Dancing was my life. I was born to be a performer. Growing up in a family of twelve, well, I had to stand out somehow.
My name was Iris Lupe Orozco. I lived with my parents, five siblings, my brother-in-law Bobby, my niece and nephew, my grandma and Tio Chema – my uncle. My grandma, Tio, and my parents moved to the outskirts of London with my oldest sister, Julia.
I guess life was good. I mean, the bad things only happen when life is good. I was part of a huge dance company and had just gotten signed to go on tour with this up and coming musician who needed back-up dancers. On the way to celebrate, my taxi was hit by another driver.
And that's all I remember.
I woke up with a groan. My head pounded furiously. I wondered how much I had to drink before sitting up with a gasp. I'd never made it to the club… I looked around at my surroundings. I was laying in the top of a bunk bed, though there was another in the room. I looked down to see no floor, but fog.
"Confused?"
I whipped my head around to see my grandfather sitting at the edge of her bed.
"Papi?" I questioned in disbelief. "Is this real? How are you… here? With me?!"
"Si, mija. I'm sorry. The doctors tried everything they could, but… they couldn't save you. You weren't supposed to be in that taxi, you know," he supplied softly. I felt tears gathering in my eyes.
"I don't understand what's happening..." I said, even though it was pretty clear. I was dead. I was only 19. I would never see my niece and nephew ever again or my parents or celebrate any birthdays or eat tres leches or dance. God, to never be able to dance again would be unimaginable.
"Well, it was a mistake, you see," my grandfather explained, grabbing both of my hands in his. His hands were calloused. He had been a contractor back in Mexico, but had gotten sick young. When he passed away, my family felt it was time to start fresh in a new place where his memories couldn't haunt them. I'd never even gotten to meet him… until now. I looked up to meet his eyes. The same, dark brown eyes I had.
"You're going to get another chance… but it can't be where you came from. You can't go back… only forward. Iris Orozco is no more, but you can live your life as you deserve, mija. It just comes with some rules."
"Rules? New life? Papi, you're not making sense!" I cried, tears freely falling at this point.
"You can still have your dreams, but you must help another person first. His name is Harry Potter." I blinked rapidly before shaking my head.
"Like the books? This is a dream… oh my god, I'm dreaming or in a coma or something. Oh Christ, mom is probably going mad with worry."
"I'm sorry, but this is real. Just one world in a universe of infinite worlds. I can't explain anymore, but you will learn along the way. I'm sorry, mija, but I couldn't watch you fade away." I looked up to meet his gaze, but he began to fade away. I felt my chest heaving with panic.
"Papi, no! Don't go! I don't know what I'm supposed to do, please, stay, help me! Papi!"
"I love you, Iris. I'm always with you here, Corazon." I felt warmth envelop my body as the strongest urge to sleep hit my body in waves. I struggled against it, but it was useless… like trying to peel a wave of sunlight from the quivering plants in my backyard on a summer's day.
I opened my eyes and screamed. Memories flooded my head like bricks to the stomach. I saw myself in the mirror, changing completely. My hair went straight and black, my sun kissed skin turned pale. A few pale freckles peppered my nose near my bright green eyes. I remembered my new life alongside the memories of my old.
Iris Potter was all I had – a name for a poor orphan growing up in London. The strange things happening around me, but the fear of being found out forcing me to control and hide the urges. I no longer had my family or heritage or identity. I had nothing. And absolutely no one.
The summer in Surrey so far had been absolutely miserable for one person in no. 4 Privet Drive and was about to get so much more. Harry went to bed, staring at the ceiling. Vernon's sister Marge would be coming to visit and all hopes of being ignored for the rest of the summer went right into the drains.
He wished – as he wished every night before bed – that he had a family. Unfortunately, this led to his dreams being infiltrated by a bright, green light that Harry knew to be the killing curse. He always heard his mother's scream, the way she begged for Voldemort to spare his life. He tossed and turned.
A breeze infiltrated the crack in his window. He heard it in his mind, so quietly almost as if it had been breathed out in a desperate sigh.
"Find your sister, Harry. Find Iris."
Harry gasped, sitting up suddenly. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his hand and swallowed. He looked at Hedwig who eyed him critically.
"Hedwig, I need you to do me a favor right now."
Albus Dumbledore didn't often wake up abruptly in the night. Most people were in awe of him for reasons he didn't think were rather praiseworthy in the slightest. Still, it often meant that he lived a rather peaceful life. He got up to answer his door and found Minerva McGonagall standing on his stoop holding a letter.
"I just received this from Mr. Potter," she said immediately, her voice shaking.
"Minerva? What's… what's happened? Is Mr. Potter alright?" Albus asked, his worry growing with every syllable that left his lips.
"Albus… who is Iris Potter?"