November 7, 1992
The curls lifted from Iris' shoulders as blurs of scarlet red and emerald green raced up and down the Quidditch pitch. It was Gryffindor's first Quidditch match of the school year and the team's opponent, Slytherin, was a horrific sixty points ahead.
The intensity of the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin had briefly supplanted the growing wave of terror permeating throughout Hogwarts—the notoriety of the "Heir of Slytherin" fading into the background as students and staff became engulfed in the match.
As her peers and mentors watched with bated breath as Chasers from either House raced through the air, Iris was focused on a different rivalry entirely—the one that existed between Harry and Draco Malfoy, Slytherin's newest starting Seeker.
When Draco wasn't taunting Harry from his broomstick, which was often, his efforts to locate the Snitch were performed with strict precision and calculation. Iris couldn't help but watch Draco's every maneuver as he flew around the Quidditch pitch with a fluidity that could've only been possible with years of training.
"That Bludger's gone mental!" Neville Longbottom shouted.
Iris' cheeks warmed as the sound of Neville's voice shifted her gaze from Draco to Harry—she'd been observing the Slytherin boy for so long that the peril her best friend was under had nearly slipped her mind.
Since the start of the match, Harry had been chased relentlessly by a rogue Bludger—he hadn't been spared a second to catch his breath, let alone search for the Snitch. Fred and George Weasley, Gryffindor's Beaters, were working tirelessly to keep their Seeker safe, but there was only so much the twins could do.
"I'll put a stop to it!" Ron raised his barely functioning wand as Harry flew frantically around the Commentary Box, the Bludger following close behind.
Ron's wand was held together by a single strand of wood, and an obscene amount of Spellotape, after being split in two the night he and Harry crashed into the Whomping Willow. As result, every spell he'd cast since its near destruction had been nothing short of a disaster.
Iris' eyes widened at the sight of Ron's determination and she shouted, "No!" in synchronization with Hermione. Iris leapt at Ron from the left, Hermione from the right, and each girl tried to snatch the wand from his hands.
Ron swerved out of their grasp. "The lack of faith you two have is astounding!"
"It would be too risky even if your wand wasn't pieces!" Hermione scolded. "You could hit Harry!"
The sound of splintering wood drew the eyes of everyone within stands towards Harry as he crashed the Bludger into one of the towers built into the pitch. While the Bludger fought to free itself, Iris watched as Harry hunched over his broomstick in exhaustion—his chest heaving up and down ferociously as he regained his breath.
At the sight of vulnerability, Draco raced towards Harry's position. Harry lifted his head at the sound of the Slytherin's arrival and the pair were lost in of a flurry of words when Iris spotted a flash of gold hovering above Draco's shoulder.
"The Snitch! I see the Snitch!" She yelled, pointing towards the golden orb still fluttering near Draco.
Harry's rigid posture indicated that he'd noticed as well but, before he could make a move to grab for it, the Bludger reappeared and Harry and Draco were forced to swerve out of its way to avoid losing their heads.
Harry's eyes were still on the Snitch as the Bludger soared past and once the air was clear, he raced after the golden orb. Draco followed Harry's line of sight and raced after his rival.
The boys disappeared beneath the Quidditch pitch with the Bludger following close behind and Iris could barely breathe at the excitement of it all.
Mere seconds passed before Draco reemerged from beneath the pitch, broomstick-less and flailing around in the air. He landed harshly on his back and Iris watched anxiously as he remained motionless upon the grass.
It's wasn't until she could see the visible rise and fall of Draco's chest that Iris' worry calmed.
Lucius Malfoy, sitting within the Commentary Box with Dumbledore and the rest of the Hogwarts staff, didn't move an inch at the sight of his son sprawled out on the Quidditch pitch.
Bastard. She thought as she glared at the elder Malfoy.
"Harry, watch out!" Hermione shouted, shifting Iris' gaze back to the match. Harry had reemerged from beneath the pitch and was leaning forward on his broom, hand outstretched towards the Snitch.
The Bludger seemed to materialize out of thin air when it smashed into Harry's elbow.
"Harry!" Iris yelled in horror.
Pain was visible upon Harry's face as he continued to reach towards the Snitch with his uninjured arm. With only his legs keeping him in place on his broomstick, he lost his grip and hurtled forward, landing in the sand beneath the Gryffindor goal posts.
The crowd held its breath as Harry lay there stagnant and after a tense stretch of silence, Iris screamed in relief at the sight of Harry throwing his unharmed hand towards the sky to present his fingers grasped tightly around the Snitch.
"Harry Potter has caught the Snitch!" Lee Jordan announced. "Gryffindor wins!"
The crowd roared as Hermione turned to Iris and Ron and said, "Let's go."
Hermione ushered Iris and Ron to follow after her and the group were feet away from Harry when the Bludger reappeared to continue its assault. Harry rolled around in the sand under the goal posts to avoid it, holding his injured arm close to his chest.
Hermione thrust her hand out to stop Iris and Ron from continuing onward and the pair watched as she pointed her wand at the Bludger and shouted, "Finite Incantatem!"
The Bludger exploded and the three Gryffindors raced to Harry's side.
"Thank you, Hermione." Harry exclaimed out of breath.
"Harry, that Bludger smashed your elbow." Iris pushed strands of raven black hair from his forehead. "We need to get you to Madame Pomfrey."
"I think it broke my arm." Harry winced as he tried to lift his hand.
Professor Gilderoy Lockhart appeared on the other side of Harry, the rest of Gryffindor House following close behind.
"Not to worry Harry, I'll have that arm of yours feeling good as new in just a jiffy." Lockhart exclaimed.
Professor Lockhart's resolve to save the day was visible as retrieved his wand from within his robes.
"No, not you!" Harry pleaded desperately.
"Professor don't!" Iris shouted.
"Brackium Emendo!" Lockhart waved his wand and the bones in Harry's arm disappeared.
Iris, Hermione, and Ron were among the swarm of Gryffindors that followed Harry from the Quidditch pitch to the Hospital Wing.
Draco, brought to Madam Pomfrey only minutes before by his teammates, was groaning dramatically from his hospital bed.
Lucius Malfoy was noticeably absent from his son's side.
"Mister Malfoy do be quiet. Once the Stamina Charm cements, you're free to leave." Madam Pomfrey shook her head disapprovingly as she returned to Harry's side with the bottle of Skele-Gro. "Now you, Mister Potter, are in for a less than pleasant evening."
"You should've been brought to me immediately. . ." Madam Pomfrey continued as she poured Harry a glass of the Skele-Gro. "Using an advanced healing spell without proper training? Lockhart is going to get an earful from me."
Iris' eyes lingered over to Draco who was staring at the ceiling, clutching his stomach.
The boy could be downright cruel, but he was alone, and Iris pitied him—Harry had a crowd of people worrying over his well-being, meanwhile, Draco's own father couldn't seem to care less for the health of his son.
Iris, confident that Harry was going to be just fine, slipped through the crowd and drifted over towards Draco's bedside.
"What do you want, Sinclair?" His eyes narrowed in suspicion as she approached.
"I wanted to see how you were doing." She explained cautiously. "That was a right tumble you had out there."
The expression on Draco's face softened briefly before his signature sneer returned. "Why do you care?" He spat. "You're the reason I was coughing up slugs two months ago."
It was true—at the beginning of the school year, Iris had cursed Draco with Slugulus Eructo, but only because Ron had failed oh so miserably with his attempt and cursed himself instead. Draco had just called Hermione a Mudblood and since Ron hadn't been able to enact revenge, Iris gladly picked up the slack.
"You were coughing up slugs because you insulted my friend." Her lips curled with pride. "And I'd do it again."
To her surprise, Draco grinned. "Good, I deserved it."
Iris' jaw went slack.
"What is this?" Draco furrowed his brow as he reached out and pulled at a strand of gold ribbon that was coming loose from Iris' braid. She was too surprised by the gesture to slap Draco's hand away, only the pressure released as the ribbon unraveled from her braid brought her back to reality.
Draco smirked with delight as he curled the ribbon around his fingers.
"Malfoy give it back." She tried to snatch it from his grasp but failed. "Parvati let me borrow it for the match and she will murder me if I don't return it."
"No." Draco slipped the ribbon into the pocket of his Quidditch trousers. "It's mine now."
Iris clenched her fists at her side. "Malfoy, give it back or I will give Madam Pomfrey a reason to keep you overnight."
Draco's eyes twinkled with delight as he parted his lips to reply, but the light was extinguished within his silver orbs instantly when he was interrupted by a cold, grating voice that raised the hair on the back of Iris' neck.
"Threatening my son while he's laid up in a hospital bed?" Lucius Malfoy drawled. "One would expect better from a Gryffindor."
The elder Malfoy eyed Iris with menacing curiosity and she felt a mixture of nausea and rage bloom within her—she'd met the ex-Death Eater once before at Flourish and Blotts in August.
She'd been chasing after Draco, determined to return a page the boy had ripped out of a book, and had stumbled right into a flurry of words being exchanged between Lucius and Arthur Weasley. The conversation had ended with Arthur hurling himself at Lucius hoping to leave a few scars.
"Mister Malfoy." She gritted through her teeth.
"Iris Sinclair." Lucius' lips curled arrogantly. "I believe that debacle at Flourish and Blotts prevented us from being properly introduced." His eyes flicked from Draco back to Iris. "However, I feel as if I know you well already—Draco has told me all about you."
Iris furrowed her brow in confusion at Lucius' words and glanced towards Draco. The amusement that had been visible upon the boy's face minutes before had been replaced by an unreadable, blank expression.
She could only imagine the kind of poison that spewed from Draco's mouth when he spoke about her to his father.
"All great things I'm sure." She crossed her arms defiantly.
"Oh yes only the most complimentary. . .despite your upbringingof course." Lucius sneered.
Iris' temper flared—he was trying to intimidate her, but she didn't scare easily.
"I'll have you know, Mister Malfoy, that I'm proud to be a Muggle-born." Iris spat. "And I've discovered that those that find my blood status inferior to theirs do so only out of the insecurity-especially when they feel the desire to belittle me for it."
Lucius Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her.
"That short temper of yours will get you into trouble one day, Miss Sinclair. You and your friends." He declared as his gaze shifted towards the crowd of Gryffindors briefly. "Now if you don't mind, I need to have a few words with my son. Alone."
Lucius squeezed Draco's shoulder and he flinched at his father's touch.
"I'll leave you to it." Iris said.
She risked one last glance at Draco and the fear in his eyes almost convinced her to stay. Lucius cleared his throat loudly as she lingered by Draco's bedside, as she found herself hesitant to leave the boy that reveled in antagonizing her and her friends alone with his father.
Iris tore her eyes away from Draco reluctantly and glared at Lucius with as much intensity as she could muster before gladly returning to the safety and comfort of her Housemates.
It wasn't until much later that evening, as she was trying to fall asleep, that she was reminded of the gold ribbon.
Lucius Malfoy's arrival had interrupted her effort to retrieve it from Draco and she imagined that it was now laying at the bottom of a trash bin in the Slytherin Common Room.
"Bloody hell." Iris groaned into her pillow.
Parvati was going to murder her.
September 10, 2000
Sunday afternoon sunlight poured through the only window in Iris' bedroom. She lay belly flat on top of her scarlet duvet as she read through her latest purchase from Flourish and Blotts, The Holyhead Harpies: Witches for the Modern Era.
Ginny's tryout for the all-female Quidditch team was later that month and Iris was reading up on the Harpies and their history out of the hope that she may find any tips or tricks that could give Ginny an extra edge.
After escaping Pansy's balcony Friday evening, Ginny had pulled her aside the second she set her sights on her and apologized for being cold. Iris, admiring Ginny's fierce devotion to Harry, assured her there were no hard feelings.
Despite witnessing Ginny's outreach, Harry left for 12 Grimmauld Place minutes later without speaking a word to Iris.
Iris had been set on leaving, not feeling too keen on spending more time with Pansy, but Hermione had insisted she stay, and she found it near impossible to refuse her best friend.
As Iris settled into her spot next to Ron on the sectional, Draco returned from the outside only to inform Blaise and Pansy that he would be spending the rest of the weekend at his grandmother's estate and that, under no circumstances, were they to contact him until Monday morning.
Draco had refused to look Iris' way before he left.
The rest of the night at Pansy's was a blur.
Iris refused to speak to Pansy, for good reason, and to lighten the mood, Blaise and Ron challenged one another other to a drinking contest—whoever downed the most bottles of ale in three minutes won.
Ron beat Blaise by four bottles.
Unfortunately, Ron's superior chugging ability did not go well with his low alcohol tolerance. Not long after, he'd barely been able to keep his eyes open, so Iris and Hermione bid farewell to the Slytherins and walked Ron back to his flat, afraid that he might get Splinched if they tried to Apparate.
George Weasley had doubled over in laughter when Iris and Hermione appeared outside the entrance of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes with his youngest brother. It was a shame because George's howls of amusement had interrupted Ron's convincing argument that Percy must be adopted as he had the personality of a spoiled cabbage.
Afterwards, Hermione had opted to stay overnight and watch over Ron, not that she needed much convincing to do so, and Iris had Apparated home to 12 Grimmauld Place.
Saturday, she'd wasted most of the day lying in bed—she had slept until well into the afternoon and had spent nearly an hour cuddling with Nyx, stroking the cat's snow-white fur.
In preparation for her visit to St. Mungo's the next day, Iris had called her parents from the Muggle cellphone she kept in the drawer of her bedside table. It had been a brief, emotionless conversation and Martha Sinclair had ended the phone call after only five minutes.
Iris missed the days when she would call home using the old rotary phone in the Muggle Studies classroom. Professor Burbage often had to beg her to return to the Gryffindor dormitory because she'd been talking to her parents for hours.
The call with her parents, combined with the arguments with Harry and Draco from the day before, put her in a foul mood. She had also not been ready to speak to Harry who, according to Kreacher, had been spending the day with Ginny in Edinburgh.
To perk up her day, Iris Apparated to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and spent the rest of the evening helping Ron run the shop. Ron was the only one of the four of them that didn't work at the Ministry and that made it difficult at times for their schedules to align, so Iris helped out at the joke shop whenever he or George needed it.
After Ron and Iris closed the shop, George brought a crate of bottled Butterbeers from The Three Broomsticks back to the flat after meeting Oliver Wood and Lee Jordan for drinks. Hermione popped by not long after and Iris spent the rest of the night downing drinks and playing wizard chess with the Weasley brothers and her favorite witch.
It was the sort of heartwarming scenario that Iris had needed desperately.
A knock at her half-open bedroom door tore her eyes away from the book in her hands.
Harry leaned against the doorframe, dressed in an oversized navy jumper with a white long-sleeve tee underneath, and jeans. Iris was less well-dressed as she had thrown on an old Chudley Cannons sweatshirt and black joggers the second she had returned from St. Mungo's that morning.
Harry's eyes collided with hers and the worry visible within his emerald orbs made her heart flip.
"Can I come in?" He asked cautiously.
Harry's thick, raven-black hair was sticking up at all angles as per usual, but Iris noticed for the first time that he had a bit of a scruffy, close-cut beard growing.
"Yeah, uh, of course." She answered as she closed her book.
Harry drifted inside and Iris pointed at his facial hair, "How long have you been growing that out?"
"Not long, Ginny asked me to do it. She charmed the hair so it would grow faster." Harry ran his fingers along his jaw. "It's only been a few days so I'm still trying to get used to it, but I think I like it."
"It looks nice." Iris sat up and crossed her legs. "You know I'd tell you if it didn't."
"Yeah, I know." Harry chuckled lightly as he sat next to her on the bed.
They sat there in awkward silence for a few moments, Iris pulled at a loose duvet thread and Harry fiddled with his glasses. Later on, she wondered how long they would've sat like that if Nyx hadn't waltzed into the bedroom and meowed at the two of them before disappearing underneath Iris' bed.
Iris and Harry met eyes at the cat's rude interruption.
"I'm sorry." They blurted out at once.
Harry smiled weakly and Iris sighed in relief.
"Me, first." Harry placed a hand over his chest. "I'm sorry about the Malfoy situation. I should've come to you days beforehand and asked how you felt about the mentorship and the living situation. I was wrong and I should've given you time to come to terms with it instead of ambushing you."
"Or given me time to talk you out of it." Iris said pointedly.
"Or that." Harry laughed. "As for the Lucius ordeal, I apologize for the snide comments about your drinking and for making those empty threats about taking you off the case, but I need you to understand the formation of the deal itself was not my doing. I should've involved you the second after I was approached by Robards and Kingsley, but once again, I thought informing you once all the details had been gathered was the best path."
"I hate to admit it, but you were right on that last bit." Iris admitted reluctantly. "I would've tried to demolish the deal from the inside out as soon as I heard and that would've only made things more difficult for you. The thought of bargaining Lucius' imprisonment for information makes me ill."
"I'm not thrilled about it either." Harry squeezed her hand. "I'm on your side, but we have to pay our dues. We're not kids without orders to abide by any longer."
"I know, I know, and I would've been more open to it if Draco wasn't involved. His relationship with his father, the things he used to tell me I—" She shook her head to clear her thoughts. "My senses have been overwhelmed him around and I took it out on you. I apologize a thousand times over for calling you a shallow, fame-hungry arsehole. That was out of line."
Harry had yet to release her hand when she smiled cheekily and said, "I mean, you are an arsehole, but an enjoyable one most days."
"Shut up." Harry laughed and lightly shoved her shoulder. "Apology accepted."
Iris arched an eyebrow. "And?"
The confusion was evident on Harry's face. "And?"
Iris punched him in the shoulder. "Don't tell me you already forgot that you outed my early morning excursions to Draco? After that last jab, I had your murder planned out to the very last detail. I might have gone through with it if Hermione hadn't of talked me down."
"First, ow?" Harry rubbed where her fist had collided with his shoulder. "And second, in my defense I wasn't the one that noticed—Malfoy is very observant." He leveled his gaze at her. "I just used the information to drive the knife in deeper, but yes, I'm sorry for that too."
"Apology accepted." Iris nodded victoriously and then she grasped the entirety of what Harry had just revealed. "Wait, Draco told you? Not the other way around?"
"He told me he's a light sleeper, so he heard you running around at the crack of dawn." Harry stated matter-of-factly. "He also said he feels honored that you would go to such lengths just to avoid seeing how dashing he looks in the morning."
Iris groaned exasperatedly and fell backwards onto the duvet. "Bloody hell."
As soon as Iris' head hit the duvet, Ginny pushed the bedroom door the rest of the way open with a flourish.
"I'm here, I'm here, I know you've been desperately awaiting my arrival." Ginny exclaimed. She twirled in place and then her lips, that had been curled with delight, formed an 'o' shape at the sight of Iris sprawled out on the duvet.
"Harry!" Ginny shouted and Harry's eyes went wide. "What did you do? I said you needed to talk to her, not do whatever this is!" Ginny motioned towards Iris' motionless body before sitting beside her protectively.
"We did talk! We're fine!" Harry threw his hands in the air. "This happened when I brought up Malfoy knowing about her sneaking out."
Ginny gasped. "Harry Potter, have I taught you nothing?"
"Thank Merlin, you got here in the nick of time Gin." Iris sat up weakly and laid her chin on Ginny's shoulder. "Harry was minutes away from sending me into a downward spiral." She whined.
Ginny gasped again and looped an arm around Iris, narrowing her eyes at Harry.
"You two deserve each other." Harry shook his head and the two women laughed loudly.
Seconds later, a pop outside Iris' bedroom drew all of their eyes towards Kreacher waiting in the hallway.
"Master, Mistress, and . . .Weasley." Kreacher said Ginny's surname with disdain and the redhead narrowed her eyes at the House-Elf. "Kreacher could use some assistance in sorting through the rest of Master Regulus' belongings from the attic."
"I'll help!" Iris exclaimed—she was desperate for any opportunity to snoop through the Black family's old possessions.
"I have to meet Neville at Hogwarts." Harry said. "I'm sorry, Kreacher."
Professor Sprout retired last spring and Headmistress McGonagall hired Neville on as the newest Herbology professor at Hogwarts per Sprout's recommendation.
"I'll stay here and help Kreacher and Iris. You know how Neville gets around his beloved plants." Ginny side-eyed Iris and snickered.
"Oh, I know." Harry sighed as he stood from the bed. "I'll be there for hours."
Harry bent over to kiss Ginny on the cheek and then reached out and tugged at one of Iris' curls.
"I'm glad we're back to normal."
"When have we ever been normal?" Iris smirked.
"You're right." Harry chuckled.
Iris watched as he left her bedroom, giving Kreacher a pat on the shoulder on his way out.
"Kreacher, do you mind if I take a look at one of these?" Iris asked.
Iris and Ginny were sitting on the floor of Kreacher's bedroom surrounded by boxes that the House-Elf had floated down from the attic. They had sifted through nearly all of Regulus' old things by sunset, the most intriguing of the boxes held worn-out Slytherin Quidditch gear from the '70s.
The box that Iris was sifting through presently, the heaviest one in fact, was filled to the brim with old leather journals and she was dying to open one.
Kreacher hesitated at Iris' curiosity and she understood why. By opening one of Regulus' journals, she was becoming privy to the boy's innermost thoughts and Kreacher had been the guardian of those thoughts for decades.
The House-Elf's eyes roamed the box of brown and black leather journals with great care before signaling his agreeance with a simple nod.
"Thank you." Iris said as she reached for the black journal precariously placed on top. It was tied closed with a strip of leather and the binding was held together by only a few thick strands of twine.
She unraveled the strip of leather and the smell of old parchment wafted around her as the journal sprung open.
On the inside cover were initials she was all too familiar with: R.A.B.
Instead of beginning with Regulus' first entry, Iris flipped through the pages until she reached his last. The last entry could be found only halfway through journal and Iris' heart squeezed as she realized Regulus died before he could fill the rest of the pages.
"Let me see." Ginny vocalized before scooting closer to Iris so she could read the entry from beside her.
The last entry was dated ten days before Regulus' death. Ink blots decorated the page and Regulus had put so much pressure on his quill that the entry had been imprinted clearly onto several blank pages afterwards.
December 21, 1979
I'm not well.
I'm in constant pain.
I've grown so thin I fear if I turn my wrist the wrong way it will break.
I feel the presence of the Dark Mark everywhere. It slithers through my veins and up and down my spine. It searches for any semblance of betrayal to the one that burned it into my arm and I'm afraid of what will occur once it finds what it knows is there.
It has been some time since I left my bedroom.
I stare at the skeletal creatures that hang from my ceiling and I watch as they sway back and forth, hanging on by a thread. That is how I envision myself, a skeletal shell tied to this world by a single thread.
I'm not sleeping, and as result, my mind is playing tricks on me.
I hear her.
Her voice screams my name and I have grown so used to the hallucination that I welcome the sound.
I have lost her.
I have lost Sirius.
Kreacher is my only ally.
I will avenge the pain Kreacher endured at the hands of the Dark Lord.
And if I lose my life for doing so, I welcome the embrace of Death.
Iris's heart ached as she finished reading the entry. She shut the journal and placed it back on top of the pile of in the box. The hopelessness Regulus felt in his last days—she knew that feeling all too well.
"Bloody hell." Ginny whispered.
"Kreacher, was Regulus involved with anyone before he died? Regulus mentions a "her" in his last journal entry." Iris glanced at the House-Elf who was now sorting through a pile of Regulus' old sweaters.
Kreacher refused to meet Iris' eyes. "Kreacher does not know Mistress. Master Regulus had many secrets that Kreacher was not privy to."
Iris was taken aback by the House-Elf's closed off manner. "Kreacher, if this woman is still alive, and if she was involved with Regulus, she may be aware of Death Eater haunts from the First Wizarding War. She could have information that would be useful to the Auror Office."
Kreacher threw down the sweater he was holding, and Iris and Ginny flinched at the outburst.
"Kreacher wishes he could be more helpful but Kreacher must prepare dinner." He explained monotonously before exiting his bedroom with a pop, forgoing Iris the chance to push further.
"That was strange . . ." Ginny observed. "Even for Kreacher."
"Even for Kreacher." She agreed.
Iris retrieved the black leather journal from the box.
Kreacher had lied to her.
And she would find out why.