Author's Notes:

I just want to give a reminder that Iris is 14 years old. She's a hormonal teenager, so no, I don't think it's unrealistic that she or the others curse, talk about sexual topics, are rebellious or reckless, etc. I'm also well aware Charlus and Dorea Potter aren't canon in terms of Harry's grandparents. I just don't give a shit.

Chapter 7

A Haunting History

1994, November 20, Hagrid's Hut.

"Where's Iris?" Hagrid asked, looking at the door as though expecting her to walk through.

"Er — she's… busy," Hermione said, and both Ron and Hagrid looked at her pointedly. She really wasn't a great liar.

"Where is she?" Ron asked.

"Not inter any trouble, is she?" Hagrid asked worriedly.

"Oh no," Hermione lied. "Not at all. She's actually nearer than you think. Hopefully," she whispered.

She really hated that she couldn't be as stubborn as Iris at times. Going into the Forbidden Forest, Portkey or not, was reckless and foolish, but even if she did everything in her power to stop Iris from doing it, she would figure out a way to do it anyway. Iris had always been a little reckless, but ever since her name had come out of the goblet, her recklessness ramped up so much that even a stereotypical Gryffindor would pale at her lack of self-preservation.

Hermione knew why, of course. Iris wasn't expecting to live to the end of the year. The thought of Iris dying had always made Hermione's heart ache, but she had gotten somewhat used to it over the last three years. It was the fact that Iris had seemed to accept the idea that this was her last year on Earth that broke Hermione's heart. Iris was far too important to her, despite the fact the girl would cause her to gain gray hairs far earlier than she should. Not even Ron truly accepted her for who she was. Despite the fact Iris joked about her flaws and sometimes even got upset, Iris nonetheless loved her like a sister.

Or at least she thought as a sister. Hermione had her suspicions before, but now? They might have not talked about it, but Iris definitely wasn't hiding her sexuality anymore, at least not from her. Ginny too, it seemed, if the flirting in the Great Hall was any indication. She had seen what traditionalists in this world thought about homosexuality, though, and it wasn't nice.

No, it was definitely as a sister, and nothing more. Hermione thought, a bit bitterly, that Iris wouldn't even find her attractive. It wasn't that she wanted Iris to — that would make things awkward — but she couldn't delude herself: she had always been a little jealous of her best friend's looks. Her new normal sized teeth had boosted her confidence, sure, but the years of being called a beaver, chipmunk, and numerous other insults had already made its mark on her self-esteem.

Nothing about her stood out. Her hair wasn't an inky black, nor her eyes a rich green with an attractive limbal ring. Iris might have not realized it yet, but she was indeed growing to become a beautiful woman. And what did she, Hermione, have? Her hair was a boring bushy brown. Her eyes weren't unique. Nothing stood out. Okay, maybe she was more than a little —

"Hermione?" Ron said, raising an eyebrow and snapping Hermione out of her thoughts. "Hermione, what's she got herself into?"

"She's having womanly problems, okay," Hermione said quickly, hoping the lie would work.

It did. Both Hagrid and Ron went a shade of pink and immediately changed the subject. But it was five minutes later, after they had talked of their classes and what they were expecting from the Triwizard Tournament, when Hagrid changed the subject back to Iris.

"Oh Hermione, could yeh tell Iris ter come here tonigh' at midnigh'. I have somethin' important ter show her, somethin' ter — er — help her," Hagrid said, smiling oddly.

"Is this another hint to the tournament, Hagrid?" Ron asked.

"No!" Hagrid said. "No, nothin' ter do with tha' of course."

Hermione was chewing on her bottom lip. She hadn't told Ron what Iris was doing. She was afraid his jealousy would come up again. Iris had told her what Ron had seen in the Mirror of Erised. If Iris had really completed the hardest step within a week… And now there was this. Would Iris even be back by midnight? She left in the evening the day before, but who knew how long it would take for her to find what she needed, and the trip back might take long as well.

"I'll tell her, Hagrid, but if she's still feeling unwell, she might not be able to make it."

The Heart of the Forbidden Forest

Iris opened her eyes.

An orange glow shone through the branches of the trees, bathing the world in front of her with the same color. Despite the few memories of Tom Riddle that she had just witnessed, she felt pleasantly content with the warm colors of the forest. She felt a heavy weight, something she hadn't really noticed, lift off her shoulder. Turning her head over her shoulder, she saw the sphinx smiling down at her.

"It has been an hour past a full day. Twenty-five hours since you've closed your eyes. Was it enough?"

"Yes," Iris said confidently. Her memories and Voldemort's had all passed by leaving what felt like a few hours of reflection on what she had seen. Her memories were nothing new, but Voldemort's… It was beyond disturbing, and not even the memories themselves, though those were plenty horrifying. Yes, Dumbledore had told her, in her second year, that Voldemort had put a piece of himself inside her, and with that came the ability to speak to snakes, but he didn't say she had his memories stored deep inside her too.

She was immensely grateful that the majority of the memories flashed by too fast for her to see them. She still saw five clear ones, though, and that was enough to disgust her. The sadistic pleasure she felt, the look of fear on the faces of those children, the empty feeling that felt satisfying somehow after the murders of Myrtle, what must have been Voldemort's father, and her own mother. She felt sick just thinking about it. She had felt satisfied with her own mother's death. It made her want to puke.

But it was all over now. Best of all, she didn't feel any different. She was afraid that she would somehow gain the personality traits of Voldemort, but her worries were unfounded. She didn't feel pleasure thinking about torturing the little girl, she felt the utmost revulsion. She did wonder if this unexpected addition would interfere in her Animagus progress or the form itself. Either way, there was likely nothing she could do about it. There was no section in her father's journal titled:

Got the Dark Lord Inside Your Head?

Here's What to Do!

There was a sinking feeling in her stomach. Even in the process of doing something that only a few people do, the Animagus process, she had to be an anomaly. An oddity. An outsider. She didn't want to call herself a freak, but the word slowly floated to the front of her mind anyway.

Was this really worth it? She was past the hardest part now, and while keeping a mandrake leaf in her mouth for a month would be incredibly annoying, there was no point in stopping now. She wished she could somehow know her Animagus form before she actually changed for the first time. What if it was something ridiculous? What if she was a penguin? Or a slug? Likely not, but she didn't want to turn into something she would never use, making all the trouble she had gone through completely pointless.

She could imagine it now: Voldemort chasing her through a forest, and suddenly he comes across a giraffe. Would he know it was her? She didn't want to die as a giraffe.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you for letting me stay here, and for not, you know, mauling me to death."

"Do you think so little of me?" the sphinx replied, no longer smiling. Unlike lions, her fur was a mixture of light brown, vibrant orange, and an auburn red. With the orange glow from the sunset, it made her look fiery. Iris winced at the thought of insulting someone who looked so majestic and powerful.

She sighed. "I can't seem to keep up pleasantries even if I try, can I?"

A melodic and beautiful laugh erupted from the sphinx. "You hardly know me, why should I expect you to think little or plenty of me? I was only jesting. You shouldn't leave yet, you'll meet dangers on your path back should you do so. Stay. Enjoy this part of the forest for a few more hours. I rarely have visitors that I can speak with."

And so the two talked, and Iris actually found herself enjoying the conversation. Iris spoke of the troubles she was facing, and the sphinx — who she learned was named Seraphina — would offer her advice. It was usually, 'Slaughter them and your problem will be solved,' but sometimes, the advice would be something Iris thought she could take. In return, Seraphina would complain about her troubles. Iris didn't have much to say on these matters, however, as she didn't know what she would do if a griffin tried entering her 'territory,' much less if she was a sphinx.

The phoenix-like bird even came down and let Iris pet it — or her, as Seraphina had pointed out. It was a hybrid between a phoenix and a thunderbird, apparently, and it spent 'more than enough' time in the heart of the forest. When it wasn't trying to infuriate her, Iris actually liked her — enough to think of naming her despite the fact that she never planned on returning to this part of the forest again. Walking through those shadows was enough of a deterrent.

"You should name her something that means storm, thunder, lightning, light, flash, or —" Seraphina said before Iris interrupted her.

"I've no idea what names mean what, though. Unless you count the names of moons, stars, constellations, and nebulas. Astronomy's good for something, I suppose."

"Well, what are those? She is the color of the night sky, so a name from a star, for example, would be quite fitting, don't you agree?"

"Ones that can be used for females? Carina — doesn't fit, Cassiopeia — too long, Lyra — doesn't fit a bird — yes, yes, you're not a simple bird, stop pecking me."

Seraphina laughed.

Iris thought for a moment. "Faye — I know a Fay already, Nova — could work seeing as the ruddy thing blinds me every time it does its teleportation thing, Pandora — maybe! I kinda like Pandora."

"Yes, Pandora is quite nice and fitting, I think. She is quite gifted after all," Seraphina murmured as she laid down.

"Let's see," Iris continued. "Luna — I think there's already a Luna at my school, maybe —"

"How about Astra?" Seraphina asked. "It means 'of the stars' so it would fit."

"Astra…" Iris muttered. "Astra, Pandora…"

But before Iris could make a decision, a brown owl soared through the air, screeching, and landed on top of the head of Seraphina, who tried getting it off by blowing on it.

"Are all avian creatures this bothersome?" Seraphina asked, lazily swiping one of her paws at the owl, who leapt off Seraphina's head and landed onto the outstretched arm of Iris instead.

Iris giggled. "Is that letter for me?" she asked, seeing the envelope. The owl hooted and extended its legs. Out of the corner of her eye, Iris saw the phoenix scowl at the owl — at least, as much as a phoenix can scowl at something. Iris opened the envelope, took the letter out, and read it.

Dear Girl Who Hopefully Still Lives

The reason for this letter is that Hagrid wants to see you tonight at midnight. It's something to do with the tournament, given Hagrid's reaction to when Ron asked him if it was something to do with the tournament…

Speaking of Ron, should I tell him what you're up to? You know how he gets when you actually try in class and in homework. Not that I'm discouraging you! Are you even reading this? You've probably learned to just zone out during these parts of my letters.

Midnight, the Beauxbatons carriage, meet Hagrid there. I don't know why he wants you to meet him there instead of his home, but that's where he needs you.

I hope everything went well, and I do sincerely hope that I was wrong and that you did not only stay unharmed, but that you really are at that step. If you are, if you've already accomplished it, then you realize you've likely broken a record, right? In all of history? Of course, you'll probably despise that fact and will end up prolonging the process just to ruin it.

It feels a bit weird without you. It's weird saying that, I go entire summers without you. Maybe it's because your summers don't consist of terrifying dark forests. Then again, knowing you... But make it back soon, I'm getting worried.

Oh, and we should honestly just talk about it. I know you'd just change the topic or Stun me if I brought it up in person, so I'll do it here. You're interested in girls!

There. It doesn't change a thing! I still love you (like a sister), and it doesn't bother me one bit. Though, I will tease you. Iris Potter fancies Daphne Greengrass! Iris Potter fancies Daphne Greengrass! Iris Potter fancies Daphne Greengrass!

Your wand's out and "Incendio" is on the tip of your tongue, isn't it? Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. I know the traditionalists would hate you for not finding yourself a good ol' husband who can continue the Potter line. There's blood adoptions that can work just fine for continuing lines anyway, isn't there?

Hoping you're not all alone and scared, bleeding out on the cold forest ground,

Hermione

P.S. Dying a bit on the inside, making fun of your possible death and all. Really, I'd feel quite terrible.

Iris stared at the letter for another moment after finishing, her heart beating fast. She didn't know whether she should laugh, blush more than she already was, or eradicate the letter with Fiendfyre — not that she knew how to cast it, of course, and she imagined Seraphina would be quite put out with her if she managed to burn down the entire forest after only a day.

Iris took the muggle pen that came with the envelope, turned the parchment over, and wrote a letter back:

Dear Hermy-Herms (yeah, screw you too),

I'll try and meet Hagrid there. He'll love the manticore I'm bringing back from the forest.

Everything went well. Had a bit of a hiccup with Voldemort showing up, but it's all okay.

Can I at least profess my love for you?

Not really sincerely,

Girl Who Indeed Still Lives

P.S. Yes, I know it'll drive you crazy trying to figure out if I'm being serious or not. I'll give you a hint. Two of the three above are jokes. One is completely serious. Have fun!

Satisfied with her letter, Iris gave it to the owl and watched as the owl flew away. She turned to look at the curious sphinx. "I've got to head out. Hagrid wants to see me at midnight, so it's best if I —"

"Iris Potter?" Seraphina asked, when Iris stopped speaking and grew pale.

"Is — is there another way out of here without going through those shadows?" Iris asked, a slight tremor in her voice that she couldn't keep out.

Seraphina frowned. "No, this place is surrounded by it."

The thought of going back there made Iris's hands trembled slightly. She did not want to go back that way. She didn't know exactly what it was that terrified her. She had been beaten to nearly an inch of her life before; she had slain a basilisk; she had faced a hundred dementors, all making her relive her worst memories. Maybe it was just the unknown aspect of it. Humans didn't fear the dark because of its color, but rather the fact that it let anything lurk in it.

She also felt extremely claustrophobic in there. When she was in the shadows before, it almost felt as though she was in the cupboard again. Maybe that was it. Maybe it was all aspects of it that terrified her. All she knew was that she had never before screamed like she did in the shadows. A moment of panic, a short shriek out of fright, yes and yes. But to scream like she had, out of complete fear? That was a first.

She had faced death before. Death didn't necessarily scare her. She didn't want it to happen, but nobody was going to hear her screaming about trying to stay alive — at least not if it was herself that was dying. No, it wasn't the threat of death that overtook her in the shadows. It was something else, almost like a fear for her soul or her very being. She had a dreadful feeling that if the centaur had not saved her, she would not have simply died in there.

A hand had tried to reach her, but it was stopped by the invisible barrier. It was a human hand as well. It was the thought of a normal human such as herself being taken over — driven insane — and losing not her life, but something far worse. It was that idea that horrified her.

"I'd really rather not go back through there," Iris said in a forced calm. "Isn't there a giant nearby that could just… chuck me? I know a spell to stop myself from really becoming one with the earth," she said, chuckling nervously.

Seraphina stared at Iris for a moment before she turned her head to look at the phoenix, who tilted her head at the sphinx. "I do not see why you couldn't."

The phoenix, who Iris realized hadn't been given a name yet, trilled.

At Iris's confused look, Seraphina clarified, "She will take you to your school. Your headmaster has a phoenix of his own, the only phoenix currently bonded as a companion to a human. Therefore, your headmaster hasn't placed any magic to stop phoenix travel. Grab any part of her and —" Iris grabbed the front of the phoenix's face "— visualize where you want to go, and she will take you. Thank you for the lovely conversation, Iris Potter. Do not think of that as an invitation to come whenever. I do like the quiet," she said, smiling pleasantly.

"And thank you," Iris said, beginning to visualize the area around the carriage, "for letting me stay here, and —"

But before she could finish her sentence, a bright flash nearly blinded her and she was whisked away from the heart of the forest. She felt an electric tingling spread throughout her body as she was squeezed through an impossibly small hole. The tingling increased until she felt like electricity was running its course through her. There was a feeling of pins and needles, except intensified. Just when the nauseating feeling almost became outright pain, it stopped.

She landed in a heap of her own limbs on hard earth.

"Mon dieu!" exclaimed a voice from above her.

Iris looked up, groaning in pain, and her vision began to lose its bright spots. When compared to the shadows, the figure above had to be the most beautiful being to ever exist. Light blue eyes stared down at her in shock, and silvery-blonde hair cascaded down Fleur Delacour's face, wavier than Iris had seen it before.

"How about merde?" Iris asked weakly.

A humorous sounding trill sounded from above Fleur. Both of the girls' heads snapped up. Fleur's eyes widened in awe while one of Iris's eyes twitched in agitation. Out of all the ways to magically travel — actually no, even if she was to include muggle travel, phoenix travel was by far the worst.

Iris began to lift herself up from the ground when a soft hand grabbed her elbow and helped her up. Before Iris could get a word out, Fleur spoke.

"I do not think I should even ask where it is that you've come from, as you are quite the enigma, but I 'ave been looking for you for too long now."

Iris tensed slightly, and prepared herself for insults. Most people who spent a lot of time looking for her, who she didn't know well, usually wanted to kill her. It was unlikely Fleur would do so — right? — but she figured she wouldn't like what was coming anyway.

"I need to apologize for 'ow I treated you the day your name was drawn from the Goblet of Fire. I thought that if you were entered, I would 'ave never come here to this dreary and dreadful castle."

"Oh. Right," Iris said awkwardly. She wasn't sure what to really say. She apologized and then insulted Hogwarts. Not at all in the mood to argue, she said, "Yeah, don't worry about it. I shouldn't have called you a… I don't even remember. I think the fact that I can't even remember who I've assigned certain insults to says a lot. Point is, don't worry about it."

Fleur smiled gently. "I was afraid you'd brush me off like before, after the weighing of ze wands."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Iris said. "I just don't like Rita Skeeter. She wrote an article about my friend's dad, made him look like a fool, and he really didn't deserve that — he's a good person." Iris sighed, and continued, "Still shouldn't have lost my temper with her though."

"No, likely not," Fleur said as she sat down on the steps leading up to the Beauxbatons, and patted the spot next to her. When Iris sat down, Fleur continued, "I read the article. Don't worry, I don't care much for this tournament, but Cassius Warrington and Viktor Krum did not look very 'appy about what it said. Though, I think that was the purpose, non?"

Iris nodded and checked the time — Hagrid would be here soon. "Get the other champions to turn on me, yeah. So, why were you following me yesterday?"

Fleur's mouth opened slightly as she stared at Iris. "You knew?"

"Sorta. I knew somebody was following me, and I felt a pull, like I do now. I felt it before too, whenever you were nearby. It's easy to ignore after feeling it the first time, but yes, I could sense that you or some other girl with veela blood was nearby," Iris said.

"You felt my — but how? You are a girl."

Iris turned her head the other way to pet the phoenix, who had hopped down from atop the carriage to next to Iris. "I produced a Patronus at the age of thirteen, is it that much of a stretch to say I can sense veela?"

"And a Dragonfire Shield?" Fleur asked.

"Heard that bit too then? How often do you stalk me?" Iris asked.

"From breakfast to noon, every Tuesday," Fleur replied without missing a beat.

Iris's lips twitched, and she noticed for the first time that Fleur's English had improved since the last time she had heard her speak. "I can. Whether or not it'll hold up against a dragon is another question though — and no, I don't know for certain if dragons are involved, but I've a strong suspicion," Iris said. Fleur opened her mouth to speak, but Iris interrupted, "Speak of the devil, here comes the man who ran out of his hut, a sweaty mess, the second I asked if dragons were involved."

Fleur's eyes turned to where Iris was looking, and she saw the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Hagrid, making his way towards them.

"All righ', Iris?" Hagrid bellowed from a distance. "Makin' friends, eh? Good, good, it's good ter see friendship across schools, ain't it? Miss Delacour, good ter see yeh."

Iris nodded and smiled at Hagrid. "I'm doing alright —"

"Blimey!" Hagrid shouted in surprise and awe. "Is tha' a black phoenix?!"

Iris smiled, "She's dark blue, but yes. She's a phoenix, or something like that."

Fleur leaned over to get a better look, and Hagrid looked like he was going to faint.

"A dark blue phoenix? Never seen one tha' weren' red! Where did yer get her? She's a beauty!" Hagrid exclaimed.

She didn't really want to tell anyone that she had been in the heart of the Forbidden Forest, so she said, "I was out and about" — Fleur snorted with laughter — "and needed to get to the carriage in time" — Fleur looked at her curiously — "and she came out of the branches and offered a ride, in her own little way of course."

The phoenix chirped in agreement, playing along. Hagrid just nodded along, still staring at the bird in awe.

Suddenly, the carriage door swung open and whacked both Fleur and Iris on the back of the head. Iris turned around to curse whoever did it, then noticed it was Madame Maxime. That almost didn't stop her; however, figuring that she was already on thin ice with the headmistress of Beauxbatons and the headmaster of Durmstrang, Iris kept her mouth shut.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Fleur," Madame Maxime said, ignoring Iris altogether. She looked back to Hagrid with an innocent smile. "Hello Hagrid, might we go on the walk you promised?"

Hagrid nodded vigorously, and because of the light pouring out from the carriage, Iris noticed the hideous suit Hagrid was wearing. She didn't have it in herself to say anything about it.

"Er — yeh," Hagrid said, then shifted uncomfortably as he looked at Iris. "Iris, I have ter speak ter yeh fer a second, mind if we go over here?" he said, pointing to the side of the carriage.

"Yeah, sure," Iris said. She waited until they were well behind the carriage. "What's up, Hagrid?"

"Listen, Iris, have yer got yer cloak with yeh?" Hagrid said. Iris nodded slowly. "Good, good, put it on an' follow me an' Madame Maxime. Don't ask questions, just put it on behind the carriage an' follow us, will yeh?" Hagrid said very quickly, then he turned around and began walking to Madame Maxime, who was talking to Fleur.

Iris walked swiftly out of sight and tossed her cloak over herself, then followed Hagrid. She saw that Hagrid and Madame Maxime were already walking towards the Forbidden Forest. She began to follow them when she heard a weary sigh from behind her. She turned and saw Fleur, chin in one of her hands, and on the steps leading up to the carriage door again.

Two thoughts popped into her head.

The first was that she felt bad. Madame Maxime had apparently said something to upset Fleur, and Fleur had apologized to Iris already. If she was honest with herself, there was still a bit of resentment there, but enough to stop her from taking Fleur with her?

The second thought was that when two people fit under an Invisibility Cloak, they had to get very close to each other. Iris would have felt guilty about thinking of something like that, but the thought of comforting Fleur simply to comfort her did cross her mind first, so it really all balanced out.

"Fleur?" Iris said, and Fleur startled.

"Iris?"

Iris took off her cloak. "Listen, Hagrid told me he wanted to show me something, likely something related to the tournament. My cloak can fit two, wanna come? I don't mind, not like you'll stand a chance against me anyway," Iris said, her eyes full of mirth.

Fleur smirked, "Oh? You are going to cheat?"

"Oh, please, Madame Maxime is going to tell you what she sees anyway. Why not see it for yourself?"

Fleur sat there, thinking for a moment.

"Come on!" Iris urged. "I've already lost sight of the two, and they're not exactly hard to miss, are they?"

Fleur took Iris's hand and slid under the cloak, and the two began walking towards where Iris had seen Hagrid and Madame Maxime last. They caught up after a few minutes, and began to follow from a safe enough distance where they couldn't be heard, but the conversation between Hagrid and Madame Maxime could.

"Are they flirting?" Iris whispered to Fleur.

"Non, 'Agrid is flirting. Madame Maxime is likely only using 'Agrid to 'er own advantage."

Iris frowned. Hagrid was great, he really was, but he was stupidly easy to take advantage of. And now that Iris actually paid attention, she saw that it really was just Hagrid that was doing the flirting, or the closest thing to flirting. Madame Maxime was only nodding and giving fake laughs, and constantly asking Hagrid questions about the tournament.

They had walked for another five minutes before Iris began to wonder where it was that Hagrid was taking them. All he had done up to this point was flirt to this woman. Was Hagrid an exhibitionist?

"I really hope this isn't Hagrid's way of giving me the talk," Iris muttered to herself.

Fleur snickered beside her, a little too loudly too; Madame Maxime stopped and turned around, her sharp eyes scanning the ground. She pulled out her wand — Iris knew the Summoning Charm didn't work on her cloak unless she was doing it — and opened her mouth, but before she could say any incantation, a distant but loud roar filled the Forbidden Forest. A moment later, three more joined in.

Dragons. It had to be.

Iris turned to look at Fleur, and saw that she was pale. Did Fleur recognize the sound?

"You were right…" Fleur whispered.

"Unfortunately," Iris whispered as the two slowly and carefully followed Hagrid and Madame Maxime towards the sounds of the roaring. "Ron's brother, Charlie, he works with dragons, you see — he said he would see us much sooner than we'd expect. With the tournament's history of having magical creatures in the first task, I made the logical conclusion — and if I was wrong, no harm done. The shield can stop all other fire based attacks as well. I think"

"You can really cast it?"

Iris hummed her confirmation.

Fleur waited a moment before asking, "May I ask, 'ow long did it take you to learn it?"

"Um, since the second of November, I think? It took around two and a half weeks, I think, for me to be able to keep it up no matter what Hermione threw at me," Iris said. Iris saw Fleur's face, and added, "But I was working on it literally non-stop. Probably too late for you given the fact that you only have three days, but I did spend a ton of time on it. And a lot of pain. Hermione engulfed me in flames more than once. I had to drink anti-flame potions before practicing."

"That is still incredible, to learn it so quick, I mean," Fleur said.

"I probably won't even use it," Iris said, feeling her neck going red. "What Hermione can cast and dragonfire itself is very different. I don't think I'm capable of stopping actual dragonfire, and I've spent over twenty hours practicing the spell in the last three or so weeks. I'm not some prodigy…"

"You don't need so much modesty."

"What I need is a drink, Fleur, if these turn out to be dragons," Iris said, trying to change the subject.

"You are far too young!" Fleur said, trying to look outraged, but it was a pitiful attempt, really.

"Really? We're going to do the whole young thing again?" Iris asked sardonically.

Fleur winced, then smiled slightly.

"Come on," Iris said as they moved forward. "After this, you can use your veela powers to convince Aberforth to give us free drinks."

Fleur immediately shot back with, "And you can use your fame to convince 'im to get on 'is knees and worship your 'oliness."

Iris's eye twitched. "I am not oily!" she said in a mock French accent.

"Non, definitely not. You are not slick enough to get away with objectifying me."

"Quit that," Iris said.

"Quit what?"

"Being better than me at this bantering thing. I'm usually the one that's best at it. You're stealing my thunder."

"Oh, stealing your thunder? Maybe call that phoenix bird of yours again?" Fleur said, elbowing her in the ribs lightly.

"Oh, damn it," Iris sighed.

"I'll stop when you stop changing the subject. You are too modest. You're skilled, and brave from what I 'ave —"

"No, I'm not. I'm still terrified of what I'll have to face," Iris said softly. "I'm still fourteen, and I haven't a bloody clue as to if I'm going to be alive in a few days, much less by the end of the tournament."

She sounded almost desperate by the end and she knew it. She took a deep breath and tried to relieve herself of the stress as Fleur watched on. It was all starting to get to her. The first task was days away, and she didn't think she was ready. If it wasn't the fact she had Fleur pressing up to her side and two giant people in front of her, the fact that she was in the dark Forbidden Forest again would have likely tipped her over the edge. The fact she was here in the forest did still have an effect on her. It still unnerved her now, more so than it ever did before, now that she knew what kind of horrors laid within.

"This you is much different than the one I saw those two other days," Fleur said.

Iris felt something in the air change, but she felt too bothered to think on it.

"The other me hides the stress and panic behind a veil of humor and indifference," she said, a bit surprised by her own honesty with Fleur, who really was still a stranger.

"But the stress and panic is still there, non?"

"The stress and panic is still always there, yes, lurking just out of sight, waiting for the opportune moment to jump out and begin the assault. I won't be surprised if I end up having a panic attack on the twenty-fourth."

"But, 'ave you not faced down many dangerous things? Dementors, acromantulas? A basilisk, non? If it came down to a dragon or —"

"Yes," Iris said, more hotly than she intended to, as she stepped over a branch.

They were getting closer to the dragons.

"But I didn't expect it," she said, "I didn't have days — weeks, really, of a constant reminder that I was going to face it, that I had a damn good chance of dying soon. The basilisk just happened. And it's not as if that encounter didn't leave its mark — physically and mentally. I've got a permanent ugly scar from it, and I still have nightmares about it, even now, a year and a half after it happened. I was literally seconds away from dying from the venom, and it was only —"

"Venom?" Fleur interrupted. "But 'ow? You would 'ave died?"

"I nearly did die. Phoenix tears saved me. That's the thing. Everybody puts me on a damn pedestal because of things like that. Ooh, Iris Potter slayed a basilisk, she's spectacular. What no one mentions is that a phoenix tore the eyes out of the basilisk first, allowing me to stop running around with my eyes closed, my arms stretched out in front of me, looking like a damn idiot.

"What no one mentions is that I didn't bravely charge at the basilisk, a cape billowing behind me. I dived and dodged desperately, whimpering nearly every time. I tripped over myself as the basilisk blindly lunged over and over at where it thought I stood. I didn't courageously jump on top of the basilisk to slay it. I jumped onto its back and it began dragging me through underwater pipes, where I had to hold on, because if I didn't, I'd drown. And when it exited the pipes, before I even got a chance to stab it, it threw me off. I broke a bone or two from the fall.

"I killed it simply by raising my arms with the sword. The basilisk lunged right at me, and therefore right at the sword. The impact broke several ribs, and a fang pierced my right arm. I didn't grit my teeth throughout the pain. I didn't flash a victorious smile. I screamed in pain. I kept screaming, moaning, whimpering, and spitting out blood everywhere. When the basilisk venom began running through my veins, I didn't raise my chin at death. I bowed my head and tried to cry, because of the pain, the sight of all the veins in my right arm turning black, for Ginny, who had been taken by the heir of Slytherin and wasn't waking up.

"I used the last of my strength to destroy him — the Heir. Then Fawkes — the phoenix — healed me. No one ever mentions that I had immeasurable help, that I nearly burst out in sobs at the thought of dying — that I would have, had the pain not been mind numbingly bad, that I've woken up crying in the middle of the night since, that —"

Iris stopped, realizing how much she had just told another champion. She didn't look at Fleur, who had been silent throughout her whole rant. She did not mean to tell Fleur all of this.

"Why did I just do that?" Iris asked quietly.

Fleur hesitated. "Likely my veela heritage. It convinces people to show their true feelings… It is why boys stare at me as they do, being part-veela causes them to show their true feelings on what zey are thinking, which is usually me whenever I walk into ze room," Fleur said slowly. "The veela part of me does not cause the attraction, it only brings out people's true feelings — an unattractive veela would not 'ave people leer at 'er, only say or do what is on zeir mind. I did not zink you would say zat, I did not expect it, I only wanted —"

She stopped at Iris's glare.

Iris whipped the cloak off the both of them. "You had no right to try and influence my mind," she said. She couldn't find it within herself to be that angry. Pity, looks of worry and concern, attempts at finding solutions: these were all things Iris did not want. She saw no pity or concern in Fleur's face though. Still, she opened her mouth far more than she should, and it often got her into trouble, but private thoughts such as those — they stayed far away from her vocal chords.

"I'll see you later, Fleur," Iris said coolly.

Fleur frowned. "It is not as though I 'ad a choice. You shouldn't be influenced at all by it. Do you believe I enjoy 'aving men stare at me like I am a Quidditch broom? Only, they want me to ride them, not the other way around."

Iris sighed, trying to ignore what Fleur's magnificent face was doing to her. She looked to where the other two were. "This walk's taking too long," she said, smothering the conversation. She left Fleur alone as she swiftly walked towards Hagrid and Madame Maxime, who whipped around at the sounds of breaking twigs and crunching leaves.

"You!" Madame Maxime exclaimed.

"Me," Iris said simply. "You're here too, so don't try and act all scandalized. You're only using Hagrid to get your champion an advantage — don't bother denying it, it was written all over your face."

Madame Maxime stared at Iris with hate, but she didn't deny it.

"Olympe?" Hagrid asked, sounding hurt. It nearly broke Iris's heart, but she wasn't going to let Madame Maxime lead Hagrid on.

"Hagrid," Madam Maxime said back. "Are we here to see something or not?"

Hagrid looked at her, betrayal written across his face. "No," he said. Iris was surprised at how convincing his answer was; she was used to Hagrid being a terrible liar.

"No?"

"No," Hagrid repeated. "I jus' wanted ter spend some time with yeh."

Was he testing her?

Madame Maxime looked irritated. "Fine. I've got to get back. It's late. Bye, Hagrid. You, Potter, learn to mind your own business."

Iris scowled at her. "Hey, just because you've got hair around your lips doesn't mean you get to be a cunt."

Madame Maxime gasped in shock at her, then lifted her hand to the space between her nose and lips; she began walking away, still checking to see if she really had facial hair.

It looked as though Hagrid's heart broke. He turned towards Iris and smiled sadly.

"I hoped she would be differen' an' all, an' yeh really should watch yer language," he said.

"People can suck, Hagrid," Iris said, patting Hagrid on his elbow. "There's a reason I don't bother with pleasantries with people like that. There's no point. After the whole heiress of Slytherin nonsense in my second year, I realized that the majority don't really care for the feelings of people they don't know all that much. Might be human nature, I guess. Point is, you weren't a friend to Madame Maxime, so all she saw you as was a source of information."

Hagrid chuckled. "When did yeh ge' so wise, Iris?"

"I dunno, just now?" Iris said, smiling. "Let's go see the dragons?"

Hagrid beamed down at her, nodded, and began walking towards the dragons at a quicker speed.

Iris called out, "Fleur! Come on."

Hagrid seemed too excited to hear — he almost looked as if he was running. Fleur heard and stepped out from the darkness, smiling weakly.

"I enjoyed the look Madame Maxime 'ad," Fleur said.

"I, too, enjoy seeing the head of my school suffer," Iris said.

"I… I don't 'ate her," said Fleur, "but she cares more for 'er school's glory than she does me."

"Doesn't seem like you really care much for anyone else either," Iris pointed out.

Fleur didn't respond, and the two followed Hagrid in silence.

And then, the three found themselves standing at the edge of a clearing, a clearing that had four massive dragons sending flames into the air and onto the dragon-handlers. They seemed to have some sort of protection on them to stop them from frying.

Iris and Fleur, under the former's Invisibility Cloak, stared at the dragons in horror. They were bloody enormous. One of them, the largest one — the black one — stood out from the rest. The head of the dragon was as large as the basilisk's head, the one she had killed in her second year: large enough to swallow even Hagrid whole. The other dragons were slightly smaller than this one. The bright orange glow that emitted from its throat, however, made the dragon look much scarier.

It might have not been as long as the basilisk, for this black dragon was roughly ninety feet long, compared to the basilisk's hundred and ten or so feet. Nonetheless, it was enormous, had claws that could easily tear Iris in half, a wingspan that had to be at least a hundred and fifty feet in width, and a terrifying tail, completely covered in spikes, some of which were as long as her Firebolt.

She didn't think she would have ever seen a creature that was more terrifying than the basilisk she had killed, but here she was, rooted to the spot out of shock and fear. After a few moments, she looked up at Hagrid with wide eyes, and saw that he was smiling. How could he be smiling? Even he, who was twice as tall as Iris, would only be an appetizer to these beasts!

Her tongue seemed to have dried and shriveled up, for it would not move. Her jaw was opening and snapping shut, and despite the fact that the black dragon, the deadliest looking one, had moved from its original spot, her eyes did not move with it, did not follow along — shock simply stilled them.

She looked over to Fleur and saw that her eyes were widened, her jaw low, and that she was nearly as pale as her very white, even teeth. It was then that Iris realized she had not taken a breath.

She looked to Hagrid again, and judging by the way he was looking at the dragons, the thoughts of this being a date for Hagrid suddenly became a possibility again. She snorted. Trust Hagrid to love something that could burn down his home and an entire class of his with one breath.

It was Hagrid moving closer to the monstrous things that snapped her out of her frozen state. Her brain finally seemed to accept that, yes, she would soon be facing something more terrifying than a basilisk. She opened her mouth to call out to Hagrid, to tell him that even he could not survive against a dragon, but a blast of fire from one of the dragons stopped her.

The fire reached dangerously close to Hagrid and her, and a strangled noise escaped her throat. In a simple blast of fire, one that lasted not even three seconds, everything that had been on the ground, the grass and flowers, had been torched to ash. Her Dragonfire Shield suddenly felt very pathetic. She had spent twenty hours practicing it and now, she was certain there had been no point.

She could have spent those twenty hours learning so many other spells. Her Dragonfire Shield could withstand two — just two — hit of Hermione's strongest fire-based spell. Three would be enough to shatter it. To use the shield instead of dodging or just not getting anywhere near the bloody fire-breathing lizard… It felt like it would be extremely foolish to use the shield now.

A familiar voice broke her out of her thoughts.

"Hagrid! You alright? That fire got awfully close there," Charlie Weasley said. Iris had a sudden urge to jump at Charlie and throttle him. This was the big surprise? The reason she'd see him sooner than she expected? But of course, Charlie couldn't have known Iris would be going up against one. Still, the thought of Fleur — any of the champions, really — going up against these monstrous creatures made her blood run cold. Was this tournament going to see another death?

"Wha's tha' black one there?" Hagrid asked, staring at the dragon.

"The Hungarian Horntail? Yeah," Charlie grimaced, "I hope Iris doesn't have to deal with that one, it's by far the deadliest…"

"Deadliest?" Iris shouted, leaping out from under the cloak. Charlie turned to her and gaped. "They're all deadly! What the hell, Charlie, this is the first task? Get past a bloody big dragon?"

"Er — Iris? Hagrid, what's she doing here? You know the champions can't —"

"Can't what, survive?" Iris cried out. "This is what you — you — I don't — how — why?" Iris finished weakly, and her whole body seemed to deflate.

Charlie turned from her to Hagrid. "Hagrid, I didn't think you'd be bringing her along."

Hagrid waved him off and Charlie sighed. Iris moved closer to Charlie, dragging her cloak along, and Fleur was unveiled. Charlie stared at Fleur, open mouthed, but Iris didn't think it was because Fleur was part-veela.

"Hagrid!" Charlie shouted in exasperation, throwing his hands up in the air. "Two champions? What were you thinking?"

"Nevermind that!" Iris said, marching up to Charlie. "We have to fight these things?"

Charlie frowned at her. "They're not things, they're —"

"Charlie! Do we have to fight these things head on?"

He sighed, "No, you just have to get past them and get one of their eggs, a golden —"

"They have ter wha'?" thundered Hagrid. "They're motherin' dragons, Charlie!"

Charlie winced, then nodded. Iris heard Fleur suck in breath behind her.

"That means they're really protective of their eggs, doesn't it?" Iris asked faintly.

Charlie only nodded.

"And a three-headed dog will be involved too? How many magical creatures will be in this thing?"

"No clue, had no idea a three-headed dog would be involved," Charlie said, as Hagrid started walking around to get a better look at the dragons.

Iris looked back to Fleur and saw she was looking back at her, but was still pale. She took a deep breath and said, "You know what, I can't handle this, time to check out." She turned around and began walking back through the Forbidden Forest. She grabbed Fleur's wrist as she passed her and pulled her along.

As Iris and Fleur silently made their way back towards the school, an impending sense of doom seemed to be growing deep inside Iris, already threatening to overcome her. They were enormous, those dragons, and Iris had absolutely no idea as to how she'd steal an egg from one of them. The more she thought about it, the more the sense of impending doom seemed to grow. By the time she made it to her bed, she knew it would be too strong, and that no sleep would come.

"Fleur," Iris said weakly, "I — I think I — well —"

"Regret — regret ever letting Madame Maxime decide my life for me," Fleur said.

"I imagine you do, but that's not what I meant," Iris said. She waited a moment, wondering how to phrase it in such a way that wouldn't have Fleur look scandalized, and continued, "I think I'm going to take what I said earlier seriously, and get a drink. I've only heard of how people do so to ease… to ease whatever I'm feeling right now."

To her surprise, Fleur nodded and said, "I won't tell. I zink I will go to my bed and drink a Dreamless Sleep Potion." Then Fleur sighed. "Madame Maxime — I will 'ave to pass 'er room to get to mine, she will be furious with me."

Iris thought for a few moments, then came to a decision. "Here," she said, passing her Invisibility Cloak to Fleur, whose eyes widened. "Use this to get past her."

Fleur shook her head, and her silver hair flew from shoulder to shoulder. "Non, I cannot, zis cloak is far too valuable — and 'ow will you get back without being seen?"

"I'll do my best — truthfully, it's been too long since I've been out and about this late at night without it. I could do with the challenge — it'll keep my mind off what we just saw, at least until the firewhisky does its job. And if I get caught, so what? I can't get detentions, can I? Stupid rule, but then again, if they had known I would be in this tournament, they wouldn't hesitate to change it."

Fleur smiled, albeit weakly. "I think zey would 'ave expected ze champions to be a bit more responsible, non? If zey were picked by ze goblet, it would make sense zat it would be expected of ze champions to be worthy of not 'aving to get detentions."

"S'ppose so," Iris muttered. "I'll swing by the Ravenclaw table or the carriage for the cloak tomorrow, okay?"

Fleur nodded reluctantly, and the two began walking two separate paths, one to a comfortable bed, the other to a place where she could, for the first time in her life, see what was so special about firewhisky.

The Edge of Hogsmeade

Iris crossed her arms in an attempt to warm herself from the bitter wind as she stood on top of a hill overlooking Hogsmeade. It was odd, seeing Hogsmeade like this, the streets only scarcely lit by a few lantern posts as the rest of the town was swallowed up by the darkness of the night. Whenever they had arrived to Hogsmeade station, they never got the chance to see Hogsmeade from a height.

She checked her watch and saw it was past one o'clock. She wondered if it was such a good idea to come all the way to Hogsmeade now, when she had class in the morning. She pulled out her schedule from the bag she had brought with her when she entered the Forbidden Forest the day before; she had still not gotten used to it. The schedule was rather chaotic, she thought, the way so many periods were different lengths than the others.

History of Magic was from 9:00 to 10:00 AM on Mondays and 1:00 to 3:00 PM on Fridays; Care of Magical Creatures was from 10:15 to 11:45 AM on Mondays and Wednesdays and Herbology the same times except on Tuesdays and Thursdays; Potions was from 1:00 to 3:00 PM on Mondays and 9:00 to 10:00 AM on Tuesdays; Transfiguration was during the same time as Potions, except on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, respectively, so that she had the class Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday morning, the way she had Potions Monday afternoon and Tuesday morning; Divinations was the same, but with Wednesday and Thursday, and Defense Against the Dark Arts on Thursday (afternoons) and Friday (mornings); Charms was only on Tuesdays and Thursdays, 3:30 to 5:00 PM.

This way, there was a total of three hours for each class each week, with the exception of Astronomy, which was only once a week, on Friday nights from 9:00 to 10:00 PM.

Chaotic.

This was why Iris still had difficulty remembering it all, even nearly three months after the term had begun. It was only the help of Hermione that stopped her from being forced to check her schedule daily. There was also the fact that she just didn't care all that much about memorizing it.

She looked down at her schedule:

Monday

9:00 AM - 10:00 AM: History of Magic (with Ravenclaw)

10:15 AM - 11:45 AM: Care of Magical Creatures (w/ Slytherin)

12:00 PM - 1:00 PM: Lunch

1:00 PM - 3:00 PM: Potions (w/ Slytherin)

3:00 PM - 3:30 PM: Break

It looked as though she'd be skipping History of Magic later in the morning. It would likely be past two o'clock in the morning by the time she came back, and she was not waking up around eight. She would make an effort to attend Hagrid's class, but he was the one who decided to show Iris the dragons at midnight despite the fact that she already knew. She had to admit, though, that the size of the creatures really put things into perspective, such as how very likely it would be that Iris Potter would be leaving the arena in a vase full of ash.

She stuffed her schedule back in her bag, crumpling it, and began making her way towards the Hog's Head, where Aberforth would be, likely to deny her the second she walked inside. He had done so the three other times she had went inside his bar, but this time, she had a damn good excuse.

Dragons, Aberforth! I've got to face dragons!

Surely it would work.

The lights were still on, as they should be — the sign on the window read:

Business Hours

Sunday: 6:00 PM to 3:00 AM

Monday to Friday: 6:00 PM to 5:00 AM

Saturday: Closed, bugger off

Below this sign, another read in scribbled handwriting:

Exception:

Bar is open on Hogsmeade weekends (for Hogwarts) from 10:00 AM to 10:00 PM

"Potter! The ruddy hell are you doing here at this time?" Aberforth called out to her as she opened the door and stepped in. The bar had one other person in it, surprisingly, and that person was passed out on one of the tables, unsurprisingly. He'd likely wake up sneezing, if the dust on the tables had anything to do with it.

"I need a drink," Iris said happily, the floor creaking under each step as she made her way to the counter.

"Did You-Know-Who drop you on your head when he tried to kill you or did the Killing Curse just scramble your brains? What did I say the last time you were here?" he responded shortly, and resumed cleaning glasses with a rag that looked dirtier than the glasses themselves.

"That insult would've worked much better if you weren't too much of a coward to say Voldemort," Iris said, and though he didn't flinch at Voldemort's name, he scowled at her.

"Habit," he muttered. "Now what do you want?"

"You hear that roaring from the Forbidden Forest?" Iris asked as she sat down on a stool.

"Yes," he grunted.

Iris raised her eyebrows. "Aren't you curious as to what it was?"

"Not really," he shrugged. "If it gets near enough so that it sounds like it's in Hogsmeade, I'll be curious. You think I go and investigate every odd thing that happens around here?"

"It's one of the creatures I have to get past for the first task," Iris sighed. "Bloody dragons, great big ones at that."

Aberforth stopped cleaning the glass cups and looked up at her. "Not even Albus is that stupid. He didn't want dementors near his school, he's not going to let dragons near, big or not."

"And yet, dementors nearly sucked my soul out last year —"

"That's because you can't mind your own damn business, Potter," Aberforth said.

"I had to —"

"Save a life, yeah, yeah."

"Why are you so grumpy?" Iris asked, tilting her head to look at him.

"I'm not grumpy, you were just bloody annoying the last three times you were here, and now you're talking about putting kids up against dragons."

"They are putting us up against dragons," Iris said hotly, not wanting to call herself a kid. "I was just there, in the Forbidden Forest. They've got four of them, one of them's called a Hungarian Horntail. I followed Hagrid out to them when I overheard him talking about going in there to see what's coming in the first task," Iris said, only lying partially.

Aberforth suddenly whipped his wand out from a pocket and said, "Legilimens."

For a few moments, Iris felt memories flash before her eyes, of her travelling into the Forbidden Forest with Fleur, of her unfortunately talking to Hagrid (therefore proving she was lying), and of the dragons. When the memory of Iris standing at the edge of Hogsmeade flashed before her, it all stopped and Iris was left gasping, clutching the edge of the counter.

"What — the — hell, Aberforth?" Iris panted.

"Hm, you weren't kidding," Aberforth said, in a tone that suggested he had not just invaded her mind.

Iris leapt from her seat, inhaled and looked ready to begin yelling —

"Shut up and sit down, you stupid girl. I don't like people yelling in my bars," Aberforth said in a manner that made Iris immediately shut her mouth and sit down. He reached from under the counter and pulled out a bottle. Iris wasn't even sure what firewhisky looked like, but an orange liquid that seemed to glow — well, it would certainly fit. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"No point in not allowing you to drink if you're never gonna make it to the age where you can," he said, before he slid a small glass full to the brim of firewhisky, which dripped onto the counter when the glass abruptly stopped in Iris's hand.

"That's not exactly something you tell a fourteen year old," Iris said. She looked at the firewhisky, shrugged, and put all of it past her lips at once.

Aberforth snorted. "Not so quick — and I'm not my brother. I won't sugarcoat it."

Iris stopped herself from swallowing it all at once, and instead let little by little slide down her throat. It scorched her throat and she almost choked, but she forced herself to swallow the rest of it. The numb disbelief along with the terror that Iris had been pushing to the back of her mind began to slowly dissipate. She almost instantly felt better. A small — very small — part of her urged her to start a bar fight, right here and right now. She had a suspicion that if she kept drinking, that irresponsible and incredibly stupid part of her would fully come out to play.

"Who's your brother?" she asked as Aberforth poured himself a shot — Iris snatched it from him and put it past her lips.

"Eh? Albus, you halfwit," Aberforth said irritably.

Iris choked on her drink and spit half of it out; some of it splattered against Aberforth's long gray beard. She looked at him, gobsmacked, as he looked down to his beard with an impassive face, then back at her.

"Dumbledore has a brother?" she asked, and as the words came from her mouth, she noticed that his brilliant blue eyes were exactly like Dumbledore — or Albus, perhaps, as Aberforth was apparently also Dumbledore.

Aberforth stared back at her in disbelief. "You didn't know? I thought you and Albus were close?"

Iris nodded reluctantly, but then stopped. Now that she thought of it, she knew nothing of her headmaster. "Sorta?" she said. "I'm closer to him than all of the other students — why do you think I haven't been expelled yet? — but we never really… talked, you know?"

Aberforth nodded and poured himself a drink. "Not surprising," he muttered, and he quickly downed his drink when he saw Iris looking at the glass. "Screw it," he said, and he grabbed two other glass cups. They were only a few inches tall, but they were nonetheless bigger than the shot glass Iris was holding now. He poured firewhisky into both and slid one of them to a surprised Iris, who drank it anyway.

"Why's it not surprising?" Iris asked, and she felt that small reckless part of her growing in size.

"What makes you think I want to talk about him?" Aberforth said.

"I'll talk to you about my family if you talk about yours? I kinda want to know more about him," she said. Aberforth looked at her for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, let's see — my family's all dead. Your turn."

For some odd reason, Iris didn't even feel bad about what she had just said. She looked down to her glass and saw that it was empty.

"Accio Bottle!" she said, and as the firewhisky bottle flew into her hand, two other bottles slammed into her back.

Aberforth chuckled. "Gotta say what kind of bottle, or at least think it. Shouldn't be surprised the firewhisky is already affecting you."

At the mention of fire, Iris poured herself another drink. "Your family?" she pushed.

"My family's all dead too, except Albus. There, share time's over. Now what's your plan for fighting this dragon?"

"I came here to forget about the bloody dragon, Abe," Iris said as she took another sip, "so let's not."

"You talk and I'll talk about Albus, though I don't know why you don't just ask him."

"Didn't you just say it wasn't surprising he doesn't talk about —"

"Yes," Aberforth grunted, "but I wouldn't be surprised if he talks to you. You're his favorite student and all — he talks about you often enough whenever he comes down here to try and… fix things."

Iris smiled at the thought of her headmaster talking about her often. Was he proud of her? Proud of having her as a student, or maybe even as a friend? A bitter thought came to her: what if he was only closer to her than other students because she was the Girl Who Lived? Would she have even talked with him as much as she had if she was just a normal student? Then she frowned. "Er — is he going to come here tonight by any chance?"

"Don't know, but I hope not. Anyway —"

"Why?" Iris interrupted.

"Because I don't want him here," he said, frowning and taking a drink. "He only comes here to try and mend our relationship, but he can't. Never. I hardly listen to him when he talks."

"Why is your relationship —"

"Never you mind," Aberforth interrupted sharply.

Iris widened her eyes mockingly at him. "Someone's definitely grumpy. How about this, I tell you what I'm planning for the dragon, and you tell me one thing about Dumbledore — Albus Dumbledore, I mean, and it has to be something he wouldn't normally tell me."

Aberforth raised a bushy eyebrow and nodded.

"It's… rough, my plan," Iris admitted. "I mean, I just had it confirmed but I was pretty sure dragons would be involved anyway, so I began learning the Dragonfire Shield Charm, Praesidio Incaendium."

"You get it yet?" Aberforth asked before taking another sip.

Iris nodded as she refilled her glass to fill a third of the glass. "I can stop anything my best friend, Hermione Granger, throws at me —"

"Granger, she's the smart muggleborn?"

Iris nodded clumsily. "Yes, so she can cast pretty well. Arietes Augue. I can take two hits of it. The third, if cast right after the second, will break it."

"I don't think you've got it then, Potter. You should be able to take five of those without your shield breaking to stop dragonfire," he said. At Iris's suddenly panicked look, he added, "But I suppose the fear of being seconds away from dying a painful death might help — blocking two of those spells is still impressive for your age."

"Yeah, s'ppose so," Iris slurred a bit. Aberforth's attempt at comforting her with his last sentence was terrible, really — made her more miserable if anything. "No worries though. If I die, I'll just use Episkey."

Aberforth laughed heartily. "That'll do it, Potter. Episkey yourself back from ash."

"Might cast a Patronus to distract it or somthin'. I've got the Summonin' Charm down, maybe can use that to bring somethin', y'know, 'side the arena," she said, her eyes unfocused.

"I think the firewhisky is getting to you already, Merlin. I say Summon your broom. Heard you're a good flier, might be able to outfly the damn thing."

Iris nodded vigorously, but regretted it immediately. Her head felt like it was full of water and the shaking only made the water bounce around inside her head, making her dizzy, even sitting down. "Might do that, yeah. Outfly a dragon, dunno why not — might try Parseltongue to talk to it or somethin', maybe it'll —"

"Eh, do it as a last resort. Your little tongue trick is mostly a rumor around the wizarding world. Make it a fact and you'll be one step closer to being declared the next dark lord — or lady, whatever," Aberforth said.

"Maybe I'll Summon a cow or somethin', I dunno. Tell me somethin' about your brother, somethin' most dunno," Iris said, grinning stupidly at Aberforth. She wasn't really sure when the alcohol had hit, but she really, really didn't mind it.

"He's gay," Aberforth said simply.

Iris frowned and looked down at her firewhisky. "What was in this drink?"

He chuckled. "Nothing."

"He's gay too?" Iris asked softly, astounded that her headmaster shared that with her. If he was, and was also headmaster, Chief Warlock, and all that complicated business, then maybe — no, no, she asked for something most don't know. It was safe to say the majority of people had no idea about that, if it was true.

"Keep it down, idiot. I don't care much for his reputation, but you don't need it to get out. Never can know who's really sleeping and who isn't," he said, jerking his head towards the sleeping man. "You mean too as in you too, right?"

There was the tiniest of a flicker of panic inside Iris, but it was quickly extinguished by a courageous bright fire, growing brighter inside her chest with each sip.

"Yep! How'd ya know?"

"You just said 'too' and I saw your memories, remember?" Aberforth said. "Emotions come with that too, felt your attraction towards that French bint. Only reason I told you, really, knew you wouldn't go around shouting it."

Bint? Who did he think he was, the barmy old fart. "Excuse me? You don't know her," she said indignantly.

"Really, 'cause I felt some resentment towards her in that empty head of yours," Aberforth pointed out.

"Mmm — maybe, but that was before! If you bothered to look, you'd see —"

Aberforth interrupted her with a laugh. "I didn't mean it, Potter. I just wanted to see how defensive you'd get."

Iris frowned and looked at him in disapproval from over her glass. "Whatever," she mumbled. "Who was he… gay for?"

"None of your business," Aberforth replied, very quickly. "Besides, what makes you think it's one specific person?"

Iris downed the rest of her firewhisky and said, "I'll prolly find out somehow anyway, someday, somewhere, somewho, somewhat, somewhen. It's a habit of mine, findin' out things I'm not s'pposed to know."

"I don't see why it should even matter to you. And you mean like the dragons?"

"The stone, the Chamber, the wooly socks, and the dragons! Big ruddy things, dragons. Don't stand a chance," Iris said, confidently.

"I'm sure you'll get through it. You'll do okay," Aberforth assured her.

"Me? No, the dragon doesn't stand a bloody chance!" Iris shouted triumphantly.

"Right. What's this about wooly socks?" Aberforth asked.

"Mirror of Erised, and he said he saw wooly socks in the mirror when I asked him, because the mirror shows —"

"I know what the mirror does," Aberforth interrupted, and Iris was surprised to see a pained look in his eyes.

For some odd reason, wooly socks bothered Aberforth. Iris didn't understand it, but who was she to judge?

"Is your boggart wooly socks? I'm sure he said that to not really answer my question, y'know," Iris said, trying to cheer him up.

"No, he meant it. He likely did see wooly socks, just not only the socks," he said, jerking a thumb behind him, where a painting of a little girl was hanging on the wall.

"Wooly socks and paintings? Dunno why he'd want more paintings, he's got enough of those. Wooly socks, I get —"

"That's our little sister, Potter," Aberforth said. "She used to knit us socks, yes, wooly ones. She died young. Albus never appreciated the socks, not until it was too late —"

Aberforth's eyes suddenly widened slightly and went up from her eyes.

"Why are you starin' at my scar?" Iris asked, suddenly irritated.

Aberforth's eyes widened slightly more. "I'm not, just didn't know you were a Metamorphmagus."

"Meta-what?"

"Your hair, it turned white when I mentioned my sister, then a red when you got irritated, just now," he said.

"Did it? Huh, it's been known to grow, my hair, whenever it was cut when I was little and my cunt of an aunt cut my hair, you know," Iris said, twirling her red hair in her fingers.

"I don't know if I'd call her a cunt for simply cutting your hair."

"No, no, you don't get it, never you mind… like you said… I forgot…" Iris said, and she took another sip of firewhisky. She had begun to enjoy the feeling of fire cascading down her throat, and the next few minutes of conversation with Aberforth became a bit more of a blur.

"Alright, I think that's enough alcohol for you, Potter," he said, those few minutes later, after he had been forced to open another bottle. He reached for the second bottle, which was near Iris; the first was already empty.

Iris's eyes widened at the movement and she quickly snatched the bottle and held it out of his reach. His eyes flicked to hers and hardened.

Iris looked offended.

"Potter," the Albus Dumbledore-lookalike growled. "You're drunk, completely drunk. Time to pay up and get out."

"At leas' I won't be for too long! 'Morrow, I'll be sober, and you — you'll still be a grumpy, ugly, old man," Iris said fiercely.

She wasn't sure what to do. Give it up? Surely not. She could chuck a glass at him. No, that would be too slow. Or she could — her wand! But what spell? She needed to figure it out now, he looked ready to jump at her. She flicked her wrist and her wand flew out of its holster. It soared through her fingers — she was unable to catch it — and flew right into the man's face. His hands flew to his eye, which was struck by her wand, and Iris took it as her cue to go.

"Potter!" he roared as Iris stumbled out of the door as quickly as she could, the half-full bottle clutched to her chest as if it was a newborn baby.

"Birdie!" she shouted into the night, thinking of blue phoenixes and having forgotten all about dragons.

1994, November 21, Somewhere

Her head hurt.

Her whole body hurt.

Iris wasn't sure where she was, but she knew it was outside. She felt the heat of the sun on her hands, but not her face. There was something shading it, and a second later, something wet brushed up against her face — once, twice, thrice, over and over, and it sounded odd. Was she being licked by an animal?

She groaned and opened her eyes.

It was a goat. A goat was licking her face.

She pushed the goat's head away and pushed herself up to a sitting position, and she was sure she was going to die in about two minutes: her head felt as though a telephone made of stone was shoved in it, and it was ringing, ringing, and ringing, never stopping, shaking madly inside her skull as it went on.

The goat licked her again and made a goat-like sound: it sounded like thunder to her.

"You up, Potter?" came a voice from nearby.

"I think my brain's bleeding," Iris said dryly.

"Well, that's what happens when you drink as much as you did," said Aberforth, who had appeared above her, staring down at her in disapproval. "But if you can joke, you can work."

"W-work?" Iris stuttered.

"When you fled outside screaming about birds, you tripped. That bottle of firewhisky shattered, and you fell asleep right after. I searched your pockets for payment, but didn't find nearly enough. So, you're going to work it off," Aberforth said as he grabbed her hand and pulled her up to her feet.

She felt sick. "Work?" she repeated. "My pockets? You searched my pockets?"

"I needed pay, girl," he grunted as he pulled her back inside through the back exit of the Hog's Head. She had apparently slept in a pile of hay in Aberforth's backyard, which was fenced in, and full of goats.

"You couldn't have just summoned it? You had to feel me up?" Iris said, rubbing her temples as she walked inside.

"Don't make me look like some pervert, Potter!" Aberforth snapped, and he shut the backdoor. "I didn't feel you up, I used the back of my hand to pat your pockets. And currency can't be summoned, remember?"

"No, I actually don't. Why not?"

Aberforth stopped and turned to give her a disbelieving glare. "Knuts, sickles, galleons, they're all charmed by the goblins to be unsummonable — it'd be awfully easy to rob people otherwise, wouldn't it? Come on, it's nearly one."

Iris yelped, and the sound was as if a hammer had slammed into the side of her head. "One? I have Potions at one!" she said, and she turned around, ready to begin sprinting up to the castle, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"What about my pay?" Aberforth growled. "You shattered a bottle of firewhisky. You owe me ten galleons."

"Ten galleons!" Iris shouted, outraged at the ridiculous price. "You've gone barmy, no single bottle is ten galleons, and you drank out of it too!"

"Aye, but we both drank out of two bottles. You've wasted a full bottle's worth, and it is ten galleons. Think firewhisky is cheap, Potter?"

"Then why did you even give me some?" Iris asked angrily, her pounding headache no longer being the main focus of her thoughts. "No one gives a fourteen year old a drink that expensive — you purposely gave me an expensive one, didn't you?"

"That's right," Aberforth said, and judging my his expression, he hadn't a care in the world. "I knew a fourteen year old girl wouldn't be able to hold her liquor — women get pissed faster and therefore maker stupider decisions quicker; little girls more so; you'd have no problems whatsoever paying any price after half a bottle of firewhisky."

Iris stared at Aberforth, nostrils flaring, eyes flashing, and disbelief written across her face.

"You — you," she tried to say, but her headache seemed to come back in full force as her anger ramped up, and she was forced to take a seat. "You swindled me."

Aberforth gave a roar of laugher, and if the loud sound hadn't made Iris want to crawl into a dark, quiet corner and die, she would have likely pulled out her wand —

Then she remembered she didn't have it for some odd reason. She had checked when she was still outside. Come to think of it, she couldn't remember much at all after a certain point the night before. Albus Dumbledore was gay, and boy, was remembering that a shock.

"Swindle you? How exactly did I swindle you? I only omitted details, and you were stupid enough to come here and drink anything I gave you."

White-hot anger surged through Iris, but she felt too terrible to anything about it.

"This isn't your world, Potter," Aberforth barked, and she jumped in her seat. "You can't go around doing whatever you please, no repercussions, no consequences, no anything to get you to stop and think about what you were doing."

"Yeah, yeah," Iris said, waving him off.

"Don't yeah me, you brat," Aberforth snapped, and Iris flinched. "Tell me, was it worth it? Have the dragons disappeared? Did the firewhisky get you out of the tournament? What exactly did you gain from last night? You're ten galleons poorer, the dragons are back in your mind, you've got a shit hangover, you've likely missed two classes already and now you're going to be late for another, Potions on top of that — even I've heard of Snape's loathing for you. So before you 'yeah, yeah' me, think on that."

Iris looking down in shame didn't stop Aberforth from continuing: "You think you're better than the rest, best of the best, top of the game?"

Iris groaned. "No, and you know that."

"Well, you certainly act like it. Tell me, would any normal student have been able to do what you have? Waltz into the Forbidden Forest, goggle at a few dragons, skip to the bar, get drunk, attempt to steal firewhisky? Just because you know you're special, Potter, does not mean you need to act like it. My brother might be too nice, but I won't sugarcoat it: you don't deserve special treatment just because you're the so-called Girl Who Lived —"

"I don't think I should," Iris said, glaring at him. "I don't take my fame into consideration when I do something."

"Yeah, whatever. You're going to be late for Potions, go. Next time I see you, ten galleons. Get out of here, Potter, and don't let me see you asking for another drink until you're of age." Aberforth said. He paused his movement for a second, and reached under the counter and brought out a small vial. He reached under and brought out another bottle of firewhisky.

Iris moaned. She didn't want to ever see a bottle of firewhisky again.

"Not for you now, Potter, but take this vial of it and drink it before you go up against the dragon. It's not enough to make you do anything stupid, but it'll ease your nerves. And here's your wand."

Iris nervously reached out to grab them, afraid that he'd snap and start lecturing her again — what if this was a test? To see if she would try to drink it again? It wasn't. She grabbed the vial and placed it in one of the two small pouches her wand holster had, and the wand next to them. There were other wand holsters with more pouches for small vials, but they had cost significantly more, so Iris had only bought herself the one with two.

"Yeah, thanks," she said quietly, partly because Aberforth's words had really gotten to her and partly because loud sounds were still making her flinch. How long did hangovers last anyway?

Aberforth only grunted and motioned to the door. Iris stepped outside and the blinding light made her want to clutch her knees to her chest and cry, but she began walking back to the castle anyway. Each step she took made it feel more and more likely that her head would simply pop off.

It was nearly an hour later when Iris had finally made it to the dungeons. She had to first retrieve her cauldron and potion books from her trunk, which lengthened the amount of time it took to get to Snape's classroom. It didn't help that she had to walk softly and slowly, not that the pounding feeling inside her head went away with soft steps, but it wasn't nearly as bad.

She reached towards the door handle and hesitated. Was it even worth it? Missing History of Magic wasn't a big deal for her, it wasn't as if Binns would tell Dumbledore or McGonagall that she had skipped class. Care of Magical Creatures was a gray area. Hagrid was very loyal to Dumbledore, but she didn't think the first thing he'd do would be to report to Dumbledore. She trusted Hermione, and Hermione had hopefully made up a good excuse.

Potions on the other hand? She was certain Snape would complain. It was best to show up an hour late than to skip everything. She had tried to think of a decent excuse to use for her tardiness, but her headache made it nearly impossible to even want to think of any excuse.

She'd have to improvise.

She opened the door. All the noise stopped as she took a step in. She heard Hermione gasp and almost stand up, almost run to her, and it occurred to her that she had likely worried Hermione to death by not showing up when she should have. Ron was staring at her with raised eyebrows and a wary expression. He knew what was coming. Neville looked relieved, as Snape was standing right in front of him. He had probably just finished berating Neville; she couldn't blame him for being relieved to have Snape's attention off of him. She'd certainly be relieved if someone took Snape's attention off of her at this very moment, for he appeared to be attempting to drill a hole in her head with his glare.

"Potter!"

Iris flinched. "Sorry about being late, sir," Iris said quietly.

"You're sorry?" he sneered. "Well, if you're sorry —"

"I had to do something," Iris jumped in, before Snape could say more. "For the tournament, I mean. The task is in a few days and Madame Pomfrey had to check my health, to make sure I was all good to go."

She looked down at her shoes, not of shame, but rather to avoid an attempt at Legilimency from Snape. She and Hermione had checked the Legilimens registry and they hadn't found Snape in there, but they came to the conclusion that Snape was likely one anyway.

"Did she? And do tell us why? To make sure you don't bleed out before you even participate? Trying to find a way out of the tournament, Potter? Realized you're way in over your head, have you?" Snape said, smiling cruelly, then he looked her up and down and looked disgusted. "What happened to you?"

"Sir?"

"What happened to you, Potter?" he snapped. "You usually don't look like that until after brewing a potion."

The Slytherins laughed at this. Iris furrowed her brows and looked to Hermione, who flicked her eyes over Iris's body and gave her a look that demanded an explanation. She had noticed her hair was quite messy from what she could see, but she couldn't have looked that bad, could she?

Iris flicked out her wand and caught it in her hand. A few people gasped, and Iris had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Did they really think she was going to hex Snape?

"Accio Lavender's Mirror," she said.

She ignored Snape's reprimand and Lavender's yelp of surprise as the mirror Lavender always kept on her flew from her bag and into Iris's hand. She looked down at it and her jaw dropped. She looked terrible. Her hair wasn't just messy, it had hay in it. Her face was lightly covered in dirt, and she just looked outright miserable. She certainly felt miserable.

"Sorry, my last class was Care of Magical Creatures and —"

"You weren't in that class either!" said Malfoy from the other room.

"Lying to me, are you, Potter?" came Snape's voice from in front of her. He was close. "You think because you're a champion, because you can't receive detentions, that you may do whatever it is that you wish?"

"No, sir," she said.

"I think… fifty points from Gryffindor for being late, for lying, for your cheek, and for looking as you do now, Potter. You have an hour to finish the instructions on the board, good luck," Snape said, smirking, and he turned swiftly to walk back to his desk, his robes billowing dramatically behind him.

"Iris?" Hermione asked.

"Later, Hermione," Iris said irritably. She didn't want anybody talking to her. "I'll explain later, but my head hurts so I'm going to cast a Silencing Charm around me. Just let me work in peace?"

Hermione looked slightly hurt, but nodded nonetheless. Iris flicked her wand out and cast the charm as she glanced at the board.

Macellorica Potion - Used to shorten the fur or hair of the drinker

Begin by adding…

Iris moaned as softly as she could without hurting her head. She had a feeling Snape would attempt to test the potion on someone today.

"Potter, move your things to another table. I will not have Granger help you."

Sure enough, when the end of the class had come, Snape spoke to the class.

"Let's see… Potter, let's test yours, shall we? I'm sure an hour was enough time," Snape said as he made his way towards her. An hour certainly was not enough time, but Iris didn't need it. After realizing there was no way she could complete the potion in time, she had seen Malfoy's own vial. With a whispered incantation, it had become Potter's own vial.

She picked up her vial and held it out for Snape. She was pleased to see Snape's face turn surprised for the smallest moment, most likely at the fact that 'her' potion was the right shade of color it needed to be.

He sneered at her. "Oh no, Potter, I won't be needing it today."

"Sir?" Iris asked in a false confused tone, knowing exactly what was coming next.

"Drink it. If you've done it right, the potion here will fix it," he said, holding up a light yellow colored potion.

Iris tried not to glare at him, she really did, but it came out anyway. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to hold back any retorts. She didn't care about points anymore and she couldn't receive detentions now, but the thought of Snape yelling at her made her grimace.

"Fine," Iris said, and she took a sip from the vial, not wanting to drink the entire thing. The effect was nearly instant. She felt her hair begin to shorten and she imagined she was going to look ridiculous in a moment. A moment later, judging by the snickers of the Slytherin and Snape's malicious smile, she was sure she did. Her hair, which had previously fallen to just below her breasts, had shorted to only as low as her chin.

She looked up at Snape and saw him grinning. The vial in his hand slowly slipped from his hands and fell to the ground, shattering instantly.

"Oops," Snape said softly, and the Slytherins howled with laughter.

"We'll brew you a potion after class, Iris," Hermione said when Snape had dismissed the class and they were all packing.

Iris grumbled about murder and torture under her breath. The only pleasure she had gotten from that class was watching Malfoy look for his vial and then give her a death glare.

"We need to talk," Hermione said as they made their way out of the classroom.

"Sure, not like I need normal blood pressure today," Iris said.

Ron snorted.

"What? No, I'm just saying we should talk about what happened with you," Hermione said.

"Oh, we'll do that later."

"You know, I'd've thought you'd go crazy on Snape, you know, the way you looked like you had just fought a bear," said Ron.

"I have to agree with Ron," Hermione said, but Iris just walked with her head down. "Iris?"

"My head hurts," Iris grunted in reply. She also knew her hair probably looked ridiculous. It wasn't as if the potion was designed to give a clean cut.

"Are you okay? Do you need to go to Madame Pomfrey? What happened?" Hermione quickly asked.

"Hermione," Iris groaned, "I just want to get some sleep. I'll tell you tomorrow what happened. Oi, Warrington!"

Cassius Warrington, who had just passed by Iris and Hermione, turned around and looked at Iris with raised eyebrows. Not wanting to shout anymore than she needed to, she slowly walked up to Cassius, and he waited patiently.

"D'you know what the first task will hold?" Iris muttered to him.

Cassius's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "No, I don't," he said, much more politely than Iris had expected. He turned around to leave.

"Wait!" Iris shouted, and she flinched at her own voice. How long did these hangovers last?

Cassius stopped and turned his head to look at her. "Yes, Potter? I really don't know, and if I did, I hope you don't expect me to tell you."

Iris was annoyed. She was trying to help him! She had the temptation to say, 'Oh, it's nothing, don't worry about it,' while smiling sweetly, to let him face the dragons without help, but she didn't think she could let Malfoy face those beasts without being a little prepared.

"Well, I do," Iris said, a little irritated still.

Cassius's eyebrows rose once more. "Good for you, I don't need to know. I'd prefer to play fair, so if you'll excuse —"

"Playing fair will leave you as a pile of ash!" she snapped, beyond exasperated now. Didn't he understand she was trying to help him not get killed? "I know, Fleur knows, and Krum likely will too. Do you really want to be the only one that's not prepared?"

"Ash?" Cassius asked calmly.

"Dragons," Iris said simply. "Big great bloody dragons, large enough to swallow Hagrid whole, and you know how big he is. I saw them in the Forbidden Forest last night. I had a feeling dragons would be involved — don't ask why — but I didn't expect them to be as big as they are. They're enormous, Warrington. Couldn't fit in this corridor, that's for sure. One would have trouble fitting inside the Great Hall. Slytherin or not, I'd rather not see you die."

Cassius's face had appeared to remain calm, but Iris saw the blood drain out of it as she talked. She turned and left after a nod of acknowledgement from him. She didn't know if it was rather because he couldn't talk or because he just didn't feel like speaking — Iris always thought he seemed like a man of few words.

"So it's true?" Hermione whispered next to her. "Dragons? You were right?"

"Yep."

"Well, I suppose it's good we started the Dragonfire Shield as early as we did," Hermione said weakly. Ron nodded next to her, a troubled expression on his face.

"I doubt it'll help, Aberforth said I'd need to be able to take five of those hard-hitting fire spells of yours to hold up against dragonfire. My shield breaks after two. I think I'll just go with the Patronus route, maybe Summon my cloak…"

"You can't Summon your cloak. Professor Snape tried last year, remember? It didn't budge," Hermione said. "Speaking of your cloak, why did Fleur come up to me this morning to give it to me? She said she couldn't find you. Where were you?"

Iris frowned. She had completely forgotten about her cloak. And couldn't she Summon it? She had done it before. She flicked her wand out and said, "Accio Cloak" and her cloak flew from Hermione's bag and into her hands. She looked at Hermione with a questioning look as she stuffed the cloak in her own bag. Snape had tried to use the same spell the year before, when she, Hermione, and Ron were sneaking about. Ron looked at the cloak with slowly widening eyes, but then he shook his head with a look of disbelief on his face. Iris was getting ready to ask him what he was thinking —

"But… Professor Snape… Hang on, when did you talk to Aberforth?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"Went to the Hog's Head last night after seeing the dragons," Iris said, shrugging. "Why do you think I've got such a headache? Did you know Aberforth's the brother of Dumbledore? Our Dumbledore?"

"Yes, I've read about — Iris! You got drunk?" she whispered angrily.

"Wicked!" exclaimed Ron.

"Well, did you know Dumbledore was gay?" said Iris.

"Don't change the — what? Ron, don't encourage her — is he really though? How do you know? — Aberforth told you? You got drunk! Aberforth let you drink? But — but he couldn't! He has to —" Hermione spluttered.

"Will you stop? You sound like nails on a chalkboard to my head right now. He already lectured me, told me I was stupid, repeatedly, said I owed him ten galleons — swindled me, bloody bastard — and called me stupid some more. And he was right. I wanted to forget about the dragons for an hour, and now? I've got a ridiculous headache, a ridiculous haircut, I've missed two classes and was late for another, and I'm going to miss a day of practicing spells."

"Fine, I'm not going to nag about that, but you're not missing a day of doing something productive," Hermione said firmly. "If you don't want to practice spells, fine, but you'll be reading about magical creatures then. Fluffy and a dragon? I doubt they'll be the only creatures you face — don't give me that look. Hopefully this'll teach you now to get drunk at this age and this close to a task," Hermione whispered quickly, looking around to see if somebody had overheard her. "While you're doing that, I'll start brewing a potion so you can grow your hair back — if you want, short hair might be better in a task. But you really should practice the Conjunctivitis Curse more, you've almost mastered it."

"No, to all of it." Iris said immediately. "I'll do the reading though. As for my hair, if it's long, I'll just tie it in the back. This length will still get in my face, but it'll be harder to tie back. I want it back, long enough to be able to strangle Snape with it. And as long as we can do it in Slytherin's Chambers. It's quiet down there."

"I was going to suggest that anyway, we always get distracted in the common room."

"You know, it's not bad, your hair," said Ron, and his ears turned pink.

The three made their way down to the entrance of Slytherin's Chambers, which might as well have been a second, larger, quieter, and overall nicer Gryffindor common room. Ron opened up the doors in Parseltongue. He and Hermione had already mastered the ability to say 'basilisk horn' in Parseltongue, and all three could come down here whenever they wished.

Iris, Hermione, and Ron had spent an entire day redecorating the place a week before. Ron spent half the time chuckling about how great it was that they were turning Salazar Slytherin's own room completely Gryffindor, and indeed they did. Red, white, and gold were the three main colors of the living room, which, thanks to Iris tearing down a few walls, had been expanded to be at least twice the size of the Gryffindor common room.

The living room had three doors now instead of the one that led to the hall; one still led to hallway; one led to the library, which Hermione had begun filling up with her own books, saying that they were likely to use this room for their remaining years at Hogwarts so it only made sense; the last led to the potion lab, which Iris and Hermione had cleaned up and put back to full use.

The other side of the hallway was mostly empty. It used to contain Slytherin's bedroom along with a dueling chamber, but Iris had taken down the wall separating the two. She moved all the furniture out of the bedroom, turned the door into solid stone, used magic to dig a large square hole, and filled the space with water, making it a pool and a place for Iris to fall into if Hermione's fire-based spells set her aflame. On the other side of the large room were a row of dummies that Iris would practice on. This room would be ignored today.

As they walked into the living room, Ron leapt to one of the couches and said, "This place is great you two. Bloody peaceful, I tell you."

"Doesn't bother you that this place is from Slytherin?" Iris said.

"Not anymore it's not."

While Ron took a nap, Iris and Hermione made their way to the door on the left side of the room, the one that led to the potions lab. Through the door came the balcony and a staircase on the left that led down to the lower floor, where the potions lab was.

Iris looked down at it all. She couldn't believe they had this entire room to themselves. Torches stood on the several stone pillars that were lined up in the center of the room, horizontal to the entrance, and the pillars seemed to separate the room into two parts. The first half, the part closest to the balcony and staircase, was more furnished, with large, smooth, even stone tiles, several tables, potions equipment, a chest, and even a small area built into the right wall that contained a few bookcases, a table, comfortable chair, and a chandelier.

The second half of the room resembled more of a cavern, except without any stalagmites or stalactites. On the far wall, there were many plants that hung from the ceiling or wall, most likely magicked in place. In the corner lay a small pool of a liquid in bowl of sorts, made from rock. The liquid inside glowed blue, and Hermione had been able to identify it: Essence of Daisyroot, one of the most common starting ingredients to potions. Several of the plants that hung from the wall hung over this small pool, occasionally dripping a bit of the Essence of Daisyroot into it.

Hermione had found it fascinating the first time she saw it, and had spent several minutes theorizing on how it had somehow never overfilled over the years. There were also several tables on this side of the room too, along with planters that grew various ingredients. Unfortunately, Dumbledore had taken the majority of the plants in the planters, and all of the books in the few bookcases to the indentation in the right wall.

What remained were the plants that hung from the wall and ceilings, the planters, cauldrons and other potion tools (but they were all too old and rusty), two chests, the tables and chairs, a few medieval weapons (there were now several arrows stuck to one of the wooden planters, courtesy of Iris and Ron), and other miscellaneous objects.

Iris thought it all looked rather enchanting. The orange glow from the torches made it feel warm and pleasant, and there were enough tables and chairs, some even comfortable, to make it a place to relax, even if they had a brilliant living room.

"Want to talk about it now?" Hermione asked.

"Ron's gone to sleep, and I honestly don't want to tell a story right now."

"Fine. Want to talk about your letter?"

Iris smirked. "Figure it out yet?"

"The manticore thing is obviously a joke, but the other two…" Hermione said, biting her bottom lip and looking at Iris nervously.

"It's adorable when you bite your lip like that, makes me want to snog you senseless," Iris teased.

Hermione's face fell. "So that was the truth? Iris… I don't look at girls that way, I didn't think —"

"Relax, Hermione. I don't. If I'm going to be honest, I did at one point, but I got over that."

Hermione's eyes widened. "You — you actually fancied me?"

Iris shrugged. "Well, we spent all that time last year time travelling together. I lost track of how many times I caught a ride with you when you used the Time-Turner. It was a bonding experience. Riding on Buckbeak with your arms around my waist the last time we used it really didn't help, you know. But I pushed all those feelings out already, don't worry."

Hermione sat back in her chair, looking stunned.

"Hey, the feelings are gone. Honestly, you don't have to worry. You were right about Greengrass," Iris said. "She's insanely attractive."

"No, I heard you the first time — I'm just surprised you actually fancied me."

"Oh, not this crap again, Hermione. I'm not doing this with you again. You're attractive, get over it. Christ, I've never met someone so dedicated to denying their positive traits," Iris said.

"You haven't met yourself then, Miss Oh-It-Wasn't-Much — wait, Voldemort? What?"

"Oh, yeah," Iris said nervously. She had hoped Hermione wouldn't remember.

"Iris, you said you met Voldemort? Was that a joke?" Hermione asked, boring her eyes into Iris.

Iris explained everything that had happened with Voldemort's memories. Hermione was insistent on Iris going to Dumbledore about it, and Iris really didn't want to argue, so she said she would. After Hermione had calmed down, they discussed the possibility of a person leaving their memories in another, and how lucky it was that Iris hadn't seen more than a few. After a few moments, they sat in silence.

"Do you have Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them?" Hermione asked as she began to clean up a table.

"Yep."

"Begin memorizing all the weaknesses of any creature that could be in the first task, I'll start brewing your potion," Hermione said, and Iris felt a rush of gratification for her, to have just went through two hours of Snape's teaching, and be willing to brew a potion for somebody else afterwards — then she remembered something. It had been a blur an hour ago, but it was coming back now.

"Hermione, there's no need for the potion."

"Are you going to keep your hair that way?" Hermione said, tilting her head. "I think short hair could work for you, but we should clean it up a little bit, don't you think?"

Iris shook her head. "I'll grow it out on my own, I think."

"Do you know how to brew it? Because neither of us are good enough at Transfiguration to lengthen hair, human Transfiguration is extremely difficult and —"

"No, no," Iris interrupted. "Aberforth told me last night, or this morning I guess, that I changed my hair color on my own, and when I told him that Aunt Petunia had cut my hair once and the next morning, it had all grown back, he said that I was a meta-something."

Hermione's eyes had widened throughout her explanation and her jaw dropped at the end.

"A Metamorphmagus?" Hermione cried out, and Iris slapped her hands over her ears, but that also added to the pain.

"Hermione, good lord —"

"Oi!" came the voice of Ron from the other room. "Keep it down over there!"

"That's not possible!" Hermione said. "Metamorphmagi are incredibly rare, I think there's only one in the country, besides you — if you are one, but that's absurd, you couldn't possibly…" Hermione trailed off as she witnessed Iris's hair begin to slowly grow out while Iris sat there, eyes tightly shut, brow slightly furrowed, and no wand in sight. After twenty seconds, Iris's hair had reached the beginning of her waist.

Hermione gaped at her.

"But how?" Hermione whispered. "They're extremely uncommon."

Iris shrugged. "Dunno. Who cares? It's neat."

After getting over her shock, Hermione went to the library, and Iris went back up to the main room, the living room, hopped on a couch, and began reading about any magical creatures that could be in the first task. She kept getting distracted, however, by the image of a dragon killing her in a dozen different ways. Everytime she began reading about a different creature, her mind would wander back to the dragon, and her anxiety would increase again. The mental image of the giant dragon tormented her until Hermione came back, over an hour later.

"I feel bad for her," Iris said, when Hermione had finished explaining her search for information on Metamorphmagi. She had found nothing worthwhile in the library, so she had gone to McGonagall, who told her about the only Metamorph she knew of.

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"Nymphadora's a terrible name, what were her parents thinking?"

"I'm sure she likes it."

"Yeah, I'm sure. So what else did you find out?"

"Well," Hermione said as she began pacing, "Nymphadora Tonks is the daughter of Andromeda Tonks, who used to be Andromeda Black, Sirius's cousin actually, and the Blacks were known to have a Metamorphmagus every now and then. It ran in their blood apparently. Andromeda wasn't a Metamorphmagus though, and neither was her mother, so who knows when it pops up. The problem is that you're not a Black."

"My grandmother was a Black," Iris pointed out from her couch.

"She is?"

"Yeah, Dean even gave me permission to say —"

"Iris."

"Dorea Black and Charlus Potter made little James, who helped make me."

"Really?"

"Yes. You see, Hermione, when a boy and a girl like each other —"

"Yes, yes," Hermione interrupted with a blush, and Iris smiled tiredly. "That must be it then, Dorea Black's blood gave you that trait. But what doesn't make any sense is that it's not exactly obvious — I mean, you didn't even know about it until today, and you only used it once before. Metamorphs usually begin changing their hair and eye color early on, when they're babies! You should have accidentally changed something before, especially given how many dangerous situations you've found yourself in."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Iris asked, confused.

"When Metamorphmagi are emotional, their abilities are more likely to show up. If you're angry, your hair might become a different color, it might —"

"Turn red? Aberforth said my hair turned white when he was talking of his sister, who had died, and red when I got upset."

"Yes, exactly. The alcohol must've made it easier for you to change it," Hermione said.

"And the Killing Curse was cast on me," Iris said slowly.

"You might have changed then too, yes," Hermione agreed. "What, you think you have natural red hair?"

"No, I mean, what if that stopped me from changing? What if the Killing Curse somehow... crippled this ability?"

"Maybe," Hermione said thoughtfully.

Iris closed her eyes and focused. She opened her eyes a moment later and saw that her hair was a dark red, just like her mother's.

Hermione gave her a sad smile. "Try changing anything else but your hair. Metamorphmagi have the ability to completely change their appearance."

"What?" Iris said incredulously. "Their entire appearance?"

"Well, I don't know if they can change genders, but yes, for the most part. Hair, eyes, all facial features and structure, your body too. That is, if you can. You might be some kind of limited Metamorphmagus, who knows?"

Iris gawked at Hermione, and then, she burst out laughing. "You better pray you're right about it being limited, Hermione!"

"What?" Hermione said, looking at Iris warily.

"Me?" Iris said in between her laughter. "Change my appearance completely by will? You just told me I might be able to make myself look like anyone! You, Professor McGonagall, the Minister of Magic..."

As Iris continued to list all the people she would become, Hermione's eyes widened in horror.

Iris's dreams were dashed a few minutes later. She had nearly started sweating from concentration, but she could only change her hair length, hair color, eye color, and oddly enough, her fingernail length. Hermione also noticed a change in Iris's skin tone, but it was only minor enough to make her slightly paler or slightly tanner. Iris sincerely hoped it would only take training, and that eventually, she'd be able to wreak havoc on the wizarding world.

Iris twirled her silver hair in her fingers and looked at Hermione with her ice blue eyes. "Oui, zis is nice."

"You're terrible," Hermione said, holding back a smile. "I think you should keep your hair black though. Always."

"What, why?" Iris said. She was rather enjoying looking like a veela.

"If you want, you can, but aren't you becoming an Animagus for stealth purposes? To be able to hide as an animal should Voldemort come for you again? If you keep this a secret, people won't expect it. When they scan a crowd now, looking for you, they'll only look for the black-haired girls. If they know you can change your hair color, they won't skip the blondes, redheads, brunettes, and... veelas."

Iris deflated. Hermione was right. She felt incredibly paranoid thinking of how to use this newly discovered ability to protect herself already, but she was right. A different color for her hair wouldn't do much if somebody really looked at her, but from afar? It would certainly make the average person skip over her if her hair was blonde.

At that moment, Ron walked in. He looked at Iris in shock, then confusion, and finally, triumph. "Veela don't affect me anymore!"

"Ron," Hermione said patiently, "that's Iris. She's a Metamorphmagus."

Iris flopped down on the couch, covering her ears as Ron and Hermione began talking excitedly. She closed her eyes. Her headache had gone away in her excitement, and now it was coming back, bringing sadness, irritation, and crushed spirits with it. Minutes later, she felt a blanket fall on top of her, hands tucking her in, and a soft kiss on her forehead. If she didn't know any better, she'd say it was a bit romantic of Hermione to do that.

She drifted off to sleep to the sounds of pages turning and Ron's renewed snores.

It was quite comforting, the ambience.

The next two days passed by exceedingly quick, and with each passing hour, Iris grew more and more nervous. The anticipation, the wait, that was what was killing her. It was better that she knew, however, for if she didn't, she wouldn't stand a chance.

On Tuesday, she went to Potions and suffered through Snape's lesson, but her hangover had been over by that point. She tried to do something to help her for the task in Potions, but as Snape kept an eye on her most of the class, it was wasted time.

Herbology was right after Potions, and she didn't feel she knew Professor Sprout enough to ask for permission to skip the class so she could continue practicing. Transfiguration was after lunch, and the look on McGonagall's face when Iris had asked her was enough to get her to shut up and do her work.

It was Professor Flitwick who actually let Iris work on something that the other students wouldn't be working on. He had agreed to let her practice any charms she wished, as long as he could see them. She showed him her mastery of the Summoning Charm when she had Summoned his desk, which was twice as large as her desk. When she had produced the Patronus in front of him, he squealed and fell off his chair. When she had produced the Dragonfire Shield, he clutched at his chest and was forced to grab onto a desk to hold himself up.

"A Dragonfire Shield! Goodness me, Miss Potter, are you trying to give me a heart attack?" he said, giving a good-natured chuckle. "How well can you hold it?" he asked, and all the eyes in the room were on Iris, who had to fight her blush.

"Er — Hermione uses the spell, Arietes Augue, to test it," Iris said nervously. Flitwick gave Hermione a look of approval.

"Will you let me test you?" Flitwick asked. "I'll cast a protective charm over you first, of course, so should your shield break, you'll be safe from the fire."

Iris's mouth went dry, but she nodded. She didn't really want him to. She knew she wouldn't be able to stop the fire from a dragon, and she didn't want to be thrown backwards in class, in front of everyone else. She had already embarrassed herself in front of the Slytherins, and she didn't want to do the same in front of the Ravenclaws.

Flitwick positioned himself in front of his desk after casting the charm on her, and took aim with his wand. He nodded at Iris, who was able to immediately cast the shield with a muttered, "Praesidio Incaendium."

The aqua-green shield went up and a fireball instantly slammed into her shield. Before she could even show her surprise, three more balls of fire came right after. It certainly wasn't Arietes Augue, that was for sure. Ten more blasts against her shield later, and Flitwick called out that he was going to use Arietes Augue.

"Arietes Augue!" Flitwick cried, and he pushed his wand forward. The fiery battering ram flew at Iris, and she pushed all of her concentration into the shield.

She felt it slam against her shield, and her wand vibrated slightly. There were gasps among the students, and Iris could see why. Flitwick didn't seem to be holding back with his spell. Fire splattered against her shield, which covered ninety-five percent of her body by this point, and the flames soared over and to the side of her shield.

The flames died out, and she heard someone say, "I couldn't even see her through the fire!"

Another spell, the same one, hit her shield again, and her wand vibrated harder this time.

Before the flames even fully died out, she saw Flitwick preparing the third one. She knew she wouldn't be able to hold up against this one, and fear gripped her heart. Protective charm or not, being engulfed in flames was not an easy experience. She wrapped her heart in warmth, she pretended she was snuggled into a thick blanket, the one Hermione had wrapped her in the day before, and the spell slammed into her shield.

To her complete surprise, it held up, and her wand vibrated only as hard as it did last time. She knew another was coming, and she repeated what she had just done mentally, and the fourth Arietes Augue slammed into her shield, and yet, miraculously, her shield stayed up.

She prepared herself for the fifth one, and she waited, excited at the chance to stop five, but it did not come. She looked up and saw Flitwick clearly, not through an aqua-green substance. Her shield was still up, but it was slowly tearing itself apart.

Oh.

"Well done!" Flitwick squeaked. "Four of them! Very well done, indeed, Miss Potter. Miss Granger, if you'd like to continue to help her with her shield, you may. Everybody else, please return to your assignment for today's class."

Iris and Hermione spent the rest of the class on the Dragonfire Shield, but to Iris's disappointment, she could never hold up against the fourth blast from Hermione. Three became the new limit when it came to Hermione, and she wasn't sure why. They both agreed that Hermione was most definitely not stronger than Professor Flitwick, who was a dueling champion.

After class, Iris sat both Hermione and Ron down in the Chamber to explain what she had gone through. She left out what had happened in the shadowy part of the forest; there was really no need to get Hermione going now; in fact, she was fairly certain Ron would also lecture her if she told them the complete truth of what had happened in the forest. She didn't frighten easily, but that horrid place in the forest had given her nightmares the night before.

She did mention Seraphina, the sphinx, and both Hermione and Ron gaped at her for several moments, before they both exploded with questions.

How did it not kill you? She was friendly? You had a conversation with her?! She helped and guarded you?! What's wrong with you? How is it that you're able to live this ridiculous of a life?

She had also mentioned the phoenix, and Hermione was fascinated by the idea of a hybrid between a phoenix and thunderbird, and question after question flew from her lips, none of them directed at anyone.

Hermione glared at her when she mentioned what had happened at Aberforth's bar, while Ron guffawed and gave her a pat on the back.

"Lucky you! I always wanted to try firewhisky, but my parents have always hid it really well," Ron had said. Hermione wasn't sure who to glare at at this point.

At the end of the tale, though plenty was omitted, Hermione leaned back in her chair to try and breathe normally again while Ron congratulated Iris — she wasn't sure exactly what he was congratulating her on.

They spent the rest of the day practicing various spells, and Iris was more motivated than ever. The task was two days away, and she was also more anxious than ever. She had mastered the Summoning Charm, the Patronus, and the Conjunctivitis Curse. She had gotten the Episkey spell down fairly well, but she didn't think she was yet able to heal anything more than a small cut or bruise.

By the end of classes on Wednesday, where Iris had spent the majority of Care of Magical Creatures purposely letting the Blast-Ended Skrewts cut her so she could practice the Episkey spell, and the majority of Divination doing the same, except by using the Severing Charm to cut herself. Ron had gone a bit green once he saw what she was doing to herself. She had always been able to heal herself quickly enough that no scar remained. It was either that or the fact that the cuts were fairly small and shallow.

It was the last evening before the first task, and Iris was making her way back inside the castle. After spending a few hours getting some last minute practice in, she had gone outside to fly on her broom, to relieve some stress. It was hardly working. Not even the freedom that riding her Firebolt offered calmed her nerves, and her anxiety was at an all time high.

Time was flying.

After realizing it wouldn't help, she got off her broom, and began walking back to the castle under the night sky. It was later than she thought. At least it couldn't get any worse.

It was after Dumbledore had passed by her in a corridor and given her some vague nonsense about Parseltongue being 'most useful with all kinds of serpents.' It was after this when she realized that she was wrong, and things could get worse.

She was walking through another corridor when she passed a bathroom and heard somebody crying from it. I really don't need this right now was what she wanted to think, but she couldn't stop herself from investigating. Even if it was simply a heartbroken girl, whose boyfriend had just broken up with her, she couldn't have just left.

She entered the bathroom slowly and quietly, closed the door behind her softly, and turned to see whoever it was that was crying.

It was Millicent Bulstrode.

Iris sighed. She should have just kept on walking. Millicent had heard her, apparently, for her head snapped up to look at Iris.

"Potter?" she said weakly, and her eyes were red. "What are you doing here? Come to make fun of me, have you? Gryffindors and Slytherins aren't so different, you know," she sniffed, trying to gain her emotions back under control.

"Er — no?" Iris said uncertainly. What was going on here? She had made fun of her once in the entire time she had been at Hogwarts, and that was only because Millicent had insulted her parents first.

"Yeah, okay. Go on, tell me what the others say behind my back. You already have. Call me fat, ugly, a troll!" she sobbed.

Iris didn't speak. It was as though something heavy had suddenly settled inside her heart. It hadn't even occurred to her what her words had done to Millicent that day. Why should it have? It was simply another confrontation between Slytherin and Gryffindor.

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Millicent got up, grabbed her bag, and shouldered Iris out of the way. When she had left, walked through the door, still crying, Iris stared at the closed door.

"I… I didn't mean…" Iris began to say, even though no one could hear her, but it wasn't that fact that stopped her from continuing. It was the fact that she wasn't even being truthful with herself. She had meant it. She had meant every insult she had thrown at Millicent that day in early November. How could she say she didn't mean it when she had felt no remorse for her actions? She didn't feel that much sympathy for the girl — she had made fun of her dead parents after all, but the fact she had acted like that of a bully for any reason, especially after her own childhood...

Yes, Millicent was in the wrong for talking about her parents that way, but she, Iris, had also been incredibly cruel that day. As cruel as Malfoy. Millicent's comment about her parents had even been half-hearted, almost as though she had said it just to fit in, despite not really meaning it.

She felt a little dreadful as she made her way back to the Gryffindor tower. It was with a feeling of exasperation with herself that she realized she'd have to add Millicent to her list of people she'd have to apologize to. She shouldn't even have a list. Krum, Aberforth, likely Ollivander, and now Millicent.

In her indifference of everything outside of her own little world, in her decision to not care about anything but herself when her name had come out of the goblet, she realized she had sort of become something she didn't like: a self-centered — there was no other word for it — bitch.

She still considered Millicent the exact same, and that wasn't changing anytime soon, but being placed in the same group as the nastier Slytherins wasn't something she was proud of.

She didn't realize she had made it to her bed until Hermione asked her if she had a good flight. Iris muttered a lie and buried her face in her pillow.

The task was tomorrow and she felt more miserable than she had in a long time as she drifted off to sleep.

She dreamt of Voldemort, on the back of a Hungarian Horntail, flying around chasing her. Seraphina stood to the side, cursing Iris for bringing Voldemort here, for letting him burn down her forest. Millicent Bulstrode was too busy crying to move out of the fire and it engulfed her, and then the fire reached her, Iris, and Hermione's sobs joined Millicents, and together, the sound haunted the rest of her nightmares.

A/N:

If you're curious of what I based the potions lab in the Chamber off of, google "dumbledore's army potion lab image" and it should be the first link. That's what it looks like.