Iris Potter and the Goblet's Surprise Chapter 14: The Parselmouth Product, a harry potter fanfic

Author's Notes:

Thank you for all the wonderful reviews for last chapter! Even if I don't reply to your review personally, I do read it, appreciate it, and look forward to more of them.

This chapter was uploaded on Jan 25 and rewritten on Jan 30. If you read it before the 30th, the humor has been toned down, the tone quite not as lighthearted as it was before, and I've attempted to make it flow better from last chapter to this one.

Chapter 14

The Parselmouth Product

Gryffindor Tower...

A few days after the atrocity that the lunatics of the wizarding world called the second task, Iris was to be found in her dormitory, hunched over her desk, making use of the generous amount of space. After seeing what kind of lengths the tournament was willing to go with the champions, intentional or not, Iris had become slightly obsessed with the golden egg.

"You're not slightly obsessed, Iris," Hermione said gently, as a thunderstorm raged outside, placing both of her hands on Iris's shoulders in an attempt to get her up, to move and get the blood flowing to her legs. "You've become completely obsessed."

Hermione tried very hard to not say anything about the ripped pages stuck to the wall with Sticking Charms, obviously from some library book, or rather — Hermione hated to think it — books, in the plural. When Iris had screamed to the Great Hall that she was done caring about rules, she meant it. And so there were pages from books on Ancient Runes, magical creatures, and underwater creatures specifically; Iris's own parchment with notes, and Iris's own writing written outright on the desk itself; pictures of magical creatures, merpeople, of locations Iris had Colin Creevey take pictures of around the lake, and things that appeared completely unrelated to anything.

And as lightning flashed, lighting the room in a blue glow rather than the orange of that of the fire, the runic alphabet Iris had drawn was illuminated, on all edges of her desk. Hermione couldn't even recognize some of them. Apparently Iris was further along in Ancient Runes than even Iris herself realized.

"Is this really all necessary?" Hermione said, trying not to laugh at Iris's offended look. "You don't think you're overdoing it here?"

"You think I'm overdoing it, do you?" Iris said. "You saw what the second task was, Hermione. I thought they couldn't beat the first task in sheer — sheer ludicrousness. Actually, no, ludicrousness implies that there's some amusement there. There isn't. I'm surrounded by fools, Hermione — even I'm one."

"When's the last time you got some rest?"

Iris looked at Hermione with slightly bloodshot eyes. "What's the date?"

"January thirteenth," Hermione said flatly.

There was a moment of silence as Iris stared at Hermione. "And the year?"

Hermione couldn't help it; she snorted with laughter. "Come here," she said, raising her arms. Iris fell into them from her chair, a small smile quirked on her lips. Hermione wrapped an arm around Iris's head and pulled it to her chest as Iris too sat down. "Iris, I don't think the song is even meant to tell you everything you'll face. I've looked over it too and what we have now. Really, what you and Fleur figured out is all that I think we can get from it. You even brought her up here yesterday and —"

"No," said Iris, "I think they'll be a door underwater that we'll need to open by deciphering runes. Fleur and I didn't think of that before. There could be more."

"Even if there is, you can't possibly think of everything."

"Unacceptable," Iris said, her voice muffled by Hermione's chest.

Hermione laughed again. "You're hopeless."

Iris hugged Hermione tighter. "God, I missed you. Let's never fight again, Hermione. We'll stick together no matter what, okay? Support each other no matter what."

Hermione smiled and hugged tighter too. "No matter what."

"Great," Iris said, withdrawing from the hug. "I think I'm going to have to rob Snape's office."

"And I," Hermione began, not at all surprised by this declaration, "will have nothing to do with it. No, I don't even want to hear the plan."

"Well, I don't really have one," Iris admitted. "I was thinking of just staying after class in my Invisibility Cloak and Stunning him, you know? Hopefully he actually has gillyweed." Iris looked back to her desk. "Think I should move all this to the Chamber? I think so — speaking of, I need to talk to Sal."

"Sal?" Hermione asked.

"Salazar," Iris said. "I was serious when I said I was becoming the Heir of Slytherin. Or heiress, never really understood which one."

"I'm well aware you're serious about it," said Hermione, "but don't you think, and I believe I've said this before —"

"Six times."

"— that by becoming Lady Slytherin or whatever it is —"

"Only losers name themselves something like that."

"— you'll be only reinforcing everybody's idea that you're… you know…"

"And speaking of," Iris said, ignoring Hermione, "I think that's another point. Lord Voldemort wants to go and ruin my life — making me miss the Quidditch finals my first year, nearly killing me with that basilisk my second year, the whole Pettigrew mess last year and this one, and — what am I missing?"

"Killing your parents?"

"Yes, that," Iris said absently. "He decided to dedicate his life to ruining mine, so why shouldn't I do the same? Well, maybe not dedicate my life to it, but give him a right kick up the balls — metaphorically, I mean. I don't think he actually has balls anymore. It would certainly explain why his voice is so high."

"So you're really going to adopt a child to pass on the Slytherin line?" Hermione asked, sounding skeptical.

"Not now, Hermione," Iris said, getting back to her desk. "Actually, probably not ever, but Salazar doesn't need to know that, does he? So, yeah, getting back at the lunatic that's made my June's begin to suck —"

"And killed your parents," Hermione supplied.

"Exactly. But also, I think that if I do this, and maybe declare myself a Dark Lady, everybody will realize it's absolutely ridiculous —"

"Wait, Iris, what?"

"— I mean, a fourteen year old? Really? No one can take that seriously."

"Iris —"

"The wizarding world isn't that stupid, which is really saying how stupid the idea is. Plus I'm tiny. Really, look at me."

"Iris, for the love of all I hold dear, please slow down," said Hermione. "Let's rewind for a second, okay? Dark Lady? Okay, no, we need to talk."

Iris grimaced, having heard this tone from Hermione before.

"This is too much. You're doing it again." Hermione grabbed Iris's quill out of her hand as she scribbled something down. "Stop and think for one moment. You're not doing okay after the second task. You need to slow down, take a breath, sleep, and realize that you're being completely, utterly, ridiculous. Insane. And it's obviously all fake. Stop acting fine when you're not!"

"Okay, fine. Sorry." Iris began poking what looked like a lemon drop in the corner of her desk. "The pineapple juice has finally dried. Let's hope it doesn't ruin it."

"Ruin what? What is that, some sweet?"

"It's the key to all my troubles, Hermione, the key to all my troubles…"

"The key to all your… We're talking about this, right?" Hermione said, pointing to the yellow candy.

Iris grinned. "Aye, that."

'Aye?' Hermione mouthed soundlessly. "I knew you were eavesdropping when I explained pirates to Ron this morning…"

"How is Ron?"

Hermione sighed. "Still the same. He's not angry at you — hasn't been for a while now, really, but he doesn't know how to approach you. He knows you know that he fancies you, and with you knowing he knows about your preference, he thinks it'll be awkward."

"Right," said Iris. "Well, tell him that once I declare myself a Dark Lady, he'll need to make up his mind. I won't hold my inner circle open for him forever."

"Inner circle?"

"Kneel."

"I — I will not kneel!" said Hermione, sounding and looking half-scandalized, half-amused.

Iris smiled weakly, and just as weakly, said, "You've missed this, haven't you?"

Hermione looked to be fighting hard to keep a smile off her face, but then, begrudgingly, she grumbled, "Yes, I have. It was rather quiet around here without your casual insanity."

Iris managed to keep the grimace off her face, but Hermione's last word still stirred something inside her. Ever since the second task, she had been fidgety. She kept expecting any normal situation to descend into the madness as it had in the task. It was hard to relax, to even sleep, when she half expected a centipede-like tongue to erupt out of Hermione's mouth at any given moment.

Hermione had noticed this too, her twitchiness, as had Professor McGonagall. Iris would never tell Professor McGonagall how her often questions about how she was doing were irritating her. She appreciated it far too much to let it stop, no matter how much she didn't want to talk about it.

Professor McGonagall was taking her side completely on the matter, and funnily enough, it made Iris actually respect her classroom — and not in the way that made her stop Fred and George from throwing dungbombs in the classroom during breaks, though that too, but in the way that Iris now paid attention in class, kept her language under control, and even helped struggling students, in and out of class — though, there weren't many that were willing to accept her help. Iris sometimes heard their whispers: "If her greatest fear is turning dark, then it's a possibility, isn't it? If it wasn't, it wouldn't be a fear!"

The Daily Prophet's coverage of the task didn't help, but to her slight surprise, the article that had covered it wasn't written by Rita Skeeter and it wasn't nearly as bad as some of the ones about her that came before. There weren't any ridiculous suggestive questions such as: "If Parselmouths have been known to be dark, will Potter be the same?" It was simply stating the facts, not that the facts were at all pleasant. But still, it seemed as though letting Rita Skeeter do the article on the second task would have been too much, would have oversaturated the negativity surrounding Iris.

After all, she hadn't gone and killed anyone, had she? Not that they knew, at least.

Iris skipped every single class today. She did show up to Defense Against the Dark Arts, but when she had found out they were to be learning things she already knew, she stood up and left.

All Moody did was give her his lessons plans during lunch, telling her: "If you're not going to attend class for something you already know, Potter, then don't bother coming in the first place — here," he said when Iris opened her mouth to ask him how in the world she'd even know before actually showing up, and he handed her a few stacks of parchment. "Lesson plans, Potter. Do yourself a favor and use these to study ahead. I doubt the tasks are going to get any easier."

Iris visited Dumbledore's office that evening, bypassing the stone gargoyle with another lucky guess and finding herself in an empty room a moment later. She supposed the people who talked of how she was treated differently than others were right, because she doubted any other students would have been welcomed into the headmaster's office by the majority of the portraits. But no other students had saved the school from closing, stopped Voldemort from returning to power twice within the very walls of Hogwarts, given the gift of Salazar Slytherin's portrait, or had been forced to go through what she had.

"Professor Dumbledore here?" Iris asked, ignoring Salazar Slytherin's whispered hisses.

"He left a few minutes ago, dear," said the kind voice from the portrait of Dilys Derwent, an elderly witch, with hair of silver ringlets. "Went to dinner. He was going to ask you to join him here after, I believe."

"Oh. Right. Did he tell you why?"

"No, I'm afraid not, but I don't believe you're in trouble," said Dilys Derwent. "He might want to see if you're doing okay after the second task. He told us about it, you know. It sounded terrible, dear. Are you doing well?"

"Bah! She's doing just fine!" said Salazar Slytherin. "My heir wouldn't lose her mind to such trivialities."

"Salazar," chided Dilys Derwent. "Be a little —"

"Actually, that's one of the reasons I came here," Iris said. "I'll do it. I'll become your heir. Or heiress. Whatever. But I want those books, and anything else you've hidden away. I can do whatever's necessary next week."

Salazar nodded knowingly, as though he always knew Iris would come around. "There's actually two hidden spots —"

"Tomorrow."

"One is a large room, very nice," continued Salazar, smiling widely, "and another is a small vault inside that hidden room. I only gave Tom Riddle the room, but no more. You'll find more books than you know what to do with there, some exceedingly rare, some incredibly common."

"Would I be able to find information on rituals?" Iris asked, thinking of the graveyard. "Blood rituals?"

"Certainly," Salazar said. "There's much more than that too! There's even my own personal Time-Turner, but I had someone use it once. Never saw him again! Shame." But the wicked grin on his face made it clear that it wasn't a shame at all. "But really, don't use it."

"Noted," Iris said dryly.

"And of course, my ring! I always thought that Tom Riddle fellow was a bit shifty, don't you know?"

"More than ever," Iris said, sitting in Dumbledore's chair and throwing her feet on his desk. A few of the portraits grumbled. "Go on."

"Well, you do know of my ring, don't you?"

"No idea."

"One of the four! Don't you read?" Salazar frowned down at her. "All four founders had a ring. Each had powers to it, but not many knew of that… no, most believed us to each have one object… Be lucky you're hearing of this!"

"Er — shouldn't we be worried about the other portraits then?" Iris said, and at her words, the other portraits erupted in protests ("We want to hear!" "This is new to us, let us listen!" "We've heard nothing this interesting since Dumbledore and Snape talked about —" "Everard, be quiet!").

"Ha!" barked Salazar. "They practically praise me! They're all headmasters, and I, Salazar Slytherin, am a founder of the very school they — er — headmastered."

Iris snorted. She actually agreed with Voldemort. Salazar Slytherin's portrait had gone insane in the centuries he spent alone with nothing but a sleeping basilisk for company.

"Now… Godric's ring would summon ethereal weapons —"

"Really?" Iris said, flicking a sugared butterfly wing in the air and catching it with her mouth; Dumbledore had a whole bowl of them on his desk. "That's neat."

"Stop interrupting me!" Salazar said. "Where was I? Ah, yes, Godric's would do more than this bit, but he never told me. But it could summon a sword, axe, dagger, even arrows, and anything of that sort to the hand wearing the ring. Nearly killed me with it, he did! Suppose I shouldn't have summoned the snake that ate his lion cub. But really, how many lions did the man need? I could barely get into his house without being nearly eaten!"

"You're like a combination of me and Hermione," Iris said, giving a laugh. "A rambling madman."

"Helga's ring," Salazar said loudly, "had the ability to place Refilling Charms on drinks, Engorgement Charms and Doubling Charms on foods, conjure water, and I believe it kept the wearer never thirsty nor hungry — not that it stopped Helga from eating anyway. There was some other rubbish to the ring I can't remember too."

"How?" asked Iris. "Wasn't she and Gryffindor your friend?"

"It's been a thousand years, of course I can't remember," Salazar said. "Rowena's ring was all about the mind. The Confundus Charm, Cheering Charm, Legilimency Spell, and even the Memory Charm — yes, Rowena Ravencunt often used all four on me."

"That one sounds the best of all," Iris said. "But what's the difference between the rings and just using a wand?"

"Plenty," Salazar grunted, looking annoyed that she liked Rowena Ravenclaw's ring most. "It makes it look as though you're doing it wandlessly, which looks impressive. The spells were easier to use as well, as the rings were tuned to those specific spells. Didn't take as much effort to do the spells, you understand? It's much more subtle to use a ring too. Rowena needn't raise her wand or even take it out to manipulate the mind. Sly woman, her. She was more Slytherin than me!"

"And what was your ring? Summoning snakes?"

"Ah, my ring! It was able to — wait, how did you know?"

"You said you summoned a snake to eat one of Gryffindor's lions. Is that it though? Kinda pathetic compared to the rest," Iris said, enjoying seeing Salazar's offended look.

"Of course that wasn't it!" he said. "Yes, it summoned snakes. Small snakes, venomous snakes, large snakes, large enough to swallow you whole! If you were talented enough at conjuring, that is."

"Were you not?" Iris said, smirking.

"Of course I was. One of them swallowed a fully grown lion of Godric's once. He didn't know, of course — both that it was my snake that did so and also that my ring could even do such a thing. He checked the last spells used on my wand and couldn't find anything incriminating! Ha, the fool!"

"Why were you summoning snakes to eat his lions?"

"And that wasn't all the ring did, naturally." Salazar ignored her question. "The hand the ring lay on would be able to constrict objects, similar to the method a snake would use as it constricted its body around its prey."

"What, it'd give my hand one hell of a grip?" Iris asked.

"It wouldn't be the same as constricting, but essentially, yes, it would give that hand the power to crush and break objects — within reason, of course. I once used it to crush the throat of one of Godric's lions —"

"What is with you and his lions?"

"It attacked me first!" Salazar said rather defensively, clutching his staff close to his chest, as though it would protect him from accusations. "I could have used my wand, of course, but that's not nearly as much fun — nor as satisfying. The ring will also neutralize any poisons that enter your bloodstream, and allow you to take control of any snakes you summon from the ring, see through their eyes, and control them."

"Hm. You tie with Ravenclaw," Iris said. "Maybe."

"Rowena's ring is likely lost, but mine, mine you will get from the vault," Salazar said. "It'll be most useful."

Iris looked doubtful at this. "But I can hardly conjure a hair tie," she said. "I doubt I'd be able to conjure a small snake, much less some enormous, intimidating one. And I don't need a strong grip. If I want to crush something, a Reductor Curse would do, wouldn't it?"

"Bah! You children never understand finesse. Subtlety, girl, subtlety! And not just that, but it's easier to conjure snakes with the ring than it is with a wand, like I already mentioned," he hissed in Parseltongue. "If you are disarmed, you have the ring. If you need to impress or frighten your enemy with impressive, wandless magic, you have the ring. If somebody grabs you, you grab them back and crush their wrist, then you claim you didn't realize your own strength!

"If you wish to control a snake and see through its eyes, you have the ring! You need not use the Imperius Curse with Alterius Oculi Seruare, which is a mouthful! And it wouldn't even work the same! You wouldn't have control over the snake with the Imperius Curse like you would your own body, would you? You've undoubtedly used the Imperius Curse by now, so you understand; you would have to command the snake to move left when you want it to move left, to move right when you want it to move right — it's downright exhausting, let me tell you!"

Iris had to concede the point. If she could manage it, conjuring a snake and controlling it could help her with her plan in robbing Snape — the plan of which she named Steal Severus Snape's Stash, for that sweet, sweet alliteration. Thinking of it now, she probably shouldn't have written down her current plan and left it on her desk.

Sure, she had placed parchment over it to cover it, and yes, the other girls in the dormitory wouldn't dare investigate; Fay simply knew not to mess with anyone's things, and though Lavender and Parvati weren't claiming her a dark witch, they would know not to mess with her things.

But regardless, she doubted McGonagall's support extended quite that far, and she did have access to the dormitories.

"What else is in the vault or room?" Iris asked in the middle of Salazar's ramblings about when he had attempted to use the Imperius Curse to control an animal and also look through its eyes.

"My personal chess set! Oh, how I miss playing chess…"

"If you can leave your portrait," Iris said, thinking that she knew what to get Ron for his birthday now, "I've seen other portraits throughout the school where the occupants had chess boards."

"And mingle with the commoners?" asked Salazar, sounding displeased with the very idea. "Nonsense. There are also plenty of other things in my private library."

"Wasn't the room you were in your private library?"

"No, I let people into that. Not many, mind you, but you would be the second person in a thousand years to enter my real private library, where those rare books are, where some of my own notes lay. It also has direct access to the lake."

Iris perked up at this. "What? How?"

"There's a high archway directly across the door you enter into the room through," Salazar said. "Past it is the water. You can see creatures swim by. Magic keeps the water from falling in, of course, acting like thick glass. But it isn't. You can step right in. Of course, the sudden change in pressure might kill you, so I carved in the incantation for a spell to fix it within the archway — I almost forgot several times, so I decided I needed a reminder anytime I got near the passage. Made the spell myself," he added, sounding pleased with himself.

Iris was already thinking of how she could use this to cheat in the third task.

"So how do I get in there?"

"Oh no," Salazar said, "you must become the heir first. Not only will I not tell you if you're not, you wouldn't be able to. I've safeguarded the room, enchanted it so that the heir — and only the heir! — can open it. The heir can bring in people, of course, but only they — not even others who have my blood — will be able to open it. As of now, Tom Riddle is the only living person with the ability to do so… but once you become my heir, not even he will be able to open it."

"Right. How do I become the heir then?"

"We can do it here! Perhaps you should find yourself a Blood-Replenishing Potion first."

"No need." Iris pulled out a vial from her Gryffindor messenger bag. "Decided to keep one of these with me at all times. Blood-Replenishing Potion," she added at Salazar's curious look. "I've gotten far too close to bleeding to death far too many times over the last two months. Thought I'd keep a few vials of potions with me. Took them all from Madam Pomfrey. She was actually happy about it, wanted to give me ten Blood-Replenishing Potions — just in case, she said. Psh."

"Is that it?" Salazar looked unimpressed. "Ask for twenty. I will not have my heir die from lack of blood! Of all things, really."

"Don't be ridiculous. I don't have room in my bag for all that. Undetectable Extension Charms are strictly moderated and limited by the Ministry, so my bag only had about double the room of what it appears. I took three Blood-Replenishing Potions instead, two in my bag, one on my person; two Pepper-Up Potions — they were created after your time, cures colds, warms you up, and just makes you feel better; some healing paste for burns, guess she expects me to run into another dragon; a Mandrake Restorative Draught that she had leftover from two years ago, don't know how she expects me to use that if I'm Petrified; she even gave me a Wolfsbane Potion in case I spontaneously become a werewolf or something, and those are supposed to be expensive; and an Antidote to Common Poisons — though, I suppose I won't need that."

Salazar shook his head smugly. "Nay, the ring will stop all poisons. Even that of basilisk venom."

"Eh, I think I'm already immune to any snake venom — basilisk venom included. Phoenix tears. Or at least resistant to it."

"Hmm." Salazar rubbed his chin in thought. "Yes, I suppose that might do it, phoenix tears. My heir would of course be powerful enough to contain the phoenix tears within their body." Iris snorted at this. "The healer — Madam Pomfrey was her name? — ask her to teach you healing magic."

"I already know the Minor Healing Spell, Episkey," Iris said. "Besides, that sort of thing is supposed to be really tough to learn, isn't it? The Moderate Healing Spell is difficult to learn, nevermind the Major Healing Spell — actually, I don't even think there is a Major Healing Spell… nor a moderate one now that I think of it... I think there's just a load of powerful healing spells that apply to different severe injuries... You can only learn from Madam Pomfrey in your sixth or seventh year anyway, and even that barely gets you anywhere."

"Did you not learn the Patronus Charm at the age of thirteen?"

"Can we get to this thing already?" Iris held her wand and Blood-Replenishing Potion up, looking pointedly at Salazar and her own wrist.

"Ah, yes, my apologies — you should consider yourself very lucky, you know, that I'm apologizing. Not many people have heard me apologize to them, but since you are my heir —"

Iris tapped her foot loudly against the top of Dumbledore's desk. "I will leave right now if you don't shut up and get on with it."

"Yes, yes, my apologies — ha! There you are again." Salazar coughed at Iris's glare. "Now, how much do you know of runes — specifically, blood runes? How do you draw them?"

"Er — you use your wand, or if the rune needs to be small or have a lot of small details, you use a quill that comes from a magical creature. You wouldn't use a goose feather as a quill to draw a rune. You'd have to use a quill made from something like a thunderbird... or a phoenix... a jobberknoll, that sort of thing — would the strength of a rune depend on the type of feather use?" Iris asked suddenly. "I mean, would a phoenix feather and a diricawl feather be the same? Or would the phoenix feather make it stronger?"

Salazar coughed again, this time to clear his throat rather than out of embarrassment. And in a more composed voice, he spoke.

"You were correct," he said. "It is possible to use a wand to draw runes, blood or not. There are two ways to do this. One, by manually drawing the rune. This is easier than the second method, but it limits you. The tip of a wand is much larger than the tip of a quill — if you've ever tried using your wand with ink, you would know. I certainly do. The second method doesn't involve marking the area with the tip of your wand against the surface. Rather, it is about picturing the rune, clearly, in your mind's eye and using that picture to place the rune simply by pointing your wand at the surface. You needn't even place the tip against it. It's about willing a picture in your mind to appear."

"Why use that though?" Iris asked. "It's never really explained in the books I've read about it. I've tried, but I can only picture the simplest of runes in my mind. Wouldn't using a quill be easier?"

"Occlumency," Salazar said. "You may employ Occlumency to aid you, but this method is for the most advanced. But with it, runes are created with much, much greater speed. And, sometimes, a rune is so complicated, so intricate, that not even a quill can be used to draw it within a reasonable space. This is magic you will likely never learn, to cast runes so detailed from but a mental picture, even with the prodigious skill my heir would so obviously have."

Iris rubbed her forehead. "This is complicated."

"All magic is."

"How would you even mentally picture such a complicated rune?"

"A lot of straining."

"Very informative." Iris shook her head. "And the quills? Would a phoenix feather be better?"

"Yes. Not by such a significant degree, no, perhaps not," Salazar said. "But it's enough of a difference to use the feather of a phoenix. But be warned! A phoenix feather will not work so well with runes that could be considered Dark Magic. Phoenixes needn't be pure in and of themselves, but they do prefer the good. For what I will show you today, you needn't worry. I am sure Fawkes will lend you a feather."

"That means I'll have to make it a quill myself," Iris said, not feeling like getting up to get a feather from Fawkes, much less turn it into a quill.

Salazar groaned loudly. "Oh, how terrible! Worry not, I will be here to massage your hands after, as I know creating a quill is such a tiresome task. How difficult it must be to use a few careful Severing Charms."

"Alright, alright, sheesh. I'll do it." Iris paused. "Hey, would a feather from a — er — thunderbird-phoenix hybrid thing be good?"

"The offspring of a phoenix and a thunderbird? I didn't know such a thing was possible. Knew they were related, of course… Interesting. Possible, possible," Salazar murmured to himself. "It may be that a feather from a creature such as that will be powerful like that of a phoenix, but have no preference to the kind of magic it's used with… or it might not be special at all."

"Wait," Iris interrupted. "Voldemort, your current heir, his wand has a phoenix feather but he's used his wand for all sorts of Dark Magic. But you just said —"

"Bah, his phoenix feather is tempered with the wood of his wand," Salazar said. "It's different. Not the same as using a phoenix feather by itself for runes — don't ask me how, it's just not. Do you have a feather of this creature you spoke of?"

Iris hesitated. "Not exactly, no… but I have her with me." She pulled out the bottle containing what became of Astra from her bag.

"Are you sure?" asked Slytherin. "Looks like water to me."

"Astra, the phoenix, took a curse for me about three weeks back. She turned into this puddle and — small — cloud — thingy. I don't really know what it is, but I don't know how to get her back, if it's even possible. I've tried pouring her out on a desk overnight, many nights, outside — I've tried to do a ton. All that's left is to drink this, and I'm not sure I fancy the idea of a phoenix being rebirthed inside my stomach."

Salazar waved his hand impatiently. "Put it outside during a thunderstorm, don't know what else you could do. Now grab a feather from that phoenix over there — Fawkes! I, Salazar Slytherin, command you to stay still for my heir!"

But Fawkes simply looked pointedly at one of the six drawers of a cabinet near his perch. Iris opened the cabinet once she reached it, and to her pleasure, she found a collection of all kinds of quills: those made from the feathers of eagles, thunderbirds, pheasants, gooses, peacocks, and a few that looked clearly to be those of Fawkes's. Iris plucked one from the box labelled Phoenix and made her way to the space before Salazar Slytherin's portrait.

"Okay, what now?"

"I will show you how to draw this rune. Get in the center of the room, where there's room. The rune will be wide enough to cover a sitting grown man. Unlike normal runes, we will not be using ink or the scorching marks of a wand, but rather your blood. You needn't always take the blood directly from the source, but it is the most powerful if you do. If you want to pour your blood in a bowl, that is perfectly — oh, there she goes, cutting herself open — wow."

The portraits all nodded and murmured to each other as Iris used her wand to cut her arm. She dipped the quill directly into the wound, showing no signs that she was digging a sharp object in between her skin.

"Start by drawing a triangle," Salazar said, loudly and clearly, "small enough that you'll be able to touch all three sides of it when you sit down. Next, you'll need to draw a circle…"

And so as the setting sun spread an orange glow over the room, Iris drew the most complicated rune she had ever seen — outside of books, which featured the runes to such a small size that it was impossible to really study the details.

When the sun had fallen below the horizon, forcing Iris to stop and light candles and torches, it was done. The outermost layer was a circle, and three inches within was another circle. In between these two circles, dozens of runic letters were drawn. Touching the inner circle at three points was the triangle, the first part Iris had drawn. And more lines, letters, circles, triangles, and symbols were scattered within, organized neatly, all of it drawn in blood.

"I think I hate Ancient Runes now," Iris said, her knees, back, and wrist hurting after an hour of drawing the complicated rune. "Tell me there's nothing more."

Salazar smiled. "There's nothing more."

Iris let out a sigh of relief. "You'll lucky I want that ring and —"

"Now you must cut off a foot."

"What?" squeaked Iris, more like a house-elf than she would have liked.

Salazar chortled. "I kid, I kid. All you must do is activate the rune."

"Er — how do I do that?"

"Really?" said Salazar disbelievingly. "You've been studying Ancient Runes for two months and you aren't aware of how to actually activate the rune?"

"Hey!" Iris felt somewhat offended about this. "Third years don't learn anything about placing actual runes at all! They only learn the theory and the runic alphabet. You only start learning about them in fourth year, and even then, you don't ever cast them. It's fifth year where you begin drawing, casting, activating — whatever, and the basic ones at that. I've never even done this before and I've just drawn a bloody blood rune — and a complicated one at that."

Salazar yawned. "You are my heir, I expect more out of you. To activate the rune, you may cast — well, I doubt you even know how. You do know how to let magic flow out your wand or even your fingers, yes? It's not a spell, really, and you can't see it, nor feel it — unless you're particularly sensitive to feeling magic —"

"I know how to do that, yes."

"Well then, if you are able to do the same but send the magic out further than the surface of your fingers or wand, do that. Let the magic fly," Salazar said, making exaggerated hand gesture. "Or you may place your wand in the circle, against the surface, and simply let magic out. Just a little will do, of course. You do know how to —"

"Yes, I just said I did," Iris said testily. She placed her palm flat against the floor and pushed magic throughout her hand. The lines of blood glowed slightly, almost looked as though they were lifting off the ground, and then —

"Iris? Iris, are you well?" said a voice above her. It was familiar, but her mind was too fuzzy to recognize it. "Salazar, do you not have any sense of responsibility?"

"Or maturity?!" said another voice, this one feminine and she couldn't help but associate it with the word danger. "How could you suggest something like this to Potter? Of all people? You've heard of what she's been going through, of that I have no doubt! Don't you think she's gone through enough already, and now you're — what is this even? Is this — oh, no, Albus, is this a blood rune?"

Iris opened her eyes. Above her stood — or rather, crouched — Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, one looking quite calm considering one of his students was lying in her own blood, the other the exact opposite.

"It is," said Dumbledore. "If I am correct, I believe it to be a Blood Adoption Rune. Well, Iris, how are you? Or should I say, how are you, Miss Slytherin?"

"What?" Iris said, sitting up quickly. "Slytherin? I didn't just change my name, did I? I'm still Potter, right? Iris Slytherin sounds terrible!"

"No," Dumbledore said, "you are still Iris Potter."

Salazar scoffed. "She can be either now! Well, she still has to go to your Ministry, I imagine, but once all is said and done —"

"She will not be going to the Ministry!" McGonagall said sharply.

"Er — yeah, I sorta am," Iris said. "I've got business there."

"What sort of business?" asked McGonagall sharply.

"I've got a plan." Iris stood up slowly. "Could be brilliant or terrible, really… go exactly my way or horribly wrong… They all think me some dark witch, so I'm going to do something so ridiculous that it'll become a complete joke. You'll see," she said when both the professors gave her questioning looks. "I've got to go to the Ministry to do that, and not only that either. I've got Winky to register or something."

"Winky?" said Dumbledore. "The house-elf that used to work for Barty Crouch?"

"Yep." Iris smiled brightly at McGonagall. "Imagine it yet, Professor? Iris Potter with a house-elf. I don't even need to go to the kitchens to eat anymore, much less the Great Hall."

"Those not of age aren't allowed to have a house-elf of their own," McGonagall said, frowning. "Am I mistaken, Albus? I could have sworn that was the law. You could use a house-elf your guardians owned, but you, yourself, Potter, could not."

"Oh, I know," Iris said casually. "I've got a plan for that. And no, I'm not going to tell you. I'm going the Dumbledore route — act all mysterious and never reveal my ways so that I leave people with their wild guesses."

Dumbledore ignored McGonagall's glare.

"Also, I need to register myself as an Animagus, don't I?"

"Animagus?" McGonagall said. "What? When? Albus! You surely didn't —"

"I'm not quite sure what you are talking about, Minerva," Dumbledore said, taking out his wand and Vanishing Iris's blood off the floor. "A complicated rune, Iris, did you draw it yourself? But of course," he said, answering his own question and moving to pet Fawkes, "there's no one else here."

McGonagall stared hard at him. "Albus, you cannot possibly be okay with this —"

"On the contrary, Minerva, I think it is wonderful that young Iris here is taking responsibility and is registering herself as an Animagus early."

In truth, Iris had no plans to register herself as an Animagus, and she was sure Dumbledore knew this. She was also suspicious of Dumbledore's tone. It was far too calm, far too accepting of this to be real. It was as though he was attempting to sound accepting and his disapproval was leaking out… but Dumbledore would know how to mask that disapproval… unless he wanted Iris to hear it.

"But surely she's not even close to become one herself! Why now? She can wait until the summer, at least," said McGonagall.

Iris was fairly certain she'd become one before March. She only had about two weeks left of performing the incantation for her current step every morning and night.

"The quicker the better, I say. Minerva, we both know she will find a way to the Ministry anyway. You are finished with your classes." Dumbledore smiled serenely at McGonagall. "Go with her."

Iris interrupted. "Er — I don't think —"

"I'm sorry, Iris, but I can not permit you to go alone. I will place a Tracking Charm on you if I must so that I can see your movements throughout the day."

"Well, it's not as though I'm expecting to keep it secret from you. And it's not as though I care about punishments anymore."

"Potter, your behavior has improved since the second task," McGonagall said. "This is the first thing you've done since then that you shouldn't have."

"It's been like three days," Iris said, amused.

"Something I consider a miracle."

Dumbledore walked away from Fawkes and to his desk, leaving Iris facing away from him. She used this as her excuse to not look him in the eyes.

"Did either one of you seal the way to the Chamber of Secrets?" Iris asked, looking at McGonagall. "I haven't been able to open it since the second task."

"What?!" Salazar cried. "Dumbledore! How dare you?"

Iris turned to look at his portrait while Dumbledore reassured both Salazar and her that he had not 'personally' sealed the Chamber of Secrets — and then, when he realized how that sounded, he added that he hadn't even known it had been sealed. When Iris caught Salazar's eye, she gave an almost imperceptible wink. It was possible Dumbledore would see through her lie, or catch her going down into the Chamber soon anyway, but if not, she needn't worry about him threatening to stop her from using it as some form of punishment.

Iris turned to McGonagall. "Look. I've tried being reasonable. You've seen me attempting to help students in your class. The Ravenclaws and even the Gryffindors will decline my help, but not before shooting some look at me, like I'll be teaching them Transfiguration by Transfiguring them into something. Morons."

"Potter," warned McGonagall.

"What? You said our house was to be our family, didn't you?" Iris said. "It's literally the first thing I ever heard from you."

McGonagall sighed. "So it was. I try to stomp out that behavior, but —"

"Yeah, I know. I appreciate it," Iris said, and she meant it. "It's not like you know if they're telling the truth, when they say they'd prefer to learn themselves and without anyone's help... And it's not like I'm going to start telling on everyone who asks for help from their friends when your back is turned."

McGonagall frowned. "They do that, do they?"

Iris smiled sadly. "You should see how they act outside of class. I had some Gryffindors come up to me when I entered our tower just yesterday, told me they voted — the bloody five of them — and came to a decision: to kick me out of the tower for being a disgrace to the house —"

"Excuse me?" McGonagall suddenly thundered, looking ready to march right on out of Dumbledore's office and into the Gryffindor Tower, pulling kids out of their beds to yell at them. "Students aren't allowed to do that!"

"Yeah, well, they learned that pretty quickly." Iris snorted. "Showed them just how courageous I was, taking on all five of them. The Quidditch team didn't even manage to get up fully to come defend me before I made sure no one in the common room at that moment would ever come to me with such rubbish again. In hindsight," Iris added, tilting her head thoughtfully, "I probably only confirmed their fears of me, but whatever."

"Well, they should fear you!" Salazar said. "Couldn't even imagine... not fearsome, my heir?"

"I will speak to them," McGonagall said. "And if they —"

"Honestly, don't bother," Iris said defeatedly. "You know they won't listen. Just let them. The only people who are okay with me now are Hermione, Fay, the Quidditch team, and I suppose all the Weasleys. Ron's being all awkward about the whole lesbian thing, but he'll come around."

"Awkward?" repeated McGonagall. "Did his mother not teach him better than that? If Molly heard —"

"No, no. He just fancies me is all." Iris felt awkward talking about this with McGonagall and Dumbledore, even more so with all the portraits listening in. "Look, no amount of talking to them will work. I've tried. I tried in my second year and I've tried now, offering help to firsties, being nice in general to people, but — but — well, it just doesn't work. And it's not like I'm being insincere with my help. I do enjoy helping people, you know I do — well, when I'm not feeling particularly lazy, but still.

"And it's not like I was always causing trouble. I mean, look at my first year. I didn't go looking for that troll. I was just comforting Hermione when it lumbered in. Ron locked us in, didn't he?"

"Excuse me?" said McGonagall. "Miss Granger told me —"

Iris stopped her. "That was the beginning of Hermione's life of lies and mischief. Hm," she said to herself, "this isn't really helping my point. But no, really, I was just trying to keep Hagrid out of Azkaban with the dragon. And I felt like I had no choice but to go after the Philosopher's Stone myself. And despite all that, despite not acting out, not causing trouble for my own gain, I still got the short end of the stick, didn't I? Nearly beaten to death by Quirrell, and then vilified by the school the following year. And after three years of it, I'm just sick of it all. If I'm going to get thrown into all kinds of trouble anyway, I'm not going to just lay down and take it. Honestly, if I did that, I'd have really gone dark — or I would just brood constantly, and that's even worse —"

Iris felt a hand on her shoulder and looked over to see Dumbledore smiling down at her. He held out her bag that she had left on the floor. Iris took it, thinking it was Dumbledore's gentle way of telling her she needed to stop rambling and get the hell out.

"I understand," Dumbledore said. "I am well aware of what other paths you could have taken. Why do you think I tolerate your, ah, disobedience."

Iris looked down. "I figure if I just go along with it, y'know, that maybe they'll see it as a big joke. It's not like I cut an intimidating figure or anything," she muttered. "And then there's Voldemort. I think he'd have a jolly good laugh at hearing his nemesis took his title from him, don't you?"

McGonagall sighed. "Come, Potter, let us go."

"Fawkes, if you will," Dumbledore said, gesturing to Iris and McGonagall.

Before Iris was ready, she felt Fawkes touch her with the tip of his wing and she pulled in his direction, felt heat envelop her entire body — heat that was only just bearable enough, and then she was standing, quite upright to her surprise, in a long, wide, and packed hallway of sorts.

As soon as she appeared right in the center of the Atrium, her and McGonagall, likely dramatically, everybody nearby stopped what they were doing — lowering the Daily Prophet mid-page, pausing mid-step, stopping their conversations mid-sentence — and turned to stare at her: Iris Potter, Girl Who Lived, a phoenix on her shoulder — not a common sight, even Iris had to admit. She thought about asking McGonagall to Transfigure Fawkes's plumage to black to fit the whole Dark Lady thing, but decided against it.

McGonagall led the way.

More and more people paused what they were doing as her and McGonagall's presence split the Atrium in half, reminding Iris of Moses and his little water trick. She couldn't help but let her mind wander to religious figures and if they were really just incredibly dramatic wizards.

When she reached a security desk, Fawkes still on her shoulder, a man in blue robes raised his hand to stop them from continuing.

"We're here for house-elf registration," McGonagall said, handing over her wand. Iris mimicked her actions. "And apparently for some hair-brained scheme of Potter's."

Iris smiled awkwardly at the security wizard, whose eyes did the typical flick up to her forehead. "I'm announcing my plan for world domination, you see. It's quite brilliant —"

"Potter."

"Right, sorry, Professor, I don't really like being surrounded by so many idiots, makes me say stupid things —"

"Potter."

The security wizard examined both of their wands, and after a suspicious look at Iris, let the two of them through. Iris eyed the Daily Prophet newspaper on the security desk as she walked past.

To her surprise, and joy, McGonagall and her ran into Rita Skeeter, who was no doubt holding back from drooling at the possibility of another story about her.

"Iris! How wonderful to see you!"

"I'm afraid Miss Potter is quite busy at the moment, Rita," McGonagall said coldly. "We have business to attend to. Thank you."

"Oh?" Rita Skeeter said, letting the two pass but catching up quickly. "What kind of business? Iris, there are quite a few rumors about the second task —"

"Of me being a dark witch?" Iris said before McGonagall's glare could turn the reporter into a pile of ash. "Yes, I suppose the secret is out, isn't it? But it's not like people will take me seriously now, will they? I think… yes, I think if I just keep my head down, that eventually, I'll be able to make my move."

"Your move?" Rita Skeeter breathed, her eyes lighting up with some kind of twisted joy.

McGonagall huffed. "Potter —"

"Well, yeah," Iris said lightly. "Voldemort's gone, Grindelwald's gone — true, Grindelwald didn't declare himself a Dark Lord, but either way, I figure it's time for a Dark Lady to eventually rise up, don't you? Of course, I wouldn't kill innocents, but still — there would definitely be change."

McGonagall stopped in her tracks and stared at Iris in disbelief, as did Rita Skeeter, but Skeeter's stare held something else in too, eyes that spoke of the numerous opportunities this declaration by Iris would offer her. But as they turned a corner into a corridor where only two wizards were, neither paying attention, Iris grabbed Rita Skeeter and leaned in close, as though to tell her sensitive information. Her wand slipped right in Rita Skeeter's open robes, and in Rita's ear, she whispered quietly, "Stupefy."

As she fell, Iris grabbed her and gently placed her on a bench near the wall. McGonagall was still staring in disbelief, her brain apparently not being able to catch up with what had just happened.

"Shall we continue, Professor?"

It was a testament to how much people hated Rita Skeeter as much others loved her; McGonagall only took another moment to stare at Rita's unconscious form before she took Iris by the elbow and led her away.

Iris took in McGonagall's thin lips. "Don't worry," she said, "she'll end up writing a nasty article about me, not press charges."

"That I know, Potter." McGonagall led the two toward an elevator. "I hope you know what you are doing."

In the elevator ride, Iris convinced McGonagall to convince whoever needed convincing to let her bypass the law with minors and house-elves because of the fact she was in the Triwizard Tournament.

"You had to be of age to get entered into the tournament," Iris told her, "so unless we can get me out of this tournament I've been forced into, it's only fair that I should be able to do something a grown witch could do. I mean, I could be asking for full emancipation. Oh, can I do that?"

She couldn't.

"You are far too clever for your own good," McGonagall said weakly as they stepped out onto a new floor.

They registered Winky first. It had taken about half an hour of sitting in a room with McGonagall while the Ministry employee went to see if her Triwizard Tournament reasoning would let her bypass the law since she was underage. It was rather awkward, sitting there with McGonagall, who clearly didn't want to be there, answering the odd question about her schoolwork here and there.

And then Iris had wanted to move on to the Heir of Slytherin business.

This had been an even harder sell, she had to admit, but in the end, she had managed to convince McGonagall that it would be the ultimate, final fuck you to Voldemort and the Death Eaters. She hadn't used that language, of course, but McGonagall had reluctantly agreed. This process took about five minutes. A Ministry employee took her blood, confirmed her as the Heir of Slytherin, and they all moved on. Iris wondered how long it would take for that to leak out. Would it even, ever?

And then it was to Gringotts — to take a visit to her vault, get a key specifically for Winky, and file her house-elf down with the goblins so Winky wouldn't be killed, cooked, and eaten by them should she try to visit the Potter vault.

The reaction in Diagon Alley was much like that of the Atrium. As Iris and McGonagall appeared in a small explosion of flames next to Ollivander's shop, the numerous wizards and witches nearby stopped to stare. She ignored them. She turned the corner leading away from the short alleyway that led to Ollivander's shop and headed straight to Gringotts.

She strolled past the goblin guards and directly into the bank, finding herself in awe, as usual when she entered Gringotts, of the vast marble hall, the marble walls, and the absurd amount of golden things.

She came across a goblin immediately. "Ah, Griphook!"

The goblin stopped, and looked up at Iris in what she thought was surprise. "Griphook?" he repeated. "My name is not Griphook."

Iris grimaced and rubbed the back of her neck. "I keep doing that, don't I?"

"Potter," sighed McGonagall. "Let us get this over with."

"Right, can you help us or are you busy?" Iris asked the goblin. "I need to visit both the Potter and Slytherin vault, please."

"Slytherin vault?" the goblin repeated, sounding puzzled.

Iris nodded. "I am the Heir of Slytherin. I can prove it, if you —"

"There is no Slytherin vault," the goblin said flatly.

Iris frowned. "Did you lose it?"

"No," the goblin snarled, "there isn't a Slytherin vault. Gringotts was created over two centuries after Salazar Slytherin died. There has never been a Slytherin vault, you stupid cunt."

McGonagall pulled her away before she could reply.

Through a narrow, short hallway, then a long one, and Iris spent another ten minutes doing incredibly boring paperwork for Winky, who she had been forced to call again to give a vault key to. As for the vault itself —

Iris grimaced when she finally reached her vault and stepped inside. She had definitely spent too much money over the last year. She had cut her galleons in half, maybe more. She probably should have been a little more careful with her money, but it wasn't as though it was unexpected, really. She had never had money before Hogwarts, and to be suddenly given so much, and without any advice on how to manage it, it's really a surprise the goblins weren't knocking down her dormitory door to collect loans. Though, she doubted her roommates would be surprised.

After Gringotts, she had Fawkes Flame her and McGonagall back to Dumbledore's office. She found only Dumbledore there, and McGonagall left instantly, looking exhausted. Dumbledore looked up from his desk at McGonagall's departure, raising his eyebrows in question.

"It all went to plan. Sorta." Iris hesitated. "I'm sure it'll be fine. Have you ever done something incredibly stupid and have it work out in the end? It's stupidly incredible, isn't it, how satisfying it feels?"

"I can not say I am particularly satisfied concerning the abuse you went through," Dumbledore said, "but yes, I have had a horrible plan work out in the end."

Iris's satisfied smile slipped off her face. "Wow, you sure know how to kill a good mood."

Dumbledore's beard twitched slightly and he went back to reading a parchment over his long, crooked nose.

"Though," Iris continued, "if you knew what my plan was before you made Professor McGonagall come along, I really don't think you'd say your little plan worked out in the end. I even did something questionable with her there."

"Did you murder anyone?"

"Not today, no."

"Torture?"

"McGonagall, maybe."

"Then I say you have turned out better than I could have expected." Dumbledore looked at her with an odd expression, as though he was attempting to convince himself that his statement was true, or maybe he was thinking that Iris hadn't really been joking with her answers. A different voice spoke from the wall.

"So? Did you do it? Is it official?"

Iris looked up at Salazar. "Yes, I'm officially your heir. I'll also be the Dark Lady of Britain — maybe the world, I dunno, I didn't really specify when I told Rita Skeeter."

"Dark Lady? What?" Salazar looked at her in disbelief. "Are you telling me I turned my back to a Dark Lord only to give the future of my line to a Dark Lady?"

"Calm down, I have no plans on becoming immortal, ruling, or —"

"No plans of ruling? Why not?"

"What? You want me to rule but not be a Dark Lady?"

"There's a difference!"

"Iris, I do hope you were joking about it," Dumbledore said, sounding resigned, "but I'm under the impression that you really did declare yourself a Dark Lady."

"Well, not seriously. I just implied that one day I would, heavily. There were no witnesses outside of Professor McGonagall and Rita Skeeter. Rita will publish it and look like a joke."

"Just as you will," Dumbledore pointed out, glancing up at her for a moment.

Iris snorted. "I am a joke."

"I suppose it would be best if they viewed you as a joke rather than a cunning dark witch," Dumbledore said tiredly.

Iris nodded. "Alright, well, I'm going."

"Iris?"

Iris stopped her walk to the door and turned around, looking expectantly at Dumbledore.

"It is very easy for an environment to shape a person," he said gravely, "to mold them into becoming someone they might not want to become… and you, of all people, have been pushed, pressured, and tempted in ways no other student, I think, have been pushed, pressured, and tempted. But you have persevered in manners of which I could not even begin to fully appreciate, in ways that no one, no one but you, could possibly understand. I tell you now, Iris, do not forget who you are, no matter what terrible nightmares tell you."

"A bit difficult to forget who I am, headmaster," Iris said, a product of the wizarding world, the thought finished in her head.

Author's Notes:

The chapter officially ends here, but there are two omakes below. They aren't meant to be taken seriously. Picture it not as what would have happened if Iris went alone, but rather what Iris thinks would happen if she went alone.

Omake 1

What If?

She walked through the Atrium as though she was having a casual afternoon stroll. More and more people paused what they were doing as her very presence split the Atrium in half, reminding Iris of Moses and his little water trick. She couldn't help but let her mind wander to religious figures and if they were really just incredibly dramatic wizards.

When she reached the security desk, Fawkes still on her shoulder, a man in blue robes stood up and raised his hand to stop her from continuing. She didn't think he was even a head taller than her.

"I need to see the Minister," Iris said in a tone that suggested she owned the place.

The security wizard frowned. "Who are you to think you can just waltz on in to see the Minister of Magic?" He looked her up and down, stopping his stare on Iris's breasts for a moment too long, as Iris was not wearing her loose robes. Iris did not miss it.

"Iris Potter, I suppose," she said, shrugging lightly. The man's eyes bulged slightly, and she thought she saw his hand twitch slightly toward his robes, as though to pull out a wand. "I'm sure Cornelius will have time to see me."

"I — well — I still can't let you just walk on in without a security check and to see what you want here."

It was Iris's turn to frown now. "I just told you. I need to talk with Cornelius, maybe you can lead me to his office? Minister Fudge, in case you're uncertain — I forget not everyone is on first name basis with the Minister —"

"I know what the Minister's first name is," the security wizard snapped. "I just don't think you, Potter, should be alone with him," he added snidely.

Iris eyed the Daily Prophet newspaper on the security desk. There was no getting around this man by convincing him. There was no convincing anyone who believed in the Daily Prophet. She had learned this the hard way. It was time for a new approach.

"Can you toss up a spell so that no one overhears us?" Iris asked. The man's eyes narrowed. "Unless you want everybody to overhear sensitive information…"

Reluctantly, the man flicked his wand and Iris felt the feeling of some kind of charm falling into place. When the security wizard began talking again, after placing his wand back in his robes, Iris took a few steps back as he was in mid-sentence, and sure enough, though his mouth kept moving, she could not hear him. Satisfied, she stepped back inside.

"You know, they say galleons can open any door," she said, taking out a bag of galleons.

The security wizard looked at her in disbelief. "You think you can bribe me?" he said, pulling out his wand again. "Get out of here, girl, before I —"

Iris swung the bag of galleons at the man, hitting him square in the temple, dropping him instantly. Fawkes pecked at her irritably, as her swing had nearly knocked him off her shoulder.

She stared at his unconscious body for a moment before she noticed the sudden silence. She looked around and saw nearly everyone staring at her in shock, fear, and surprise. She gave a little nod to herself as she decided on doing what she had planned, here, now. Iris raised her own wand to her throat and cast the Amplifying Charm, then stepped outside the charm the security wizard had placed, just in case. She was pleased to see Rita Skeeter. The reporter looked as though she had been interviewing some Ministry employee.

Iris cleared her throat.

"I am officially declaring myself as a Dark Lady! Thought you'd oughta know."

She cancelled the charm and stepped over the security wizard, intending to find Fudge herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rita Skeeter running to a Floo Network fireplace, squibbling away on some parchment as she walked. Many others had lost their look of apprehension, replaced by clear amusement.

It was already working.

And then, Cornelius Fudge himself showed.

"What's this, what's this?" he shouted, making his way to her. He only recognized her when he was a few steps away. "Merlin's beard! Iris? What are you — why is Eric Munch on the floor — is that a phoenix? — will someone please explain what is — was that you? Declaring yourself a Dark Lady?" he asked incredulously.

"No, that was some hag." Iris shrugged. "Honestly, Minster, me? Dark Lady? I'm tiny. I was here to get some things done, you see, and Mr. Munch here asked me my name after checking my wand. Well, I told him my name and he simply passed out." Iris shook her head regretfully. "Must have been the shock, sir."

Fudge stared at her for a moment, then removed his wand from his robes and looked ready to revive the security wizard, but Iris stopped him.

"Minister, perhaps it's best if he's revived when I'm not in the area." Iris looked around before speaking again. "He might pass out again, you see… Say, you like pineapple, don't you?"

Fudge blinked at this sudden turn in the conversation.

"It's just that Honeydukes gave me a new sweet to try out, but I've never been the biggest fan of pineapple, you see, and I've just remembered — I remember you mentioning something about pineapples the summer before last." Iris took a wrapped candy out of her pocket, along with a galleon, and offered them to Fudge. "A galleon, in case you want to buy yourself some more."

Iris knew he wouldn't; it would probably taste horrible once the pineapple-flavored coating she had put on wore off. And once it did, there was a chance he'd just spit it out and the effect of what was really inside wouldn't hit him.

"I — well, I don't see why not," he said, grabbing the galleon greedily. He unwrapped the hard candy, examined it for a moment, and then tossed it in his mouth. Iris's smile widened as he began to suck on the frozen Confusion Concoction.

What an idiot.

If it worked, and she wasn't sure it would, he would act as though a mild Confundus Charm had been placed on him, and maybe, hopefully, susceptible to following along with Iris. She was fairly certain Hermione had believed she was joking when she told her the fake candy would get her tossed into Azkaban if anyone ever found out about it.

"Say, maybe it's best we do a Memory Charm on him," Iris said. "What do you say?"

"W-what? A Memory Charm?" blustered Fudge, and in his attempt to speak loudly, he choked on the candy. Iris did nothing to help, as this was more than she could have hoped for. Fudge swallowed the candy instead of attempting to cough it back up. "Why in the name of Merlin would we do that? There's no reason to — was that really pineapple? It tasted odd going down."

Iris shrugged. "Dunno, take it to Honeydukes." She knew he wouldn't waste his time. "And… well, it wasn't as though he only stared at my scar." Iris looked pointedly at Fudge. "He… well, Minister, he sort of stared at me all over, you understand? Even licked his lips — quite disturbing, given how young I am. Then he saw my scar and he must've realized he had just been caught staring at the body of a girl who actually means something. You have to wonder how many times he's done so before with girls he thinks are unimportant. Maybe it's best we just make him forget it ever happened, then you can have someone question him later."

"I — I —" Fudge looked uncertain as to what to do, and Iris felt a stab of disgust over the complete incompetence of not just the Minister, but the Ministry. Still, even as they watched Iris blatantly manipulate their own Minister, no one stepped up. Maybe the privacy charm this Munch bloke had put up was still there. "But surely not, Iris! I mean to say — Eric Munch! He's always been a decent wizard —"

"Mm." Iris nodded her head. "No surprise, really. Rita Skeeter seems like a decent witch, does she not? But appearances can be deceiving, you know. If she saw you here now, she'd spin some tale about you frequently talking to dark witches —"

"She's already done that before," Fudge said unhappily.

Iris nodded again. "Gilderoy Lockhart? Had everybody convinced he was some hero, did he not? And now look at him… wherever he is," she added uncertainly. "Quirinus Quirrell had everybody convinced he was a decent wizard too, but then he went and died, trying to steal something valuable from Dumbledore. Both Defense Against the Dark Arts professors, actually."

She knew what Fudge was going to say before he did it. She was hoping for it. It would give her a chance to agree with what Fudge was saying, rather than the other way around.

"And Remus Lupin had everyone convinced he was perfectly normal, not at all dangerous," Fudge said, nodding knowingly. Iris hated to throw Lupin under the bus, but she nodded along.

"But you knew, didn't you, that Lupin was a werewolf... You didn't fall for it, even if Dumbledore vouched for him. Maybe she's not a Defense teacher at Hogwarts, but nonetheless, Minister, Rita Skeeter thrives on lies and causing mayhem. She's no different than the other two-faced liars that lie in wait everywhere," she whispered, leaning in close. "Why, there might be one near you right now."

Fudge nodded dumbly. Iris had to resist the urge to laugh and sneer at the same time. She could only hope that it was the Confusion Concoction at work, rather than his own stupidity.

"Of course, you wouldn't believe such rubbish, Minister, would you? Oh no." Iris laughed airily. "You know Ron Weasley, yes? Arthur Weasley's youngest son? Well, I'm dating him — have been since last year, actually. So I couldn't exactly be into girls, could I? No, if you ask me," she said, whispering again, as though she was sharing a secret, "Rita Skeeter was upset that I didn't have time to give her an exclusive interview — had to prepare for the first task, you see."

Fudge seemed unable to respond, as though Iris was giving him too much information too fast and his brain simply could not process it all quick enough. Truth be told, Iris was getting a bit tired of this too. It was a bit exhausting to keep up this cheery, Lockhart-esque facade. She wondered how Lockhart managed to do it.

"And all the other nonsense Skeeter has written," Iris continued, "what with me being dark and everything? It's just ridiculous. My best friend is a muggle-born, my boyfriend a pure-blood, me a half-blood; you're of course aware of the fact I was the one responsible for stopping that Chamber of Secrets business two years ago; and I have a phoenix, a light creature by my side at this very moment! I mean, really, the only reason I can speak Parseltongue is because I defeated You-Know-Who! Didn't you know, Minster?" she asked when Fudge looked even more befuddled than she thought possible.

She took him by the arm and led him away, signaling who she thought was an Obliviator to perform a Memory Charm on the security wizard, but only after slipping Fudge a bag of galleons, which he was too busy staring at to notice anything.

"You see, Minister, Salazar Slytherin didn't want his ability to speak to snakes to die out, so he made it so that if his blood should ever be killed, the Parseltongue ability would pass on. Which is why I, Iris Potter, Girl Who Lived, Vanquisher of the Dark Lord, possess the ability."

Honesty was overhyped.

"We found his portrait, you see. It's in Dumbledore's office now, actually, you can confirm it yourself. Slytherin told me all this himself. You were in Slytherin yourself, were you not, Minister?" Iris wasn't sure if he really was, but his ambition and desperate need for staying in power made Slytherin the most likely house. "Meeting the man himself, or rather his portrait, is something we can definitely arrange, you know."

Did she lay it on a little thick? No. Did she lay it on really thick? Most definitely. But the fact that she was minutes later having Fudge personally get everything sorted out for Winky to legally be her house-elf was just proof of how much of a completely brain-dead moron he was; simply overload his brain with information, toss in a few galleons, and promise to put in a good word for him the next time she talked to the Delacour family, who were, in Iris's made-up world, good friends with the French Minister of Magic.

She hadn't even made anything up about some donation. She had simply shoved the bag of galleons into his hands and that was enough. It was no wonder Lucius Malfoy had no troubles getting close with the Minster. Using the galleons, and perhaps the Confusion Concoction, she had convinced Fudge to let her bypass the law with minors and house-elves because of the fact she was in the Triwizard Tournament.

"You had to be of age to get entered into the tournament," Iris told him, "so unless we can get me out of this tournament I've been forced into, it's only fair that I should be able to do something a grown witch could do. I mean, I could be asking for full emancipation. Ridiculous, wouldn't it be?" she added when Fudge chuckled, half-nervously, half-warily. "Fully emancipated because of something like this, but goodness, I don't know if the public would agree — you know how the public gets, all indignant, offended, they just don't understand, do they? Never handled laws like you have, have they?"

Of course, Fudge would likely soon find out that Iris had played him. He would soon hear the truth of how it was her that had declared herself a Dark Lady, and would begin questioning everything else Iris had said, begin questioning those who had stood by and done nothing.

But as of now, he was agreeing to making it official: Iris Potter, Heir of Slytherin.

It had been a hard sell, she had to admit, but in the end, she had managed to convince Fudge that it would be the ultimate, final fuck you to Voldemort and the Death Eaters. She hadn't used that language, of course, and she had made sure to say You-Know-Who rather than Voldemort, but yes, in the end, Iris walked out of the Ministry of Magic with Winky as her house-elf, as the Heir of Slytherin, and as the Dark Lady of Britain. Or rather Flamed out, as Fawkes had brought her to Diagon Alley from Fudge's office.

Omake 2

Goblins

She came across a goblin immediately. "Ah, Griphook!"

The goblin stopped, and looked up at Iris in what she thought was clear amazement. "Griphook?" he repeated.

Iris smiled down at him. "You took me to my vault first time I visited it. I couldn't forget your name, could I?"

"My name?" the goblin growled. "My name is not Griphook."

Iris frowned. "Really? I'm pretty sure it is."

The goblin's nostrils flared. "My name is Roknuk, you racist —"

"Roknuk!" another goblin shouted, and he began speaking Gobbledegook to Griphook. After a quick but heated argument, that resulted in the first goblin storming away, the new goblin turned to Iris. "What can I help you with?"

"Several things," Iris said. "I need to visit my vault, register my house-elf with Gringotts so she can visit my vault for me, and get a key for said house-elf."

"Very well, and what is your name?"

"Potter — Iris Potter."

She thought she saw the goblin's face twitch, but he nodded slowly, looking as though he was in pain from having to help her out. "I see. Come, Iris Potter."

Iris smiled. "Thank you, Griphook."

There was no doubt about it this time; the goblin's face definitely twitched with something, likely a desire to brutally murder her. The goblin led her to a private room where Iris spent a long, agonizing five minutes filling out a form and calling Winky. Winky had nearly fainted again when Iris had told her she was officially registered with the Ministry and Gringotts as her house-elf.

"Thank you, mistress, thank you!" she squealed. "And Winky is thanking you too, master goblin! But Winky is not knowing your name —"

"Griphook," Iris said helpfully.

"Winky is thanking you, Griphook!" Winky squeaked, and she disappeared from the room before the goblin could say anything. So instead, the goblin took to glaring at Iris.

"So, can I visit my vault now?" Iris asked. "Both the Potter and Slytherin vault, please."

"Slytherin vault?" the goblin repeated, sounding puzzled.

Iris nodded. "I am the Heir of Slytherin. I can prove it, if you —"

"There is no Slytherin vault," the goblin said flatly.

Iris frowned. "Did you lose it?"

"No," the goblin snarled, "there isn't a Slytherin vault. Gringotts was created over two centuries after Salazar Slytherin died. There has never been a Slytherin vault, you stupid cunt."

"I knew that." Iris hadn't known that at all. "So, are you going to be taking me to my vault? Why are you staring at me like that? You're not going to take me to your king again, are you? I don't think he likes me."

"You called him a disfigured midget!" the goblin exclaimed.

"No," Iris said slowly, "I called goblins in general disfigured midgets. It just happened to be in his presence. Really, it's not my fault he happened to be taking his lunch break."

"Griphook will be here soon," the goblin said, ignoring her comment.

"How many Griphooks do you people have?"

He ignored this too. He opted to stare over Iris's head with a blank expression instead, deciding not to rise to Iris's bait. She was disappointed. Bantering with the goblins was a favorite pastime of hers. They had called it steps toward waging war with wizards, but Iris knew they secretly enjoyed it. A minute or two later, another goblin came in, the one that was going to take her to her vault, presumably.

"Ah, Griphook, is it?" Iris said, standing up and walking away from the other goblin. "Fantastic. I need you to —"

"I am not Griphook," he said, frowning. "I will be taking you to Griphook, however."

And so he did. Through a narrow, short hallway, then a long hall, and Iris was listening to the two goblins talk in their language. The goblin that had led her here walked away, leaving Iris with the new goblin. He didn't look any different than the time he had brought Iris to her vault the very first time she had visited Gringotts.

"Evening, Knutsack!" she said, patting him on the head.

"My name is Griphook," he said in a flat tone, "as you very well know, Iris Potter. And the next time call me that, I will cut off your tongue. The next time you pat my head, I will cut off your hand."