Author's Notes:
This chapter is incomplete. The reason is because I'm done with this version of the story. I'm starting a new story which will still have Iris and her characterization, but will also be vastly different. It's not exactly a rewrite, as many things won't happen for the first three years as they did in canon. In this story, things happened mostly the same as canon. It was just very minor details that were different. For the new one, many things that happen in Iris Potter and the Goblet's Surprise will simply not be possible when we reach fourth year again.
The new one will start at near the end of second year and go from there to the Quidditch World Cup. The sequel will start in fourth year.
Any upset this decision might cause is quite understandable. I do apologize, and I do understand the frustration. However, I was largely unsatisfied with a lot of this when I reread it myself. I wanted to begin a rewrite (or whatever you'd call it) much earlier, but I didn't out of respect for my readers. But as I kept writing what I felt was unsatisfying, my enthusiasm kept fading — not because I didn't care for Iris's story, but because the mistakes and flaws of the past chapters kept bouncing around in my head. This was my very first story on here, and it honestly started awful. It's been through many rewrites, so many of you probably have no idea. I'm talking certain cliches up the ass, making Iris look incredibly special with violet eyes and whatnot, and general "What the hell was I thinking?" moments.
Chapter 15
The Legacy of Salazar
Depths of Hogwarts...
Iris stood in the center of the potions lab in the Chamber of Secrets, leaning against one of the stone pillars that separated the lab into two: one side dedicated to the growing of ingredients, with a worn cobbled floor, plants and vines hanging off the walls and ceiling, all very much like a small cave; the other more furnished and homely, with its new looking tan tiles, its cleaner tables, chairs, and equipment, and with a small library tucked away in the corner.
"Well, Salazar, here I am," Iris announced to the empty room. "I know I made you wait, but if you made me come down here as a joke, I will —"
She stopped suddenly, for even through her own voice, her hears picked up a muffled voice, a sort of rambling if she had to describe it, coming from beneath the balcony that led back to the rest of the Chamber.
She moved closer, pausing her breathing as she listened, as she put her ear up against the stone wall, in between the two torches which now reminded Iris of an entrance; she didn't know how she didn't see it before, the torches being placed at a perfect length from each other, as though a door was supposed to be in between; it looked remarkably like where a doorway should be. The only thing missing was the door itself.
"Salazar?"
"Place — blood — on — the — wall!" came the muffled voice of Salazar Slytherin. He sounded annoyed.
Iris let out a sigh as she took out her wand. Blood again. She was bleeding a disturbing amount this year. It was no wonder, really, that she was acting out again. She would rather act out, act happy, break rules, break laws, all of it rather than fall into depression. Still, she felt she had pushed it the day before. Thinking back on it, she was sure Dumbledore had been somewhat tired with her behavior. Hermione had been told of what she had done with Minister Fudge. She hadn't been pleased. She wasn't mad, necessarily, but rather disappointed and scared — scared that Iris was finally past the point of harmless mischief, and finally into the territory that could get her into real trouble, trouble not even Dumbledore could protect her against.
As she smeared her own blood against the stone wall, a doorway immediately began to shape itself into existence. A large wooden door with a round top formed between the torches. She pushed it open.
It was pleasing to the eye, to say the least.
The room was circular, or rather like an octagon with its eight walls — it looked partly like an office, a private library, and a common room.
Directly across from the entrance to this room was the archway that led to the lake that Salazar. Iris found it beautiful, the way the lake somehow glowed blue from here, showering the room with the color; fish and merpeople swum by, the latter pausing to stare at her with curiosity. Looking up, she saw a simple chandelier and that there were also eight circular windows, one on each wall, at the very top, all barred with horizontal and vertical rods.
She spun around to look at the window directly behind her, and stared. From the archway leading into the lake she could see that this room was resting on the very bottom of the lake. If she had just come from the potions lab, the entrance to this room being directly under a balcony, how in the world did this room look as though it wasn't connected to anything at all? The ceiling rose about thirty feet high. The balcony and the room beyond it must have only been half of that, so it was quite literally impossible for this room to exist the way it did.
She chalked it up to magic and moved on, taking in the rest of the room.
There were eight walls, or what would be eight walls if one of them wasn't mostly an archway leading to the lake. The rightmost wall had a large desk, and above it was a notice board, just as tall and wide. There were few items posted upon it. The two walls to the side of this one contained bookcases built into the wall itself, nearly as wide as the individual walls themselves and reaching to half the height of the ceiling, ending with a rounded top.
Iris looked around for a ladder, but could not see one; she wasn't sure how she was supposed to reach the books at the very top, or really, any of the books on top half of these bookcases. There were also two bookcases in the same positions on the other side of the room. The books looked just as ancient as the ones in the other two.
And on the wall opposite of the one with the table and board, a grand fireplace lay, and directly above the mantel, another portrait of Salazar Slytherin. He sat in his chair, nodding to himself as though he was incredibly pleased with Iris's awe.
Other than the four large bookcases, the magnificent stone fireplace, the table, board, and archway, there were a few chairs and small tables scattered about. Iris spotted a chessboard on one side table, an elegant hourglass on another, and slightly surprisingly, a pipe next to it.
"Okay, fine, you win. This is bloody fantastic. I thought — I thought the view into the lake would be terrible, with how murky it looks from above ground, but it's incredibly clear," Iris said, awed by just how blue the glow from the archway was.
"Mhm. Did you doubt the magical prowess of Salazar Slytherin?" the portrait said.
Iris shrugged, giving a noncommittal jerk of her head. "Honestly? I thought you were a bit of a nutter."
"Naturally, naturally," Salazar said, sounding much more calm and self-controlled than his usual self. She also noticed the way he was sitting, more of a kind of natural but confident swagger to it. He looked particularly impressive with the way the light from the lake bathed him in a blue glow. "Surprised, are you? What, did you think I was going to appear as I do now up above? Where the portraits listen in, ready to tell the headmaster anything he would like to know? Oh no, my dear."
Iris's jaw really did drop now. "You mean — no, you were completely —"
"Eccentric?" Salazar said impressively. "Oh, it wasn't all an act. I do enjoy lightening up and the occasional banter — naturally, who doesn't? — but no, Iris, I am not the, as you say, nutter as all but you now think. But it was not without reason. Do you think I would have wasted my chance? Waste my chance to become involved with the world once more through a prodigy that wouldn't besmirch my name further than it already has, that would make me proud as all those before you have failed to do? Do you think I would have thrown it all away by truly being the fool?"
Iris stared at him with a kind of reluctant respect. "You sly, sly bastard."
Salazar smirked smugly. "When Dumbledore told me of you, of your achievements, your Parseltongue ability, I knew. I knew that I had the chance to not only clean up my reputation, but to do what was taken from me by the other three — to teach. Muggle-borns, no, perhaps I didn't want to teach them, not back then anyway. You know this already. I will never be able to teach a classroom full of students, no, but I will be more than glad with assisting you in achieving world domination."
"I'm not going to try for world domination, you great git."
He ignored her. "Act the fool, act the fool all you would like, but do not be the fool," Salazar said wisely. "You took a similar approach as me, did you not? Your goal was to act like such a fool that the rumors of darkness festering inside you will die out. Not what I would have done, but it worked! Or did it? No, really, I haven't the slightest clue."
Iris smiled weakly. "Rita Skeeter gave another article about it, and yeah, she's sorta a joke now — here in Hogwarts, at least."
She lifted her bag to her stomach and rummaged through it, pulling out the Daily Prophet after a moment. She flipped past the first two pages and then held it up for Salazar to see it.
"Iris Potter declares herself a Dark Lady?" Salazar read. "Witch Queen? You named yourself —"
"No, of course not. She did." Iris tossed the Daily Prophet into the fireplace and then pointed her wand toward it. "Incendio. She made up something about me deciding that would be the name I'd go by once I was older. I'm not sure how Rita managed to get the Daily Prophet to publish it. I'm not even sure why Rita herself wrote it. No one's taking it seriously."
"Looks as though they've had some reservations about it," Salazar said. "Wasn't on the front page, was it? And your plan worked, I suppose. This reporter will think twice before publishing something else about you…" They fell into silence for a moment. "Witch Queen, eh? I like it. There was once a Wizard King."
"Wizard King?" Iris looked up at Salazar, skeptical.
"Didn't live during or before my time," Salazar admitted. He hesitated in continuing. "I had Dumbledore get a house-elf to read me a few history books. I wanted to catch up on the world. A dark wizard, named Aurelius Evermore, once named himself Wizard King, wanting to be thought of as the king of all wizards — attempted to become immortal. Took two hundred years, but he fell. But I suppose the name does sound a bit negative, Witch Queen, makes you seem a bit dark..."
"I'm a silly little child now, actually," Iris said, nodding to the burning paper, "who throws temper tantrums. Better than being evil, I suppose. I honestly don't really care anymore. I just want to survive this tournament. I'm done with expectations, the public opinion, and all that nonsense."
"Then — let — me — help," Salazar urged, looking at her fiercely. "I will no longer act the fool, not around you. We will jest, we will laugh, we will not take everything seriously, but you will let me guide you, let me teach you. You can decline, of course, but why do that? You are playing with giants, and each are pulling an arm…"
Iris paled slightly, the blue glow from the lake making it impossible for Salazar to see. "I didn't say that. That was my — my other self, and how do you know that? Did Dumbledore recite the entire thing to you all?"
"No, he simply placed your memory of it into his Pensieve."
"He has a copy of my memory of the event?"
"See, this is why I don't trust him."
"What?" Iris said. "I don't find it suspicious, I just think it's weird that the whole thing was recorded and kept."
"He played the memories of the other champions as well. Theirs weren't nearly as exciting. Well, no," Salazar admitted, "Warrington attempting to hide as a hydra destroyed Hogwarts was most entertaining. Thank the gods I didn't acquire one for the lake."
Iris shook her head. "I think I might have been your heir before we did the blood ritual. Throwing a hydra in the lake would be something I'd do. You didn't really think about doing it? You know they're considered the biggest magical creature on the planet, right? Magical and non-magical, actually. Your basilisk was enormous and it would have been a good meal for a hydra, wouldn't it?"
Salazar shrugged. "The size depends. Just as it would a basilisk. Some don't grow any larger than a manticore, some become as large as the one Warrington faced, bigger than the castle itself. There's no way to tell how large they'd grow — thus, my hesitation."
"Thank god they like the deep sea," Iris said, resisting a shudder.
There were few magical creatures that really frightened her, that she really wouldn't fancy meeting — for the first time or simply again: basilisks, manticores, dragons, and hydras were some of them. She was sure there were numerous more, but she had only researched magical creatures that had a chance to pop up in the tournament; she only had faint knowledge of other truly frightening monsters and atrocities such as aswangs, wendigos, or draugr, all much more rare than the typical magical creature.
Iris sat down heavily in a chair, sighing. "I can't."
"Can't what?"
"I can't give you what you're asking for," Iris said. "I'm tired. Not just from yesterday, though that was a downright mess, but from everything. I'm not even halfway through this tournament and all I want to do is just sleep for a month. All the training I've been doing, it's bloody exhausting."
"I am not asking you to spent every evening here studying," Salazar said, sounding indifferent. "Do you think the way to greatness is through constantly pushing yourself? No, that is how you stretch yourself thin and eventually snap." Salazar snapped his fingers for emphasis. "But you're on that path nonetheless."
"What are you talking about? Besides figuring out the clue for the third task, I haven't been putting much effort into anything — besides Transfiguration, but that's because I've been getting pretty good at it and McGonagall is no longer being a complete —"
"You misunderstand," Salazar said, and his tone was only slightly gentle. "I meant what I said. You act the fool, but you are not the fool. But the act has gone too far, and you know it. There isn't one way to break yourself. You needn't stretch yourself thin to snap. What you are doing, acting the fool, burying yourself in jests to hide the pain, the anger, the trauma, it will all come crashing down eventually."
Iris squirmed in her seat. "I don't know if I like you being all nice and caring. It's weird."
"Listen to me," he said more forcefully. "Burying the suffering, the rage, the stress — will — not — work. I just told you this, and what is it you do? You joke. I do not say this because I despise humor, you know I do not, but I would rather not see you break under the pressure. You are attempting to dilute the unpleasant by adding falsities, and eventually it will all spill out of the bowl, leaving you with a mess. You must find a new way to deal with it. Drain it, toss the contents into the nearby plant, find yourself a new bowl. Do not attempt to dilute it, do not let it be overfilled, and do not drink it, for you will only sicken yourself until you become just as corrupt. Do you understand?"
"Odd analogy, but I suppose." Iris picked up a rook from the chessboard next to her and examined it. "It's nice here. It'll be kind of annoying covering that wall in my blood all the time, or even coming all the way down here."
Salazar watched her place her place the rook back and slump, as though defeated. "You have undoubtedly heard of the Room of Requirement? But naturally, you and your curiosity… Simply ask the room for a shortcut here. As long as you have my ring on your finger, you won't have a problem. This room isn't physically connected to the castle, as you have probably deducted by now. Your blood, or the ring, will allow you to travel through the passageway leading to this room through the Chamber of Secrets or the Room of Requirement."
Iris nodded, her eyelids drooping as her lack of sleep finally began to catch up with her. It was so nice here, the blue glow, the peaceful ambience, the warmth of the fire.
Salazar didn't stop her from drifting off to sleep… but as she did so, as sleep took her in its arms and pulled her toward the abyss, filled with what would undoubtedly be nightmares and terrible things, a distant thought crept out of the tight embrace.
The room, shaped like an octagon — this made her think of an octopus — and this made her think of another sea creature with many arms: a squid — and this made her think of the giant squid — and this made her think of the fact that the giant squid had eight arms and two tentacles — and this made her think of the golden egg's song, of how she would need to find a key in one of eight.
She woke sometime later, her last thoughts before drifting to sleep now seeming too far away to grasp and pull to her, to understand. It irritated her. She knew it was important, knew it likely had something to do with the tournament, some important clue, but the information evaded her, deftly dodging her attempted grabs like the fish and the merman beyond the archway that she blearily watched.
"You are awake."
Iris didn't look up at the portrait. She continued to watch the merman attempt to spear the fish, but to no success. "Yeah."
"I've thought of a solution. You have learned meditation, have you not? You have used it for your Animagus progress."
Iris groaned. "How do you even know that? I don't remember telling you —"
"You spoke of it in Dumbledore's office," Salazar said. "There are portraits there, are there not?"
"Speaking of," Iris said, "you said you were acting the fool, but the other portraits have heard you say certain things that you might not want Dumbledore to overhear."
"All things I'm fine with the headmaster hearing. It's best he acquires some information. Now, meditation. Enough of the foolishness. Meditate. Relieve your anger and pain through meditation. Godric had a habit of... raging. Typical Gryffindor behavior, really. Rowena made him meditate —"
"I'm not meditating," Iris said, her tone as firm as the merman's spear was now — impaled straight through the fish. As she stood, moving to the bookcases, examining the tomes carefully, she saw that though some of the tomes looked ancient, others looked somewhat newer — those likely put there by Voldemort when he was younger.
"What relieves stress then?" Salazar asked. "There has to be —"
"Fleur," Iris said simply. "Dunno if it's the veela thing or not, but the days I spend with her are… nice. I love Hermione, I really do, but I feel like I have to be careful of what I say around her sometimes, especially lately. I told her what my original plan was, to bribe and potion Fudge."
"Look at me."
Iris turned and looked at him, eyebrows raised at his stark tone.
"You are far too weak to resort to that of which can land you in prison. If you want me to tell you where the safe is, you will better yourself. Do you understand? Bribe and potion your Minister of Magic? And if you were caught? No," he said, somehow lightly and resolutely at the same time. "That is acting the fool. You must not become so. You must master yourself."
"Fine." Iris sighed. "Man, I just woke up and I'm already getting yelled at. I thought this place would be different than the dormitory."
"I was not yelling at you," Salazar said stiffly, clutching his staff closer once again. It was some odd kind of defensive gesture, Iris figured. "Don't you understand? I spent centuries down here alone. I could not move from my two portraits here to the ones above, not while they were down here, so I was left in silence and darkness. And then, Tom Riddle came. I was excited, hopeful, foolish, and when Tom Riddle left, I found myself disappointed, aghast, and feeling like a failure."
"And now you want to have another go," Iris said, "but with me this time."
"I will not deny that I would use you for my own gain, to wash away the tarnish and stains that have been left upon my name. But I will attempt to look after you as best I can, as though you were a child of — well, perhaps not, I've never been a great father figure, but —"
"I don't need to be looked after." Her tone was flat and emotionless. "I don't want to be some apprentice. I don't want to dedicate my life to clearing your name of — of whatever. I don't even plan to have a kid. I can't be a mother. I can't be what you want. I just told you what you wanted to hear. I can't believe it took me being told I would be looked after by you, of all people, for me to see what an idiot I am."
Iris laughed bitterly.
"You are not an idiot," Salazar said into the silence that followed. "Nor am I. I never expected you to be truthful. I never expected you to be my apprentice. I am only a portrait, and portraits can not train people."
"You just said you wanted to teach. Didn't you? That you'd settle for this?"
"And I can. I can teach, but I can not train. In the end, you must master yourself. There will be no nightly or weekly lessons. But you may come to me whenever you wish. I can lecture, I can talk to you, but I can not duel you — and for anything I say to matter, you must have someone to practice with."
"What, dueling?"
"I don't believe Tom will stop coming after you."
Iris snorted. "He's like eighty. He had over fifty years of experience and skill on me. I could spend the next five years training and I still wouldn't be able to beat him."
"But you would be able to hold your own, to defend yourself. There is no shame in that." Salazar took a weary breath. "Now, the safe. Not even Tom has opened it, he hasn't even known of it, and perhaps I will one day regret showing you, but if so, then I will simply accept that I have terrible luck and that I can't help but have dark witches and wizards fall into my hands."
Iris smiled a little.
"So," Salazar began, "how about you look through the safe? The ring, a few books — none of real importance, I was just too lazy to find their spots on the bookcase — and my own notes, and even another portrait that you can place where you'd like."
Iris examined his portrait, looking for any signs of wearing or damage. "How many portraits could you possibly need?"
"I was offered to have the paintings done for free." He clutched his staff close again, and Iris had to fight back a laugh at the ridiculous gesture. "Was I to decline?"
"Free, huh? Sounds like quality."
"It was quality!" Salazar threw his hands up impatiently. "Well? It's behind the notice board. Slide the lock holding the board in place, it's on the right side — yes, there you go, now pull it back —"
"Wow, an empty wall," Iris said as she let the notice board swing outward. "Quite impressive, Salazar."
"You need blood, you impudent —"
"Yes, yes, I'm on it," Iris said, already cutting open her skin for what felt like the hundredth time. "Crazy bastard," she muttered. "Just smear it on there?"
"Smear it, and as you smear, speak in Parseltongue and say smear."
"You've got to be kidding me."
"Just do it."
"Fine." And switching to Parseltongue, she hissed halfheartedly, "Smear."
"Withdraw your hand. And say reveal yourself."
"Reveal yourself."
"In Parseltongue."
"Reveal yourself."
And from the empty wall, just as the door leading here had simply sprung into existence, a rectangular door appeared. It was a simple, black, a single handle, nothing more.
"Cast the Levitation Charm on it," Salazar said.
"The Levitation Charm?" Iris looked over her shoulder at Salazar in confusion and incredulity. "Why? Do I need to lift it out of the wall?"
"It is another safety precaution," Salazar said imperiously. "The safe is charmed against magic, except for the lock, which can only have the Levitation Charm used upon it. Use it and the lock will lift, allowing you to pull the handle and therefore the door. The ring will allow you to bypass all these protections."
Iris turned her head back to the safe slowly, raising both hands as she did so. She placed her left hand on the handle and pointed the wand in her right hand at the safe. "Wingardium Leviosa."
There was a small clicking sound and Iris immediately pulled.
The most noticeable thing inside was the frame of what was likely a portrait. She pulled it out first, looking into the empty space where something would be drawn — and then, suddenly, making her drop the portrait in fright, Salazar's face popped into frame.
"What in the — did you just drop my portrait? My portrait?"
"The picture was empty!" Iris defended. "You just jumped into it randomly, what was I supposed to do?"
Ignoring Salazar's grumbling, Iris moved the portrait to lean against the table and fetched the four books that lay inside the vault. She looked at the cover of each one.
A Collection of Poems by Edwin Canton. ("I can see why you wanted to keep this one hidden away so securely."
Thou Shall Wish Death Upon Thyself if Thou Read These Writings! ("I'm not going to die if I open this one, am I?")
Compendium of Household Charms
Into the Black, a Guide to Black Magic ("What's wrong with you, Salazar?")
"Er — are many of the other books like this? Filled with necromantic rituals and eldritch truths that drive the readers into insanity?"
"Not all, no." Salazar looked to realize what he had just said, and added, "Well, none drive you into insanity. I wouldn't store one of those books here. What would be the point? Best leave those in the ancient parts of this world, I say. Some of these books are quite gruesome, though. Take a look at that Black Magic book, look what the cover and pages are made of."
"Yeah, no, I'm okay. Isn't Black Magic the official term for necromancy and similar things? The darkest of Dark Magic?" Then she realized what Salazar had said right before that. "Wait, there are actually books that make you go mad? I was only joking! Hermione reads those Lovecraft books, I… I…"
Iris paused and looked over to the book on Black Magic.
"That's not made out of human skin, is it?" she said, feeling the sudden urge to cut off her own hands to cleanse herself.
"Don't know," Salazar said lightly. "Maybe. It does feel rather odd, doesn't it? Touch it."
Iris ignored him, and resisting the urge to set the book on Black Magic on fire, she moved back to the safe. She pulled out an ancient looking notebook, another book hidden behind a large sack of something that jangled, titled The Most Advanced of Blood Sorcery, a small black box, and a wand that her magic seemed to be repulsed by.
"Is this your wand?"
"No," Salazar said quietly. "Throw it in the fire, Iris. I do not wish to see it anymore."
Iris frowned for a moment, staring down at the wand that she knew wouldn't work for her in the slightest, before she shrugged and tossed the wand into the fire. The fire exploded outward for a few seconds, making Iris fear that it might set something on fire — but it went back to normal.
"Hey, Salazar?" Iris asked, a sudden thought popping up in her head. "Think I should just leave Britain? Save myself the trouble?"
If you're unsure why it ends here, read the notes at the top.