Author's Notes:

Sorry this chapter took longer than usual. I had to rewrite some parts of the first few chapters.

Chapter 10

A Serpentine Life

1994, November 25, Hogwarts.

It was the first snowfall of the school year. The temperatures had steadily declined throughout the month, so much so that the scarves, wooly sweaters, thick blankets, and Warming Charms were brought out earlier than usual. The center fireplace of the fourth-year girls' dormitory was lit, and three of the five students in the room were fast asleep, snuggled deep into their blankets.

Only one window was open, and as the cold wind breezed into the magically temperature secluded section of Iris Potter's share of the dormitory, the two students who were not sleeping were making their way out of the room, quietly discussing just how they were going to break yet another law.

Iris had stored her two-way mirror back into her trunk, laying it on top of The Basics of Ancient Runes, which was next to a large golden egg. While Hermione thought up a plan on how they were going to free a horned serpent without being caught, Iris explained the first task to Sirius: to say he was furious would have been an understatement. Now that it had really sunk in for her, Iris had to agree with everything Sirius had said. It really did seem like they were intentionally trying to kill the champions.

For how much they went on about the tournament being safer, it was remarkable how even Hermione couldn't find any examples of a more dangerous task. One previous tournament had a task that featured one cockatrice and nothing more. Yes, she completely understood Sirius's exclamations of — "Are they bloody crazy?!" "It's a miracle you're alive!" "How are you alive?"

Iris was attempting to put on joggers as she walked down the stairs, barely keeping herself upright. Her fingers brushed against one of the scars from the griffin. Her face twisted in displeasure. Part of her didn't mind it so much though. If anything, they were an excellent reminder to stay away from griffins… and dragons — and, she had to admit, the scars made her feel as though she was an ancient warrior with experience of real battles.

After nearly tripping and tumbling down the stairs for the fourth time, she finally pulled the jogging bottoms on.

"You know, if you had just told McGonagall you lost the Time-Turner, our lives would be so much easier. We wouldn't be losing any sleep. I still say we should steal one."

Hermione glared at the back of her best friend's head as they walked down the steps to the common room. "If you thought I was going to let you abuse time travelling anymore than you've already done, you're mad."

"I didn't abuse it, necessarily…"

"You used it nearly everyday for several weeks purely to get more sleep," Hermione pointed out as she stepped into the now empty common room. She looked back and saw Iris trying to sneak back upstairs. "Oh no, you're not going anywhere this time. Every other time we were about to get into this argument, you end up leaving the room."

"See, I don't get what's so wrong with that," Iris said, ignoring Hermione's second statement. "So I used your Time-Turner to get an additional four hours of sleep, so what? I only aged myself, what, like one or two weeks?"

"Yes, just from the extra sleep. With all of the other times you used it, it was more like one or two months."

"You're exaggerating," Iris said dismissively. "Outside of the time travel for sleep, I must've aged myself only a week or so more."

"That's not even the point," Hermione said hotly. "And I know that you used the Time-Turner when I didn't give you permission, Iris."

"Okay, two weeks. Big deal."

"You broke one of the major rules to time travel!" Hermione exclaimed, her frustration with just how close Iris had gotten to breaking reality leaking through again. It had a habit of doing so every time Hermione was reminded of the year before. "Do not let your past-self meet you! You didn't just sleep, you cuddled with yourself."

"Hermione, my parents are dead —"

"You are not using that card again."

"What I'm saying," Iris said slowly, "is that I have no family. By sleeping with myself — that sounds so wrong — I was able to pretty much sleep with my own sister — yeah, that sounds horrible. Point is I got to spend time with my own blood."

Hermione looked at Iris incredulously. Then she laughed, nearly hysterically. "That's certainly one way of looking at it. Fine, the extra sleep wasn't so bad because no one saw it, but the rest?"

"Which part?" Iris asked cautiously as she sat on the back of a couch. The two were still waiting for Ron to come down.

"Oh, I don't know," said Hermione, "how about the time you played Quidditch with yourself?" Iris opened her mouth to respond, but — "Or maybe the time you played a joke on the twins with your alternate self? Hey Fred and George!" Hermione said in sarcastic, imitating sort of voice, "Have you met my twin? Ivy?"

"To this day, they still think it was Polyjuice Potion, Hermione. No one was any the wiser!" Iris said, trying to justify herself. "And I don't sound like that!"

"Oh? And the times you switched yourself out with your future-self in Divinations to predict what would happen later that day? Professor Trelawney, I've just had a vision — later today, Professor Dumbledore will make a speech in the Great Hall about Sirius Black."

Iris laughed to herself. "Lavender and Parvati still ask me if I've had any new visions."

"It's not funny. Those are just the ones I know about, and I know you've done more with yourself." Iris went red in the cheeks. "I get that it's a closed time loop and all," Hermione said, "but nothing so confusing should be messed with. There's a reason those rules exist."

At that moment, Ron came walking down the stairs from the boys' dormitory. "What's so confusing that it shouldn't be messed with?"

"My time travelling last year," Iris said as she got off the couch. "Finally ready?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "I've gotta side with Hermione on that one though, I don't think people would appreciate you erasing yourself out of the timeline. Might be a bit quieter around here though."

"I wouldn't have," Iris said. "The first time I met myself, I was fully prepared. I had scheduled it the day before and all so I wouldn't be surprised when the time came. Explaining time travel is confusing, yes, but planning it out isn't so bad. It's just what terms you should use that makes it all confusing — future me, past me, that kind of stuff. I planned out every single meeting with myself, alright?"

"Yes, yes, but it's still irresponsible," Hermione said. "Enough about that though. Are we all ready then? Cloaks for the weather?"

"Check," said Iris as she swung a charmed cloak over her shoulders. "Horned serpent breakout kit?"

"Check," said Ron. "Get out of Azkaban free card?"

"Never should have shown you Monopoly," Hermione muttered. "We'll be here all night if I let you two continue." She gave the two a push towards the portrait.

"Finally," said Ron, "I've felt so useless the past month, what with you two going on adventures without me."

"Useless is such a negative word," Iris said, frowning. "Look at yourself as a bad example instead. That way, you're still doing something — showing others what not to do."

"Maybe you should have erased yourself from the timeline."

"Honestly, the things we get up to are the real things others ought not to do," Hermione said as they walked throughout the castle under the Invisibility Cloak. "But I do want to get that poor horned serpent out of there as soon as possible. It's cruel, completely cruel, that they lock her up in some small habitat after using her as some obstacle."

Truth be told, Iris wasn't sure if the horned serpent was locked in a small habitat at all. Nerissa certainly didn't seem to like the idea of going back, and Iris knew that itself was probably a decent enough reason for Hermione to break the law — if there was a law in the first place that said not to break out horned serpents from their prisons.

"It makes sense," said Ron. "They can't have creatures like that just running around — or swimming, I suppose. Muggles would easily see them when they came up, wouldn't they?"

"Yes," Hermione said testily, "but they could do what we're about to do — place them in a large lake or something!"

"Are you really all that surprised?" Iris said. "We've been dealing with this sort of things for years now — adults being stupid and us having to clean up the mess. Norbert, the Philosopher's Stone, the basilisk, Sirius."

"We didn't necessarily need to clean up the Philosopher's Stone mess," Hermione said as they made their way down the stairs outside the common room under the Invisibility Cloak.

"Whatever, I still say it was set up," Iris said, and as Hermione opened her mouth, she added, "and I still say you're too trusting of authority figures too. I'd think you'd have learned, what with Quirrell and his Voldemort thing; Binns and his terrible teaching; McGonagall and her ignoring us first year; Snape and — well, no need to explain that one; Lockhart and everything about him — boy, were you wrong there. No, Iris, Lockhart is not a fraud!" Iris said in a high, mocking voice. "Psh."

Hermione raised her chin and looked the other way. "So I was wrong about Lockhart."

"And the Firebolt thing last year," added Ron.

"I was not in the wrong for that."

"Yes, you were."

"No, I —"

"Hey, quiet you two," said Iris. "Come on, don't start bickering over this again."

"You were completely in the wrong. Sirius wasn't even a murderer in the end, was he?" Ron said.

"We didn't know that at the time," Hermione hissed.

"You still had no right," said Ron without heat. "Iris, agree with me."

"Then we'd both be wrong," Iris said, and she Silenced the two.

The three made their way out of the castle, quietly using a secret passageway to lead them to Hogsmeade. They met no one. The snow hadn't gathered enough to leave behind their footprints, but the cold had still hardened the grass, making nearly each step a crunch.

And so, they made it all the way to where they thought the horned serpent would be under the Invisibility Cloak. When they got near a corner of a cliff wall, Iris slipped out from underneath the cloak.

"Okay," she said. "You two ready? Remember, shoot up red sparks if you see anyone making their way here, then slip back under the cloak."

"Are you sure you should go alone?" Ron asked.

"We talked about this," Iris said. "Whoever is here on the lookout will be able to slip under the cloak and easily hide. Only Moody and Dumbledore can see under it, and I doubt they'll be coming out. But whoever is with me won't have a cloak to slip under. That means finding a spot to hide the old fashioned way. It's a lot easier for just one person to do that instead of two. Besides, one extra person isn't going to help. All I have to do is blow up a wall."

"Are you sure you can perform the Gouging Spell correctly enough to dig through one of those thick walls?" Hermione asked.

"Not really, but if not, there's other explosive spells I know."

Hermione winced, no doubt wary of the knowledge Iris now possessed that involved destruction.

"Really, Hermione," Iris said, exasperated. "If I'm as bad as you seem to suggest, you'd think I'd have brought down the castle by now."

And then, before she knew it, Iris had found herself in front of the wall that led to the small lake, if the perspective from this angle was any indication at least.

Iris drew her wand and pointed it at the wall. "Defodio!"

Nothing happened.

"Damn it," Iris said. The wall had enchantments on it. Aiming her wand at the wall again, she whispered, "Bombarda."

There was a faint light, gray in color, and then an explosion of sound. Iris could hear it echoing throughout the area. It was easily loud enough to attract attention. The wall, however, had not been completely demolished.

Iris pointed her wand once more. "Bombarda Maxima!"

There was a brighter flash of light this time, and a louder explosion that followed, and anyone still awake would surely believe the snowfall had turned into a thunderstorm. As the dust of the explosion cleared, Iris became very glad that the spell she had just used wouldn't work the same on people, or so Hermione said; the Cannon Spell (Bombarda) would only work the way it was supposed to on physical objects that weren't living. It could still severely injure a person, should they be hit by it at close range and in a fragile location, but it wouldn't blow them to pieces. Magic was funny that way.

Iris admired her work through the settling dust. "Beautiful."

She stepped through the clearing she had made. Despite the darkness, the snowfall, and its own black head that blended into the black of the night, Iris could see the horned serpent sticking her head above the water, near the lakeshore.

A burst of flames alerted her to Inigo's presence as well. He was in the center of the lake, on the small isle. Iris picked up a stick from the ground, Transfigured it to look like a flobberworm, added a Writhing Charm to it, then Banished it towards the isle; she could not Summon live beings after all. She walked to Nerissa, the horned serpent, and let Inigo investigate the 'flobberworm' for now.

"You came," said Nerissa, sounding a bit surprised.

"No, that was two days ago," Iris said in Parseltongue. "Why do you think I know that Writhing Charm? Place one on a Transfigured bit of long rubber and — you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you? Nevermind. It's time to get you out of here."

"Let me get your pet."

"No need," Iris said, and switching back to English, she said, "Accio!"

There was a surprised hiss from the isle, and a moment later, the Transfigured flobberworm flew into Iris's hand, Inigo's jaw clamped firmly on it.

"Hello, Inigo," Iris said as she dispelled the Transfiguration and put the disappointed dragon on her shoulder. Inigo licked the side of her face affectionately and her eyes grew soft at the display. Iris suddenly wanted to keep him. But she would not. She knew a better place for him.

She looked back to Nerissa, but saw she was no longer there, but already slithering through the large hole made in the tall wall.

Catching up, Iris said to her, "Do you need help getting there?"

"No," Nerissa said. "I know where the lake is. The wall was simply too tall for me to climb, and it had magic that have likely stopped me anyway. Thank you, Vanquisher of Dark Wizards, Slayer of —"

"Don't start," Iris said, but before either of them could say or do anything more, red sparks shot high into the air in the distance. "Oh, no," Iris moaned. She wasn't sure why she had hoped this would go smoothly —

She saw the glow of a lit wand from behind the corner of a rock wall. Nerissa had already fled into the forest, her black scales now completely blending in with the dark, but Iris knew she had no time to find a spot to hide. She wasn't nearly as quick as a horned serpent and there were no dark corners or objects to hide behind near her.

She plucked Inigo from her shoulder and put him in her pocket, putting her wand back up her sleeve at the same time. Just as she withdrew her hand from her pocket, her eyes closed and her mind focused, a figure rounded the corner and stopped at the sight of Iris. He had short brown hair and an uneven face, as though he had a broken nose, cheek, and jaw.

"Who are you?" he shouted in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you the same question," Iris said, trying to throw as much authority as she could in her voice. "Talk, now."

"Excuse me?" the man said angrily. "Who do you think you are? Are you a student?"

"Vat? Oh yes," Iris said, now throwing a Bulgarian accent into her voice. "Durmstrang. Here to vatch Viktor Krum."

The man's eyes flickered to the wall behind her. His eyes bulged. As he said, "Lumos Maxima!" and flicked his wand to send the ball of light to the wall, which would no doubt illuminate all of its destruction, Iris drew her wand.

"Stupefy," she said lazily. The man's eyes bulged even more as he recognized the first syllable of the spell, but too late. The nearly frozen grass crunched as he dropped to the ground, unconscious. Iris looked down to her wand. "What an incredibly useful spell."

She Summoned some rubble of the wall, Transfigured it into a thick blanket — or as close to a blanket as she could get in a hurry — cast a Warming Charm on it, and the man himself, before covering him with it. He would wake in half an hour anyway, making Iris's actions likely pointless, but she didn't want him to wake up freezing.

Iris took her golden eyes from the man and turned to walk away, her thigh-length blonde hair trailing behind her.

"So why can't people just Transfigure themselves into a new appearance?" whispered Ron during lunch in the Great Hall, nine hours later. The trip back to the castle was uneventful and the three were able to get back to their beds without any further trouble. Just moments ago, however, several people had marched into the Great Hall and begun scanning the faces of all the Durmstrang students. Iris did her best to hide her smirk.

"Human Transfiguration is very difficult, Ron," said Hermione quietly as she nervously watched the Aurors take a closer look at every long-haired blonde. "We don't cover it until sixth year, and even then, I believe we start with changing the color of our eyebrows. You need a wand to do it as well. Metamorphmagi can change without one. Transfigurations can be reversed as well. You can't force a Metamorphmagus to change. And not to mention that they can change multiple things at once, very quickly."

"So… quicker, easier, permanent?"

Hermione nodded and looked to Iris. "Are you sure they won't figure out it's you? You only changed your hair and eyes."

"They won't figure it out," Iris said, but there was an inkling of uncertainty, like a dripping faucet, resting deep within her chest. She waited until an Auror passed by her. She quirked an eyebrow at him. He moved on. "I made my hair lengthen to my thighs, made it blonde, my eyes gold, my skin very pale… He was hopefully more focused on my eyes and hair to really take in my appearance. Besides, I made sure my hair covered like half of my face."

Another man stopped by, the same one Iris had Stunned. He gazed down at Lavender for a moment before moving on to Hermione and Iris. His eyes stared at Iris a little longer than Iris liked.

"You," he said. "You got a sister?"

"Excuse me?" Iris said, feigning anger.

"I said... have you got a sister?"

"You're kidding, right?" Iris asked, her voice full of anger — completely fake, of course.

"Does it look like I'm —"

The man was interrupted by another. "Dawlish, that's Potter."

Dawlish looked back down at Iris, his eyes flickering to her scar, and he grimaced. "Oh. Sorry, Miss Potter. You looked similar to someone we're looking for. Long blonde hair, gold eyes, pale, but a bit similar in the rest. Thought maybe she'd be your sister… before I knew you were Iris Potter, of course."

"You thought a blonde, golden-eyed, pale girl was the sister of a black-haired, green-eyed, moderately tanned girl?" Iris asked, amused.

"Well… I suppose not," Dawlish said. "Good day then." He turned and began walking down the table again.

Hermione let out a small sigh of relief, and looked over to Ron, who hadn't stopped eating throughout the entire exchange. She opened her mouth to say something to him —

Iris didn't pay attention. Her eyes were focused on Dumbledore and his piercing gaze. He was staring directly at her. She fought back the urge to gulp, and her heart dropped to her stomach when Dumbledore stood. Was he going to call her out in front of everyone? She had stared directly into his eyes — was it enough? Was he able to read her mind long enough to determine if she was guilty? No, she thought, not by the look on his face now. She was safe, she was sure of it.

Mostly sure of it.

"He knows!" Hermione whispered in her ear frantically.

"No, he doesn't," Iris said firmly, pushing Hermione's face back with her palm.

"Good afternoon!" Dumbledore said to the Great Hall. "I'm sure the excitement from yesterday hasn't ebbed away just yet, nor, I imagine, will it a week from now. Well, I shall give you a little more to whisper about."

The majority of the Great Hall began murmuring.

"It has come to our attention," Dumbledore said, silencing the hall, "that there could be a bit more competition between our three schools for not just our champions, but everyone! So! I will give the floor to Mr. Bagman."

Bagman then stood up. "Hello!" he said cheerfully. "We, the tournament designers, have decided to have a dueling championship between our champions and… all three schools!"

The hall began whispering again, excitedly.

"Yes, yes!" Bagman continued. "Very exciting. Dueling after all can be a big part of a wizard's life! Not only will our fellow champions duel each other, all outside the tasks of course, but there will also be a championship between all three schools, of any year!"

Many people in the hall cheered and yelled happily. Fred and George had hugged each other, and began pretending to cry. Iris stared at Bagman without blinking. Bagman met her eyes and he faltered as he began to speak again, likely from the heated look Iris was sending him.

"N-now, the details… the champions will all duel each other, so there will be a total of six duels. The first will start in December. The details will also be posted in the entrance hall, but we'll tell you now. There will be one duel a month. The first duel will be on December the tenth, between Cassius Warrington and Fleur Delacour."

Fleur and Cassius looked at each other appraisingly. Krum locked eyes with Iris, his expression unreadable.

"You've got no real idea how to duel, do you, Iris?" Ron asked, looking up at her in concern.

Iris glared at him. "Of course not."

"The second duel," said Bagman, "will be on the fifteenth of January, between Viktor Krum and Iris Potter."

Krum's mouth twisted into a cruel smile as he stared at Iris, but Iris wasn't paying attention.

She was whispering to Hermione. "If it's not also on the tenth, that might mean the second task, the one we're not supposed to know the date of, will be held around the tenth. They likely didn't want to place the two events so close together. Can't have two champions dueling each other if they're missing a bloody arm, can they?"

Hermione tilted her head in consideration. "That's… well, that actually makes sense. But unless we know what it is, there's not much we can do, is there?"

"The third duel," began Bagman again, "will be on the tenth of February, between the two winners of the first two duels. The fourth duel, on the tenth of March, will be between the two losers of the first two duels. The matchup of the fifth and sixth duel, on the fifteenth of April and tenth of May, respectively, will be decided on after the fourth duel. Now, each victory will give that victor a total of ten points. This means there are a total of thirty points available for the champions to get ahead, should they currently be behind."

Many eyes turned to a scowling Krum.

Bagman explained the other duels for the rest of the student body, but Iris wasn't paying attention. She was instead reaching inside her robes. She pulled out a small mandrake leaf. She cast a Sticking Charm on it under the table and shoved it into her mouth, sticking it to the roof of the inside, close to the back of her throat. She nearly gagged as she did so.

"Did you just put the leaf inside? Now?" Hermione asked.

"I wonder if I'm going to talk all — oh, no I'm not. Excellent," Iris said, happy that her speech wouldn't be all funny. This meant she would be able to take the leaf out on Christmas day. "This is already annoying," she said, feeling the leaf near the back of her throat. "It'll be a Christmas present to myself to be able to take this out."

"Iris!"

Iris looked over at Ginny, who was smiling widely. She held up a bag and shook it. Iris heard the jingling of coins inside, and looked at Ginny, shaking her head slightly to tell her she had no idea what Ginny was doing.

"Malfoy bet that you'd come in last place," she said. "In the first task, I mean. I took him up on his bet. Just wanted to thank you!"

Ron gaped at his sister. "How much did you get from him?"

Ginny beamed. "Ten galleons!"

"Ten galleons?!"

"Yep! I bet that she'd come in at least second place!"

"Second place?" Iris said, pretending to be insulted. She ripped off a piece of bacon and placed it in the pocket of her robes. She felt Inigo snatch it out of her fingers.

Ginny shrugged. "Didn't have the money to back up a bet for you coming into first place."

"Well, don't bet on me with these duels," Iris said. "I'll likely be coming out as the loser in all of them, and yes, Malfoy, I'll freely admit that," she said when she saw Malfoy open his mouth at his table. "The last real duel I had was with you, of course I'm going to lose. At least I can freely admit defeat, unlike some people."

Malfoy went pink in the face. "You better quickly learn who I am, Potter, who my father is, what my family is." There was an odd, unnatural tone to his voice, as though he was forcing himself to say these things. Iris rolled her eyes, as did most of the Gryffindors and several Slytherins. "I am a Malfoy and —"

Iris interrupted. "I'm a Malfoy — blah, blah, blah, why is that everytime you speak, I want to throw up?"

Someone at the Slytherin table choked on their drink, and Iris looked over to see Tracey Davis laughing and coughing up pumpkin juice at the same time.

Tracey Davis was a pretty looking girl, Iris thought, a brunette, and rather dainty. She wore an air of bubbly liveliness around her, in the way she looked, even in the way she moved; she looked as though she was having the time of her life, pouring herself more pumpkin juice.

"Speaking of your father, Draco," Tracey said cheerfully, "have you told him you need more money? Y'know, seeing as you bet your allowance away?"

Malfoy's lips twisted with malice. "Keep your filthy half-blood mouth shut!"

Daphne Greengrass, who had voluminous blonde hair, pale blue eyes, and a light, lazy expression on her face, as though she wouldn't have cared if the world around her promptly burst into flames, looked at Malfoy. Even from a distance, Iris could see Daphne Greengrass's eyes turn angry as she said quietly, "Draco, must we go through this again?"

Her quiet, soft voice carried to the Gryffindor table, though Iris was sure it was not meant to.

Malfoy's scowl seemed to disappear at once, and it was replaced by a look Iris hoped to never see on Malfoy again. "Not if you become my girlfriend."

Daphne raised her eyebrows, looking at him incredulously. "You're kidding."

"No, go out with me — Hogsmeade. Or if you'd like, we can find a more private place," Malfoy said suggestively. "Malfoy's are big in more than just their piles of gold you know."

Daphne shook her head disbelievingly and turned back to her meal, muttering under her breath, though again likely not meaning for it be overheard, "Draco, there's more dick in your personality than in your pants."

For the first time, it seemed, Gryffindors and Slytherins both laughed in unison; maybe it was because Malfoy had made a fool of himself in losing hundreds of galleons just the day before, or maybe the Slytherins were finally getting sick of him. Daphne looked up in surprise. There was no blush on her cheeks, but Iris had the impression she looked sheepish.

"Come on you two," Hermione said, a faint smile playing on her lips. "We have homework to do."

"Hoped you'd never ask," Iris said.

Hermione looked at her questionably. "I think you mean you thought I'd never —"

"I know what I said."

Ron snorted.

"We have History of Magic soon," Hermione said, ignoring Iris now. "Can't you do your homework in there if not now? You're not going to pay attention to Professor Binns, so you might as well do something productive. Honestly, after yesterday, you'd think homework wasn't that bad…"

"Hey, I love homework," Iris said. "I could watch you do it all day.

"Fine," Hermione said, "just don't come to me later wanting me to help you. I'm going to visit the kitchens."

"What for?" Ron asked, looking completely bewildered. "We've just ate."

"Not to eat," Hermione said, annoyed, "but to see the house-elves! Iris, you want to see Dobby, don't you?"

Iris shrugged. "I imagine Dobby's doing just fine. He has his own special sock, I'm sure he's enjoying himself plenty."

"Don't either of you care for —"

"No."

Hermione huffed. Iris resisted the urge to throw something at her. Hermione still hadn't given up on the whole S.P.E.W. thing, and while Iris wanted to support her best friend, it had begun grating on her nerves long ago.

"Well, you should," Hermione said. "You two just don't seem to want to understand — I just don't understand how you two were perfectly fine with — well, doing what we did just this early morning, but when it comes to house-elves, you don't want —"

"For god's sake, Hermione," Iris said. Hermione blinked. "Don't you get it? The damn serpent wanted to be free. The house-elves don't."

"But —"

"You can go down there, get on your knees, and beg them to seek freedom, and they won't."

"If we just —"

"No!" Iris snapped. "This is ridiculous. You're making a fool out of yourself. Work towards better elf rights, but quit trying to free them yourself. They like work. It's the same thing as samurais wanting to fight and die in battle. They find it honorable. It's only brainwashing in the same sense that every culture brainwashes people."

"The exact same thing happened with muggle women!" Hermione said angrily. "They all liked being stay-at-home wives, not being able to follow their own passion, and they themselves were ashamed if they were to lose their husbands. It's almost the same thing!"

"The same thing still happens in today's culture," Iris said. "How many here would be ashamed if they never got some important job? Percy's a prime example. Could you imagine what Percy would be like if he got fired from his job? He'd be the same as Winky — drinking himself to sleep, bursting into tears whenever someone mentioned Crouch, pissing himself —"

"That's different," Hermione hissed at her. "Percy can quit whenever he wants."

"Then work on that! Right now, you're just trying to free them whether they want to or not. Whoever created house-elves to be servants was evil, sure, but you can't speak for the house-elves now. Even Dobby likes work despite being freed."

"Only because he was brainwashed," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"You — you — agh!" Iris threw her hands in the air in exasperation then got up from her seat. "Stop the abuse and let them have the choice of working. If you want to get anywhere with your little rebellion, start there. Otherwise, you won't get anywhere. Honestly, I talked with Dobby a few days ago. The damn elves are terrified of you, Hermione. Soon they'll be calling you She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Iris left the hall a moment later, Ron watching her go.

"You sure know how to rile them up."

"She's just angry because she had no retort," Hermione said brusquely.

Ron didn't look like he agreed with this statement, but not wanting to argue about it, he wisely kept his mouth closed.

Ron and Hermione didn't see Iris until hours later. She hadn't come to History of Magic, and Hermione began chewing her lip, thinking that Iris had gone to do something incredibly dangerous to blow off steam.

"I'm telling you, Hermione, she's fine," Ron said after they had left History of Magic. "This isn't the first time she's skived off History of Magic, is it? Maybe she went to visit Hagrid."

Hermione nodded slowly, her eyes still carrying a sign of worry. But the two visited Hagrid, and Iris was not there. They did, however, find Inigo playing with an absolutely jubilant Hagrid.

"I don' know," Hagrid said, the edges of his lips looking as though they had been taped to his ears. "She came here ter give me Inigo, an' then she jus' said she owed someone money an' had ter go. He's wonderful though, ain't he?" Hagrid petted Inigo with a single large finger. "She said I could have him, said tha' he was a prize fer comin' in firs' place, could yeh believe tha' they would jus' give her him?"

Hermione and Ron didn't think they had ever seen Hagrid so happy before. It looked as though Hagrid's lips would tear from the enormous smile he had on.

"And he'll never grow," said a voice from the entrance of Hagrid's home. Hermione and Ron whipped around to see Iris making her way into the room. "You won't have to worry about him like you did Norbert. He'll stay small, but be a dragon nonetheless."

Hagrid beamed at her. "Yer know I've always wanted a dragon, and Inigo is perfect! I can never thank yeh enough, Iris."

"Feel free to try though," Iris said, smiling. "Galleons, magical artifacts, a pet basilisk."

Hagrid chuckled heartily. "Now, a basilisk! Tha'd be somethin' ter see! Only kiddin'!" Hagrid said when he saw Iris make a face.

"Yeah, well, Newton Scamander isn't," Iris said, flashing a letter as she sat down.

"Iris, where were you?" Hermione asked as Ron took the letter.

Iris poured herself tea. "Hogsmeade, Aberforth — no, not to drink, Hermione, but to pay Aberforth back for the firewhisky."

It was a testament to how much Hagrid loved dragons that Iris's comment slipped by his ears.

"Is he mad?" Ron exclaimed, looking up from the letter. "He's gone barmy, if he wasn't before! He's joking, isn't he?"

"He's friends with Dumbledore," Iris said, answering Ron's first question. She motioned Ron to give Hermione the letter, and he did. "I don't see why he'd send me that letter if he was joking though. It wouldn't have a killing gaze, obviously. He'd magically remove that or whatever." Iris took a sip of tea. "Not sure about the venom. Either way, I don't think it'd be quite legal for me, would it?"

Hermione finished the letter and looked at Iris, her jaw hanging loosely. "What he's doing is completely illegal!" she said, outraged. "Not to mention extremely dangerous! Isn't one enough? Why in the world does he need two?!"

"Did you not read the letter fully?"

"Of course not, this is too ridiculous to keep reading!" Hermione said. "Have you sent a letter declining yet?"

Iris looked down at her tea. "What makes you think I'm going to decline?"

A cup shattered as it hit the ground. Ron was gaping at her, and Hermione was too shocked to respond. Hagrid hadn't noticed at all. Inigo was moving in and out of his beard.

"You — you can't be serious," Ron said.

Iris shrugged. "If I decline, he'll have three, not two — and to answer your question, Hermione, basilisks get lonely."

"Iris, you're not seriously thinking about accepting this offer? A pet basilisk? And lonely? And what, you'll get another to keep the first company?" Hermione said.

Iris shrugged again. "I don't know. He said I had plenty of time to decide. Why not though? The killing gaze would be gone, and the venom might too. It'll be magically resistant but that's it."

"It'll also grow to be large enough to eat Hagrid!"

Hagrid's attention was instantly given to Hermione. "Wha'? Wha' can eat me?" he asked, very interested now. "Oh, Iris? Why did yeh name him Inigo?"

Iris frowned. "You can change it if you want."

"No, no," Hagrid said. "It's fine. I was jus' wonderin' is all, curiousity an' all tha'."

"Well, I wanted to give another magical creature a name, but Seraphina, a sphinx, told me —"

"A sphinx?" Hagrid exclaimed, and so, Iris told Hagrid about how she had met Seraphina and the phoenix, which she would have called Astra, had she decided in time. Now she wasn't sure if she'd ever see the phoenix again. She left out exactly where she had met the two, and instead told Hagrid it was somewhere in the forest.

"— so I looked up a bunch of names and what they mean while I was in the library one day with Hermione, bored out of my mind. Ignatius and Inigo meant fiery."

Hagrid nodded. "It's a good name."

"Iris?" Hermione asked with an expression that made it clear the other conversation wasn't done.

Iris shook her head. "In a thousand years, maybe it'll be that big."

"Newt's basilisk was still huge after fifty years!"

"And in fifty years, I'll have a safe place for him. Or her."

Hermione and Ron gaped at Iris.

"Whatever," Iris said in a tone that suggested she wasn't in the greatest of moods. "It'll be my choice. What bad could really come out of it?"

"It could eat Crookshanks for one," Hermione said incredulously.

"She said what bad could come from it," said Ron.

Hermione glared at him, but before she opened her mouth, Iris took the letter and read through it again while Ron riled Hermione up. It was a bit ridiculous. Newt had sent her a letter telling her that Jerry had spent too much time alone and that he wanted another basilisk to spend time with.

'There will come a day where I will pass on and Jerry will be alone. It is best if he has someone to share those hundreds of years with,' Newt had written.

And so, he had begun the process of making another basilisk. Apparently it wasn't as simple as just hatching an egg under a toad, or many more lunatics would end up doing it. He hadn't included the details in the letter, of course, but he had said he had started on it, and soon after, he discovered there would be two basilisks coming from the egg. How he knew this was anyone's guess, but he had offered to give Iris one of them, to let her raise one. He'd give her all the necessary information should she accept.

And of course, he'd do the same as he did with Jerry — remove the killing gaze. Iris wasn't sure if the venom would remain, and she also didn't know if she would rather it stay. On one hand, it was incredibly deadly and only phoenix tears neutralized it. On the other hand, however, she'd like to see anyone try harming her with a basilisk hanging off her shoulders. The idea of having such a powerful creature in… in her pocket? What size were they even born?

But no, that wouldn't work anyway. She'd have to hide the fact she had a basilisk, and how was she to do that? She didn't like the idea of keeping any creature in the Chamber of Secrets. It was a dull and depressing place. And thinking of the Chamber, she wondered if she'd be okay with raising a basilisk after her first experience with one.

Iris laughed to herself, receiving odd looks from Ron and Hermione. It would be her that was able to say if a certain basilisk encounter was a first or second encounter… and if she accepted Newt's offer, she'd have a third…

Could she pass it off as a normal snake? But how long would it take until people realized it was extremely magically resistant? How long before it grew past the size of a normal snake? Would it further paint her as a dark witch if it was learned she had any snake, magical or not, around? It was this last thought that brought her mood down again.

After leaving the Great Hall hours earlier, Iris had gone to Hagrid's to give him Inigo. He was delighted, had almost crushed all of her ribs in his hug. Hagrid deserved it though. While Hagrid couldn't speak Parseltongue, she didn't think it would be too hard for the two to communicate. Inigo had his own way of expressing his dissatisfaction — setting things on fire. Hagrid would get the idea fast enough. And Inigo would also likely enjoy it more out here, where he had more space — not to mention Iris seriously doubted she'd be allowed a fire breathing creature within the walls.

She snorted with laughter; and she was thinking of keeping an extremely venomous creature within the walls.

After Hagrid's, she had travelled down to Hogsmeade and to the Hog's Head. Aberforth seemed surprised she had actually come to give him the ten galleons. He gladly accepted it though, and had congratulated her on her victory in the first task, claiming he had come to watch: "Yeah, I was there. For not being allowed to kill most of the creatures, you did very well. Good job, Potter, I underestimated you. Thought you'd die after seeing the other three champions. Told you it was an idiot thing to do though, using Parseltongue."

It was this last comment by Aberforth that was upsetting her. She had ignored the whispers and stares throughout the day, but after Aberforth's insistence that many were already gossiping about her being a dark witch, not only because she used Parseltongue, but because she had come in first place in the first task, she had begun listening: "It had to be dark magic! How else would she beat three actual champions, ones who didn't cheat their way in? She had to use some special dark power to do what she did! You saw her using Parseltongue!" someone had said in the library while Iris was looking for Hermione after coming back from Hogsmeade.

Iris looked down at the letter again.

'They won't hatch for a while, so you've got several weeks to decide. Again, the killing gaze won't be a problem. If you begin raising him/her from very early, the serpent will listen to you (and you only, unless you have kids), be your friend, and you won't regret it. I'm certainly excited to raise another!'

She couldn't lie to herself. The idea of raising such a powerful creature, killing gaze or not, and being able to communicate to it was appealing. Very much so. But was it really worth the trouble?

She had enjoyed speaking with Inigo, but he couldn't speak back. But if being the only one speaking to a magical creature was enjoyable enough, what if she could fully communicate with one? But she already had people to talk to. Did she really need a snake? What could she tell a basilisk that she couldn't tell Hermione? Perhaps a basilisk would be a bit more accepting of her urges to make Snape and Malfoy die. Slowly.

She wasn't sure why she was seriously thinking about accepting a basilisk from Newt, a man known to be just as reckless with Hagrid when it came to magical creatures. She and Hermione had an argument a few hours before. Did she want a companion that could always stick with her, both physically and when it came to moral topics?

And that, too, was something she couldn't stop thinking about now, not even when they had said goodbye to Hagrid and begun walking back to the castle. Would she do something immoral with a basilisk? It wasn't as though she'd set it loose on Slytherins, have the basilisk start biting them. Probably not. But she wasn't lying when she had told Hermione, many times in fact, that she didn't really care about the whole house-elf issue.

Maybe it was growing up with the Dursleys, but, though she hid it well, she knew there was a side to her that would be just fine with someone like Rita Skeeter, Snape or Malfoy dying, even if they didn't deserve death. She had grown up with people who hadn't given a damn about the homeless, the sick, those they considered beneath them... She had gone out of her way to be better than the Dursleys, of course, and one would think she of all people would be sympathetic to the house-elves — and she was, if they wanted to be free. In all their attempts, the Dursleys had never come even close to brainwashing Iris to think that she wanted to be their little servant.

If she, from the age of one, was constantly told she wasn't important, that she was nothing more than a useful tool to do the chores, for a whole decade… were the elves much different? If she had despised doing all that work, always, didn't that mean Hermione was going about it the wrong way? She was all for improving their living situations, making abuse illegal, giving them decent clothing, etc.

Still, the question still hung in her mind.

Would having a companion whose loyalty never wavered be a good idea for her?

The memories of Tom Riddle swam up to the surface of her mind, the screams of the children now sounding as though they were coming from outside the window, from within the Forbidden Forest, where Iris had uncovered those very memories.

Could a basilisk follow her orders at such a young age, where it was small enough to slither into tight spots, staying hidden while it eavesdropped on discussions about the tournament?

She pushed it all out of her mind once she entered the Great Hall. She hadn't realized it was dinner, but when she walked into the Great Hall, it wasn't that fact that popped into her mind. It was the unease from everyone stopping their conversations and staring at her. Iris noticed several papers in people's hands: The Daily Prophet.

"Great," she said. "What kind of rubbish has Rita come up with now?"

Hermione read one of the papers as she passed a sitting student. "Actually, the headline looks fine for once."

Iris snatched a paper out of Ginny's hands, earning a hiss from the redhead, and sat down.

"You know what, you deserve to read that," Ginny said as she turned to her food.

"That bad?" Iris asked.

Ginny didn't answer.

Iris looked down at the front page and read the headline.

Potter #1 Champion in First Task!

Written by Andy Smudgley

Yesterday was a big day for Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and indeed, the entirety of wizarding Europe. The first task, an event for the Triwizard Tournament, was held on this big day. Many were there, including this very reporter, to witness the four champions compete against a multitude of dangerous magical creatures over the span of at least five hours!

And an incredible event it was! Absolutely fascinating what our young champions, our young wizards (and witch) can do, especially one Iris Potter. Yes, the headline means exactly what you might think. Potter has come out ahead, as number one, in the first task, and by quite the margin! It was of no surprise to most after we all witnessed Potter battle a dragon head-on!

Before we go into the details of the first task, here are the final scores each of the champions received…

Iris looked at Ginny quizzically. "This isn't bad at all."

"Turn the page," is all that Ginny said.

Flipping the page, Iris saw two headlines that stuck out to her. On the right page, the largest headline read:

Horned Serpent Escape!

Iris kept her face perfectly blank as she skimmed over the article. Thankfully, the article featured nothing that could even come close to identifying her: 'Long blonde hair that fell to her knees, very golden eyes, a pale complexion, a Bulgarian accent…'

Under this article, another caught her eye. She looked down at it in surprise, and muttered, "Ron, they're changing a Quidditch rule."

"What?" Ron said, and he leaned in to read. "Why the hell are they doing that?"

Quidditch Rule Changes!

The Departments of Magical Games and Sports across the wizarding world have decided that the traditional 150 points the Seeker earns when they catch the Snitch is now too much, and it's because of the newest brooms. "Beaters and Chasers are being outshone by the Seeker nowadays," says Ludo Bagman. "Speed matters for all players, of course, but it matters most for Seekers, and Seekers are catching Snitches faster than ever now, leaving the Chasers, Beaters, and Keepers with only a little to take pride in."

"It's happening in official games, and in school games as well," says Elettra Proust, an employee of the British Department of Magical Games and Sports. "Potter is a prime example, I think. She currently holds the record for quickest Snitch catch in Hogwarts history! She deserves the recognition for that, of course, but her broom undoubtedly helped, and the other players deserve something too. With the Snitch being fifty points instead of three times that, Seekers will spend more time hesitating if their team is far behind in points. Snitches will no longer frequently win the game even if your team is behind a hundred points."

The points gained from the hoops has also changed! Whereas all three of the hoops were 10 points, from now on, only the middle one will remain so, as it's the easiest to guard. The two on the sides will now both be worth 5 points instead.

Many Quidditch fans have become outraged by this, and many others have said that they understand the change and even agree with it…

"I think that's fair..." Iris said slowly. "It makes sense, at least."

Ron grabbed another paper that someone had set down and began reading the rest of the article for the rule change. "You're mentioned in all four of the main articles. Well, three officially."

"Ron!" Hermione hissed. "Someone will overhear you."

The headline on the left page made Iris want to accept Newt's offer just so she could feed Rita Skeeter to the basilisk. But reading through it, the article mostly made her realize having a basilisk would be a very bad idea indeed.

Parselmouth Potter

The Girl Who Lived, Iris Potter, has come into first place in the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. How, one might ask? That's a question we would all like the answer to, writesRitaSkeeter. As a fourth-year champion, it's rather strange that Potter has come into first place, and not by a small margin. Many are saying she blew the other champions away in her final score, but there are certain things to be mentioned.

For one, Potter took longer than any other champion to complete the task. Why should she have gained the most points if she took the longest?

Two, she brought a small modified pet dragon with her. True, this wasn't on the list of things the champions weren't allowed to bring, but the fact this small dragon helped her in the task does beg the question — just why were there no consequences for this?

Three, Potter used Parseltongue! Oh yes, Iris Potter is a Parselmouth. This interesting detail was kept from the public, but apparently, students at Hogwarts already knew. Was Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, keeping this a secret? Parseltongue has been known to be an ability dark wizards and witches had and used. Why, this reporter isn't sure if there has ever been a recorded instance of a good wizard or witch having the ability.

Potter was seen and heard using this ability in the first task, not once, not twice, not three times, but a total of four times! Against numerous snakes, to make the modified pet dragon follow her commands, to get past a horned serpent, and against the actual dragon as well! Did Potter tell the dragon to go easy on her? Why was she allowed to use the ability if none of the other champions had it? And another important question: if every Parselmouth before her was dark, what does this mean for Potter?

Will Potter continue to use dark abilities in the future tasks? Surely Albus Dumbledore should consider if Potter should really compete in this tournament if she could be a possible danger to the other champions. She's already proven she's willing to find loopholes in the rules in the first task, what's to say she won't go to more extreme measures, such as outright sabotaging the other champions?

A member from the Dark Force Defense League…

"Suppose I shouldn't get a basilisk after all," Iris said lightly.

Neville, who was sitting nearby, dropped his spoon and looked at Iris. In fact, many Gryffindors and students from the nearby tables stopped what they were doing and looked at her with wide eyes, some of them looking wary, some amused, and others outright terrified.

"Oh, I wasn't being serious," she said.

Neville gave her a nervous smile. "Not being serious like the time you said you weren't serious when you said you and Hagrid were raising a hydra, or like the time you said you definitely didn't Transfigure Crookshanks into a lion?"

"You know perfectly well that was an accident, Neville."

Hermione glared at Iris. "How does someone accidentally Transfigure something that small into a lion? We don't learn how to do Transfiguration that advanced until later."

Seamus shook his head. "You're like a tiny Hagrid. Bloody frightening, it is."

"It was frightening," said Parvati Patil from next to Seamus. "I walked into our dormitory to grab something and there was a lion on Lavender's bed!"

Seamus snorted. "I've got Gryffindor pride and all, but I don't know if I'd call myself a lion."

Lavender reached around Parvati and smacked Seamus across the back of his head. Iris watched Lavender, Parvati and Seamus banter with each other with a small smile, one that quickly disappeared when she saw that there were some Gryffindors that were treating her as though she was an erumpent who was to slam her head into the table any second, causing the horn to explode and kill them all.

"You probably shouldn't have said that," whispered Hermione from her right.

"Yeah," said Ron very loudly, "I think you'll need to save another person's life for them to stop being gits. Maybe then they'll realize someone who goes around saving lives left and right won't become a Dark Lady."

"You know," Iris said, looking thoughtful, "Dark Lady doesn't have the same feel as Dark Lord. Maybe I should call myself something else."

"Dark Girl?" Ron said uncertainly.

"I'm not a superhero, Ron. Dark Queen?"

"Only way you could have a more arrogant name than that is if you called yourself the Dark Goddess."

"Arrogance kinda comes with the whole Dark Lady thing," Iris pointed out as she reached into her bag and pulled out a book on Ancient Runes.

Ron jerked his head in a shrug. "Suppose so."

Hermione smiled at Iris when she saw the book, but then the smile faded. "I'm very glad you're reading that, Iris, but have you read anything on Arithmancy yet?"

Iris shook her head lazily.

"Well, you should," Hermione said. "If you want to join fifth year classes next year, you have two years to get through for both subjects."

"Hermione, I really don't give a damn right now."

"But —"

"Listen," Iris said, putting the book down. The dinnerware near her shook. "You realize that in about the last twenty four hours, I've fallen well over a hundred feet, fought through a swarm of bats, brawled a cockatrice, fell another hundred feet from the air while on a hippogriff, only to go up against a griffin with naught but a stick, and then I knocked out two trolls, convinced a horned serpent to not eat me, relived my worst memories, battled a dragon head on, snuck out the aforementioned serpent, Stunned an Auror, and then got only a couple of hours of sleep… right?"

Hermione ducked her head, her neck red. "Sorry, you're right."

"And now my mandrake leaf is getting loose again," Iris said, pulling out her wand and sticking it in her mouth. The older students who noticed this narrowed their eyes, and the younger ones tilted their heads curiously. Iris applied another Sticking Charm and stuck the leaf back up without removing it from her mouth. "That's the fourth time today. Might need to not talk as much."

Ron grinned at her. "Looks like this month will be exceptionally peaceful then."

The next few days, at least, went by peacefully. Iris still hadn't picked up a book on Arithmancy, but she continued to read the few she had on Ancient Runes. She guessed that if she was placed in an Ancient Runes class now, she'd likely still have some trouble keeping up with the third-year class, but that she wouldn't be completely lost. This was really the only thing she studied or practiced outside of normal homework. Hermione insisted Iris learn something for dueling as the rules stated spells like the Cannon Spell and the Blasting Curse wouldn't be allowed. Iris knew a few non-lethal spells, of course, but she seriously doubted she'd stand any chance against Krum.

Iris and Sirius began having nightly chats through the mirror as well. As Sirius spent over a decade in Azkaban, they never ran out of things to talk about, especially since half of the time was spent joking around, not really talking about anything in particular, and this would leave plenty more time in the future for specific topics to be discussed. Iris had to admit she didn't remotely see Sirius as a parent figure; he was more of an older brother or uncle to her, and she was perfectly fine with that. She'd rather not have him boss her around.

Iris, Hermione, and Ron had spent much time at Hagrid's over the weekend. It seemed that both Hermione and Ron were also in need of a break from the chaos of the castle, as the gossip hadn't gotten any better; people still believed Iris to be turning dark, to be dark... and they, themselves, were slowly turning against her... Hagrid was delighted about their visits however. He was frequently seen walking around, beaming, looking happier than ever before, and Iris guessed it was because of their visits and Inigo.

She also kept having urges to ask Hagrid about the heart of the Forbidden Forest, and the shadows just outside it, and whenever she did, there was this slight nudging at the back of her mind, a niggling feeling that wouldn't leave her alone, that told her to go back into the Forbidden Forest and learn what she wanted to know herself. Iris ignored this as best as she could.

The mandrake leaf continued to be of great annoyance. It seemed that she needed to place the Sticking Charm back on every few hours. On Monday afternoon, in Potions, it had become unstuck again, but she couldn't have placed her wand in her mouth then. Snape would have investigated, and he would have undoubtedly made her pull the leaf out — not that she had gotten far into the month anyway, but progress was progress. Thankfully, Professor McGonagall, who Iris was most worried about with the leaf, had not yet seen the leaf in her mouth, but that was because Iris hadn't had class with her since before the first task, and when the time would come to have her class, should McGonagall notice, she'd need a brilliant excuse.

As for the golden egg, Iris hadn't made any progress whatsoever on that. She knew she should start as soon as possible, but seeing as the clue would only be useful for a task that was set in late February, she wasn't particularly worried. She felt she had deserved a break after the complete chaos of November. It was hard to believe that she had done so much in less than a month.

Her name had come out of the goblet; she had discovered another basilisk and Salazar Slytherin's portrait, as well as redecorate the new part of the Chamber of Secrets; she had met Newt Scamander, a famous author; she had moved past the meditation on the Animagus process; Hermione had finally learned of her sexuality, and hadn't become awkward around her; she had travelled deep into the Forbidden Forest, met a sphinx, another phoenix, travelled through shadow and darkness; there were Voldemort's memories as well; she had gotten drunk for the first time, and discovered she was a Metamorphmagus while at it; then there was the whole first task, and the freeing of the horned serpent.

Indeed, it was by far the busiest and most eventful month of her entire life.

It was on the twenty-ninth of November, while she was in Transfiguration, practicing Transfiguring one animal to another, that Iris received news that caused her blood to run cold, Hermione to look at her with concern, and Ron to look as though he had swallowed a grapefruit.

"Potter, for goodness' sake, put that book away!"

Iris startled and looked up from Ancient Runes Made Easy. "Sorry, Professor."

The truth was that she was not at all sorry. The last few days had been incredibly frustrating for her, and she had already completed today's class assignment. She couldn't have cared less about paying attention now.

McGonagall's lips were thin as she looked down at her. "That's the third time, Potter. Once more and it's twenty points from Gryffindor, understand? Now, I've some news," McGonagall said after Iris gave a slow nod. "As is tradition, there will be a Yule Ball in late December, Christmas to be exact… This is a tradition that's been a part of the Triwizard Tournament ever since it was created, and it is also a chance for you all to socialize with students from the other schools. The ball will only be open to fourth years and above, but younger students may come if they are invited…"

Iris had a nervous feeling about this as she ignored the annoying giggling coming from Lavender and Parvati.

"Eight o'clock!" McGonagall said sharply, stopping the giggles. "The ball will start at eight on Christmas day, end at midnight, and will, of course, be in the Great Hall. I expect all of you to act like responsible Hogwarts students. Do not embarrass us."

Her eyes locked onto Neville as she said this. Iris frowned at her. How McGonagall expected Neville to gain any confidence by treating him as Snape did was beyond her.

"Dress robes are required," McGonagall continued. "None of you are required to come, of course. If you wish to skip it, you shall be expected to stay away from the Great Hall."

Iris slowly let out a breath.

McGonagall looked at her, then her expression changed, and it looked as though she had just remembered something.

"Oh, Potter, you will be required to attend as you are one of the champions. Make sure you have a partner and are at the entrance hall at least twenty minutes before the ball starts."

"W-what?" Iris stuttered.

McGonagall looked down her nose at her. "Champions of Triwizard Tournaments are required to open the ball, and be the first ones to dance."

There was a moment of silence as Iris processed this.

"No, definitely not," Iris said in a matter-of-fact voice. "I don't dance."

There was a moment of silence, and Lavender and Parvati looked at her in astonishment and horror. Iris was tempted to roll her eyes. She had never danced in her life and she wasn't even remotely interested in it. She wasn't interested in most things Lavender and Parvati were interested in — or most girls, really. Aunt Petunia had made sure she was raised more as a genderless, insignificant entity than anything that would require actual effort, such as being a normal girl.

A part of her faintly flared with resentment for being treated as she was. She was completely fine with not being interested in things like makeup, dresses, hairstyles, ridiculous gossip, and most especially, boys. Still, she found it a little infuriating, and oddly amusing, that life was this unfair to her.

"You don't dance." It was more of a statement than a question. "Potter," McGonagall said, pushing up her glasses as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. " I assure you that you do. This is tradition. We will be having dance lessons for those that cannot dance, and I expect you to show there as well, or at least have someone else tutor you. I will not have you embarrass Hogwarts by not showing up."

Iris snorted derisively, and ignoring Hermione's pleading stare, she looked McGonagall straight in the eyes. "That's rich."

McGonagall thinned her lips. "Are you trying to be smart with me, Potter?"

Iris was deeply tempted to say, 'As if you'd know,' but she knew there was a serious line to not cross when it came to Professor McGonagall. Instead, she decided to insult her indirectly. "No, I just think this school has done a fine enough job of embarrassing itself."

McGonagall didn't waste a breath in responding. "Class dismissed. Stay, Potter."

The rest of the class, the majority of which had stopped breathing at Iris's statement, got up slowly, packed their things, and left, most taking a last glance at the staredown between student and professor.

"First, how are you, Potter?"

"Still alive," Iris said dryly.

"I'm pleased," McGonagall said. "Now, why are you acting out again?"

"Professor, I really don't want to go to this ball," Iris whined, dropping all pretense.

"What in Merlin's name could be so terrible about going to a simple ball?" McGonagall asked, sounding exasperated.

Iris didn't fidget in her seat, but she was tempted. She very much doubted skipping the Yule Ball would cause her to be in breach of the magical contract, and tradition wasn't enough — anywhere near enough where Iris was concerned — to stop her from doing so.

But what would she tell McGonagall? The truth? She didn't think McGonagall would be a bigot — but then again, she apparently heavily favored tradition over personal feelings on the matter. As long as the ball didn't involve the magical contract though… well, Iris wouldn't have a single problem skipping the ball, but nonetheless, it would be best to at least try to settle this in a civil manner.

Dozens of different excuses chased each other around in her head, but none seemed believable.

I step on too many toes while I dance, Professor. It wouldn't — no, of course not.

Professor, my relatives invited me over for Christmas — but then she'd have to actually go and visit the Dursleys, and she wasn't sure if that would be better or worse.

One in a hundred thousand die at balls, and I'd rather not risk — she'd get slapped for that.

I'm pregnant — no, no.

Professor, my parents are dead — she'd slap herself for that one.

Maybe she could just completely deny it: Professor, I've really no idea what you're talking about. I'm not even a champion. No, really, my name never came out of the goblet. Are you sure you're not confusing me for someone else?

"Potter?"

But in the end, she couldn't think of a valid excuse.

"Professor," Iris said slowly, "I just… I'd really rather not go."

"You have not yet given me a reason why," McGonagall said sharply, looking down at Iris, her eyebrows raised in expectation.

"I just wouldn't be comfortable dancing with a boy, alright?"

Professor McGonagall let out a short, sharp scoff. "Potter, you're fourteen. You will not make me believe you still think of boys as…" McGonagall paused here, apparently thinking of a word to use. "Icky," she finally said in a tone that suggested she considered herself icky for using such a word.

"Well, yeah," Iris said casually, looking somewhat amused.

McGonagall rubbed her temples with one hand. "Potter, would you please just drop the jokes for one moment? I don't have time for this rubbish —"

"It's not rubbish," Iris said, suddenly irritated.

"You… find boys icky?" McGonagall said, looking at her blankly.

"I'm not attracted to boys," Iris muttered under her breath.

McGonagall heard it. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly in realization. She did not speak.

"So, really, you'd be cruel to make me have to go to this dance."

"You're going," McGonagall said sharply, having apparently forgotten about what Iris had just confessed seconds before.

Iris crossed her arms. "No."

"Potter, if you —"

"If I don't, you'll what?" Iris said calmly. "Take away points? I don't care. I'll win this senseless tournament and Gryffindor will love me at the end of the year like they always do anyway. That's how it goes, isn't it? I lose an absurd amount of points throughout the year, mostly by doing nothing wrong or trying to help someone, then Professor Dumbledore tosses a few hundred points at me for dealing with your school's problems — which, by the way, is the reason I said it was rich that you're telling me not to embarrass the school, as you've relied on your own students to —"

"Potter, enough!" McGonagall snapped, her little fingers twitching slightly in agitation.

"Or what?" Iris said, leaning forward. "You can't give me detentions, points mean nothing to me anymore — there's no reason I should follow along with this school's ridiculous —"

"Do you believe yourself above expulsion?"

"Yes," Iris said bluntly. "Not because I'm the Girl Who Lived. You know very well I hate that ridiculous title, but we both know Dumbledore —" ("Professor Dumbledore," McGonagall said) "— isn't going to expel me anytime soon. Honestly, Professor Dumbledore would probably help me bury Snape's body should I one day finally snap and murder him."

McGonagall took a deep breath. "There are other ways we can punish you, if you feel that the options we have now aren't enough," she said through gritted teeth.

"Well, tell me when you figure it out."

"Fine! Then let me put it this way," McGonagall said. "You will make yourself look bad, should you not show up to the Yule Ball. Find yourself a date. You cannot go alone. Ask a boy who's not romantically interested in you, if you must."

Iris scoffed. "And ruin his chance at going with a girl he is romantically interested in? Any boy who would be willing to go as friends would be willing to sacrifice going with someone they're interested in. I'm not doing that to anyone. Besides, would you go with another woman?"

McGonagall's furrowed her brow in confusion. "Elaborate."

"What's the point?" Iris said, leaning back on her chair again. McGonagall took this as a sign of disrespect, for the skin around her eyes tightened with extreme irritation. Iris didn't let her speak. "It's not like my view, my opinion, has ever mattered around here. It sure didn't with the Philosopher's Stone, or when people declared me the heir of Slytherin, or when I told people Sirius Black was innocent, or when I said I didn't put my name into the goblet."

McGonagall stared, not one bit of her twitching or moving.

"The majority of the school believes I'm a Dark Lady in the making, thanks to me being a Parselmouth —" Iris let out a mirthless, bitter laugh "— as if they've just now found out. Know how many times I've been called evil in the last few days because I used Parseltongue to save my own life?"

McGonagall opened her mouth but —

"Nevermind the fact it was to save my own life from a task that was literally designed to kill me — because let's be honest, there's no way one of the task designers didn't want exactly that. Nevermind the fact that it was for a task in a tournament I had never wanted to be a part of," Iris said, and though her voice wasn't rising, the irritation was making its way through her curled lips.

She leaned forward again, interlocked her fingers, and looked at the teacher.

"Why is that I'm constantly being forced to jump through hoops for you people? Why in the world should I have to go to this ball when I want nothing to do with the tournament? Why should I care about how much embarrassment it would cause when the majority of the school spends half of its time insulting me? Some school unity, that. You don't think the other schools have noticed how much of the school treats not just me, but both of the Hogwarts champions? One because she's a Parselmouth, apparently a cheat, gloryhound, a dark witch, and the other for simply being a Slytherin. You don't think they've noticed how the staff does absolutely nothing about it?"

McGonagall had paled. Iris wasn't sure if it was from anger or shame or realization, though she doubted it was the last two. Like in first year, when all of Gryffindor turned on her, like in second year, when most thought her the heir of Slytherin, and now, in these last few days, these last few weeks, really, McGonagall had done absolutely nothing.

"Potter…" McGonagall whispered in a deceptively calm voice. "I don't know who you think you are, but —"

Iris laughed loudly, completely disrespectfully.

"Who am I? Whatever," she said, getting up and slinging her bag over her shoulder, the strap diagonally crossing her chest. "I'm not going to some stupid ball. I'm not going to make a fool out of myself for a school that's already made a fool of itself, a school that doesn't have a single boy I'd be comfortable going with. Take away a thousand points from Gryffindor, I don't care."

Iris reached the door and looked back, resentment stretched across her face.

"Who are you to tell me I have no other choice but to go to an event I'd have a horrible time in? After stopping Voldemort from getting the Stone — no thanks to you — after saving Ginny Weasley after you and the others gave up and started speaking of closing the school, after being forced to learn the Patronus out of necessity because the school couldn't keep soul-sucking monsters away from its own students, after being unwittingly thrown into this twice-damned tournament to go up against magical creatures most adults wouldn't dare even look at, much less fight…"

Iris grabbed her hair and pulled hard, ripping out a few strands of hair.

"If you want," Iris said slowly, "take these hairs and give someone a Polyjuice Potion. You have my permission, but you certainly no longer have my respect, Professor."

And with that, she dropped the hairs on the ground and walked out.

"Miss Potter no longer has our respect," McGonagall said heavily as she sat down in the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"Oh?" Dumbledore said. "And why do you believe this is so?"

"Because she told me," McGonagall said dryly. "She said, in her own words, 'You certainly no longer have my respect.' She doesn't care for house points, and I don't blame her. Any Gryffindors that would have blamed her for lost house points are already turning against her simply because of the fact she is a Parselmouth." McGonagall scoffed. "Utterly ridiculous, but nonetheless, there is nothing we have to threaten her with anymore, Albus."

"No punishment to threaten Iris Potter with," Dumbledore murmured, looking thoroughly amused at McGonagall's shudder. "Very well. Send her here."

McGonagall looked at him suspiciously. "What are you planning, Albus?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Why, Minerva!" he exclaimed. "What makes you think —"

"Because you're acting like Potter."

"Nonsense," Dumbledore said, waving a dismissive hand. "Now, if you could tell her to meet me here in my office... I must contact Horace."

"Slughorn?" McGonagall said sharply.

"A reward for Iris, should she —"

"A reward?" McGonagall said, her eyes bulging.

"As I was saying," Dumbledore said, "a reward for her, should she behave. If not, Professor Snape can resume teaching her."

McGonagall didn't leave. Rather, she reached into her robes, withdrew her wand, and a silver cat burst from her wand, and ran right through a wall. Dumbledore looked at her questioningly.

"I want to know the details when you talk to her," McGonagall said pointedly.

A minute later, a silver doe dashed into the room, jumped through McGonagall's head, stopped, turned around, and jumped through McGonagall's head again. The doe repeated this action several times while McGonagall sat there, half-irritated, half-shocked. Then the doe stopped, and spoke.

"I'll be there soon, Professor," said the voice of Iris Potter. "I've just got to get through this lecture Hermione's giving me over being rude to you, not that I regret it, mind you — ouch, Hermione, stop it. Get off! No wonder boys call us psychos — what? McLaggen, that's the third time today. Have you no shame? Shut up, Hermione. Is this thing still recording? Damn it, Dumbledore, you never told me how to —"

It cut off abruptly.

McGonagall shook her head, and her lips were pursed, but Dumbledore was sure it was to stop herself from smiling. "Albus, why does Potter know how to perform that spell? I was under the impression it was a spell you created, specifically for the Order."

"Oh, Iris sent me a letter over the summer," Dumbledore said simply, "telling me she was bored and it was all my fault. She demanded that I made it up to her by teaching her special magic. I thought the Patronus Messenger Charm couldn't be used for any destructive purposes."

"Leave it to Potter to have even her Patronus be irritating," McGonagall grumbled. "Don't smile like an idiot, Albus. There's nothing funny about it. A student who believes she's above the rules and the professors' say, and is right, spells disaster."

"Expulsion does exist, if your demented brain needs any reminding, headmaster," said a voice from Dumbledore's right.

"I do remember, Salazar," Dumbledore said politely. "Expulsion is not an option, however. No, do not ask."

Dumbledore ignored the hissing coming from Salazar Slytherin's portrait and continued conversation with McGonagall until, finally, Iris entered the room. She looked from Dumbledore to McGonagall.

"You told on me?"

"I was mistaken, headmaster," said McGonagall. "I trust you to solve this without me." She got up and swept out of the room with remarkable speed, the doe Patronus at her heels. "Potter! Get — this — Patronus — off!"

Iris replaced McGonagall in the seat at Dumbledore's desk, sighing.

"I take it this is where you come up with a way to keep me in check?"

"Indeed," said Dumbledore, smiling down at her. "Just what will I do with you, Iris? Why, you can't seem to stay out of trouble for a week."

"Knew I should have just kept quiet," Iris said to herself.

"Perhaps the hat was wrong in wanting to put you in Slytherin," said Dumbledore, looking not upset, but amused.

"Draco Malfoy is a Slytherin, and he's anything but the traits of Slytherin — so, as far as I'm concerned, houses hardly mean anything."

There was some muttering from one of the portraits.

"And yet, the rivalry still exists as it has for decades — if not centuries — before."

"I don't have a problem with all Slytherins," said Iris defensively. "Just the ones who won't leave me alone."

"Has there been any effort on your part to solve the problem?" Dumbledore asked. "If not all, then surely some might be worthy of your attention."

Iris frowned. "You make it sound as though I believe them to be below me. It's the exact opposite."

Dumbledore smiled. "Not at all! I was simply attempting to steer the conversation back towards the reason of your visit here."

"The Yule Ball thing?" Iris asked, her brow furrowed. "I don't plan on going with any Slytherins."

"Wouldn't you?" Dumbledore said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Then it clicked. She remembered what Aberforth had said about his brother, and wasn't worried about judgement, but the fact that she couldn't even keep something this private a secret from the headmaster annoyed her greatly.

"You're a nosy bastard, you know that?" Iris said irritably.

There was an explosion of noise all around her. The portraits hanging on the walls were all shouting, all indignant and outraged. Iris also heard a deep laughter coming from one of them — Salazar Slytherin. He was certainly awake now, and he seemed to be greatly enjoying himself.

"Quiet," Dumbledore commanded, and the portraits all settled down nearly instantaneously. "Iris, I'm afraid that this is the issue — I know," he said, holding up a hand to forestall the argument that looked ready to erupt past Iris's lips, "I know that you had no malicious intent behind that statement, but nonetheless, I am your headmaster."

Iris had the urge to argue, to tell Dumbledore that he seemed to be involved in her life in all manners that didn't involve school — the Dursleys, mainly — but was never really there otherwise, as shown with the troll, Quirrell, basilisk, Sirius, and now this tournament. She didn't say this however. She was fairly certain Dumbledore knew exactly what she was thinking anyway.

"Now," Dumbledore said, taking her silence as obedience, "Professor McGonagall has told me you don't wish to attend the Yule Ball. She has not told me the reason —"

"But you know anyway," Iris said, not as a question.

"I imagine I do," Dumbledore said kindly, stroking his beard. "I have been the headmaster for many years now, Iris, and I can very easily tell when a student is interested in another. Unfortunately, I'm afraid Miss Greengrass has her eyes set on another —"

"You're using Legilimency on your students," Iris interrupted. This was also a statement, rather than a question.

Dumbledore opened his mouth, looking ready to deny it, seemed to consider his answer for a moment, and then continued as though he hadn't heard Iris.

"But it seems we've hit a little snag," Dumbledore said. Iris snorted at his shameless avoidance. "You do not wish to attend this Yule Ball, and quite understandably, but Professor McGonagall, and I, too, both wish for you to attend. You, however, cannot receive detentions and no longer care about house points." Dumbledore intertwined his fingers. "So."

"So?"

"Something must be done," Dumbledore said. "We could block off access to Gryffindor Tower for you, and you alone — have your room be in the dungeons."

"Let me guess, near Snape?" Iris said.

"Professor Snape."

"You know I'd just end up sleeping in the Chamber of Secrets," Iris pointed out. "It's been completely remodeled — at least the rooms we care about."

Dumbledore nodded, not at all surprised at this information. "True. Very true. Of course, I could always, and quite easily, block off access there as well. However, I do not wish to turn Hogwarts into a prison for you."

"Sir," Iris sighed, rubbing her face. "I'll behave. I'm sure you'd find something that would get me to anyway."

She believed this too. She had no doubts that Dumbledore, a man with nearly a century on her, would easily be able to put her under control through certain restrictions. The Gryffindor Tower was a place she'd like to remain. Chamber of Secrets or not, she'd be sleeping alone if she was barred entrance from the tower. She knew Hermione wouldn't be willing to sleep down there as well. She also still had some decency left, and wasting Dumbledore's time with her immaturity left her feeling a bit guilty and embarrassed.

"No more mouthing off to professors?" Dumbledore asked, his tone half-curious, half-amused.

"No promises in regards to Snape — Professor Snape," Iris corrected.

"You'll apologize to Professor McGonagall? And —"

"No," Iris said, cutting him off. "I said I wouldn't mouth off to professors anymore, purely out of respect for you. But that respect doesn't extend to the Yule Ball. You, of all, people should understand."

Dumbledore lost his smile. He didn't look angry, or even slightly upset. Wary, more like. His eyebrows rose slightly.

"Aberforth," Iris said simply.

"Ah, so you know," Dumbledore said, an uneasy smile making its way upon his face. He stood up and moved to the cabinet which held his Pensieve. "Admittedly, I have never been forced to take a date to a ball… I assume most people simply thought me asexual when I was to show at balls — any social event — without a woman at my side… If only our plights were reversed... "

Dumbledore had taken the Pensieve out of the cabinet now and had set it upon his desk. He leaned over it, looking down into the substance, which was not silver and inky like it had been when Iris first discovered it. It was clear now and looked almost like water.

"But I have to have a date," Iris said, rising from her chair.

Dumbledore held his wand to his temple. "I was once told that one can make no mistakes, but, in the end, still lose. I found this to be particularly true in the war against Voldemort. To some degree, this holds true for our predicaments. There is no mistake to be made with your sexuality, Iris, but nonetheless, you still seem to lose."

He withdrew his wand from his temple, a thread of that silver substance — a memory — hanging from the tip. He added this memory to the Pensieve and swirled it around with the tip of his wand. Then, inside the Pensieve, beneath the surface, the silver substance whirled around, changing color, twisting itself, until it formed into a face: a young man, blonde and blue-eyed, smiling brightly.

Iris looked down at the image. She had no idea who this person was, and from the expression on Dumbledore's face, she knew she wouldn't ask. The man laughed, nodded, looked thoughtful, excited, and showed numerous other emotions. Dumbledore stayed silent as he stared down at the memory. This must've been the man Dumbledore fancied, Iris supposed.

And wasn't that an odd thing to think? Somehow, Dumbledore and a love life never connected in her mind. They were two separate things, never to be involved with the other. There was a long moment of silence, one Iris didn't think to interrupt.

"I had my suspicions about you before Miss Greengrass," Dumbledore suddenly said. "I could see it in your eyes last year… whenever you looked at Miss Granger… Does she —"

"No."

"I thought not. Does she know?"

"Yeah," Iris said. "She knows. I've told her that I've gotten over her."

"Have you?"

Iris shrugged. "Dunno. Part of me wants to marry her, the other part realizes we'd kill each other within a month if we even tried."

"I see," Dumbledore said, taking out another memory from his head and putting it into the Pensieve. Iris didn't get up to check what it was. She had a feeling, though, that Dumbledore wanted her to take a look at it.

"It doesn't hurt as much anymore," Iris said.

"Time heals all wounds, and all that."

"Does it?" Iris asked, cocking her head to the side, observing Dumbledore carefully.

He didn't flinch, grimace, or wince, but there was a small amount of tightening around his eyes. Iris barely caught it.

"You could take a girl to the dance," he said.

Iris nodded. "I could."

"But it would be unwise."

"It would."

There was another moment of silence, in which both Iris and Dumbledore were absorbed in their own thoughts, Dumbledore quite literally. Neither spoke for a while.

"How is your Animagus training going?" Dumbledore finally asked.

Iris opened her mouth to answer, but the question brought forth certain memories — very relevant memories — to her mind, and she couldn't help but blurt out, "What if there's some truth to what they're saying?"

Dumbledore looked at her with a piercing gaze. Iris averted her eyes, not wishing to risk having her mind read. Dumbledore seemed to understand what she was thinking anyway, for his eyes softened and he looked away.

"Forgive me if my memory has deteriorated in my old age, but I believe we've had this discussion two years previously, Iris. You did very well in the first task. That's all there is to it. Using Parseltongue to save your own life is not an act of evil. I would have thought you'd have learned that by now."

Iris let out a breath. "It's not the whole Parselmouth thing this time — at least, not directly. It's connected to it — or so I think." Iris reached into her mouth, pulled the mandrake leaf loose, and reapplied a Sticking Charm to it.

"You are already on the mandrake leaf step?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

Iris lifted a shoulder lazily, then leaned forward. "While I was doing the twenty-four hour meditating thing, I… I went through all my memories, but then, after all my memories were done…"

Dumbledore straightened slightly in his chair.

"Well," Iris said," I began to see his memories… only a few," she added quickly. "Five or so memories, the rest were all too much of a blur to make anything out. The five I saw were all brutal. Murders, all of them I think. Even my own mum."

"Who else?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

Iris frowned in thought. "They weren't all murders, actually. He had the dead bodies of animals crawl over these two children. Some dark cave."

Somehow, Iris could hear Dumbledore's breathing stop. She looked at him in concern, as though he had choked on a sweet. He nodded for her to continue.

"Watching the memories, I was him," Iris said. "I even liked it. I didn't want to, but I felt some twisted sort of pleasure from it. I don't remember much of the others. Someone who looked like Riddle's father was killed by the Killing Curse — an odd twisted sense of pleasure there too. Some girl being tortured. My mum begging for her life. Myrtle's death."

Iris said this all very quickly, as though letting it all out as quickly as possible would cleanse her… make her normal… unburden her.

"Why did I see those memories? You told me Voldemort put a bit of himself inside of me in my second year, and I imagine this is a part of it. But why these memories?" Iris asked, almost desperately. "Why not mundane memories? Why were they all so horrible? What if I —"

"Enough," Dumbledore said, calmly but firmly. "You said it yourself, Iris. They were horrible. You felt some form of pleasure because Tom Riddle felt some form of pleasure from those acts of evil. Those memories were clearer than the rest not because they related to who you are, but likely because they were strong memories for him. You are a good person. Would you have risked your life to keep the Philosopher's Stone safe otherwise? Ventured into the Chamber of Secrets? Risk your soul?"

Iris stared at her own knees. Should she tell Dumbledore the truth? What she had really felt at times? What kind of twisted thoughts entered her mind whenever the Dursleys, Malfoy, or Snape were especially cruel to her? Question after question buzzed around in her head, each answer coming with its own set of consequences…

"One of these days, what if I'll be pushed too far?" Iris said. "For over three years now, I've been tested. It'll continue. Next year, god, who knows what'll happen..."

"How so, Iris?"

"Just last week, I wanted to make Snape suffer for what he was doing. I — I wanted to put him under the Cruciatus for what he did to Hermione. How can you tell me I'm a good person if —"

"Have you ever been under the Cruciatus, Iris?" Dumbledore interrupted. "No, of course not. I'm sure that if you had truly experienced the pain that came with the curse, you'd feel different."

"Okay, then first year. I was upset, actually upset, that Quirrell didn't suffer more — well, more Voldemort than Quirrell, but still!"

"He killed your parents," Dumbledore said simply, smiling slightly, as though this was rather amusing for him, one of his students confessing to wanting people to suffer horrible, agonizing deaths.

"Pettigrew!" Iris exclaimed. "Even now, I want to throw him to the dementors. I want to see it happen. No, don't tell me that's normal — you find dementors disgusting — I do too — but I want to see and hear that traitorous bastard beg for his life! You can't tell me that's okay!"

"Okay?" Dumbledore questioned. "Perhaps not, no. Normal? Certainly. To be perfectly honest, I'm surprised you haven't cursed Professor Snape yet. I have been expecting it for quite a while now. I have told him to control himself, to stop antagonizing you, but will he listen? No, no, but I need him here, Iris…"

Iris's lip twisted in bewilderment and she stared at him. "But — but —"

"Placing you with your relatives has been one of my… bigger mistakes, Iris," Dumbledore said, sounding tired now, and he began to withdraw another memory from his head. "Had I known Petunia would treat you as she did, I would have taken you far away… But alas, despite my own failings in the matter, I assumed family would take care of its own. Had I truly known… placing you in an abusive home would have been the last thing I would have done…"

Dumbledore placed the thought into the Pensieve. Iris couldn't help it. This sudden honesty from him surprised her, but also increased her curiosity. Looking into the Pensieve, she saw — her mouth parted slightly in puzzlement. It was the face of Professor Trelawney. She was younger, no doubt, but still easily recognizable with her large round glasses, her eyes magnified to several times their natural size.

"Marked as an equal," Dumbledore mumbled. "Why, it's easily one of the more foolish things I've done, you see, Iris… but you don't see, not really," he added idly. "How could you?"

"Er — sir?"

"When a child is little and they think there is a monster under their bed," said Dumbledore, "they run to their parents. They see them as infallible, undefeatable. They trust them completely, trust that they are capable of handling whatever horrible atrocity is under their bed."

Iris could see where this was going.

"You never had that," Dumbledore said. "You had to handle his own monsters. And Voldemort is no different."

"Voldemort is no different…" Iris repeated, "as in he's my monster and I've had to handle him on my own? Or… he was raised the same way as me?"

"If you could, Iris, I'd like to see what happened down in the Chamber of Secrets," Dumbledore said, completely abandoning the conversation's direction.

Entirely baffled now, Iris could only stare at Dumbledore in amazement. "Professor, it's a bit late. Maybe we should both get some sleep."

Dumbledore chuckled. "I can assure you I have not finally lost my mind. There are details you might've not shared with me about that night, perhaps you thought them unimportant, but I would like to see them for myself."

"Oh. Er — right."

"It takes some skill in Occlumency to be able to do retrieve the memory. Occlumency is —"

"I know," Iris interrupted. "Hermione explained," she added at Dumbledore's surprised look.

"You will not be able to do it yourself, I assume?" Dumbledore asked. At Iris's shrug, he continued. "If you are willing, I could do it for you. However, it would require me entering your mind and —"

"Nope."

"— organizing it," Dumbledore said. "It could be of use in regards to Voldemort, Iris."

And with that simple sentence, Dumbledore had his wish fulfilled. Strange would have been an understatement if Iris was to use it to describe how it felt having someone else clump together her thoughts. All she had to do was think of the incident in question, and Dumbledore, using Legilimency, would grasp at anything that connected to the memory and toss it all together. It was almost as odd seeing her memory as the silver substance, hanging loosely off the tip of Dumbledore's wand.

Dumbledore placed the memory inside the Pensieve and swirled the contents around again. Iris looked inside it once more too. The memory seemed to play quickly.

Entering the Chamber, her wand being taken by Riddle, the conversation between the two, Iris tackling Riddle and being thrown aside after; the basilisk being summoned, the game of cat and mouse in the tunnels of the Chamber, being dragged into underwater pipes, her holding on desperately, knowing she wouldn't be able to swim back in time, hoping the basilisk would surface soon; then there was the surfacing, the battle with Fawkes, the smashing of the pillars, the sword and the dodging, the sheer force of the basilisk slamming into her, breaking her ribs and sending her back, the basilisk fang lodging into her arm; the dying of Iris; the revival of Iris; the dying of Riddle; the revival of Ginny.

She looked up at Dumbledore's face. It was paler than usual. She looked back down, partly out of shame. She had lied to Dumbledore that day. She hadn't told him of long the battle between the basilisk and her lasted, how she almost drowned, how she was seconds away from dying — she hadn't even told him of the basilisk fang piercing her.

Dumbledore didn't say anything. He didn't even look up at her. He bent over, the tip of his nose touching the substance, and he was thrown into the memory. Iris sighed and followed after him.

She stared into the darkness of the Chamber of Secrets, silently trying to fool herself into believing she wasn't frightened. Even with her wand lit, she could hardly see a few feet in front of her. It was as though the Chamber liked the dark, didn't want anyone to disturb it even, and was waiting until she was just far enough into the Chamber to shut the door and shut out all light, even from her wand, leaving her in total darkness.

She imagined a shadowy hand reaching out from the darkness and using its long, withered, rotting fingers to extinguish the tip of her wand. The thought sent a strong coldness up her spine. She knew there was a basilisk here, and for some odd reason, despite knowing it could kill her in less than a second, it wasn't as scary — or perhaps scary wasn't the correct word.

Unsettling, and unnatural. The thought of the basilisk wasn't causing her to feel unnerved, as though something unsettling, unnatural, and depraved was lurking in the dark. She could almost feel the evil in the air, and as she took step after step, ignoring the eyes of the stone snakes she was sure were following her, the oppressive feeling of something sinister grew.

The light on the tip of her wand did not waver, however, nor did it vanish. It remained steady, and though it seemed as though the light was reluctant in spreading, Iris pushed forward, determined to find Ginny.

And after what felt like a walk of a thousand heart beats, her wand's light uncovered a small figure, one with sprayed out flaming-red hair. Iris almost leapt at Ginny, and she came to slide against the floor on her knees in her hurry.

"Ginny?" Iris said in a panic. "Ginny, wake up!"

"She won't," Dumbledore said quietly next to her, his eyes burning with something — anger, maybe, that this happened to his students. "Not yet."

But Ginny did not wake. She remained motionless, pale, and cold, as though she was Petrified — but she was not. Iris could clearly move her. She put a hand over Ginny's heart, but with how fast her own heart was beating, how loud her ears were pounding, she couldn't tell if she was —

"Ginny, wake up," Iris said, her voice bordering on hysteria. "Acting class is over, and you're really outdoing it!"

There was a faint smile of amusement on Dumbledore's lips. Iris looked away, the edges of her lips pursed sheepishly.

Iris looked around and noticed the diary, and the feeling of something truly evil, something that felt like an abomination to the world of the living, seemed to be exploding in waves from this diary. She had never felt it before, especially not from the diary, not even when she was holding it… and now, when it was feet from her, it seemed as though it was personally trying to suffocate her in this strange aura.

And then, a sound filled the Chamber. It sent shivers down her spine, and she was sure every hair she had on her body had stood on end. It was a whistle. A haunting, ominous whistling tune echoed throughout the Chamber, as though several people were whistling at once.

Iris lifted her wand above her head to light up the area, to see who it was, and then — her wand was plucked right out of her fingers.

Iris spun on her knees. There, standing in front of her, fingering her wand, was Tom Riddle, looking as though he hadn't aged at all since fifty years ago. He wasn't a person though. He wasn't a ghost either, but rather something in between. He wasn't as transparent as a ghost, but close enough, and his eyes — they were only depthless voids of shadow. He too was emanating the twisted, corrupted sort of feeling.

Stuck between two things that were positively — or perhaps, negatively — radiating Dark magic, Iris could only do — well, nothing. This was far beyond her understanding, her skill set, her everything.

Riddle spoke then. "Iris Potter… Oh, how I had hoped you would come — I knew you would, of course, what with everything sweet Ginny here told me about you. She has quite the infatuation with you."

Iris could only stare.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, looked on in disgust. Iris wrinkled her nose at the scene, wishing her past self had reacted sooner. Maybe she could have avoided the basilisk fight if she had just leapt at Riddle earlier, while he was still gloating, going on with his villainous monologue.

"It could, I imagine," Riddle said with an airy sort of half-shrug, "one day turn into an unhealthy obsession, if it hasn't already," Riddle said with a sneer. "As much of a blood traitor she is, she is still a pureblood… and it would be a shame if —"

"What are you?" Iris blurted out.

There was a small flicker of something in the skin around Riddle's sunken eyes of blackness.

"You're not a living person," Iris continued. "You're not a ghost either, and I — I can feel you."

Riddle raised his eyebrows. "Impressive. Most wouldn't. Yes, I am neither living nor dead. I am not a man, nor am I —"

And Riddle finally went on with his monologue. Iris was ready to leave, to tell Dumbledore she was about to do so, but he looked as though a single interruption would have irritated him. She waited until there was a break in Riddle's speech, then she tapped him on the arm, threw her thumb over her shoulder to signal she was leaving, and, after getting his nod, focused on leaving the Pensieve.

But before she left, Dumbledore spoke. "Should you accept Newton's offer, make sure no one knows what the serpent truly is, Iris. It wouldn't do for you to be caught with a basilisk. Not now."

It had to be the dozenth time Iris stared at Dumbledore in either amazement or confusion since she entered his office. She nodded, somewhat absentmindedly. She focused once more on leaving.

"And speaking of serpents," Dumbledore continued, his voice getting quieter as she began to rise from the scene, "well done."

Iris felt herself rising up from the scene, leaving her younger self, Riddle, and Dumbledore all behind — she withdrew from the Pensieve, clutching the ends of it with a whitened grip, thinking. Then, in the silence, a portrait spoke.

"You killed my basilisk."

Iris looked up at Salazar Slytherin. "Your basilisk was a prick."

"A rather long one," Slytherin chortled.

"Oh my god." Iris looked to the rest of the portraits, most of which were trying, and failing, to hide their grins. "Goodbye."

"Wait!"

"What?" Iris said, turning back around.

Slytherin coughed, his lips still twitching. "I need an heir."

"Excuse me?"

"I said," Slytherin said slowly, "I need an heir."

"I wasn't aware portraits needed to breathe," Iris said.

"What in Rowena's desiccated cunt are you talking about?" Salazar said. "What does — oh, by the name of Salazar Slytherin! That other professor, the one that looks like she has a stick up her arse, she was right about you."

"What do you want?" Iris said irritably. She couldn't believe this person was so arrogant as to use his own name in exclamation.

"Like I said, girl, I need an heir. There's that Tom Riddle fellow, but from what I've heard, he's a lunatic. He searches for immortality. This means he won't want to further the line. He believes himself capable of living forever. Foolish, if you ask me. He'll fall eventually, as they all do."

"And if he does, the Slytherin line ends," Iris finished for him. "What does this have to do with me?"

Slytherin's long beard, so much like Dumbledore's, lifted slightly as he smiled. "You are a Parselmouth. Merlin knows how. You are worthy."

Iris's eyebrows rose. "Oh no," she said, turning to leave. "Nope."

"The line needs to continue! If you are to kill my last heir, then —"

"What makes you think I'm going to kill him?" Iris asked, stopping her walk to the door. "And how would that even work? I'm not your heir. I was under the impression that one doesn't just become an heir of a random house."

Slytherin waved a hand at her impatiently. "Parselmouth, right of conquest, powerful enough. Magic would accept you."

"Magic would — have you gone mad being stuck in that portrait for a thousand years?" Iris asked disbelievingly.

"Of course not!" bellowed Slytherin. "You'd need to do a blood ritual, of course."

"A blood ritual? Aren't those illegal?"

"How should I know?" he said, clutching his staff — or was it just a walking stick? — to his chest, apparently having forgotten he was sitting down. "The laws were very different a thousand years back. But what does it matter? You'll need quite a bit of your own blood. Hope you know how to heal a slit wrist."

Iris shook her head to herself, as though in denial. "I'm not — I never even agreed — you heard the conversation between Dumbledore and I! I'm not into men. Even if I was to agree to this, which I have no reason to," Iris added, raising her eyebrows pointedly at him, "I'd never have a child of my own. I'd have to adopt."

Slytherin shrugged unconcernedly. "So do the blood ritual with a kid as well."

"And slit his wrist as well?"

"Well, you would need his or her blood too."

"This is ridiculous," Iris said. "How can you call muggleborns the animals and tell me I need to slit the wrists of a kid?"

Slytherin suddenly frowned deeply. "I don't call muggleborns animals. I called muggles animals. Mind you, girl, muggles were killing us off back then. We had no Statue of Secrecy."

"Statute of Secrecy. What would I even get out of this?"

Slytherin shrugged again. "Nothing at all, really. I imagine any gold I left has long since been dried up. Bragging rights, perhaps. Wait!" he exclaimed, seeing her walk away again.

Iris waved him off and opened the door.

"I can tell you where to find my hidden books!" Slytherin called. "Blood magic! Blood runes! Blood!"

"Don't care!" Iris yelled back.

She made her way back to Gryffindor Tower, pausing only to stare at a painting of a woman wearing loose clothing, the breasts specifically ("Why am I so attracted to these?"), and to help a blonde third-year Ravenclaw get her shoes, which were dangling from one of the rafters. She used a Summoning Charm, then went on her way.