne narrowed her eyes, her shield flared brighter, and the spell bounced yet again. Back and forth it went, several times within a single second, the color growing deeper every time, more and more Mind aspect mingling with the original spell. The spell fractured, and rapidly split several times more. The individual fragments bounced off both shields, as well as each other, again and again. The cascade was so bright it was blinding. With every second it grew, and grew, gaining power, and the air started to shiver and sizzle around the pillar of light. Iris growled and forced more power into her shield. Brighter and brighter, the strain growing by the second, rapidly reaching levels that became impossible to control. But somehow, Daphne’s shield struggled less and less by the second. The spell seemed almost eager to turn around upon contact with her shield, while it battered Iris with the force of a thousand suns.
She had no idea why this was happening, but she still held on. The reflective shield shouldn’t be affected by any difference in power, no matter how large. It was supposed to simply reflect the light entirely, as long as you matched the aspects and no Polarized Magic was involved. But right now, even this rule didn’t seem all that absolute anymore.
~V~
A drop of sweat trailed down Daphne’s chin. How was Iris’ shield still holding? It should have picked up enough Mind aspect by now that even that alone would be able to carry the spells intent and pass right through. Unless… unless she’d somehow managed to predict her move, and had cast a dual reflective shield?
Merlin, damn it, how had she not—
A giggle from Ria caused Daphne to snarl. Of course. That had been her plan all along, hadn’t it?
The blue pillar now glowed so brightly it hurt to look at. It was almost under her total control, eager to destroy her target and spare Daphne, but it was also still very much a spell of raw force, and said force had grown completely out of control, unable to meet its target. Daphne’s wand was vibrating in her hand, the warmth almost burning her fingers, but she persevered and pushed, just a little more, just another—
Ria’s giggles broke into laughter, and the spell flickered and finally came apart.
~V~
A dull headache pounded through Iris’ skull. She’d really gone and done it now, hadn’t she? Damn.
She guessed so much for actually getting the upper hand on her for once. She’d grown overconfident, again, and it had cost her her best chance at finally beating Daphne in a fair duel for once.
Iris cracked an eye, the effort for that alone causing her to groan. Of course the windows hadn’t held up. Well, maybe they had, she wouldn’t know. Except that it wouldn’t change a thing, since the entire bloody wall was gone. She glanced around, looking for the no-doubt satisfied smirk she’d worn every time that she’d beaten her in a duel, but was caught short.
Where was Daphne?
Groaning, she heaved herself to her feet, and started to look around. She’d lost her wand, somewhere in the mess apparently. But what had happened to… oh.
Step by step she approached, as Daphne gave a groan, rolling to her side and pushing some of the rubble off of her body. She looked about as battered as Iris felt, and her own wand wasn’t anywhere to be seen either.
“Oh boy, it’s a draw!” Ria chirped. The black-haired construct of a girl sat on top of the telephone box inside her mental space and was excitedly kicking her legs. “Who could have seen this coming? What a conundrum, hehe…”
Both Daphne and Iris turned to glare at Ria.
“Whatever is supposed to happen now? Do you both win or do you both lose?” Ria said, sounding way too enthusiastic.
Daphne groaned, and buried her hands in her head. Iris very much felt the same.
“Although, I guess the terms set out pretty much the same thing for the winner or the loser, so it really doesn’t make a difference,” Ria said with a shrug.
“What in the world are you doing, Ria?” hissed Daphne. “You know I won’t just—”
“Yes, yes, I know. That’s why I’m here after all,” she said smugly.
“Why are you here, really?” Iris repeated. “Without the bullshit, please.”
Ria waved a hand. “I told you before already.”
A pair of blank stares met that statement. The girl just grinned back cheekily, swinging her legs idly, until she sighed and hopped off the orange telephone box.
“It’s like this. You,” Ria said, pointing a finger at Iris once more, “really need someone to guide—and more importantly nag—you into finally fixing your mind. Except, of course, you’re still wary of just giving Daph blanket permission like that. Which, I suppose, is a fair assessment. She is my loyal minion, after all.”
Iris groaned.
“And you, dearest sister,” Ria said, turning around on Daphne, “really need to figure out what you’re going to do with me. Or rather… without me. And I know that—despite your best judgement—you aren’t just going to erase me.”
She turned back around, flicked her hair back and spread her arms. “Therefore, the benevolent Lady Ria has come up with an ingenious master plan to conquer two castles in one single strike.”
Iris glanced around the twisted and mindless mix of buildings that made up her so-called mindscape, until it finally clicked. “You’re here to request asylum.”
Ria’s grin widened, and she clicked her fingers. “That’s right! Better clean up your mess in here, because you’ve got a new roommate.”
Chapter 43: One does not simply
Chapter Text
Good morning, sleepyhead!
Ugh… W-wha-
Hey. Get up! Enough lazing about. Do you even know what time it is?
Iris groaned, cracked her eyes open, and wrenched them right back shut. What time was it anyway?
It’s time to take over the world!
Of course it was.
Also, it’s time you stopped lazing about and got started on fixing your mind.
“I’m not lazing about,” Iris grumbled.
“What’s that?” Tracey said from the bed next to her.
“Uh… nothing?” Iris said unconvincingly.
She blinked her eyes again, trying to clear the lingering haze out of her mind. How the hell could something be part of her mind, and still decide to wake her up?
Tracey shot her a concerned look. “You sure? Because last time I saw you talking to yourself you—”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Iris said and gave her a smile. “How are you doing? Madam Pomfrey let you go while I was asleep?”
“Yeah… she actually fixed me up yesterday already, but you know Pomfrey…”
Merlin, did she ever.
“You know what happened with Neville? I only saw him in the bed yesterday, but Pomfrey wasn’t there, so…”
Tracey’s expression fell. “It’s… well, they don’t know. Apparently, the Weasley twins have stayed with him to try and help Pomfrey figure this out. Something must have gone out of control with those mechanical monkeys, is my guess.”
Crap. This was bad. She’d really wanted to ask him about who he had talked to before he…
That’s what you’re worried about? He’s unconscious in the hospital wing, after having been possessed!
Iris groaned again. She really better get started working on this if she wanted to be rid of the menace any time soon. Of course, the only way Daphne had finally agreed to go along with this was after having extracted a Promise that Iris would return her after their work here was done. She guessed Ria thought it would give Daphne some time to get used to the idea of her not being around or something.
That’s right. So if you wanna get rid of me, you better stop lazing about and get to fixing this mess.
Shut up. Iris wasn’t lazing about. She’d actually been working on setting something up over the last weeks.
Sure you have.
Yes she had. It just wasn’t ready yet.
Well, it’s never gonna be ready, unless you get your butt in gear and actually fix up your mind.
And it might go faster, if someone didn’t keep annoying her non-stop. Also, if the goal enforced by her Promise weren’t something as arbitrarily vague like whatever Ria would consider as Iris successfully having ‘fixed her mind’, she might feel a bit more confident that there was actually something productive being done here, as opposed to Ria just hijacking a ride for her own amusement.
Fine. So how about this? I’ll stick around and keep bugging you, until the very moment you can honestly tell me you fixed it all up, and you’re happy with it, and then I’m gone. Sound good?
Iris gave an internal groan. Whatever. She guessed she could work with that.
You promise?
Fine.
“Iris?”
“Huh?” she snapped out of her thoughts, turning to look up at Tracey again.
“Are you… doing alright?” Tracey said quietly.
Yeah… what the hell was she supposed to answer to that?
How about the truth?
Shut up.
“It’s just… with everything that’s happened… we haven’t had any chance to talk or… I just mean… I haven’t seen you much lately. You’ve been out and about, running around with Daphne and…”
Tracey trailed off and her eyes dropped down onto her bed.
“I’m just worried since… you know, the last time you were talking to yourself…”
Great. As if her own irrational association hadn’t been enough.
“It’s nothing like that. I’m just talking with Daphne.”
Tracey’s expression turned from worried into something more…
“Sorry,” Iris added. “It’s… she’s got a lot of issues. A lot to work through, and it’s…” she swallowed, trying to fight off the oncoming oppressive echo of her Promise, “really not my place to tell.”
Tracey’s expression just fell further.
“I’m sure she wants to talk to you too,” Iris said quietly.
Tracey didn’t look up. “Then why is she talking with you?”
Tracey had never been one for jealousy. But right now, Iris really couldn’t blame her. Not when all those memories from another childhood she’d never had were still firmly etched into her own mind.
“Sorry. I really wish I could tell you more, but…” Iris trailed off.
“I get it.”
She didn’t.
~V~
Iris let out a deep sigh and collapsed in the corner of the tall stone room at the end of the old detention corridor. She was well and thoroughly drained. She’d gone through a whole day of classes, trying to catch up with everyone except Neville, then being awkwardly questioned on what had happened in Hogsmeade and why she had even been there by McGonagall, followed by four more hours of actual detention with her from being so reckless with their potions homework that they had blown up that entire classroom yesterday, until she’d finally been let go and she’d decided to try and get a little more practice in. At least, that had been the plan.
Your plans suck. Why are you holing yourself up in the basement when you could be out there trying to take over the world?
Iris groaned.
Or, even better, in here, trying to fix up this mess?
Iris brought up some Indigo, spread it through her mind, and one second later, she stepped right before the energetic black haired girl, currently lounging on top of a tall building that seemed to be made entirely out of colorful glass, except it was shaped like a large, hexagonal tent of sorts.
“I told you, I’m working on it,” Iris said.
“Oh, is that what working on it looks like?” Ria replied with a mockingly curious look. “I thought you said you’ve gotten started, at least.”
“It’s not ready yet,” she said, crossing her arms.
“Suuuree,” Ria said. “Luckily, I’m such a gullible person, otherwise I’d have thought you haven’t even gotten started yet…”
Iris let out an exasperated sigh. “You know what, fine. You can have a look.”
Ria blinked. “You… what?”
“I told you, it’s not ready yet. It’s also not here.”
“Wait, you weren’t making it up after all?”
Iris closed her eyes and took a breath. Whatever. She reached out, grabbed Ria’s wrist, and began to drag the girl with her. Down the street, and across the road, down the valley and over the mountain. The road seemed both endless, and somehow they also crossed it in barely a few seconds.
“Whoa…” Ria gasped, her eyes darting around, trying to take in the new scenery.
Smooth, rounded green hills unfurled beneath a soft blue sky. The air smelled of wildflowers, harvest, and earth. A gentle breeze blew through the lush, green trees, and the singing of birds overlayed the quiet hustle and bustle of both a forest and a small village thriving with life. Soft plumes of smoke billowed from the chimneys, and the smell of warm, freshly baked bread drifted across the valley.
Below the chimneys there were round, wooden doors, embedded directly into the green grass of the hills.
Yeah. It was the only thing she’d been able to come up with. Not that she was all that much of a fan of the books in the first place, but that wasn’t the point. While it wouldn’t mean all that much to her, it would definitely be a place that Harry could call his home. Or at least, The Shire would. She probably could have stopped at that, but, well…
“Which one of them is mine?” Ria asked excitedly.
“Oh no, you’re not. I’ve got a different place in mind for your so-called… lair.”
~V~
“Oooh… I like it! What’s it called?”
“Of course you would,” Iris said, and glanced awkwardly up at the tall, imposing tower piercing the clouds in the center of a large, circular garden. “Just do me a favor and don’t try to establish contact with any Dark Lord’s while you’re here, okay?”
“Huh? Why would I—”
“Nevermind.”
For a while, the two girls just stood at the edge of the garden and took in the immaculately carved walls of the central tower of Isengard. It wasn’t quite as monolithic as the thing Daphne had built, but…
“At least the landscape here is nice,” Ria said.
“I know it doesn’t look all… evil-lair-like yet, but believe me, if you read the books, then—”
“No, it’s fine. In fact, I kinda prefer this over the gloomy nonsense that is Daphne’s mindscape.”
Iris turned from the tower to look at Ria. “You know she built it like that for your sake, right?”
Ria’s gaze fell. “Well, yeah. But still…”
“There’s a living space on the upper floors. Wanna go see it?”
“Hell yeah!” Ria perked back up. “Lead the way!”
~V~
They stepped up to the balcony, and below them the lush green landscape stretched out. It definitely wasn’t quite to scale—Iris had never been as deep into the lore as Harry had, and the movies only showed the map for like a second, so of course some things would have to be made up along the way. The entire valley was covered in trees, with the circular gardens stretching around the walls of Isengard, but on the horizon, behind the hills, she could both make out the beginnings of The Shire to one side, as well as the large mountain ridge of Mordor on the other. Yet another, even taller and darker tower stood at its center, except instead of an all-seeing angry orange eye, the top was alight in a familiar bright green. And even though it was supposed to be a moon, Iris couldn’t help the feeling that it was somehow watching her—which was somehow both disconcerting and comforting at the same time.
“So… why this? Why’d you build your mindscape like…”
Iris sighed. “It’s not like I’m a particular fan of Lord of the Rings. That was Harry’s thing, really.”
“Oh,” Ria said. “So you did the same thing Daphne did?”
“I guess,” Iris said awkwardly. “It’s just…”
How on earth was she supposed to explain that? And to a virtual stranger living in her head of all things? Even if she somehow felt like she’d known Ria her entire life?
“Let’s get this out of the way first,” Ria said, turning to her, and adopting a serious expression. “I Promise to keep anything you tell me in here between the two of us, no matter what. I’m here to help you work through your stuff, and I can only do that if you talk to me. So there. Tell me whatever you like, my lips shall be sealed forevermore. Even to Daph, if necessary.”
The walls gave a slight groan as Ria’s promise began to settle in. It wasn’t a promise made inside her own mind, sure. But did Ria even have a mind of her own? Also, a promise inside any mental realm at all would be the next best thing, especially if you were currently trapped within said space.
Iris sighed, but finally relented.
“I… I did what Daphne wanted, you know? I went through it all, and tried to figure out what I… what I wanted, who I was, all that stuff, but…” she swallowed, trailing off.
Ria stepped up to her and leaned against the balcony railing next to her.
“But you don’t know who you are supposed to be, still.”
“Well, I…” Iris said, then looked down, eyes trailing over the mountaintops in the distance, then trapped on that large green moon—which was definitely not an eye. “I guess. It’s just…”
Ria turned and looked up to meet her eyes.
“The only thing I kept coming back to was Harry. I… I know there’s other things here, other things I really don’t want to give up, too. But… In the end, the question I asked myself was what kind of place I want my mind to be, and… well, the answer was…”
She raised a hand and gestured down at the image of a fantasy that was not her own.
“…You’d make it a place that Harry would feel at home?” Ria said.
Iris nodded. “He’d never felt at home at the Dursleys. And with everything that had happened at Hogwarts, everything I had done, and what happened to him… I wasn’t sure about using that, either. So this is what I came back to.”
Ria’s gaze wandered a bit, until she spotted a loose piece of parchment on a small desk next to the rows of bookshelves behind them, and picked it up.
“It has all the different places. To the west, The Shire. A home for Harry, my friends, and everything that it’s supposed to be, that he wanted it to be…”
Ria began folding the parchment in half, then again, and again.
“Then there’s Isengard,” Iris said, turning around to gesture towards the rows of books, magical contraptions, drawings and other things that lined the walls. “A place of learning, knowledge, pursuit of power, impossible goals, and isolation.”
“You sure that it’s not you that should be living here instead of me?” Ria quipped, but Iris just shot her a blank look.
“And of course…” Iris continued, turning out onto the balcony, over to the east. “There’s Mordor.”
The part she never wanted to ever venture towards. But also, the part that might be necessary to achieve her goals. And also, the part she never wanted Harry to ever see with his own eyes. Not if she could help it.
“It’s not just my Name over there,” she said, as Ria stepped up next to her, both their gazes trapped by the distant bright green glow. Right behind it stood a volcano, dwarfing it in size. And as they looked on, the top erupted in an angry, Red fire. “It’s his Name, too.”
That, and everything else a thirteen-year-old had no business knowing. Everything else she’d keep locked in there, unless it became necessary.
Ria raised her hand, and sent the parchment-crayon she’d made soaring. It came alive, flapped its tiny wings and gave a series of excited chirps as it soared around her head for a moment, before taking off towards the sunset currently sitting right above the green hills of The Shire.
“So…” Ria said slowly. “It looks like you actually built a bunch of stuff already, and figured out the layout, the categories, so… which part exactly isn’t ready yet?”
“Uh…”
“Let me guess. You still haven’t moved anything from the old room?”
Iris said nothing.
“Have you at least decided where your new room is going to be?”
“Yeah. That’s kind of the issue,” she admitted, causing Ria to raise an eyebrow. “Because between The Shire, and well… this place… I’m kind of not sure exactly where to put my stuff.”
“You know you should be trying to sort this mess out, not find new ways of making it even worse?”
“It’s just…” Iris said, trying to figure out how to explain. “Daphne was right. You both were. I don’t think I can keep going like this. I do need to figure out where I stand with myself. But… well, with all of these things, between Harry, my friends, doing what I need, and maybe what I want… I don’t know how to fit each of these without giving up on the other.”
Ria sidled up next to her, both of them watching the crayon join a flock of birds heading off towards the green hills to the west. “Well, have you considered that maybe you shouldn’t choose?”
“Wasn’t that exactly what I’m supposed to do here?” Iris replied with a raised eyebrow.
“You’re supposed to figure out your priorities. And if you decide that it’s both, and that they’re both separate issues, then that’s a decision all by itself. You don’t have to choose one over the other, so long as the Shire and Isengard never come into conflict.”
Iris blinked. It sounded so simple, but also… yeah. She felt kind of stupid now. Did she actually need to have one center of her mind? As long as the two weren’t in conflict, wouldn’t they all be part of her mind all the same? There didn’t need to be a single center, or something, so why not have two of them?
Her eyes glanced over towards the other horizon on the other side, and her gaze met the infinitely vast green for a second.
“I guess you have a point,” Iris finally said.
“Of course I do. I’m just awesome like that!”
Iris smiled at Ria’s proclamation, and raised a hand to ruffle her hair as if on instinct, driven purely by memories that were not her own.
“So, anyway. I think that should be self-explanatory, but let me be clear. I’ll let you look through everything here, we’ll work on trying to finish this up, deciding what goes where, and once I’m officially moved in, I can foist you back off onto Daphne,” Iris said, her eyes following the crayon for a while. She then turned to Ria, and her expression became cold as steel. “But whatever you do, you stay the hell away from Mordor. That clear?”
Ria swallowed, and nodded.
“Good.”
~V~
“Yes, yes. Just a minute, Miss Potter. He’s currently undergoing final checks, but if everything checks out, he’ll be released when it’s over.”
Iris had to suppress a groan. She glanced over towards the section of the hospital wing where Sirius had been resting, shifting around nervously. He’d told them he was to be released today, so naturally, she’d set up camp at the entrance in order to waste as little time as possible. They had too much to discuss, and even if Dumbledore hadn’t woken up yet, there was no telling how much time was left.
Her gaze drifted across the other beds, and her spirits took another hit. Where before, there had been several beds put together for Hagrid, they now were once again empty. She hadn’t heard anything yet, but well, just one day later after having been lying there in critical condition…
Was it wrong of her to feel just a tiny bit glad she’d never really gotten to know him in the first place?
“Iris! Thank Merlin! Please, I need your help,” a voice called out, and she turned to spot the rapidly approaching figure of Ron, who looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
“Ron?” Iris said, confused. Hadn’t he been uninjured, sort of? Why was he—
“Help me!” he whispered in her ear in a frantic voice. “Please, do something, anything, just get me out of here!”
What was he— oh.
Her eyes flicked over towards the group of beds he had come from, and she spotted a matronly woman with red hair, dressed into a heavy brown wool sweater, and with hints of bandages peeking out at her sleeves. The woman’s gaze swept over the hospital wing, until it landed on them, and she proceeded to bustle her way over to them.
“So, yeah, sorry. McGonagall told me to send you back to her, apparently, she needs to talk to you about something. In her office. You know how she is,” Iris said, shooting a sheepish smile at the woman behind him. “Better not keep her waiting…”
“It’s Professor McGonagall, my dear.”
“Right, of course. Mrs… Weasley, right?”
The woman returned a kind smile. “I… I’m so sorry for your loss, my dear. I never… Ron’s been talking about nothing but the both of you for so long, I always thought I’d… I mean…”
Iris ignored the clenching feeling in her gut and gave Ron a sideways jab with her head.
“Right, sorry. Better not keep her waiting,” Ron stumbled over his words, before adding in a quiet voice, “Thanks. Owe you one,” before he all but fled the room.
A loud crash from behind them caused Mrs. Weasley to round on the source and yell “Fred! What did I tell you! This is a hospital, for Merlin’s sake!”
Iris looked over towards the source and found said rascal, sheepishly reaching for a metal contraption he had dropped, along with his other half standing across from him next to Neville’s bed. Iris swallowed, and without a word, she stepped closer.
“How is he?”
George met her eyes and gave her an awkward look. “He’s… well… They aren’t sure.”
Fred slowly stepped up next to him, “I still think it has nothing to do with the Cymbal Monkey. Hannah recovered alright, didn’t she? There must have been something that’s—”
“You still sent her to the hospital all the same!” Mrs. Weasley interrupted. “I’ve told you for years, but no. Do you only ever listen when someone gets hurt? You really just had to wave your toys around and—”
“And if they hadn’t, then I wouldn’t be alive,” a new voice said, stepping out from behind the curtain of Neville’s bed.
Iris looked up to meet the source, and froze in her tracks. There was no way. She knew her. But there was no way that… she meant… Why would she be here?
Wasn’t she…
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Maddy. But we’re pretty sure it was you who saved us in the end.”
Iris still stood there, her mind reeling to catch up with the situation. The blonde woman wearing a tattered brown and white apron gave her a warm smile, but Iris just returned a blank look. How did this make any sense? Why would she…
“Oh, right. Maddy, this is Iris, our resident girl wonder and fellow prankster. Iris, meet Maddy. She’s the not-so-resident girl wonder we told you about, and also the barkeep from the Hog’s Head during her downtime.”
“Oh, shush, you. I told you, I’m just…”
From the Hog’s Head? No. She was the barmaid from Robert’s bar in Upper Rydal. Or at least, that’s what everyone else was supposed to remember.
Because she actually was Mathilda, the true hero who had destroyed the Laughing Lethifold. Or, more accurately, that’s who she used to be—in the past, until the day Lockhart had put ink to parchment and literally rewrote it.
“You should have seen the spell she cast!” Fred gushed.
“It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes upon…” George said. “Pure light, shining as bright as a star…”
“Well, until it started tearing the bastard—”
“—a new one!” George interrupted his brother, presumably before Mrs. Weasley could hear the end of that sentence. “She’s your destined Nemesis, ickle evil Potter twin! Light versus Dark. Should maybe form a Quidditch team, or something…”
“Or perhaps a band,” Fred added.
A hand came down on her shoulder, making Iris jump.
“Hey I— oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Sirius said, quickly removing the hand again.
Her eyes jumped from Sirius onto Maddy again, then back onto the twins.
“You ready to head out?” Sirius asked carefully.
Right. Focus, Iris. Whatever was going on there, it wasn’t important right now. It had nothing to do with her, with Harry, with Azkaban, the Dark Lord, or anything whatsoever. It was just strange echoes of the past trickling in, trying to distract her from what she had to do. She could figure this out later. But Dumbledore might wake up any day now, so they really had no more time to lose. They needed to get ready.
Iris nodded, and said. “Yeah. Sorry, talk to you later?”
And without waiting for a reply, she awkwardly fled the scene, with a confused Sirius in tow.
~V~
What if she was? What if she actually was the one they’d said had… wouldn’t that… wouldn’t the ritual have removed that?
“Hey Iris, you with us?”
Iris snapped out of her thoughts as something poked her cheek from next to her. She turned her head and found Daphne’s blank stare, right in front of her face, and finally gave a sheepish nod. Sirius shot them an amused look from where he was standing next to the blackboard.
Right, they were supposed to be having a lesson right now. Well, of sorts.
“Okay, listen up, ladies,” Sirius said, and whacked his wand against the blackboard.
“Azkaban,” he said, and a drawing of a large, triangular shape appeared in the center, “isn’t just a prison. It isn’t even just a fortress.”
Slowly more details began to fill in. Several smaller triangular drawings surrounded the first, bisected it, and gained details filling them.
“Do you know why it is that nobody has ever managed to escape this prison, when we are living in a world of Magic?”
Iris frowned. “Well, because of the Dementors, right? They don’t just drain emotions, but magic as well.”
Sirius’ face grew dark. “I’m not even going to ask how you know about that, but indeed. One dementor, and you’ll have a very hard time casting even minor spells that aren’t polarized magic. Add a few more, and you won’t be able to use any magic whatsoever. Any more than five, and even the strongest enchantments will start fading. Even ritualistic magic—which is supposed to be permanent—will reach a point where it can no longer hold up, and starts to fold in on itself, rendering it all but inert. And that is the second main reason why escape is all but impossible.”
He turned and gave them a serious look. “Suppose you were to try and either break into or break someone out of the prison, what would your first goal be?”
To get the hell away from there.
“Somehow get rid of the Dementors,” Daphne gave the actual answer.
“Right,” Sirius said. “Except that in doing so, you might make things even worse.”
“How so?” Daphne said.
“Because the island does not just harbor criminals and prisoners, it also harbors the ancient fortress of Azkaban, the very structure that houses this careful balance of forces. And if you spend even one minute in there, you’ll quickly come to realize that it is so much more than just a mere prison.”
He flicked his wand, and all the separate shapes moved into one, then expanded outwards, growing to ten times the size, before folding into a neat structure once more.
“While the presence of the dementors mostly keeps it suppressed at all times, if you look hard enough, you can spot all the signs. All the rooms, all the spaces, they don’t quite… follow the laws of physics. It’s not one single space, but many. All parts of the fortress, all folded into one. Even being suppressed to a minimum, rooms sometimes shift, distances sometimes change, and the place grows by the day, seemingly with the number of inhabitants. Now,” he raised a finger, “imagine if you were to remove the dementors in order to use your magic to facilitate a breakout.”
“The folded space would resume its full scale,” Daphne said quietly, and Sirius gave a grim nod.
“Nobody knows what shape it would take in the end, as the island hasn’t been without the dementors for hundreds of years, yet it is clear that whatever would be the final result, it is likely that very few would survive the shift, and those that would might be trapped in an unending mess of warped space, infinite hallways, and duplicated rooms, with no way to find the one and only exit.”
You finally realizing you’ve bitten off a bit more than you can chew?
Iris rolled her eyes. Of course they hadn’t. In fact, they did have a plan for that.
What, like getting arrested?
This time, Iris couldn’t suppress a groan. Could Ria just shut up for a moment? This was already difficult enough without the useless commentary every five seconds.
Make me.
Oh, she’d make her, alright. Just watch her.
Whoa, hold on. How about this? I promise I’ll be good, if… you do one small favor for me later…
“It’s fortunate then, that our plan to deal with the dementors does not include removing them at all,” Daphne said.
Sirius’ eyebrows went sky high. “Say what now?”
~V~
Daphne threw another surreptitious glance over at Iris. She still very much wasn’t happy with this arrangement. She did guess they had a point, but it wasn’t like any of this was an easy decision. But the way Iris had just pushed for Daphne to get rid of Ria, no questions asked…
Daphne caught herself and relaxed her jaw a little. She’s not going to be that weak and just call her up after a single day without her voice in her head. But still… who knew what she was doing in there? What Iris was doing to her in there?
No. It wasn’t her. That was the whole point. But still, if she…
“Let me get this straight…” Black finally said. “You can use your… shadows, as you called it, and just sort of… boss the dementors around?”
“Kind of?” Iris said awkwardly.
“From what I’ve seen, they seemed to respond to simple commands,” Daphne said. “Although, I think only in their direct vicinity. Once they were some distance apart, they just… returned to whatever it was they were doing.”
“Are you sure?” Iris met her with a hesitant look. “In the last war, the dementors joined with the Dark Lord, didn’t they? I think it’s likely that he did something similar, so… shouldn’t it work a bit better than that?”
“If that was what he did, maybe,” Daphne said. “But we don’t exactly have another dementor to practice on, now do we? So we’ll have to work with the assumption that the best we’re going to get for now are simple, limited commands, just to be safe.”
“Good thinking. We’re taking enough unknown risks as it is. Speaking of,” Black said, and flicked his wand again. A new drawing of a small crystal shape appeared on the blackboard, and a thin circular line was drawn around it. “There is another issue we need to address, and that is the Aurors stationed there.”
Daphne spoke up. “Well, if they don’t get in the way—”
“We’re not going to kill them,” Iris said, resulting in an awkward silence.
“Okay… I assumed that went without saying,” Black said, raising an eyebrow.
Daphne frowned. Did it, now?
For a moment, she was confused why Ria hadn’t objected to her thoughts, but then she remembered again. Right.
“And just how exactly were you expecting to pull this off while being unable to cast magic?” she said, shooting Iris a look.
“Well, I’m sure we can figure something out. But since we can’t use magic anyway, it doesn’t matter either way, does it?”
“Well, yes, but neither can they,” Daphne said, “so, the most… effective choice seems to be using Muggle weaponry instead.”
Iris blinked, and one second later, her phone rang.
“You mean something like guns and stuff? Something that…”
“No, I mean exactly guns and… stuff.”
“You’re saying we should just walk in there and… what? Just… shoot the Aurors? It’s not like they’d surrender or something, half of them might not even know what a gun can actually do to them.”
Daphne very much doubted that, but she also didn’t much care. “The problem is not getting them to surrender, it’s the fact we can’t wipe their minds afterwards.”
Iris swallowed.
“Uh… well if we… I mean if… fuck. I mean we can’t just…”
“Well, yes, but also no,” Black cut through their mental debate. “I’d assume guns would in fact work there. But the problem is so would the Auror’s wands.”
“What?” both Daphne and Iris echoed as one. “But didn’t you say—” Iris added.
“This,” he said, smacking his wand at the blackboard, the tip pointing at the small crystal shape, and the chalk turned red.
“What is that?” Iris said.
“You might have seen them around. These things have shown up in all kinds of places lately, ever since the Lethifold attack, but before that they used to be reserved just for dealing with dementors.”
Iris’ breath caught, and Daphne finally put it together. The red crystals from the Warehouse. The things that had created the barrier that had held the dementors at bay. She’d never read anything about them before, and had no idea how they worked in detail, or even where they came from, well, other than that they were some kind of device that would interfere with Polarized Magic, and as a result, apparently with dementors as well.
“They’re called Schattenbann, I think. Or something like that. It’s a magical artifact, a device, a crystal, call it whatever you will. Its main purpose is to ward off shadows. Don’t ask me how they’re made, I have no idea. But my sources tell me that they’re made somewhere in Germany, I think.”
“So… they use them to keep the dementors away? But how does that help with…”
“In this specific case, they built them into protective amulets of sorts. Each Auror wears one, and they create a small area around them that blocks out most of the dementors’ influence. It doesn’t do much against a whole swarm of them, but if there’s only one or two of them in the vicinity, it allows them to cast some spells. Likely, also Protego.”
Daphne let out a breath. So much for that option then. While a Protego could be overwhelmed by a large number of spells or especially powerful attacks, it was the main reason why wizards would mostly come out on top in smaller conflicts against muggles, even armed ones, as long as they were prepared. One single, properly cast Protego could last you minutes on end deflecting all sorts of bullets, knives, swords, and everything else that Muggles could throw at you, unless it was something like a bloody catapult.
“So if we can get one of those things for ourselves…” Iris said, causing Black to grin.
“…Then we might just have a fighting chance.”
Well, that was all well and good, but that still left the question as to the how. It wasn’t like the ministry would leave three of these things just lying around. “And just how do you imagine pulling that off? From their limited use, it’s likely these things are either kept at Azkaban, or at least in the middle of the Auror’s headquarters. If breaking into Azkaban was insane, then slipping directly underneath the watch of all the countries top Aurors—”
“Or… we do neither of these things,” Sirius said, before he gave a smile. “Because it just so happens, I might already have someone on the inside.”
Daphne shot a disbelieving glance over at Iris, who returned a just as confused look.
“…She just doesn’t know it yet.”
Chapter 44: The voice of reason
Chapter Text
Daphne leaned back in her chair and let out a deep sigh. She still didn’t like this. Not even a little.
At least, they had a plan now, she supposed, but too much hinged on the one man she had barely known for a few days. Daphne had absolutely no idea where to even start looking, but maybe she could come up with something to acquire a few of those Schattenbann shields for herself? Not just for the sake of the mission, but if it truly was a valid way to counter Polarized Magic…
Although, she had to concede that the plan was already risky enough all on its own. If Black truly had a way to acquire one of these things without them getting involved as he had said, well, she’d be a fool to turn that down. Even if she still didn’t like it.
It was one thing to attempt this already insane stunt in the first place, but now they also had to avoid casualties? Just how did the two of them imagine that? She was good, but not ‘perfectly remove a whole arse prison break from the memories of dozens of Aurors’-good. And that wasn’t even getting started on the man himself. Daphne had told Iris in no uncertain terms that if Black would jeopardize their mission; if he was a risk to their secrets, then she’d have to fix it. Iris hadn’t liked it, of course. But still. She hoped that—should it become necessary—Iris wouldn’t do anything reckless.
Yeah. That was about as likely as the solution to all her other problems just landing in her lap.
For a moment, Daphne thought she must have dozed off after Black had left, when said solution did in fact plop herself right in Daphne’s lap.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Daphne said.
Iris was blushing almost as red as her hair, now sitting sideways across her lap, and refused to meet her eyes. But she didn’t get back up. Daphne growled and reached down for her wand, but her arm was entrapped by Iris’ own wrapping themselves around her, causing Daphne to freeze.
What in Merlin’s— What? Just who did she think she—
“Sorry. But… uh… Even bad guys need a hug sometimes?”
Daphne’s thoughts slipped off the already shaky tracks at the almost painful memories, and slammed into the ocean.
“Shut up…” she whispered. “How do you know—”
“Sorry,” Iris muttered, blushing heavily as she finally let go of her, now squirming in her lap. “Ria made me promise, so uh… yeah.”
Ria. Of course. She’d almost forgotten. Daphne took a deep breath, and the tension slowly started to leave her limbs.
“She said you look like you’re having bad thoughts again, and…”
Iris trailed off, averting her gaze. “I uh… kinda made her a Promise to get her to shut up, and well… yeah. Stupid, I know. Sorry.”
Ria… just what the hell was she doing in there? Daphne really hoped that whatever it was, they’d finish it up soon so she could return to where she belonged.
“Potter?” Daphne said slowly.
Iris raised her head and finally managed a perfectly eloquent “Huh?”
Daphne returned a flat look. “Get the hell off me.”
“…Yeah.”
~V~
“And I assure you, Mrs. Simmons, that it is. I don’t know what information you’re receiving, but the reality is that the situation is entirely under control.”
“The same as you do, Minister. I am talking about the warning from our friends at the BQD. What do you intend to do about it?”
“Preposterous. Azkaban is the safest prison on this planet! And that means something, especially in the magical world. And I’m saying this entirely without reproach, but how many people have escaped from your custody again? Other than Grindelwald, I mean.”
“Those were different times,” the woman said, then turned towards the door.
Dolores met her eyes and returned the most loving of smiles. She had only seen this Mrs. Simmons a few times before, whenever there was some sort of… well, not exactly international incident, but rather, whenever there was a local conflict that for some reason got the colonies to think they had an obligation to meddle in their affairs, or maybe just take some sort of moral high-ground. She almost found it kind of cute.
“Exactly,” Cornelius continued with a smile. “And yet, even in those difficult times, Azkaban has always stood firm. It has always been safe, and it will remain so, whether we want it to or not. As much as I would like to claim sole responsibility for that fact myself, you know just as well as I that Azkaban itself is a very unique… situation.”
The tall, grey-haired woman regarded Cornelius through her glasses for a while, and then straightened out her black suit.
“Very well. But I urge you, do not dismiss the warning of the BQD. We both know they are right more often than they are wrong.”
Cornelius did not reply for a while. Dolores slowly made her way over to his desk to place down the stack of letters for him, as well as her report on what she’d been able to find out about Dumbledore’s condition.
“I shall have a word with the head of our law enforcement.”
“That is all I ask,” Mrs. Simmons said with a nod, before she turned, and strode out of the office.
“Dolores,” Cornelius said with a smile, turning around to her.
“The reports on Dumbledore,” Dolores said.
“So, is it true?”
Dolores gave a nod. “Healer Thompson has confirmed that all the values are stabilizing. They expect to be able to wake him within the week.”
“Thank Merlin,” Cornelius sighed, causing Dolores to frown.
“Do you think it’s wise to—”
“It’s not like I have a choice!” Cornelius snapped. “Yes, Dumbledore is probably going over my head whenever he feels like it, but would you rather hand over the country to You-Know-Who? Right now, he is the only reason why we are able to somehow keep the public from going up in flames.”
Dolores pondered that for a moment. “Do you think he’ll move to replace—”
“I think that’s the last thing on his mind right now,” Cornelius interrupted her again. “If he wants to get his way, he just needs to talk to the Wizengamot. Hell, or even the bloody Prophet. We’re done either way. But right now, he can’t afford to throw the Ministry into even further chaos, and we can’t afford to do the same to the public.”
“But don’t you think we should—”
“No, Dolores! Merlin!” Cornelius burst out, whirled around and pinned her under an intense gaze that gave her the shivers. But she wasn’t the only one, except… that with Cornelius, it was a hint of fear that was making him quiver. “We need to stop this! It’s You-Know-Who! Yes, I was wrong. Yes, I was a fool. No, I don’t agree with Dumbledore on everything, but right now I really couldn’t care less!”
Dolores’ mouth came back shut, the reply never even leaving her lips.
Cornelius let out a deep sigh, before he said in a low voice, “If we cannot unite over this, then what hope is there left for this country?”
~V~
Iris had her fair share of experience with things not going according to plan. She’d had great ideas that had gone very wrong for her, and awful ideas that had somehow worked out perfectly despite all the odds. This was neither.
“I really don’t like this, Daphne…”
This was not just a horrible idea, there was also no chance she would ever see this going anywhere but sideways.
“Would you rather learn that it does not work when you’re in the middle of a dementor-riddled fortress and surrounded by Aurors from all sides?”
Iris groaned.
“In the middle of what? Have you been planning evil masterplans without me?”
“See? That’s not helping!” Iris exclaimed, pointing at the confused but still very energetic mess that called itself Ariel, sitting tied to the chair in the middle of Daphne’s room.
“You know what she is, you’ve seen—”
“So what? It was just as fucked up when you made me do this to the construct of Astoria. Which now that I think about it, you do realize that’s essentially the same thing as doing it to the construct of Ria?”
Daphne tilted her head. “I didn’t make you do anything.”
Iris clenched her fists. Bloody psychopath. She really oughta give Ria back to her sooner rather than later.
As much as I hate to say it, yeah. I’d hoped she’d get better without me hanging around for a bit, but…
“Just like you’re not making me do anything now?” Iris said, her tone demanding.
Daphne just raised an eyebrow. “If you weren’t such a failure of a teacher, I’d cast the spell myself.”
Iris groaned again. “You were the one who told me about all the things that could go wrong with it!”
“Yes,” Daphne said impatiently, “but Ariel is neither a master Occlumens, nor trying to resist you. We just need to make sure that—”
“Well we can’t test if the combination works without Light polarized magic anyway, and I already know I can cast the Imperius, so what’s the point?”
“The point,” Daphne said, “as you so eloquently put it, is to get good. We can’t afford to waste any more time. You said it yourself. I agreed to wait until Dumbledore wakes, but we can’t wait a second longer. There is but a small window after the moment he wakes up, and before he’s settled in to once more become a problem for us. Move too early, and we risk You-Know-Who attacking, move too late, and we risk Dumbledore getting in our way. The moment we get the news, we have to move.”
“But what if—”
“We’ve prevented her from doing anything physically, no matter your commands, and she doesn’t have her wand, nor is she able to do wandless magic. And anything you’d do to her mind would only last as long as the curse, not to mention, her mind is already broken either way.”
“Oh, of course,” Iris said sarcastically. “How could I forget? Lets just destroy what’s left then.”
“There is nothing left!” Daphne shouted.
Iris’ breath caught at the sudden outburst, and she turned over towards Ariel, who gave an uncertain, but still presumably evil grin. “That’s right. Nothing except for the victorious Lady Ariel!”
“Really?” She meant… “Actually, nothing?” Was she… Iris swallowed. She had still hoped that there would at least be something of Lily left, but… now that she thought about it… if Daphne had truly made something like that… some sort of… phylactery, and it had been shattered just like the other memory… Especially after Iris had basically invalidated her existence right in front of her…
“She’s gone, you get that?! Dead! Vanquished! Erased. From. Existence!”
Iris swallowed. “Are… are you sure? What about… can’t you do something with your Legilimency? Or maybe we can use the Name? Or… or what about a ritual?”
“Iris… just stop, okay?” Daphne hissed. “It is not possible! There is nothing to be done!”
Daphne collapsed, all her energy drained from her body, and she sagged down onto a chair. “A ritual is the Merlin-damned problem. What do you think created the Phylactery in the first place?” Daphne said, slowly raising her head again, the bitter taste of her self-loathing creeping over the link and making it’s way into Iris’ mouth, too. “An act as profound as that is far closer to a ritual than simple mind magic—much like the Unforgiveables, in a way. It was a ritual that bound her entire being from a raw concept into a true metaphysical object.”
Daphne fiddled with her hands for a moment, half-heartedly inspecting her immaculate nails as if she didn’t know what to do with them, and in a flat voice, she spelled out the very truth Iris had been dreading. “The transfer is permanent. No matter what happened to the body, the phylactery would always be safe from that. But if something in turn were to happen to the phylactery itself…”
…And rituals were permanent.
Fuck.
Part of her still refused the idea of just… accepting that, but even with her name, even by shifting the odds, the same reason why she hadn’t been able to fix Malfoy, the same reason why she’d only get a single try to get Harry back… Once magic had made up its mind, that was it.
And that meant that Lily Moon was well and truly gone. What remained instead was a caricature of Daphne’s sister, twisted to follow her around like a hyperactive evil puppy by the curse of her own making.
It’s still a horrible idea.
Ria could say that again. But it also didn’t change anything about the fact that Daphne, no matter how much Iris hated that fact, still had a point.
They did need to practice. She’d said so herself. She just hadn’t thought that she would have to go this far. But again, as if in some cruel sense of Deja Vu of fate, Daphne had the perfect solution for her to practice. The perfectly messed up solution, sure, but it was also the closest thing she could get to anything she might be able to justify to herself.
Ariel was just a curse; a parasite. The real Lily was already shattered. The girl in front of her was a mere echo, a cruel reflection of the very sister that Daphne had lost much in the same way, who seemed to be trying to be everything that Ria had been, yet was interpreting her in all the worst ways. She wasn’t pretending to be a villain while her actions were guided out of a desire to do the right thing. She was pretending to be a villain, but only out of a desire to do the right thing for Daphne, and she seemed gleefully happy about having achieved the one deed that the curse itself was forcing upon her.
I know she doesn’t quite understand, but I think it’s just her way of dealing with it, you know? It’s the curse making her take over, she just makes the best out of her situation by pretending it was all part of her master plan.
Iris frowned. No, she didn’t think so. The curse was malicious in nature. If anything, Ariel was more like Myrtle.
Right. What was she thinking? It was just like with Myrtle. She’d taken over, and was using Lily’s body for her own design. And now, they’d just return the favor.
Iris took a deep breath, raised her hand, closed her eyes, and she pulled.
Iris, I really don’t know about this…
If Ria would just shut up for a moment, Iris was trying to focus. She let all the emotions run rampant, spread them through her mind, and pulled on the shadows. The ground shook the surroundings of Ria’s room, and the mountain all the way to the east of her mindscape erupted in a bright flame.
Just keep calm, Iris would be done in a second. Ria had nothing to worry about, alright?
Another pull, and another… okay. This wasn’t working.
Iris cracked an eye and glanced down at her wand. Not even a single speck of shadows had gathered there, nor anywhere else in the room. What the hell was going on?
“I know you’re worried that—” Daphne said, but Iris cut her off.
“It’s not that. I am trying, but something’s…” Iris trailed off, turned her gaze inward, and found the sheepish face of Ria glancing back at her, currently hiding behind one of the bookshelves in the center of Isengard. “Oh.”
Iris found her thoughts involuntarily wandering back to the time she’d spent in Lily’s mind, right in front of the burning remains of the Magic Neep, when she’d stared down Neville’s face. When she’d stared down the Watcher’s eyes.
“For your information… to perform the Arcane, to utilize something as pure as emotion, well… for that to work, I’m afraid all of you must be in alignment with that emotion.”
So that was what he had meant. It wasn’t just about not being sure of herself, of her actions or of her decision. No. He had been talking very literal.
“Uh… so, here’s the thing,” Iris said.
Her partner in crime turned around and gave her a sideways glance, along with a raised eyebrow.
Iris shot her a look and said, “I think I might have found the reason why you’ve been struggling with Polarized Magic.”
~V~
I’m sorry! It’s not like I want to get in your way, it’s just—
Well, on some level Ria did actually want to, otherwise it would have worked, right?
“I… see,” Daphne said finally. “But it does make sense.”
“I suppose,” Iris said. “It’s difficult enough to get your entire mind aligned with a single emotion for that one moment, but… well, if you weren’t the only thing living in your mind at that time… if there were two separate, distinct entities…”
“Then unless their intent aligned perfectly, you wouldn’t be able to reach the required state of mind to summon polarized magic.”
“Yeah…” Iris muttered. “And I guess something similar applies if you’re under the Imperius. If the caster can’t even begin to reach that state on their own, then their thoughts and desires would also conflict with the target’s.”
So much for their alternate plan to find someone they could just Imperio into casting Interdictio Mendacium instead.
“Well, in that case, it’s obviously the simplest solution you returned her to me,” Daphne said.
Well, yes, but actually no. The problem was that their promise did require Iris to fix her mind before she could do that. And this was not something that lying to herself would help with.
“I can’t. Not yet,” Iris said. “We’re making progress, but it’s still not quite finished.”
Daphne gave a sigh.
“Don’t you think this is a little more—”
“No, I literally can’t,” Iris said, looking to the ground sheepishly. “I made a promise.”
“You…” Daphne trailed off, before exhaling sharply. “You really need to learn to think before you open your mouth at some point.”
Don’t listen to her. We don’t need another Daphne on this team, we need you. Who else is supposed to be the comic relief?
It was now Iris’ turn to groan. “I’ll figure out a way, alright?”
“We already need to find a way to cast Light polarized magic, if you can’t even summon shadows too, then we won’t even make it past the first dementor!”
Well, have you maybe considered that your plan was insane from the start?
So what? Insane plans were what Iris did best. Yeah, it wasn’t directly related to Harry, but it was very literally about Ria. The real Ria. Wasn’t she the one who forced them to share their past with each other for this exact reason? Shouldn’t she be—
I didn’t do it so you could go and get yourselves killed!
Well, Ria hadn’t really thought it all the way through then, had she? She’d been on the same road for Harry even before. Now they were both in it for both Harry and Ria’s sake. Maybe it wasn’t what Ria had intended, but Iris wouldn’t complain if it helped her get what she needed. She’d just hope that Daphne would go to the same length for Harry once it was done.
Listen, I’m sure you can work something out, but this has gone far enough. I don’t care if it’s for the real me, for Harry, or even for Daph, but I’m not just going to let you—
“Stupefy.”
Iris slowly lowered her wand as the flash of red faded. She saw a shocked expression, and one second later, Ria’s body hit the floor next to the bookshelves with a thump. Another flick of her shaking wand sent the girl floating over into a chair at the balcony, where she could look out across the rest of Iris’ mindscape. She walked up next to her with shaky steps, and came to a stop, gazing down at the landscape and taking a moment to let her breathing calm down again. Her eyes travelled east, and the green eye looked back. Iris hated that it had come to this, but while she didn’t harbor any particular dislike for her, and even felt a sort of bond based on her borrowed memories, Ria had also been right. She wasn’t real. Both of them weren’t. Ariel was a product of the curse, a caricature of the real Ria. And Ria—the construct inhabiting her mindscape—was but a pale imitation of the real Ria that was born of Daphne’s own mind. She’d tolerated a lot of crap from her, but outright getting in between her and Harry, and the real Ria… that was where she drew the line. The construct could yell at her later, but for now, she had a job to do.
Daphne’s eyebrows went up, and she shot her a look. “What did you just do?”
“I fixed the problem,” Iris said, and raised her wand.
This time, there was no objection. There was just blissful silence, slowly being filled by the anger, the rage and grief. It flooded her very being, spilling forth from where she’d buried it, until it took over her entire mind. Iris ground her teeth and forced the shadows to obey. She drew them in, gave them purpose, and sucked all those dark thoughts into a single point, all meeting on a knife’s edge, gathered at the tip of her wand.
“Imperio.”
~V~
Iris turned to see Daphne, as she joined Ria on the balcony of Isengard.
“I told you, she’s fine. I just stunned her. But yeah.”
Daphne said nothing, just staring down at the softly breathing construct of her sister. How was she even breathing to begin with? Might be the Name messing with the rules again. Or, well, just magic in general.
“I just thought… well, Myrtle was able to summon shadows alright,” Iris said. “So I figured that it would work if the second mind was just… well, unable to actively object at the time.”
Daphne ran a finger through Ria’s hair, before glancing out at the lush green landscape to the west, and then the mountains to the east. “You really have been busy.”
Iris gave a shrug. “It’s still not quite finished. But I’m getting there.”
“So it would seem,” Daphne replied, and glanced down at Ria’s unmoving form. Daphne was probably pondering trying to wake her, but the safest way would be using the countercharm to Stupefy, and well… this was Iris’ mind. Daphne would only be able to use Mind Magic here, but none of the other aspects.
“I really… really want to be cross with you right now,” said Daphne.
“…But?” Iris said.
“But… unlike you, I am no hypocrite.”
Iris rolled her eyes, but she guessed she couldn’t blame her. Iris knew that being unable to do polarized magic was one of the main things Daphne had been beating herself up over. And now, it had turned out that the construct in her head—the very issue both Iris and Ria herself had kept insisting Daphne should figure out—had been the cause.
“Speaking of hypocrites…” Iris began. “Let’s be honest for one second.”
Daphne raised an eyebrow.
“You know, I can’t help but feel that you’re still not trusting me to pull through with this plan…” Iris said, and when Daphne opened her mouth to object, she instead raised a finger. “Hang on. Let me finish.”
Iris took a breath, and said, “I can’t help thinking… that you’re worried whether I’m committed all the way, when she’s not even my sister to begin with. Just because we shared our memories doesn’t mean we truly shared our goals, after all, so I know you’re still worried about me sticking to my word. Because Merlin knows I am.”
“Well, you do have incentive to see this through, just based on the order of our trip.”
“Exactly, and you don’t. Also, just the basic order doesn’t stop either of us from throwing things into chaos with last-minute changes in the plan, or if we happen to disagree on something critical like just now. So I want to propose a new deal.”
“Haven’t you made enough promises already?” Daphne replied with a raised eyebrow, to which Iris rolled her eyes.
“Listen. I’m not asking to bind our fates any further than they already are. Just something temporary, just restricted to this one expedition, including Azkaban, Germany, and beyond, all the way until we return, and then it’s done. I don’t like this any more than you do, believe me. But if you’re anything like me, you’ve probably spent an unhealthy amount of our planning wondering about how far I’m willing to go through, and where I might decide to throw everything into chaos.”
Daphne glanced down and sighed. “Can you really blame me, given our history?”
Iris just gave a small smile. “Yeah. So how about this. We both promise to stick through the entire mission plan, all the stops we have planned, and that we’ll do it to the best of our ability, and only divert from the plan if we both agree on it. That sound like a deal to you?”
Daphne said nothing for a while. “And if we do end up in a situation where we stand in conflict?”
“Then we’re allowed to put off the decision to the earliest point that would allow us to talk about it, and if we can’t reach an agreement, then we stick with the original plan.”
Daphne’s eyes trailed across the landscape, then back down onto Ria, and Iris drew her wand, and cast a soft Rennervate charm on the construct of a girl. Ria’s eyes came open, her eyes just blankly staring for a moment, before she blinked, then glanced up between them. Thankfully, though, she didn’t make her displeasure known for the moment, and instead got to her feet and dashed from the room.
Daphne raised a hand and opened her mouth, but then seemingly reconsidered as the construct had already turned down the staircase. Her hand dropped back down and she let out a breath, before meeting Iris’ eyes again.
“Fine. If you Promise to stick to those terms, then you shall have mine as well.”
Iris nodded. “I promise.”
“Very well,” Daphne said. “Then so do I.”
Just as the Promise began to settle in with a soft, foreboding unease, there was another feeling that was almost as strong. Relief. No matter what was to come, they at least didn’t have to worry about the other working against them.
“Now if only you’d show the same initiative with fixing your Light polarized magic problem as well…”
Iris groaned. “Well, what do you want from me? I can’t just…”
Couldn’t she?
“Are you thinking—”
“Ssh!” Iris held up a finger, trying to cling onto that thought.
If she wouldn’t be able to summon it, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be able to cast it. Voldemort had done exactly that. And given what she’d just learned, she even understood why. The reason he had been unable to summon Polarized Magic himself was because he’d been possessing and sharing a mind with Quirrell. And her trick with using Stupefy would only work inside your own mind. Even though you could take the Mind aspect with you, you’d still be missing the Force aspect—or any other aspect for that matter—when entering someone else’s mindscape instead. But what he had been able to do was instead use Iris like a human-sized battery, in order to summon enough shadows to cast the Killing Curse himself.
So maybe, she could do something similar? Although that trick wouldn’t be of much use if she had to get someone to summon it right there, especially in the middle of a Dementor-riddled hellhole like Azkaban.
…But what if she didn’t have to?
Almost automatically, Iris reached into her bag and withdrew the mirror dodecahedron pendant that she’d forged together with Harry. She raised it up to her face to inspect it, then blew off some of the dust that had gathered on top of it. Other than for Potions and for pre-storing aspects to cast one massive overpowered spell—like rupturing the ground to create the cracks needed to slip through to Tracey—it’s pretty much been gathering dust in her bag. But maybe, there was another use for it. Because it couldn’t just store the aspects she created. It was able to store all sorts of different kinds of Essence for Potions, and it had even been able to store the basilisk’s gaze, even if it had only resulted in people being petrified instead of killed, thankfully.
But Polarized Magic? On the one hand, it really should work. It was Light, wasn’t it? But then again, Polarized magic was still very different. The seemingly White light wasn’t white at all. Her prism hadn’t been able to diffract it, it had simply continued at an angle, but still just as white as always. Almost as if it didn’t contain any colors, but just pure brightness, pure Light—as in the opposite of Shadow—and nothing else. But then again, her pendant was also able to turn translucent at will, and was made from a magical mirror that should in theory provide one-hundred percent reflectiveness.
But in the end, there was only one way to find out.
“So… I might have an idea how to work around that,” Iris said. “But to do that, I’ll need a battery.”
~V~
As far as bad ideas went, this one was… well, that remained to be seen. Depending on her answers, this could go either way.
“So uh… hey. You’re Mathilda, right?” Iris said awkwardly, earning her a smile.
“Maddy, please,” the blonde ghost of Lockhart’s past said.
Iris glanced around, but it seemed that the Map hadn’t lied, and the twins really were otherwise occupied for once. Perfect.
“So… how come you’re still here?” Iris asked, despite having already learned the answer from Fred.
“Oh, it’s just…” Maddy said, her gaze dropping down onto the bed next to her. “Mrs. Weasley has been getting really agitated over Fred and George missing their classes, so I offered to keep him watch instead.”
Iris returned a smile, and moved over to the subject of the conversation, still lying motionlessly on his bed.
“How’s Neville doing?” Iris said, trying to make small talk.
“The potions aren’t having any effects anymore, but it’s not because they’re ineffective, but more because it seems like there is nothing left to fix,” Maddy said, looking over towards the lone hospital bed that was still occupied after all this time. A tray of potions sat ready by his side on the table, but none of them had been uncorked yet. In a way, he looked like he was just asleep.
“But he still isn’t waking up?” Iris said quietly.
Maddy gave her a hesitant look. “They think whatever is wrong is entirely within his mind. But the Mind Healers can’t do much without…”
“…waking him up,” Iris finished. “So just peeling open his eyes doesn’t work?”
“Not if there isn’t anyone… home, so to speak. At least that’s what they said.”
“Like… there is nothing left in there?” Iris said, a shiver running down her spine.
“No, more like… even if the eyes are the windows to your soul, they only work if the rest of your body is in any state to answer. Not quite the same as when you’re asleep, but think of it like… shutting down a floo for repair?” Maddy explained.
“You seem to know a lot about this stuff,” Iris said.
Maddy blushed. “I, well… kinda? It’s strange. Sorry for being weird.”
“No worries, I like weird,” Iris gave her a warm smile. “But what’s so weird about it?”
“It’s not just that, it’s sort of… some things, things that I never learned, things I have no business knowing…”
“You just… do? Like a sort of… instinct?”
“You think I’m nuts, don’t you?” Maddy mumbled. “I mean, who just somehow… knows things like that?”
Iris returned a smile. “Happens more often than you think,” she said.
“Thanks, but you’re just saying that,” Maddy replied, turning to look away from her. “None of this is making any sense. Merlin, I’m just a bartender! Someone like me doesn’t just…”
“Oh you have no idea,” Iris said with a chuckle. “Want to know a secret?”
“What do you mean?”
Iris hesitated for a moment, before she gave her an understanding look. “I can’t even count the number of spells I’ve just… figured out, without ever properly learning them.”
“You… wait, what?” Maddy stuttered. “I mean they called you the resident girl wonder, but I thought…”
“It’s always the same. You look at the book, and the incantation, and it… just makes sense… almost like, you know. Relearning something you’d forgotten?”
Maddy nodded along with her. “Sometimes, you just do the motion, or the incantation without—”
“—having really looked at it? All the damn time.”
Iris was stretching the truth here a bit. Their situations were somewhat similar, but still very different. Because with Iris, she didn’t have any actual memories to fall back upon. Just the vague concept of… skills, whatever that would entail. With Maddy, well… she wasn’t sure. She guessed it would depend on just how much Lockhart’s ritual had actually taken away. But if she really managed to do a full Soul Judgement Curse without having ever learned it… there definitely would have to be at least something left, right?
But what she did know was that rituals were supposed to be absolute. She was supposed to not remember, and if Iris attempted to change that fact, then the ritual might very literally try to get in her way. So as much as it felt messed up to stand in front of this woman who had such a bright past behind her, and completely deny her any information on who she actually was or who she still could be, this was the only thing she could do.
Even if the old Maddy the Explorer was gone, that didn’t mean that Maddy the Barkeep had to be here to stay. She could still change her course from here on out, even without falling back on who she had been before. As long as it would be Maddy the Barkeep making that decision, then the ritual shouldn’t be getting in the way, at least, in theory. Which was just as well. She’d make a good battery either way.
…What? Nothing? Not even a comment?
I’m not talking to you right now.
Okaaay then. That was just fine with Iris.
“I just wish I knew what to do with it, I mean, I’m just…”
“Just a Barkeep?” Iris echoed, raising an eyebrow. “So? I’m just a third-year Hogwarts student.”
Iris raised her hand, and for the first time in a while, called her orb of colorful light. Bright rays in all colors of the rainbow pierced through her fingers, and illuminated the entire hospital wing in dancing shades of color.
“But that doesn’t mean I have to just be a third-year student. It does not mean… that I have to stop there,”
Iris carefully wrapped her orb in a small layer of Force, and then tossed it over toward Maddy, who reflexively caught it. She held it in front of her, her eyes entrapped by the dancing colors.
“You get what I’m saying?” Iris said, and slowly stepped closer, reaching out a hand. “Nobody said you have to restrict yourself just to what you’re supposed to be.”
Iris clicked her fingers, causing her orb to burst apart into brightly glimmering sparks that slowly began to fill the room.
“So, what do you say,” Iris said with a smile. She opened her still outstretched palm and held it out to Maddy again. “Want to find out just how far you can go?”
Chapter 45: Angels and Demons
Chapter Text
It had been a while since she had seen it with her own eyes. But still not long enough. Forever wouldn’t be long enough to forget the brilliant glow of pure White, that light that seemed to just pierce right through everything and shine right into her soul. Iris wasn’t quite sure if that was a bad thing. The last time she had seen it, it had been the very thing that had taken Lockhart’s life. Technically, it had been her own shadows that were to blame, but still, if that Auror hadn’t cast her Patronus, then maybe she could have still…
“Like this?” Maddy said, glancing uncertainly down at the brightly glowing tip of her wand.
Iris felt a slight unease creep into her stomach the longer she looked at it. She hadn’t even cast her spell yet. But as she kept looking at the brightly glowing spot of White, she felt… like something was looking back. Like she was being watched, judged, and found wanting. She had no idea by what—maybe Magic itself, maybe just Maddy’s magic, or even the woman herself somehow doing it subconsciously. Maybe she was just getting paranoid again.
“Yeah, that’s it. How did you do it?” Iris asked excitedly.
Maddy swallowed. “Well, I’m not sure, I just… well, I was going to cast that spell again, but in that moment I knew I had to… get in the right mental space, if that makes sense?”
Iris nodded. “Yeah. With this kind of magic, from what I’ve heard, emotions play a big role.” She tried to suppress her unease, her worry, and the tight feeling in her chest at what she was trying to do here, and shot Maddy an eager, wide-eyed look. “But how did you do it? What did you think about?”
“Oh, uhm…” Maddy trailed off, and blushed. “Nothing important, just… uhm… something nice?”
Well that was incredibly unhelpfully vague.
“Like what? Like your first broom ride?”
But apparently, a more helpful reply wasn’t coming forth.
“Right,” Iris said, raising an eyebrow at the heavily flushing woman. “So, when you think about those… absolutely irrelevant happier times, what exactly do you do? Do you do… anything extra? A wand motion, or focus on something specific?”
“Uh, right, I… well,” Maddy said, trying to gather her composure. “Not really? I just… it’s a certain feeling, less like doing something, but more like… letting go?”
“How do you mean?” Iris said.
“Well, remember that feeling of focusing in on an aspect for the reflective shield like you showed me?”
Iris nodded.
“If you take that, and instead of trying to force it to be that one aspect, you just… well, expect it, you know that’s where the magic is going to end up, and you need to instead… let it happen, let all the other magic be swept away and… taken over, or something?”
“Huh,” Iris said, stepping closer. “You mind if I try something?”
Maddy blinked. “Sure? But what do you mean?”
“Well…” Iris said, biting her lip in a thoughtful expression. “I’ve never quite done… well, something like this, but I do know my way around light in general.”
She raised a hand and brought her orb back, tossing it into the air where it floated above their head. “So while I’ve got no idea how you make this stuff in the first place, I wonder… if I can…” Iris said, then raised her left hand, and stretched out a single finger towards Maddy’s glowing wand. She felt it. Right in front of her, so close she could touch it, and it was as beautiful as it was terrifying. Nothing like the little glimmer she’d accidentally made in Flitwick’s office two years back. This was the real deal. It was Light Polarized Magic, and a crapton of it. Just a flick of the wand, and two simple words, and Iris would be torn apart inside and out. Or maybe just turned into a Lethifold on the spot. Whatever it was that the Soul Judgement Curse would actually do. Yeah. Whoever had said that Light polarized magic was good, while its Dark counterpart was evil, obviously hadn’t read the entire manual. A different alignment, at these levels of power, even the polar opposite spell would have devastating consequences.
She stretched out a single finger, and finally, she tugged. At first a little, but when she felt the resistance, she pulled a little harder. A single strand of pure White peeled off the naked singularity, and began to wrap around her finger. It was hot. Damn, it was hot. The heat of the strand of light began searing her skin as it wrapped around her hand, and Iris clenched her teeth, not letting anything show on her face. She kept going, pulling more and more light, and with every second, it grew harder to hold, the heat grew so strong she had to push the light further and further away from her hand, which made keeping it under control all the harder. Right, this was the reason why you didn’t do polarized magic without a wand.
“Merlin,” Maddy whispered. “What are you…”
“Hang on,” Iris said. “Just watch, I wanna try…”
Iris drew her wand in her other hand, and slowly, began to pull the light inwards. It flowed down her fingers, into her hand, and then over towards the crystalline handle right above it. All the light was pulled into it, until it was now her own wand whose tip was alight in a blinding, pure White.
“You… you did it,” Maddy whispered.
“Yeah… I guess… But what do I do now?” Iris said, sounding worried. “How does the spell go? The one you—”
“No, don’t cast that!” Maddy exclaimed, eyes wide. “That’s way too dangerous!”
“Oh… okay,” Iris said carefully, and then she made her final play. “Do you know any others, then?”
“I…” Maddy began, then trailed off. Her eyes wandered around the room for a moment, but she didn’t say anything else.
“Maybe… something less for combat? This kind of magic is like… well, not exactly good, but more… righteous? Or something? What’s something righteous that has nothing to do with combat?”
Maddy opened her mouth again, but every time she did, her eyes seemed to lose focus once more, and she never got her words out.
“Something… right! I remember that L- our Defense Professor told us something about some kind of truth spell? You know anything about that one?”
Maddy blinked again, then frowned. “I… don’t think so?”
Damn. Bloody ritual.
~V~
“So there’s good news and bad news.”
“Well?” Daphne said, leaning against the railing of the balcony of Isengard, while the real Daphne shot her a look as she settled in across from her in McGonagall’s classroom.
“I did manage to capture some Light polarized magic alright, but…”
Daphne raised an eyebrow. “…But?”
“She can’t recall how to cast Interdictio Mendacium. I mean… I guess I could try just winging it. How hard could it be?”
“Is it one of the spells you can just… do… because of the Name?”
Iris frowned. If they still hadn’t found any details on it, she guessed it really was a quite obscure spell. When Lockhart hadn’t known how to cast it in his memory, she had originally assumed that it was just because Lockhart wasn’t quite as competent as he had made himself out to be, but maybe it had just been that Maddy was the one who had actually been out of the norm? Hell, Sirius hadn’t even found anything in the Black library so far. Either way, it didn’t seem likely that her mum had learned that spell at some point in her life. Otherwise she’d at least have some hunch, some idea on where to start.
“Yeah, probably not.”
“And just how many tries do you think you’ll get before you run out of the amount you’ve stored?”
“Well, maybe I can—”
“And do you think you can pull the same trick again without your… battery… getting suspicious?”
Iris sighed. “Yeah… So, long story short, we need a new plan.”
Damn it. She’d gotten so close. They needed that spell. Just the Imperius alone wouldn’t be enough to get the Watcher to tell them how to fix Ria, not if he had actually prepared the Associative Poisoning thing that Daphne had told her about. Only the combination of both spells might have a chance of working.
Just how the hell had nobody ever heard of this spell, when even Lockhart had cast it? Was that something with the ritual again? Was it… because he used some… artistic liberty? It was one thing to alter memories, things and stuff using rituals, but the actual laws of magic?
No. More likely, it really just was that obscure of a spell. But the only one Iris could think of that she knew without a doubt could cast it was dead at her own hands.
Iris blinked.
Was he, though? She’d just assumed, she meant… he had to be a Lethifold at this point, right? But would he…
She’d almost been there. Hermione had almost been there. But the very moment she’d stepped back out of the shadows, the moment that the blinding tingles of reality pouring back in had rushed over her entire body, it had all come back in an instant. Well, not quite an instant, really, at least, not that one time she’d gotten herself shot it hadn’t.
In fact, she’d spent an entire day emptying the entire Great Hall of food before she’d somewhat gotten rid of that deep, gnawing feeling of hunger, of emptiness…
But still, what if… If Hermione had been any indication, he’d be drawn to a place where he felt safe, where he felt at home…
“You’re having that look again…” Daphne said.
“Yeah, and you’re not going to like it,” added Ria, strolling into the room and joining them on the balcony.
“I thought you weren’t talking to me?” Iris said with a raised eyebrow.
“I’m not. I’m just here to tell Daph that your plan is completely insane.”
“What plan?” Daphne said.
“It’s not that insane, okay? I mean, it’s a long shot, but I think maybe—”
“What plan?” Daphne repeated, now growing agitated.
Iris swallowed, and finally turned to face her doom. “Yeah, she’s right. You’re not going to like it.”
~V~
There were some more cheerful things she could think of that she could be doing right now.
She could, for example, apply for the open post as janitor at Hogwarts. After having snapped her wand, of course.
Or perhaps she could help verify that the infinite sewer at the bottom of level twelve of the ministry was, in fact, actually infinite.
Maybe she could just help clean up the aftermath in Hogsmeade.
Actually, on second thought, yeah. Nope. That, in fact, she’d prefer her current Azkaban duties over very much.
“Here you go,” she said, handing over yesterday’s folded-up edition of the Daily Prophet.
“How’s the weather?” came the reply.
“Dreadful,” Tonks gave her usual answer. “Just like my whole day, thanks for asking.”
“Well, if I’m not miscounting, you’re one day away from the half-way point of your assignment here.”
“Oh, joy, I’m not even half-way through wasting away in this literal hellhole,” Tonks groaned.
Maybe he was just trying to be nice, but Tonks was pretty sure he was just using her company to get some respite from the dementors thanks to the proximity of her Schattenbann shield.
“Be glad you get to leave at all,” the voice behind the black steel bars of the cell gave a weary reply.
“Are you really expecting some sympathy right now?”
The reply was just a hollow chuckle. “I suppose not.”
Yeah, Tonks would never get used to this place. The guardhouse was fine, she guessed, but especially these extended patrols would quickly go past boring into straight existential despair. If someone had told her two month’s ago that she’d be holding amicable conversation with some of the worst scum of Magical Britain, she’d have spontaneously grown a clown’s nose to laugh them out the room. But boredom, isolation—and oh yeah, the dementors, can’t forget those—at some point all of it piling up would just push you to a point where you’d start talking to literally anyone, if you even found someone who’d actually listen in the first place. At least her parents and Sirius still kept in contact via Patronus occasionally, she guessed. Unlike another certain someone that she knew.
It’s just for four months, he’d said. It’ll be over in the blink of an eye, he’d said. The only solace from the boredom here was whenever a group of dementors would get too close, and wasn’t that a cheerful thought? But, at least, it had given her time to think up increasingly creative… surprises… to leave on Mad-Eye’s desk as a thank you gift. Once she got the hell out of here, that was.
She glanced down the rows of cells, bars and metal gates lining the long stone hallway, all the way to the end. The only light originated from the small windows–rows of parallel, thin vertical slits in the black stone embedded in every single cell, with the icy howl of the seemingly permanent storm outside tearing through them, at least that’s what it sounded like, although it didn’t seem like the wind was actually getting through thankfully, at least out here on the corridor she couldn’t feel so much as a slight breeze. In the center of the hallway there was a large, cylindrical metal cage, with the ceiling missing. Inside it floated a dementor. Tall, dark, cloaked in ragged, black cloth, with long, disjointed limbs, almost unmoving, yet its robes fluttering in said soft breeze that wasn’t there. At some point she’d given up on worrying about whether they were actually watching her, or if she was just going bonkers.
“Tonks! Mail for yeh!” Rodriguez shouted around the corner, before turning on his heel and trotting off again.
Mail? For her? Here?
She must have forgotten to pay her Wizarding Wireless fees, because that was the only reason someone would bother to send you a letter all the way inside a literal hellhole.
Tonks gripped the crystal stuck to her chest, and the red glowing gem gave a small pulse. The shining sphere around her shrunk slightly, and when she got up, it started to move with her. A glance down the hallway showed the designated dementor make its way out of its spot, causing the walls to shudder, and the room began to expand. Tonks groaned, and broke into a sprint, making it to the exit just in time before the distance grew too large.
She turned around, watching all the doors of cells move further and further apart, the infinite hall of stone connecting them all growing further, splitting apart, and folding into a maze of walls as they separated the cells. Yeah. As if the dementors themselves weren’t enough, the bloody fortress wouldn’t let anyone in or out without them.
It had turned out that she had, in fact, not missed her Wizarding Wireless payments. Though as much as she was happy to hear from her least-insane uncle, she was now starting to seriously—no pun intended—question that very designation.
“Just what the hell does he need three of those things for?”
~V~
Iris had been right. Daphne really didn’t like this. Never mind her personal feelings on the matter of Lockhart, but just looking at this logically… Their whole plan couldn’t just be… try and find a dead fraud-hero’s shadow which was almost guaranteed to be a full-blown Lethifold at this point, and then… do what, exactly?
“Alright,” Daphne’s mental projection said. “Let’s pretend I were to entertain that mad idea for a moment. Do you even have any idea where to start looking for him?”
Daphne heard a sound and looked up and across the classroom at Iris, and she noticed the door behind them had come open to admit Professor Flitwick.
“Well, maybe he’s still somewhere around Diagon Alley?”
“With all the Schattenbann defenses they have mounted all over the alley thanks to your little stunt? Sure.”
Iris turned away with a sheepish expression and let her gaze wander across the gardens of Isengard.
“Well,” Iris said, “if he didn’t stick around, and obviously didn’t come after me, the only other thing I can think of is that he returned… to a place he felt safe? You know, like Hermione did, sort of…”
Daphne sighed. “You know what? Let’s call that… plan Z. In the meanwhile, why don’t we ask Professor Black if his Auror contact can dig up some info on that spell? If anyone would know of a truth curse using Light Polarized Magic, it would be them, right?”
She didn’t get any further because both their attention was diverted by Professor Flitwick, who had made his way to the front of the classroom to exchange some whispered words with Professor McGonagall. And both of them had just distinctly heard her mutter the word “…Albus?”
Flitwick gave a nod. “…asked for you. I know you would…”
“Say no more,” McGonagall muttered, before stumbling to her feet. “I’ll have to ask you to open your books and read page sixty-four through seventy on the properties and malleability of Iron. If I don’t return by the bell, consider the class dismissed.”
Mutters spread through the classroom like wildfire. Not only for how unusual this was for McGonagall in the first place—she’d never abandoned a class half-way through to their knowledge, but more importantly, because of that one name they had heard muttered under their breath.
Dumbledore. He was back.
Daphne felt a cold, iron chain wrap around her insides. Fuck. Not yet! They had no information on the truth curse yet, not to mention any opportunity to actually test it, except for a madman’s plan to try and possibly learn it from a Lethifold, and far too little time to come up with actually feasible alternatives. They might or might not have the Schattenbann shields that Black was supposed to acquire. They had a fool’s plan to try and break into the most secure prison on the planet, whose details were flimsy at best. But what they didn’t have was time. The last thing they needed was giving Dumbledore enough time to settle all the burning affairs waiting for him, and have his attention be directed towards the merry band of students planning a prison break under his nose. Not to mention everything else that might be necessary.
Daphne sat ramrod straight in her chair, and slowly her head turned to meet the girl across the room. No words were exchanged, but that look from Iris said it all. They had to move. And they had to move now.
~V~
Black wasn’t in his new office. Neither was he in his classroom. Damn it all! Daphne was already struggling to get her thoughts into order just from how fast things were suddenly moving, but they were already going sideways too. Luckily, Iris had had another idea on how to find him, but for some Merlin-forsaken reason she’d decided to leave the Map in her room, so that’s where they were headed right now. But only all too late, Daphne realized that it wasn’t just Iris’ room that they were headed towards.
Iris pushed open the door, and Daphne tensed as she read the other name emblazoned on the sign. Tracey. She still hadn’t figured out what exactly to do with her. No matter what she wanted, no matter what Tracey wanted, at this point, there was just no going back. Daphne had well and truly proven that she couldn’t be trusted with any sort of friendship after what she’d done to Lily. The last thing she needed on top of everything else was to— oh.
Daphne let out a breath of relief as she realized that of course, Tracey wasn’t here yet. They’d ditched Transfiguration half-way through, so they had some more time before Tracey would return, hopefully.
“Okay. Give me a second, I’ll check the Map for Sirius,” Iris said, and dashed over to her trunk, pulling out various books, parchment, and other junk as she rummaged around for the Maurauder’s Map.
Daphne started pacing, trying to order her thoughts. Things were moving too fast. She wasn’t ready. She’d usually have time to prepare these things; rushing into things without so much as a two-part plan was Iris’ thing, not Daphne’s. She almost slipped on one of the stacks of parchment on the ground, and caught herself just as Iris triumphantly pulled out the tattered worn bundle that was the Map in question.
“A-ha! Okay, let’s see…” she declared, and flipped it open to start scanning the pages, looking for Black.
Daphne’s gaze wandered down to the bundle she’d almost slipped on, and her eyes got caught on one of the names written on a list at the front.
The Allmighty Ariel
A faint tingle ran down Daphne’s spine, and she crouched down to get a closer look.
“What… is that?” Daphne said, pulling out the bundle of parchment from underneath her.
“What’s wha—” Iris said, looking up from her spot on the bed, only to trail off. “Oh…”
Whatever adrenaline, tension and building stress mixed with a hint of excitement she’d built up were instantly blown out of the window. From one second to the next, she found herself drowning. And she hadn’t even really met Iris’ eyes.
“…I completely forgot,” Iris whispered, her voice lacking any hint of her usual liveliness.
Daphne glanced down at the bundle of parchment in her hand, but she couldn’t figure out what she was looking at. The memories they had shared had only been up to the end of second year, until Ria had finally gotten what she wanted out of it.
“What is it?” Daphne repeated quietly.
Iris didn’t look up, but the sorrow was still almost palpable. In that moment, it felt just like after they’d first woken up, and all the mirrors had shattered; when they’d seen each other for the first time. Two people, one single mind. As if nothing else mattered. Daphne flipped it over and read the first page.
Hello Ginny,
if you are reading this then I am most likely dead.
Her eyes flicked towards the bottom of the page and found a name. Luna? An image flashed through her mind of a sort of… human-cow crossbreed? More images followed, and… none of this was making any sense, Items, Monsters and… countless hours idling away in front of Dudley’s laptop… Oh. Luna, as in… MOOnSpiraC?
Daphne blinked. How had this been the first association in her mind? Slowly, more memories came back, of a friend she hadn’t even known, of a friend she’d thought of as some odd boy obsessed with conspiracy theories on the internet. Of the girl who had turned out to be her first friend she had ever made. Somewhere, at the back of her mind, she was aware that those memories were not her own. But right now, the borderstone between Iris’ mind and her own was more of an afterthought. Daphne began to scan down the page, reading through the contents, before freezing on the codenames. She flipped the pages over to the relevant sections and…
8th Day of Red, after Charms, Hogwarts Library. I’ve spotted Lady Ariel trying to probe the Librarian for information on the secret passage into the Restricted Section. Ever since Harry’s funeral, I have found no more evidence of the original host. It seems that the Blibbering Humdinger has taken full control at this point. All the evidence still leads to both Laplace as well as Irisistible. Possibility that they might be in cahoots is still strong. Needs further investigation.
Daphne swallowed. What? She flipped the page back all the way to the first entry of the section labeled The Allmighty Ariel.
42nd Day of Pink, After Lunch, Hogwarts Library. I have just witnessed attempted murder. The bold killer struck in broad daylight, just as I had my back turned. He must have planned this for years. Ginny was petrified. They say they will need some time to brew the antidote, but that seems like a convenient excuse. I will not rest until I have found who did this, Ginny. I swear by my title as the Quibblers chief junior investigator that I will solve this case, and find out how to save you. There are four main suspects, including myself. Lily Moon, The Heir of Slytherin (Harry Potter), Luna Lovegood, and Iris.
Daphne kept reading, more and more mind-bending theories, half of which involved impossible circumstances, imaginary creatures, simple-minded motives, or all of the above. But also, a lot of details surrounding Lily’s circumstance that she’d much rather have kept hidden. Just how much had the girl learned about the situation? Who else had she told? The Weasley girl? The dates were coded according to some scheme based on colors that didn’t make much sense, especially since the numbers seemed to go beyond 31 sometimes, and the order wasn’t making any sense, either. Iris seemed split between staring at the bundle in Daphne’s hands and continuing to scan the map. A part of her own mind kept insisting that they really had more pressing concerns, but something about this held Daphne’s attention all the same. They were both trapped in this moment; in those memories, and the only way forward, the only thing they could do was continue reading. Swallowing, Daphne flipped over the page onto the section titled Sinister Demonic Sisters.
3rd Day of Blue, Dinnertime, Outside the Great Hall. I’ve caught Lady Ariel in the middle of yet another one of her schemes, and who else would show up but Laplace to foil her at the last second. Two people were suspiciously dismissed without explanation, and others turned from the scene like some sort of Muggle-Repelling charm. And of course she once again seemingly knew the topics of the conversation she hadn’t even been a part of. The Demon theory still is gaining plausibility, although at this point I wouldn’t even dismiss the Fae-in-disguise theory either. Laplace continues to demonstrate an uncanny ability to know things that she should not, and to use it to great effect, beyond what could be explained by something as simple as her being a seer. There is obviously something more mysterious going on. The fact that she has used her powers against the Human Toad proves that she is not under the blanket with the Rotfang Conspiracy, and therefore likely not affiliated with the Ministry at all. Possibly she is the secret shadow ruler that pits the two factions against each other to achieve her own terrible plans. I’ll keep trying to catch a glimpse of her true form using the Spectre Specs, but it is difficult wearing them where the teachers can see. I still need to do the obligatory investigation of her lair at some point, but that holds the same issue as with Irisistible, which is entering the Slytherin Dorms in the first place. The problem is that you need to think at least three evil thoughts a day in order to be able to even find the entrance. I already tried to think of ways to attract a Crumple-Horned Snorkack to our dorm so it would create a Nargle infestation underneath the other girls’ beds, but apparently that didn’t meet the criteria. If I could find out her true Name though, I can either force her to tell me, or at least rule out that theory. Except that I couldn’t be sure if I did find the wrong true Name, or if she doesn’t have one at all. This needs some further thought.
Daphne frowned, and flipped the page over to read a different part.
4th Day of Green, Charms Corridor, Before Classes. Spotted Laplace conspiring with her conniving co-conspirators. Still haven’t narrowed down the method she uses to communicate, or with whom, but it is more than one person. One of them is very likely Lady Ariel, another possibly Irisistible, but the third one—the one she seems the most fond of—I have not been able to link to anyone yet. My current theory is that the entity she calls Ria (Codename: Spectra) is either not real, or someone from her Homeland (or Homeworld) that she reports back to. At first I assumed that she would be talking to her sister Lilith (new Codename: Cruella, to avoid confusion with Lily Moon), but so far, there have been several instances where the timing would not match up with the real one being occupied at the time, plus she keeps telling Spectra things about Cruella, which Cruella should obviously already know, so the conclusion is they must be different people.
Daphne frowned, trying to make sense of all this madness, as she slowly flipped through the pages. It seemed like the girl had been investigating Daphne, Ariel, and Iris, over quite some time now. Not that she had any knowledge of the details or circumstances, or seemingly any motive or concrete suspicion other than the idea that something fishy was going on, but seemingly that didn’t stop her. Luna had apparently even noticed her talking to Ria when she thought she was alone, and had assumed that Daphne was talking to someone she had left behind back home.
If only.
Most of her theories, most of her investigation led into absolute fantasy-land. But that didn’t change anything about the fact that almost all the people being investigated here truly did have something to hide. Well, except maybe for…
Daphne shot Iris a raised eyebrow. Stubby Boardman?
“It’s apparently what she called Sirius,” Iris said, still sitting on her bed.
Professor Black? But she thought… why would he…
“Because he’s the Defense Professor,” Iris said.
Daphne flipped over the page and began to read a random entry.
Blue and Red Overlap Day, 3rd floor below the Astronomy Tower, after Lunch. Eavesdropped on a conversation between Stubby Boardman and himself. Unlike with Notice-Me-Not hairbands, this new disguise works like a charm. I’ll have to check the library later for some more books on medieval battles to read to Sir Timothy, because he said he only lets me hide inside his armor for one day per victorious battle. I couldn’t hear the second half of Stubby’s argument, but he seems to be debating breaking into something. I have no idea what it is yet, but he said that it would be on the seventh floor.
“…Iris?” Daphne said, still looking down at the parchment.
“Huh?” Iris mumbled, glancing up from her bed.
“What would Black be doing talking to himself and trying to break into something on the seventh floor?”
“What?” Iris replied.
“When did you receive this?” Daphne asked.
Iris sighed. “It wasn’t him. Yes, she was investigating him that day, but that’s the point. His office is inside the Astronomy Tower.”
Oh. So the Fiendfyre…
“But… that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t—”
“Yes it does. You can’t just summon Fiendfyre on a whim. I don’t know the full procedure, because the exact details seem to have been removed even from all the illegal books I could find, but I know you need preparation, a strong tie to the location it is cast in, and a lot of time. Neither of which would allow him to use Fiendfyre to just… quickly cover something up if he just happened to discover Luna snooping around his office. Whatever the reason for the Fiendfyre, it had nothing to do with Luna.”
Daphne frowned. “Okay, I can see that, but you realize that doesn’t mean he’s innocent, right? Maybe Luna really did just stumble into him as he summoned it. You said it requires a strong tie to the location it is summoned in, right? Like for example… the very office you have been living and working in for a month now?”
Iris sighed. “Daphne, I know it’s impossible for you to just accept that, but I do trust him, you know? Besides, I think we have more pressing concerns. If anything, it should be my job to be irrationally paranoid about the people close to me.”
“Yes, you do that. You’re often too suspicious about the people who you share a close bond with—like Tracey—but in turn, you’re a little too trusting about the people you’re not too invested in. Remember Myrtle? Quirrell? Just which one does Black fall in right now?”
“Daphne, I…”
Daphne flipped over the page, scanned through it, then picked out another section and began to read it out.
“What about this? 14th Day of Orange, 3rd floor below the Astronomy Tower, before Lunch. He sticks to the pattern. This time I followed him, just to make sure his office would be unoccupied long enough if he takes the same route next week again. After breakfast at around ten a.m., sometimes earlier, sometimes later, he makes his way over to the Transfiguration wing to Professor McGonagall’s office, then asks her to send a Patronus to someone named Tonks, and then waits about fifteen minutes for a reply. If he sticks with the pattern, He’ll be out of his office next Saturday again for at least thirty minutes. This is my chance.”
Iris returned a sad look. “Well, yeah. It’s as I said, isn’t it? She went to snoop around his office, and—”
“No, just think about it for a moment. If the next Saturday was the Hogsmeade Weekend, then Professor McGonagall wasn’t in her office. She was out on the grounds collecting the permission slips.”
Iris blinked. “Well, okay, but then…”
“But then,” Daphne cut in, “that would mean he did something else, and the next thing on his agenda was likely whatever he was looking for on the seventh floor of the Astronomy Tower.”
Iris frowned, a thought entering her mind so loudly that Daphne couldn’t help but comment. “You’re not thinking… that room?”
Neither of them had ever been inside it, at least, not really. Iris had been there while she was possessed by Myrtle, and Daphne had been there by proxy when she’d sent Lily to snoop on how her trap for Lockhart and the Heir had been progressing. Could he really be talking about that place? The room that just contained all sorts of junk, except it only showed up if you looked for it? Somewhat like Myrtle’s room, except it seemed to exist not just inside her mind?
“But still, even if…”
“And then there’s another thing with this passage. Think about it,” Daphne said, urging Iris to use her damn brain for once. “He needs to go all the way to McGonagall’s office to have her send a Patronus for him.”
“Well, yeah. Can you imagine casting a Patronus after being locked in a Dementor hell hole for ten years?”
No. Daphne couldn’t even imagine casting it at all, in fact. But that wasn’t the point. “Maybe. Or maybe it is because he is categorically unable to summon Polarized Magic.”
Iris narrowed her eyes. “You mean because he is… being possessed?”
“Possessed, guided, maybe he is just sharing his mind. You’re the one who found out about this,” Daphne said intently.
It was the same thing as with Ria. If all of your mind wasn’t in complete alignment, you wouldn’t be able to summon Polarized Magic either way.
Iris sighed. “Or, it’s as I said. With that same reasoning, either of us could be possessed. Just because he’s unable to do Light polarized magic—”
“Alright, fair enough, then forget about the Patronus for a moment. But what about the flipside? You asked him if he’d rather cast the Imperius himself, but he turned you down. Can you truly imagine him just rejecting this out of a moral standpoint if he is going along with a plan like this? I’m very sure he didn’t want you to cast it, from what he’d said, if there was a chance he could have done it himself. So, the question is, why didn’t he?”
Iris’ mouth slowly closed again, and she fell silent.
“It… it can’t be him. You said yourself that he couldn’t have been the Watcher because—”
“Iris… stop,” Daphne said carefully. “Slow down, and think it through before you try to argue, alright?”
“But—” Daphne shot her another look, and Iris trailed off, and took a deep breath, and whispered, “Okay.”
And slowly, Iris did exactly that. She just sat there, thought it over, and with every second, Daphne could see the realization begin to settle in. Because if there really were something to it…
With everything that had happened, with everything they had seen, no matter what he told them, the only thing they could trust were facts, things they could see and verify for themselves. Because even if it hadn’t been him back then… that didn’t mean that it couldn’t be him now.
Iris met her eyes, their thoughts aligning once more, as they both came to the same realization, accompanied by their shared memory of the grizzled Auror bearing down on them, and imparting his final piece of wisdom with an ugly grin on his face.
“Bastard gets yeh to like him.”
Chapter 46: Ace in the hole
Chapter Text
“Okay, no. Wait. Hold on,” Iris said, gripping her knees tightly. “If he… I mean… no, he can’t… when would he even…”
“If… this is right,” Daphne said, “if we are onto something…”
“No, but… you said that it couldn’t have been him back then!”
“I did say that, yes. But you know how he operates. What’s to say he didn’t find a way to take him over?”
Iris buried her hand in her hair, trying to come up with anything to disprove this, any other theory, other than that the man who—
“You mean like… after the attack?” Iris said in a low mutter, “That he was somehow… replaced? That’s why he didn’t offer to do the spell? And now he’s…”
“Possibly…” Daphne said. “But if this,” she held up the bundle of parchment and shook it, “is in any way connected, then it might even have been him way before that.”
“Before? You mean… Wait! Just how does possession work, exactly? Doesn’t him possessing Neville kind of disprove that, if he has to leave his own body to do it?”
Daphne sighed. “In order to not just send a projection, or some vague commands, but in order to leave your body and take full control, you need either direct eye contact, or an already pre-established link. And the latter requires verbal consent. Assuming that Longbottom wasn’t foolish enough to give someone consent to enter his mind, that means that he must have encountered and jumped to him at some point before we met him.”
“That… but it couldn’t have been all too long, or he wouldn’t have been able to prepare the Fiendfyre ritual beforehand,” Iris added.
“And then jumped back afterwards,” Daphne said.
Are you even hearing yourselves right now?
Iris groaned, but she couldn’t deny that Ria had a point.
“Okay, even if that ridiculous chain of events had something to it,” Iris said with a skeptical look, “what if you were exposed to some sort of massive sensory feedback that would knock you out of the body while you were there? Like with Neville for example?”
Daphne blinked. “Well, then you would be returned back to your own body.”
“So it can’t be him, then, see?” Iris exclaimed. “You said it wasn’t him back then, so if anything, he is being possessed. If he is being possessed, then when we knocked out Neville, the Watcher would have been sent back to Azkaban instead. So if he was and still is possessing Sirius, how is he still here?”
Daphne opened her mouth, but her argument died on her lips.
“See? Something does not add up!” Iris said, now gaining confidence again. “Maybe it’s not him after all, maybe it’s just…”
Finally! Thank you for the voice of reason!
“Or maybe,” Daphne said, “it was him, and still is. Maybe… he has forged a link with Sirius after all this time sitting in a cell right next to him, and just used that to return.”
Iris swallowed. That… well, she couldn’t see Sirius agreeing to something like that, but on the other hand…
Well, had she ever really known him? Or had he just been… what the Watcher wanted him to be?
“Fuck…” Iris mumbled.
“There is, of course, also another possibility,” Daphne added.
The words brought some hope into Iris’ face, and she looked up to meet Daphne’s eyes.
“He could be possessed, but without a link. Because maybe, the Watcher did already escape separately from him and somehow slipped everyone’s notice. In that case, he could be around here, and he could have just taken control again via eye contact.”
Iris took a moment to parse through that. “Well, except that nobody has ever escaped from Azkaban. And with everything we’ve learned, do you really think that’s likely? If he can’t even do magic there?”
“Well… okay, so maybe not like that, but…”
Iris pondered for a moment. “Could he have a link with someone else here, and just use that to take over others?”
Daphne frowned. “I considered that. One way to escape might have been to just jump from person to person, but…”
“But?” Iris said, raising her head.
“It doesn’t work like that.”
Iris frowned. “Why not?”
Daphne sighed. “Believe me, I’ve tried. Once you leave your mind, you can only use the magic you brought with you—the Mind aspect that you used to enter. But in order to enter someone else’s mind against their will, you need to overwhelm them using all of your magic in one go. This means, if you try and use that to jump to another without the target’s consent, you lose connection with the first target in the process, and you end up back in your own body. The only way to take control without someone’s consent is by meeting them face to face, without any proxies in between, and overwhelming them using your mind magic. So the only way he could have escaped like that is to get consent from everyone but the first target along the chain. Possibly even the first one, considering the dementors’ influence. That means, if he does not have a link with Black, then most likely, the real Watcher is still somewhere here, hiding as someone else.”
“But if he really were already here, didn’t you say he would have shown up for revenge in that case?”
“Yes, unless he was otherwise occupied, like say, for example, with summoning Fiendfyre.”
“Great…” Iris mumbled. “What the fuck am I even supposed to believe anymore? It might just as well be him using Polyjuice at this point.”
“That’s actually—”
“Ugh… yeah. Fuck,” Iris muttered.
How could they even be certain of anything at this point?
“No, hang on. Yes, he might be polyjuicing as someone else, but he cannot be Sirius in that case. I know from Lupin that he is an Animagus, and well, he did transform into a black dog the first time I met with him. I’m pretty sure that however the potion works, it doesn’t do that.”
Daphne nodded along with her. “But that still doesn’t preclude him being possessed.”
Iris groaned. “So… hang on. What you’re saying is… either he agreed to forge a link with the Watcher, or someone else here did so, and again, Sirius agreed to let him into his mind, and so did Neville, or… somehow, the real Watcher has already escaped, and is hiding here using someone else’s face…”
Daphne let out a deep breath. “In essence, yes. Either he’s possessing Black from afar with his agreement, or he is here, hiding in plain sight.”
“Or,” Iris said, “we’re just being paranoid, and there is a different explanation to what’s going on with Sirius. Because, well, I could see Neville being tricked into agreeing to something like that, but Sirius? I mean… he’s from the Black family. That has to be, like… rule number one in the dark wizard tutorial.”
Iris groaned, trying to think of another reason, another chain of events that could explain any of this, but none of it even made a smidgeon of sense, even compared to this insane theory. Damn it all. If only Harry were here. Not only would they be able to just ask Sirius, but they also wouldn’t have that issue with the Watcher and Interdictio Mendacium, either. Even an interdict of absolute truth couldn’t hold a candle to Harry’s bullshit detector in action.
“Well, either way, there are too many coincidences to just ignore it,” Daphne said, to which Iris had to reluctantly agree. “We know that something does not add up. Something might be going on, and if it is what we suspect it is,” Daphne said, her voice growing quieter, “Then maybe we can do something about it.”
Iris nodded, and whispered, “Yeah… Maybe.”
She took a deep breath to try and clear out the looming dread and panic, and slowly began to gather her thoughts. Because unlike with Myrtle and Quirrell, this time, it wasn’t too late yet. This time she had a head start. He didn’t even know that they had found something, thanks to a lucky break from Luna. This time, things would be different. Iris wouldn’t let herself be fooled like that again.
Please don’t do anything reckless again…
“If there is something to it, if there is a chance that we’re not just seeing things… then we have to make absolutely sure,” Iris said, her voice slowly gaining determination. “And in case it turns out correct… well, this time…”
Daphne met her eyes, and said, “This time, we will set a trap for him.”
~V~
This, however, proved easier said than done. Ideas were proposed, analyzed and discarded, and soon they were left almost exactly where they’d started. Except for a fools plan, a Hail Mary the likes of which only Iris would have come up with.
If only they had found information on how to cast that damn truth spell somewhere, they’d at least have somewhat of a plan now. But no. Instead, they’d have to try and make do with what they had, and failing that, at least attempt to free Sirius. But most important of all, they’d first have to verify that their theory was actually correct.
And that, without a truth spell… would be pretty damn difficult. Because unless he either slipped up or revealed himself, they’d have no way of knowing if their theory was correct in the first place, and they’d have to possibly resort to using the Cymbal Monkey on an innocent man to be sure.
Fuck.
And with every second they wasted on this, their possible window to leave for Azkaban was closing inch by inch. Which, of course, if they were right, they might not even have to. But that would leave Iris with no way to get Daphne to come along for the rest of her trip. Their promise would only be valid if they agreed on the final plan right before heading out, after all.
Damn it all to hell.
She flipped over the pages of the map, again and again, scanning for any hint, any small change that… there!
Iris groaned. Of course. She’d been looking for a name this whole time. But right now, in the very center of the corridor leading to his new office at the end of the Transfiguration wing—the very office they were now waiting within, there were a familiar pair of paw prints, rapidly moving down towards the door. Was it just some kind of permanent jinx? Or had he done it to cover up his real identity?
Well, they’d find out soon enough. Hopefully.
Iris met Daphne’s eyes and gave a nod, but right now, it was more of a superficial gesture, with the phone line being open as wide as a river. Daphne’s head disappeared underneath the Invisibility Cloak in the corner of the room, and Iris settled in one of the two remaining chairs in the room, right in front of his desk, pulled her pendant out of her bag, and placed it around her neck underneath her robes.
There was a final second of calm, before the door clicked open. Sirius stepped inside, wearing his usual black robes with a faint ornate golden trim at the seams and assorted jewelry, and glanced around the sparsely decorated new office. Some of the empty shelves were already filled with tiny crystalline contraptions again, but mostly the walls and shelves and especially the desk sat glaringly empty, after his previous office had been consumed by the fire. Sirius loosened his tie, before he spotted her sitting in the chair with her legs crossed, and blinked.
“Iris?” he said, before a smile broke on his face.
Iris didn’t return the gesture, and after some seconds, his own smile faltered as well. “Sirius,” she said quietly.
Iris hated this. This was the exact reason why her friendship with Tracey was struggling. She wanted to be wrong, she wanted there to be any other explanation, but she also knew that if she was wrong, she’d probably drive a huge wedge into the trust between the two of them in the process of checking.
“What’s going on?” Sirius asked, voice sounding concerned.
“We need to talk,” Iris said, and gestured towards the chair across from her.
Sirius’ eyes darted from her hand, over to the chair, and after a second, he hesitantly began to approach. Iris involuntarily tensed as he closed in, and she could tell that he noticed her reaction.
“Are you alright?” he said, shooting her a concerned look.
Iris said nothing, and when he finally sat down on the chair across from her, Iris let out a breath. She went over her words a few times, trying to figure out how to go about this, but in the end decided to just go with the straightforward approach.
“Sirius,” she said again, steeling herself, locking down all the doors of the Shire, of Isengard, and even the gates of Mordor, and then met his eyes.
“I need to show you something. And first, I need to ask you something. And I need you to answer honestly.”
“What brought this on, Iris?” he said, wariness creeping into his features.
“Please,” Iris said, taking a breath, and holding his gaze. “This is important. If we’re doing this, then I need to know I can trust you. I need to know beyond the shadow of a doubt.”
Sirius swallowed, and then nodded. “Well, ask away, I’m an open book.”
Iris’ voice slipped lower, almost a whisper, and she said, “You need to promise me. Promise that you’ll answer these absolutely honestly, okay? To the very best of your knowledge.”
Sirius fumbled with his hands for a moment, glancing around the room, before he said “Alright. I can promise that. What’s this about?”
“Have you ever killed someone?” Iris said.
Sirius’ breath caught, and he swallowed. “I… well, you see—”
“Just answer honestly, and with yes or no only,” Iris said coldly.
“Y…. I… okay. Yes, I have,” he finally said, his voice very quiet.
“Was it in self-defense?” Iris said.
“Yes,” Sirius said again, this time gaining a bit more confidence.
“Was it always?” she added, causing him to falter once more, and then shake his head.
“No? Then was it in defense of others?” Iris continued, to which he gave a firm nod. “Any other reasons besides those?”
“Merlin, no! Iris, I… I mean, you know I considered it, at least with Pettigrew, but I never—”
Iris held up a hand cutting off his protests.
“Would you say that you are… a good person?”
Sirius blinked. “What kind of question is that?”
“Just answer honestly,” Iris continued undeterred, slowly reaching into the sleeve of her robes.
“I… well, I try to? Merlin I know I’ve had some… lapses in judgement, but… I’m trying my best here, damn it! Aren’t you the one who…”
He trailed off, as Iris withdrew her wand from her sleeve, and slowly held it up for him to see. “I want to show you something,” Iris said, holding up the wand with a shaky hand.
“Show me… what exactly?” Sirius said hesitantly, eyes darting around the room again.
“With what’s going on… with what we’ve learned… I hate that I have to even consider this, but… I need to be absolutely sure I can trust you,” Iris said, holding his gaze. “If you want to do this with me, this is the only way.”
She closed her eyes and focused. Now, it was showtime.
The handle of her wand slowly lit up in a clear, brilliant white. Rays of light pierced between her fingers, drawing shadows across the room, and slowly, the light traveled forward, until it gathered at the tip. The room slowly grew warm, and it felt as if a soft breeze began flowing around the office, rustling parchment and tousling their hair.
“What… what are you doing, Iris?”
“I’m sorry about this, Sirius,” Iris said, finally opening her eyes again. “But this is the only way. Do you trust me? Because I want to trust you. I really do. But this is the only way I can.”
Sirius swallowed, his eyes entrapped by the brightly glowing tip. “Is that… I mean… didn’t you say that you couldn’t…”
“Don’t tell me what I can’t do,” Iris said with a small, bittersweet smile.
She began moving the want, drawing it slowly, visibly through the star-shaped pattern. Swipe after swipe, swish after swish, every corner adding more layers to the spell, even if it was still missing its central ingredient. Even if they hadn’t been able to find any hint on Interdictio Mendacium still, this spell, they had very much found information on. The wind picked up pace, and the air grew even warmer, now feeling almost hot for a moment.
“Tone it down a bit, Daphne. I’m good, but not that good,” Iris said over the link, and the heat and wind in the room lessened somewhat.
She drew the final lines, smaller and smaller, until the wand met the center of the pattern, and with a determined expression, she turned it right onto Sirius.
“Iris? What… what are you doing? You know this kind of magic is—”
“I know exactly what this kind of magic is. And so do you,” Iris said. “So I’ll ask you once more.”
Her expression turned blank, and she pinned him under her stare. Her hair was blowing in the wind, and the tip of her wand pointed right at his chest as she stood over him. He was still sitting there on the chair, staring back at her with wide eyes.
“Do you truly believe you will be judged to be a good person?” Iris said firmly. “Not by me, but by Magic itself?”
“I…” Sirius mumbled, eyes darting around, his hands opening and closing, “I mean I’ve done some things, Iris… nobody knows how this spell truly works, or based upon what exactly it judges, and I—”
“Just answer the question, Sirius,” Iris spoke over the noise of the air and magic sizzling around them.
“I… I mean…” he muttered, before nodding, then nodding again. He met her eyes, and firmly said, “Yes. Yes, I think I will.”
“Are you sure?” Iris repeated, her trembling wand still right in his face.
Sirius swallowed, and then smiled. “Yes. I’ve never been more sure about anything than I’m right now. Do it. Cast the spell. If it’s for you, then I’ll endure even the Soul Judgement. Because I know at the end of the day that I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Alright then,” Iris said, and took a deep breath. She met his eyes, and held his gaze, all the while, as she slowly and deliberately reached into the collar of her robes, and withdrew her pendant.
Iris’ expression had lost all color now, and she took a breath and shot a glance at Daphne. In a single instant, she turned the pendant translucent, and the true, actual Light aspect started flooding the room. Sirius froze in his seat, and in that very same moment of distraction, Daphne struck him in the back with a disarming spell, followed by an Incarcerous, causing thick ropes to tie themselves around his limbs before he could even get up from the chair.
Iris held up the pendant to her wand, and slowly began to draw some of the bright, blinding White from the mirror trap into the crystal at the top of her wand, where it mingled with the perfect mix of Destruction, Mind and Life, which she had balanced precariously to appear exactly white, almost like polarized magic, yet not quite.
Iris slowly drew strand after strand of pure White into her wand, wrapping it up in the half-complete spell, integrating the central component it had still been missing to cast, until all that was left to do was to speak the words. But she didn’t watch her spell being woven, instead, every single ounce of her attention was directed right at Sirius’ face.
And Sirius had blinked.
“I… okay uh… hang on…”
Already, goosebumps had begun forming on her skin, even despite the glistening heat of the magic before her. Fuck.
Why, oh why couldn’t they have just been wrong?
Iris almost didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to accept it, but the answer was staring her right in the face, all the color drained from the skin as he realized that her bluff hadn’t been a bluff at all, as he put together her ace in the hole at the exact moment that he had already given himself away.
“Give me one reason,” Iris said, her voice as sharp as steel, “not to cast this spell right now.”
“No, Iris, wait! You don’t understand! It’s not what you—”
“I think we’ve heard about enough out of you,” Daphne said, dropping the cloak as she stepped up next to Iris. There was a gleam in her eyes, which at any other day would have Iris concerned, but right now, she very much shared the sentiment.
“Please! I’m sorry that I lied to you, but whatever you think is going on, I swear it’s not!”
“Shut. Up,” Daphne hissed, boring her wand into Sirius’ neck from behind him. “If you’re so innocent, then why are you hesitating now, only when you realized that she isn’t just pretending to have summoned Light Polarized Magic? Why did you agree to have the spell cast on you when you thought she was just bluffing?”
Sirius’ mouth opened, but other than a strangled sound, and a pleading look, he didn’t manage much else.
“I’ll tell you why,” Daphne said, the tip of her wand starting to glow, causing Sirius to wince. “It’s because you’re the Watcher.”
His eyes went wide, and his breath caught.
“Iris, the moment he even so much as blinks, you cast the spell,” Daphne growled. “It doesn’t take much time to break a mental link, but I’m sure if you’re quick enough, you can still get him before he—”
“Wait!” Sirius yelled. “This is madness! Don’t listen to her, Iris! I don’t know what the hell I did to convince you of that, but hear me out! Please, before—”
He was cut off with a strangled choking sound, as Daphne’s eyes lit up, and the ropes wrapping around his body tightened in an instant.
“Here’s how this will go,” Daphne said. “You don’t speak unless we ask a question. You tell us exactly what we want to know, and most important of all… you don’t leave, if you don’t want your soul to be judged by Iris over there.”
Daphne slowly made her way around the chair, her wand still pointed at his face, then slowly trailed it up his chin, and used it to swipe his long, black hair out of his face. “Do you know if a soul can be judged through a mental link? I sure don’t. But I’m positively itching to find out…”
Sirius’ eyes were wide as saucers, now pointedly staring at Iris in a silent, pleading expression, but he didn’t speak again.
“And if you don’t… well, better not give Iris any more reasons than she already has…”
“Iris—”
“Shut up,” Iris finally spoke up. “Just shut up. One more word, and I’ll answer with two of my own. Want to test your luck?”
Sirius held his breath, but finally, quietly, shook his head.
“Good. Now. First question. You’re the Watcher. And you’re controlling Sirius.”
“I’m not—”
“No use denying it,” Daphne cut in. “The game is up. And you almost got away with it, too. Would you like to know where you slipped up?” Daphne said with a polite smile. “You played your part perfectly, and we almost even fell for it, but you made one crucial mistake. You were even so kind as to tell us all about it.”
Daphne tilted her head over toward Iris, who gave a cold smile and picked up the ball. “To summon the arcane, to utilize something as pure as Polarized Magic, all of you needs to be in alignment. Of course, you conveniently have spent the last ten years in Azkaban, so nobody would question you being unable to summon Light polarized magic, but, well… here is the issue.” Iris smiled and let her gaze wander over to Daphne again. Really, this was getting quite ridiculous. But if what Daphne had said about his personality was right, this would be one of the very few ways to get through to him. In essence, they had to get on his level.
“You turned down casting the Imperius in my place,” Iris gloated. “If you truly were who you claim to be, well… why wouldn’t you take such a terrible and dangerous burden off your goddaughter’s innocent hands?”
Iris gave a small smile, and continued, “Because you couldn’t. That’s why. And since everything else went so swimmingly, you’d probably hoped to slip that little detail under the radar, and finish… well, whatever it is you were trying to do here. You see,” her voice shifted lower, and she gave him a curious look. “That’s the part I don’t understand. What was the end goal? What was your… master plan?”
Sirius’ eyes went wild now, his mouth opening again and again, but before he could speak, Daphne interrupted him with a soft purr. “Come now… I’m sure it’s an absolutely ingenious plan, full of hidden identities, intrigue, diversion, and secret weapons… it would be a shame to have your soul be torn apart without anyone ever learning the full scope of it, now wouldn’t it?”
“What are you even saying?!” Sirius exclaimed. “Will you listen to me for one Merlin-damned second! I’ll tell you everything you want to know, I’ll bloody swear to that! But I can’t do that if you don’t damn well listen!”
Sirius was now breathing heavily, having gotten all that out, and Daphne’s expression turned to one of disgust. She raised her hand again, wand starting to glow red, and—
“Wait,” Iris said quietly.
“Iris, you know who this is. You know how he operates. You can’t believe—”
“I’ll be the judge of that. He said he wants to tell us everything, right? Let’s give him a chance, under one condition,” Iris said, slowly moving her wand so close that Sirius started to groan from the heat. “Can you prove it? Can you somehow prove anything you’re about to say? Because if you can’t, then save it.”
Daphne ground her teeth, but finally took a step back.
“Yes. Yes I can, Merlin, it’s… well, it’s just…” Sirius stammered, his eyes darting back and forth across the room, before he nodded again, and his voice fell into a hushed whisper. “Alright. I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything. But,” he added, pinning Iris under a desperate pleading look, “you must promise that you won’t tell another soul what I’m about to tell you.”
Iris blinked. Okay. She had expected a lot, but… not that.
“You… are in no position to make demands, Professor,” Daphne said.
Iris’ pulse was racing. The finalized spell, perfectly constructed, all the aspects and the Light woven in perfect harmony, and though it was just borrowed from someone else, the Righteousness merged with the pattern all the same. All it would take would be two, small and simple words, to invoke a type of magic that was so ancient even the pharaohs of the Nile had used it to judge their successors. But if there was a chance, if there was even a smidgeon of possibility that he was telling the truth…
Damn it! Why couldn’t they have just found the damn patterns of the truth spell!
Iris finally noticed a glance from Daphne, as well as all the thoughts she’d been sending her way over the phone. Yeah. She was right. Sure, maybe there was a reason, maybe there was something to it, but unless there was any proof other than his word, any irrefutable evidence before them, they had to assume that it was all just part of the Watcher’s deception. She couldn’t give him any ground, even if she really wanted to.
Iris tensed her grip on her wand and met his eyes again. “Tell me, and if it’s a good reason, then I’ll consider it.”
Sirius’ expression fell into despair, then his eyes kept darting around, seemingly in conflict with himself for a moment, before he sighed. “Fine. But I’ll need my hands,” he said, giving a haphazard tug at the ropes tying down his arms.
Daphne rolled her eyes. “What a wonderfully useless way to waste your one and only chance.”
“I wish I were just joking, but absolutely no pun intended, I’m very serious right now.”
Iris saw Daphne’s eyes flash and she reached out a hand, and placed it on her shoulder. “Hold on.”
“Iris,” Daphne said quietly. “You can’t seriously be considering—”
“Just his arms. Keep his body tied down, and if he so much as twitches, I’ll take him out.”
A drop of sweat was now running down Sirius’ face, as his eyes darted between Iris and Daphne for a moment.
“If you’re wasting our only chance to find out how—”
“Daphne, please! Something isn’t right, you said it yourself. We’re not giving him an inch, okay? But I really think we should hear him out!”
Daphne exchanged a few more looks, feelings and thoughts all too jumbled to properly verbalize, before they came to a tacit agreement, accompanied by a heavy sigh. “Very well. No sudden moves, Black. This is your one and only warning.”
Daphne’s eyes flashed again, and the ropes wrapping around his arms loosened a bit, while the rest of them seemed to grow all the tighter instead, causing Sirius to wince. He didn’t complain however. He just gave Iris a meaningful look, before he slowly and very carefully raised his right hand, then pulled open his collar with his left one, reached within, and withdrew a pendant of his own.
A pendant that caused Iris to freeze in her step. Because she’d seen it before. Because they were wrong. He wasn’t possessed by the Watcher. But somehow, it was even worse.
With panic settling in, she reached for the phone line and said “Daphne, we need to—”
“What… in Merlin’s name… is this,” Daphne whispered, her eyes entrapped by the small, metallic pendant.
Iris recognized it. She recognized it… from her memories. But, well, not exactly her memories. It was a tiny locket, dangling from a golden chain, black, and with a silver crest emblazoned on the front. It was a locket Iris had seen only once before. Back when Voldemort had cast the Imperius curse on her. She’d seen only flashes, fragments of memories without context, when he’d thought about how he was immortal, as if gloating to himself, or assuring himself, and she’d seen… things. A locket—this exact locket, sitting at the bottom of a stone bowl filled with some sort of liquid, but without any context as to exactly where or even what it was. Along with that, there had been other things. A ring, sitting in a flat, dusty wooden space. A vague image of a pile of junk next to a statue, containing a silver crown of sorts. A silhouette… a figure, with long, messy hair, but she couldn’t make out much of what it was wearing… And of course… a single, small leather book, resting on a dusty shelf. A diary. A diary that had contained the soul of Myrtle Warren. The very same diary that Iris herself had fallen victim to not even half a year later.
And the same kind of object was now dangling right before her. Who knew what it had done to Sirius? Who knew what it had made him do, or what it could—
“This,” Sirius said hoarsely, swallowing as he held up the small, golden chain, causing the light to reflect off the silver serpent. He opened his mouth once, twice, eyes darting between Iris and Daphne, his expression falling further with every glance, before he finally whispered “This… is Reggie.”
His face fell in on himself in an expression of utter defeat, and his eyes were just idly following the small pendant dangling in the air as he held it, until he added in a quavering voice, “my little brother.”
Chapter 47: Scissors and rock
Chapter Text
“Sirius…”
“No!” he yelled. “Please, I know how this sounds, but it’s the honest to Merlin truth!”
“This… your brother?” Daphne scoffed. “Why are we even listening to this?”
“Daphne, I—” Iris began.
“No, listen to me. This thing is bad news. I’ve never seen an enchantment such as this, is it a Curse, a ritual, Merlin if I know. But I can tell that it’s just a distraction for—”
“No! Damn it, Daphne! Listen. I know what this is. Probably even better than he does.”
“What?” Sirius blurted, echoed by Daphne.
“You know what this is? How?” Daphne said.
“It’s…” Iris whispered, her eyes still trapped on the dangling locket. “It’s… the same thing as with Myrtle. It’s… a soul anchor. A piece of the Dark Lord’s soul, torn apart and hidden away inside an object, to keep him tied to this world.”
Daphne’s breath caught, and she took a step back.
“He’s not!” Sirius shouted, “I mean… well, technically, maybe, but not in the way you think!”
“You had this… all this time?” Iris whispered. “Where did you find it?”
Sirius’ hand fell into his lap, and for a moment, he just watched the locket sitting there, slowly spinning it around in his hands. “It’s… I found him at my family’s home… Kreacher, my house elf… well, he—”
“You had… something like that? And you… made a pact with it?” Daphne whispered.
“No, I… well… You have to understand—”
“No, Sirius. You don’t understand,” Iris hissed. “This thing. This is exactly what got Harry killed!”
Sirius’ breath caught, and he swallowed whatever reply was about to come forth. “I… Iris, please. It’s really not like that. Don’t you think I know exactly how this looks?”
“I don’t know,” Iris snapped, her voice rising. “Because to me it looks like you’re secretly keeping one of the Dark Lord’s bloody soul anchors! And after I told you exactly what had happened to Harry! After you told me you’d do everything in your power to prevent anything like this from happening again! Is that how that looks?!”
“No, I mean… I… please! He isn’t like that! He’s not bound like the others!”
“Sirius… there’s just no way you—”
“No, now you listen to me! Don’t you think I’ve been through the exact same thing? He promised, Iris! There’s just no way that—”
“What are you talking about, Black?” Daphne interjected.
“Reggie… the mad bastard… he tricked him. He never trusted him, and he never truly gave his life to him. He only went along with it in hopes of finally finding a way to destroy him.”
Iris’ eyes wandered over from Sirius, onto Daphne, with a frown still on her face. “And how do you know that for sure? How do you know it’s not just… what he wants you to think?”
“Iris… I know that might not mean all that much to you but— He’s my…”
“Your brother?” Iris hissed. “What, because Harry is dead?”
“You know that’s not what I meant. Just that he’s not your brother. I… I just know, alright?”
Iris sighed. “The point is… Even assuming you are in control of your own actions, can you be sure that he is? Even if he didn’t truly hand over his life to the Dark Lord, how do you know he wasn’t corrupted by him ever since?”
“I know one thing above all for certain, and that is his goal,” Sirius said with determination. “The reason he gave his life in the first place.”
“And what’s that?” Iris asked.
“To destroy the Dark Lord, once and for all. To find and destroy every single one of his remaining soul anchors, so he would finally be mortal once more.”
Iris blinked, then she flatly said, “Does your ‘brother’ realize that includes himself, too?”
“Of course he does,” Sirius hissed. “Reggie knew before he even made the deal in the first place, the stubborn bastard…”
Iris took a moment trying to work through all that. “Sirius…” Iris glanced over at Daphne again, but it seemed that they were still in agreement about this. “As much as I would like to just believe you like that, there is just no way that—”
Iris froze, her grip tightening so much her wand was shaking. A faint flash in his eyes, a flash of Indigo. Daphne’s wand came down on Sirius and—
“Please,” Sirius’ mouth said, “allow me to explain.”
Daphne’s wand was now at his throat before Iris had even parsed what had happened, and now she had to struggle not to try and pre-empt Daphne using the curse at the tip of her own wand. Her lips parted, and she whispered in a barely audible voice, “What did you just do, Sirius?”
“My apologies,” said Sirius’ mouth, but something was off. It was him, but also, it wasn’t. The way he’d said that, the way his face twisted in a mix of bitter determination… this wasn’t Sirius, this was “…Reggie.”
“I prefer Regulus,” the man said, seemingly unbothered by the twin wands at his throat. “If you wish to blame anyone, blame me.”
“You’re… what have you done to Sirius?” Iris hissed.
“Again,” Regulus reiterated, “allow me to explain. I mean you no harm.”
“Sure you don’t,” Iris growled. “Then why all the secrecy? Why not just tell me from the start? Did you think that keeping something like that secret when attempting a plan like this wasn’t worth mentioning?”
“It was necessary,” Regulus said, voice unrepentant.
Iris’ expression turned stony, and before she could do something ill-advised, Daphne cut in. “I’ll ask you once, and only once. Who are you, and what did you do to Sirius,?” Iris stepped closer, until they were only inches apart, and she whispered, “and most importantly, why should I not try my luck with the Soul Judgement right now?”
“Because it would destroy Sirius along with me,” Regulus said.
“You do realize that’s only making your case worse?” Iris said.
“I asked him for help, and he agreed. I assure you that I’d like nothing more than for Sirius to be far away from all this, but, well, in his own words, he can be a stubborn bastard, too.”
“Well, we are in agreement on that,” Iris said. “So why don’t you hand over the locket, and we’ll figure out a way to fix this?”
“I’ll do no such thing,” Regulus said. “You need to hear me out, first. Too much is at stake here.”
“Do you have any idea how little I care?” Iris said. “You still haven’t given me a reason to trust a single word out of your mouth.”
“Do you know how a Horcrux is created?”
~V~
Things had officially gone from bad to… well, not necessarily worse, but also, given Daphne’s track record, that remained to be seen.
Her eyes wandered back over onto the man who hadn’t been who he said he was. Who probably… hopefully… was… or wasn’t… the Watcher? Was that a good thing? For a single second, she’d thought they actually had him, that they’d be able to fix Ria and Mum right then and there, but then… Daphne had no idea what to think about… whatever this was.
“What’s a Horcrux?” Daphne said slowly.
“This,” Regulus said, holding up the locket. “A Horcrux is a soul anchor. It’s one of the darkest magics there is. And it’s not as simple as you make it out to be.”
Iris’ eyes darted over to Daphne, and she once again felt that fierce determination from her. On the one hand, at least she wasn’t likely to be tricked by the Dark Lord for a third time right now. But on the other…
“A Horcrux… is not simply created by tying your soul to an object. If a soul is incomplete, it will deteriorate, no matter if bound to an object or person, until it finally fades for good. So if you try and remove part of it, and hide it away for safe-keeping, you need to find a way to ensure both your own body as well as that object end up with a full soul at the end.”
Daphne frowned. “But how would that work if the goal is to tear it apart?”
Regulus gave a wry smile. “It doesn’t. But there is a way to work around it.”
“What do you mean?” Iris interjected. “From what Myrtle said, she carried a part of him, and… he carried a part of her?”
“In essence, yes. The source of the ritual is a betrayal of the highest order. If someone unconditionally places their life in your hands, and you decide to take it instead, a part of them stays with you. But an act like this, another soul ripped from the world and branded onto yours, also leaves your own soul cracked in the process. And this will allow you to tie that fragment of your own soul onto the soul of your victim, in order to make it whole again, and allow it to last. However, due to the nature of this power imbalance, you can now use the Horcrux ritual to truly bind the other soul to your own, to tip that imbalance over the edge and remove any remaining agency your victim had left, and tie it to yourself instead. The final step is to tie the now released soul to an object, and thereby act as a soul anchor, without any fear of the soul deteriorating or it turning against you.”
Daphne blinked. “So when Sirius said you have never been bound, he meant…”
“I never trusted him,” Regulus said. “I gave my life in hopes of finding a way to finally bring an end to him, fully expecting him to betray me. It still fulfilled the conditions on his end, but it didn’t allow him to bind my soul to his will.”
Daphne let that sink in for a moment. “But that would mean that his soul fragment is still there all the same…”
“But it has no power over me.”
“So you say,” Iris countered.
“So I say.”
So he did. And Daphne wasn’t sure what to make of it. If what he was saying was right… not only could he be a very valuable ally, but also, well, something about Black’s situation reminded her about her own situation with Ria and Lily.
Someone with access to the Dark Lord’s knowledge, or at least even part of it… Maybe she could find a solution for the Curse in there…
“And Sirius said your goal was to destroy all of them,” Iris said.
“Indeed,” Regulus nodded.
“Including this one?” Iris continued.
“Very much so.”
“Then why haven’t you?” Iris whispered.
That statement was followed with some silence.
“Because my task is not finished,” Regulus replied between gritted teeth. “There are very few ways to truly destroy them. You found one in Basilisk Venom. Another is Fiendfyre.”
“How many others are there?” Daphne interjected, trying to ease up the tension before things escalated.
“Including this one, I know of five, but I only know the supposed location of three. I knew he planned to make six, and at the time of my death, he had created four already. I was the fifth.”
“Well?” Iris snapped. “What are they, then?”
“One is a diary that you would be very familiar with,” he began, causing Iris to growl and her wand to spark. “Another is here at Hogwarts.”
Iris froze, and Daphne put two and two together. “It’s what you were looking for on the seventh floor.”
Regulus froze for a moment. “You know about that? How?”
“We’re asking the questions here,” Iris hissed. “So you better answer hers.”
Regulus frowned. “Yes. From what I knew, it was here, kept in the room of hidden things, hidden among the unending piles of junk.”
“Well, that one’s no longer our concern,” Daphne added, causing Iris’ face to fall.
She noticed Iris’ thoughts drifting back to Luna, convincing herself that it was her own fault, and consequently back to Myrtle.
“Do you know any others?”
“I know of only one more,” Regulus said grimly, “and it is the reason why I decided to join your fools’ plan in the first place.”
Daphne tensed. “The last object… is at Azkaban?”
“Not an object,” Regulus said quietly, “a person.”
No way. He couldn’t be talking about… the Watcher? But wouldn’t he…
“It’s your… other reason, right?” Iris said. “Sirius said he really wanted to have a word with his cousin..”
Regulus gave a single, grim nod. “Bellatrix Lestrange.”
Daphne frowned. So… not the Watcher? She certainly would have been capable, but… well, she’d ruled her out because of her clear Loyalties, and because she’d been very present during the war, even while the Watcher was active.
“So, you’re saying… she has the Horcrux?” Daphne said.
“No,” Regulus replied, “I am saying that she is the Horcrux.”
“How the hell does that work?” Iris said.
“It’s quite simple, in fact. She gave his life to him, without her body ever being killed. So her body became the new vessel. She is now as bound to him as he is to her. Except that, obviously, he is the one in control.”
“But wouldn’t that mean… you also couldn’t truly kill her… without killing him, too?”
“Very much so,” Regulus replied. “But as you learned yourself, even if she does not truly die, it is no simple task returning someone back to life once their body has been destroyed. The Dark Lord’s ten-year absence alone is proof to that.”
“So you want to… what? Break into Azkaban and… take her out while you still know where she is?” Daphne said.
Regulus’ eyes flashed once more.
“Believe me, I wouldn’t have gone along with this whole thing at all, Horcrux or no. But…” Sirius said, then his gaze fell into his lap again. “I’m sorry, Iris. I made a promise to him. I’ll help him achieve his goal, and he in turn promised to keep you safe.”
Daphne let out a deep breath. As much as all of this felt like a really bad idea, she couldn’t help but…
Yeah. At times like this, she really was starting to miss Ria. Whether to encourage her to do what she was reluctant to do, or to talk her out of doing something she knew was wrong, but she just… wanted someone to talk to. She used to have Lily for that. Then Ria. But now…
She wanted that. She wanted what Sirius had. And she didn’t just want to create a new one. Because she wouldn’t be the same. So for now, she had to talk Iris out of doing anything stupid that might mess up her mind even more, and consequently tie down Ria even longer still.
“So you see? That’s why you can trust him. He’s bound to protect you, even more so than I am, really,” Sirius said, a hesitant smile making its way onto his face.
“You really believe that?” Iris said softly.
“Yes,” Sirius said, his smile widening a bit. “With all my heart. I’m sorry I lied to you, I’m sorry I hid this from you, but you understand it was necessary, right? Wouldn’t you have done the same for your own brother?”
Daphne would. She had done the same for Ria. Both the real one, as well as the not-so-real one.
“Yes,” Iris replied. “Without a doubt.”
She took a deep breath, and met Daphne’s eyes, causing her to freeze. No. Don’t do anything stupid, Iris.
“Which is what makes this all the harder,” Iris said, raising a hand up to her wand.
The white light began to peel off the tip, wrapped around her fingers for a moment, before slowly being pulled back into her pendant.
“Iris…” Daphne began, speaking up since she wouldn’t listen.
Iris just shot her a single glance filled with determination.
“Because there is no way I’m letting what I did to Harry happen to anyone else.”
“Iris, wait, please!” Sirius exclaimed.
Daphne firmed her grip on her wand, and slowly turned it away from Sirius.
“Hold on,” Daphne said, “we should talk about this.”
~V~
Damn it! This really wasn’t the time, Daphne!
“What’s there to talk about?” Iris growled. She turned and rounded on Daphne, who seemed split between keeping her wand on Sirius, and getting in Iris’ way. “You know what this is. What he is. You’ve seen!”
“Nevertheless,” Daphne said quietly. “I think that we should talk about this first.”
“No,” Iris said. “That’s exactly what he wants. That’s exactly what she always wanted. To distract me.”
Iris had no idea what Daphne was on about now, but whatever it was, they could sort this out later. For now, she had to fix this before things could take a turn for the catastrophic.
“I’m putting an end to this, right now,” Iris said, giving Sirius a look that broke no room for argument. “Give me the locket.”
But of course, Sirius wouldn’t be doing this the easy way. Not that she had expected him to. “Iris, no. Listen. I know where you’re coming from, I get it, really. I promise that I’ll hand it over once we—”
“No, you’ll hand it over,” Iris said. The longer she gave the Horcrux to forge a plan, to try and twist himself out of this situation, the greater the risk of everything going wrong despite their best efforts. Some people were just too dangerous to put in a cage. Grindelwald had proven that. And no matter his promises, no matter what Sirius thought about it, it was still a piece of Voldemort’s soul. It was still yet another Myrtle. “And you’ll do it right now.”
Daphne gave her another look, not that Iris cared right now. She could disapprove all she wanted later, for now, Iris had to fix this mess before someone else got killed.
“I can’t, Iris,” whispered Sirius. “Sorry, but it’s—”
“Can’t or won’t?” Iris said, “either way, the outcome is the same.”
She raised her wand and flicked it through the pattern of a stunning spell.
“No, I—” Sirius exclaimed, but was cut off when the light reflected in his eyes.
Iris might have drawn just a tad more blue light than strictly necessary. But she was better safe than sorry. Her wand came down on Sirius, and she hesitated one final time. “Last chance.”
“Apologies. But I cannot allow that,” Regulus said, and for a moment, she thought she could hear a strange, eerie hissing sound coming from his mouth.
He flicked his thumb, and the locket came open.
Everything happened in a blur after that. A torrent of pure blackness poured out of the tiny locket, drowning Iris where she stood, and wrapped around her wand arm. She felt it peeling apart her fingers, and her wand slipped her grasp and started to fall, but before she could even react, there was a flash of red. The darkness billowed, like a murder of crow surging outward in rage, before rounding on the source of the red flash. Daphne. Slowly, Sirius’ body slackened, and toppled over off the chair and onto the ground.
But that didn’t stop the darkness. It raged, swirled and condensed, and now came pouring in on Daphne. It wasn’t just darkness. It was shadows. The small locket now lay on the ground, face flipped open, right at the center of the storm of circling Darkness. Iris lit up her hand and summoned her wand right back into its palm. Daphne threw another spell, but it was simply swallowed up by the swirling blackness, seemingly without effect. Iris tried a quick Depulso, but that didn’t have much effect, either. The shadows rounded on her and lashed out in both directions, and for a moment, something brushed against Iris’ mind. At first it was just a gentle touch, but as it drew back and struck again, it was as if a massive, building-sized sledgehammer smashed into the walls of Isengard. Iris stumbled and groaned, clutching her pounding head.
“Sirius!” Iris called out, “you have to stop this!”
But her words fell on deaf ears. Even if Daphne hadn’t struck him down, Iris wasn’t sure if he would have listened anyway. Hell, until a moment ago, she hadn’t been sure if Daphne wouldn’t have joined him. Every time she thought she understood the girl—
A lance of shadows pierced through the spot in the ground where Iris’ head had only been moments ago. She scrambled to her feet, trying to regain her balance before the Horcrux could strike again, but a wave of fire from Daphne’s wand sent the darkness screeching angrily, until it rounded back on Daphne. She didn’t know if the flames had actually hurt it, but it had definitely pissed it off. She glanced down the balcony of Isengard, and the massive solid darkness seemed to let up battering her walls for a second.
Alright, Iris, focus. This was obviously some kind of Polarized Magic she was dealing with, and she had her fair share of experience with the Arcane, especially with this kind. But what should she do? The original caster, the host, was already knocked out. But since the Horcrux possessed a mind of its own, that didn’t change anything about their situation. She wouldn’t be able to destroy it if what he had said was true, but she might be able to render it inert, to lock it back up somehow, or at least… right. But if regular spells didn’t work… well, she’d have to resort to things that would.
Iris turned around on the balcony, and gave Ria an apologetic look. “Sorry about this, again.”
Stupefy.
Feeling the rage and grief flood her mind once more, she tightened her grip around her wand as if it were wrapped around Myrtle’s neck. In a way, it wasn’t even that far off.
Shadows of her own began to creep in from behind her. Like a gentle cloak of countless fingers made of nothing but shadows they wrapped themselves up her legs, her arms, and finally gathered before her wand. The storm of angry blackness hissed. It began to swirl, faster and faster, rapidly reaching insane speeds. Air was drawn inwards, dust and debris sucked from all the corners, and after a moment, so were her shadows. Iris gripped onto them as tightly as she could, but as inevitably as a star trapped in a black hole’s orbit, all of it was slowly but surely siphoned away, until even the last specks of her shadows slipped her grasp and were devoured by the void. The floating plasma of blackness pulsed, now appearing even stronger than before.
“Oh, brilliant idea, Iris,” Daphne snarled, swiping her wand in a bright white flash, causing one of the tendrils to recoil, before rounding back on her. “Just add more fuel to the fire, why don’t you!”
“Not helping, Daphne!” Iris groaned, before casting an Incendio of her own. But where before the shadows had at least recoiled, now they seemed to all but eagerly swallow up the flames.
“Well, it is made of shadow,” Daphne said slowly. She swung her wand down, creating a wall of flame of her own, then threw another look at Iris. “Instead of feeding it, how about you try to counter it?”
“Counter it? Right, because I can just—” Iris cut off her own sarcastic remark as she realized that Daphne indeed had a point. Because as much as she’d usually be limited in this kind of situation, right now, this very restriction didn’t apply. Because she had the solution right here, within the very pendant dangling from her neck. Thinking quickly, Iris reached for her mirror trap, turned it translucent, and brought out the White.
Light flooded the room. Brilliant pure brightness drowned out the noise for a single moment, and everything grew to a halt.
Then, the darkness screamed. It spun, rapidly, condensing into a tight, black ball while rotating at insane speeds like a small neutron star. Realizing she had no time to waste, Iris picked the first spell that came to her mind. She had to put a stop to this, and she had to do so, now.
She drank the glowing strands of White into her wand, weaving them into the raw kinetic will of the Force aspect and the razored focus of the Mind aspect. A star of brilliant, azure light ignited at the tip of her wand, a point of infinite density burning with a light so fierce it threatened to flay the skin from her bones. She refused to look away.
A deep thrumming noise pierced her limbs all the way into the marrow of her bones. The room shuddered as the ball of Darkness centered right above the locket, putting itself in the path of her spell. It spun ever faster, a gyroscope of oblivion, spitting beams of near-black light from its poles that whipped through the air in a tightening, precessional wobble.
The final part of the spell was the simplest, and also the most terrifying. A downward swish. A twist. The incantation.
“Stupefy!”
It was one of those rare spells where the sum of both the aspects, in this case, Blue and Indigo, would combine into an entirely different color once the spell formed. A blinding beam of red burst from the tip of her wand, but something was off. Instead of a single, fast beam, it was more of a slow, wide, growing blade. It grew longer, gained resolution and shape, until when it was about a meter in length, it suddenly gained a handle, right around her wand.
Okay… where was the damn spell? What the fuck was she supposed to do with this?
Her wand was gone. In its place, she clutched a greatsword of blinding crimson light, humming with catastrophic power, its point aimed squarely at the shrieking vortex of blackness.
The sphere had almost stabilized now, its wobble shrinking as its rotational energy tore at the very air, sucking it in with a hungry roar.
Screw this. When life gave you a sword…
She gripped the incandescent handle, planting her feet and flooding her own body with the Force aspect. Her inertia magnified tenfold, then a hundredfold, until she felt anchored to the very bedrock of the castle, a stone against the hurricane. Then she did the one thing that was both utterly insane and completely predictable. She acted like a bloody Gryffindor.
Iris launched herself into the air. The sudden shift in mass nearly sent her tumbling, but she twisted it into a fluid, mid-air somersault, leaving her right-side-up, her hands raised high, the sword a burning comet clutched above her head. As she hung for an instant at the apex of her leap, suspended directly above the ball of Blackness, she turned the Force up to eleven. A soul-shaking crescendo of power flooded her being. Then, with the focused mass of the entire Hogwarts Express, she struck.
She threw every ounce of her will, her magic, and her amplified inertia into the blade, the downward slash dragging her with it, accelerating toward the ground at a suicidal velocity.
The sound of Light striking Shadow was a deafening, metallic CLANG that shattered the air, erupting in a shower of sparks that bled every color imaginable. The sphere of Darkness screeched, grinding against the blade’s edge, but Iris refused to relinquish the force of her strike and instead doubled down. She roared, pouring more blue Force into the red blade, twisting its color into a deep, mesmerizing purple. The sparks became a storm of raw power, whipping her hair into a frenzy. With a desperate, primal yell, she threw everything she had into one final push.
The purple blade sliced through the condensed shadow as if it were butter.
It continued its arc, cleaving through the air until its tip pierced the tiny locket resting on the ground. A shrill, high-pitched metallic shriek tore through the room as the gleaming purple edge passed through the locket’s center, a metaphysical friction that grew louder and higher with every inch. Then, she felt it catch. The red light bled from the sword, draining into the metal, which flared with a final, blinding incandescence.
And then, with an audible click, it snapped shut.
Iris hit the ground in a heavy tumble that was a lot less graceful than the rest of her little stunt. She groaned, rolling onto her back, her vision swimming.
Above her stood Daphne, who looked like she both had no idea what she’d just seen, and somehow hadn’t expected anything less. “You are nothing if not reliable,” she said, with unnerving calm. “With every escalating mess you make, you find a new, even more ridiculously over-the-top way to clean it up.”
Iris rolled her eyes. “Gee, thanks. At least my plan wasn’t just to let the Dark Lord’s bloody soul fragment keep us talking until he found a way to get one over on us.”
“You do realize I was just doing it to test him, and get him to lower his guard around me? If I had just gone along with it, he’d have attacked us both,” Daphne replied with a raised eyebrow.
Iris shot her a flat look. “Cut the crap.”
Daphne opened her mouth to argue, but Iris continued.
“You were thinking of Ria, weren’t you?”
Daphne’s mouth closed again, and Iris sighed.
“It’s fine. But don’t you ever do anything like that again. I can’t afford the only ally I have left stabbing me in the back. It’s the whole reason why we made the deal in the first place, you get that? Next time, I might not get that lucky.”
“But—”
“I don’t care! That’s the whole point. We make a plan beforehand, but when it comes down to it, we can’t have a disagreement in the moment. We gotta act first!”
Daphne said nothing for a moment. Finally, she nodded. “You’re right. But you better remember that the same goes both ways.”
Iris gave a grim nod. “Yeah.”
She turned and glanced over at Sirius’ form, still laying there on the ground as if he had decided to take an afternoon nap and had fallen off the couch. Right next to his hands on the ground, there rested the small black locket, now closed once again. It was just sitting there, not a hint of the sheer terrible power it had exuded only moments before left to see. But Iris knew that it wasn’t over yet.
One thing he had said, and one thing she’d believe in a heartbeat, was that these things were not so trivial to truly destroy. She had managed to render it inert for now, sure. But destroying it for good? He’d mentioned only two things, and both of them you couldn’t exactly get in a store around the corner.
Iris slowly made her way over to the locket, then reached down to pick it up. She glanced at it, as the light reflected on its surface for a moment. A strange warmth began to fill the room. It was as if the stuffy office brightened for a moment, as if all the tension was put on the backburner and given a second to breathe, yet at the same time, a heavy lump began to settle in Iris throat, just as she became aware of someone standing in the room behind her, only when it was already far too late to do anything about it.
“Miss Potter.”
Iris froze, a cold shiver running down her spine. Slowly, so very slowly she began to turn, as if every second she couldn’t see was yet another second that it wasn’t real. But even without seeing, the very presence in that voice, the feeling in the room, the sheer knowledge just how screwed they now were was painting a picture as clear as day.
She finally gathered the courage to let her gaze wander all the way, and she met bright blue eyes, sitting behind their customary half-moon glasses, except that none of the usual twinkle was present now.
“Professor Dumbledore?”
She desperately reached for the mental link, only to receive a busy signal, and a heavy dread began to settle in Iris’ stomach when she realized that the headmaster’s face showed none of the usual jovial amusement he’d always directed at pretty much any of her antics. But there was nothing for it. Iris would just have to utilize whatever brainpower she had left to come up with the perfect excuse, that one, simple opener that would make everything click into place and prevent this from going from horrible to catastrophic with nothing but perfectly innocent words alone. Iris took a breath, met his eyes again, and—
“Sir, I, well… it’s.. uh… really not what it looks like?”
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