My name is still not JK Rowling; I don't own Harry Potter, although I enjoy playing around in her sandbox. However, any grammar issues are from Grammarly and my own.

Upon returning from Grimmauld Place, Iris succumbed to her grief, wallowing at her misfortune and realizing she was now utterly alone. Still, a small part of her felt like she finally found some closure, and with another horcrux destroyed, the visit hadn't been a total disaster. It also made her acutely aware that stepping into another person's shoes would be a challenge.

After a bit of a lie-in and a spot of breakfast downstairs in the Leaky Cauldron, Iris made herself comfortable on the floor in her room. Setting aside a photo album, she began sorting the rest of the things in the school trunk. The album wasn't all that different from the one she owned, except it didn't contain photos of her friends. Especially a certain special someone.

However, even in her grief, she was thankful that neither a husband nor a child was left behind in her world. She must thank Viktor's grandmother for their breakup. Maybe send the bitch a fruit basket.

The stack of handwritten letters was set aside, but a small, framed photo was an interesting find. The Iris from this world stood with a fragile smile between a redheaded boy and a bushy-haired girl. She didn't recognize the witch, but the boy must be a Weasley with that hair coloring.

"So, you two must be important. Hmm, cute kids."

Setting it aside, Iris found a second larger framed photo, one similar was sitting on the wall at Grimmauld Place. In hers, she and Victor Krum stood close, holding hands, staring at one another happily. This Triwizard photo contained the Weasley boy and her other-self. There was a three-foot gap between the two.

"Circe, what in the world is he wearing?" Iris looked closer and shuddered at the boy's dress robes. Her doppelganger just looked uncomfortable. She cleaned up nicely, though. Of course, that was a given.

"Kreacher."

"Yes, Mistress." The house-elf appeared then gave his new master an unapproving look finding her in a blue plaid flannel shirt over a t-shirt and jeans.

"So, is this the muggleborn currently staying at Grimmauld Place?" Iris tried not to laugh. Seems the 90's grunge look didn't meet his approval.

"Yes, Mistress."

Nodding to herself, she took one more look at the photo before asking, "So you up to an afternoon of destroying another soul anchor of the one who dared harm a member of House Black."

The feral grin was answer enough.

In the summer of 1995, Great Britain's citizens experienced a massive heatwave and a lack of rain. However, the dry air didn't bother the large raven as it circled the small village of Little Hangleton, taking advantage of the thermals. The little village's church and graveyard were clearly visible when the bird cried out and flew towards a half-hidden shack off in the distance. Still a good quarter of a mile away, the bird landed outside the small group of trees before turning into a young woman.

One cooling charm later, Iris stood comfortably even after the long flight. It would have been nice to Apparate directly to the village, but it had been years since the Triwizard Tourney. Unable to clearly remember the graveyard's location, she managed to hunt down a decent map in Middleborough and found her target. Thankfully, the area around Yorkshire was familiar enough.

"So, this is the infamous shack," she mused, drawing her wand. "Let's see how good this world's Riddle is at setting wards."

Closing her eyes, she reached out with her magic. Iris had no illusions that the entrance to the Gaunt shack and the next horcrux would be heavily guarded, and she wasn't wrong. The charms were familiar and placed around the shack in such a way to tire out any attacker. Brute force was often the quickest route, and although these might be simple, they were frighteningly strong.

But really, she wasn't all that impressed. If one was a master at their craft, the imperfections in the ward scheme became quite clear if one bothered to look. And with a simple twist of her wrist, two layers of wards simply and quietly fell.

"Kreacher," Iris called out as she continued to wave her wand like some musical conductor. "The aversion charm has been neutralized; can you feel that you can enter the property?"

The Black family house-elf looked around for a moment, then said. "Yes, Mistress."

"Excellent, follow me."

Iris and her companion removed another layer of protection before entering the other side of the thicket of woods surrounding the run-down building. With the front door in sight, she began to scan the surrounding area next to the shack.

"Egyptian blood curse, interesting choice." She murmured. "Ahh, I see you. Sneaking little thing, hooking a Confundo within the layers. Not sure how it's set, most likely to confuse those who attempt to bash their way inside or fail to bring it down properly."

"Mistress?"

"No worries, Kreacher, Riddle's selection of wards is a bit eclectic but straightforward enough. Tom might have been brilliant, but a ward-master, he was not. That little trap he so cleverly added, let me do this."

She dragged her wand backward, and the sound of glass shattering filled the air.

"To be fair, Mr. Riddle was thinking of a normal goblin ward-breaker, not a ward-master able to speak Parseltongue. However, I expect true Parseltongue wards going forward. Now someone like Dumbledore would force his way through, he wouldn't be happy about it, but he could do it."

Iris looked down at the house-elf. "In other words, we need to be very careful. If I seem to be confused, send me back to the Leaky Cauldron. If wounded, bring me to Grimmauld Place and contact Sirius. I will deal with the consequences later."

The air felt thick as the two drew closer to the front of the dilapidated shack's front door. A dead snake nailed to the doorway appeared as the only guardian. Soon the air became filled with Parseltongue chant as she swayed back and forth. It sounded hypnotic to the house-elf's ear. Kreacher then stared in awe as her Mistress's powerful magic seemed to explode, encompassing him and the shack.

"Deathwards," she whispered in a guttural voice, then picked up the chant again.

This time, it took longer, and the air became heavier and heavier as the sun crossed the afternoon sky. As she finished chanting, the air felt clean, the darkness disbursed.

"Amateur," she growled and waved her wand, vanishing the door.

Stepping inside, Iris could see two doors leading off the main room. Once again, she began to chant softly, then pointed her wand in cardinal directions before whipping it around her head twice, then downwards. Happy with the results, she moved forward.

The house reeked of Dark Magic. But it still only took a few moments to confirm the location of the soul anchor. Iris was more than pleased. She had taken a chance that one of the horcruxes would be found in this location. Dumbledore only mentioned the Gaunt shack in passing before his death in her timeline.

Raising her hand, she vanished the floorboard near the fireplace, revealing a golden box. Immediately the stone in the center of the ring broke free of its setting and shot across the room like a bullet and into the palm of her hand, where it disappeared in a swirl of black smoke.

Iris found herself in the Guatemala rainforest or a close proximation. Walking down the familiar path, much like the false Grimmauld Place front parlor she once found herself standing in, the land around her had an unearthly feel.

"I think she just gave up," Iris said to the being that approached from behind. Its presence was overwhelming.

Turning around, she almost stumbled. Death wore the face of her best friend in her other life. Its soulless black eyes gave no comfort. She would have been glad if it was someone else.

"This world's Iris didn't want to die, but I don't think she really knew how to live," Iris said sadly, looking down into the cavern below.

If one continued past its entrance, they would be on their way to their next great adventure. For Voldemort, that journey of rebirth would be forever blocked his soul remaining at it the entrance for all eternity. She knew that might be her fate as well.

"I have to do this all over again, don't I?"

Death nodded as she knew it would. After gathering all the Hallows, her life had taken an even stranger turn. Master of Death, what a joke.

Looking directly into those soulless eyes, she pleaded. "Please tell me that I closed the gate in my world and that Joanna and the others made it home safe."

The entity known as Death opened its mouth and spoke in a thousand voices, "Yes."

Iris shuddered as the world shifted back.

With a roar of magic bursting from her wand, black fire encompassed the box, swirling around like some angry black snake. The Ouroboros grew smaller as it continued to eat its own tail, constricting it and its contents. A screaming smokey figure soon emerged from the ring but failed to escape, and it too was consumed by the black fire, leaving only a dark patch on the floorboard.

"And that's another nail in your coffin, asshole." Wiping her forehead, Iris praised her companion, "Thank you for your help today."

"Kreacher lives to serve the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black," the house-elf announced proudly before the grinning pair vanished from the Gaunt property.

The first time visiting the place between worlds had been traumatic because Death had taken the form of her mother. Each time after, it took the form of someone she knew, living or dead. Iris would say Death was lonely but knew better.

Tonight's visit, the eternal entity took the appearance of Luna Lovegood, and as one of her best friends, it had been rather talkative but no less creepy. At least it confirmed she was on the right track with her hunt for Tom's horcruxes.

"This had better not be a nightly thing," she groaned, sitting up in bed and feeling like she had plunged into the Black Lake in December. At least the visit this time had been in her sleep.

A quick Tempus charm determined it was almost time to get up anyway. While reaching for her dressing gown, she stopped to stare at the familiar-looking wand on her nightstand. The evening before, she had pulled her father's cloak out of the trunk, and much like the stone, it vanished.

"Boy Dumbledore going to be panicking," she cackled.

The Elder wand felt vindictively thrilled as she touched it and, like the other two Hallows, disappeared into her hand in a swirl of black light.

Dressed for the day, Iris called out, "Kreacher."

"Yes, Mistress."

She tried not to roll her eyes because of how happy the house-elf now looked. Kreacher had not approved of her outfit the day before, so right after dinner, he appeared with several stacks of clothing for a proper witch of the Black family to wear.

"Do you mind making me breakfast? I am not feeling sociable, and I need to go through all these letters."

"Kreacher cannot; that woman is in the kitchen feeding her spawn," he grumbled.

"Oh, that's fine. Just grab a plate of whatever she's making for her children. Still, is Sirius not allowing you to cook for his guests?"

"No," he replied, then disappeared, only to reappear a few moments later with a dish full of food and a pot of tea.

"Grabbed it right off the table, didn't you" she chuckled. From the contents on the plate, it appeared the Weasley matriarch had decided a full English would be an excellent way to start the day.

"Wouldn't mind some tattie scones, well, maybe another time."

Her eyes almost bugged out when the house-snapped his fingers adding a basket to the table. "Goodness, how much food did that woman make?"

As he poured her a cup of tea, Kreacher commented, "The shifter arrived in a panic this morning, mistress."

"I assume someone finally noticed my disappearance?" she asked and received a nod in confirmation. "Well, they will have to do without my presence until the end of the week at the earliest."

The two of them had spoken in length about him listening to the conversations in Grimmauld Place, especially any Order of the Phoenix meetings. On their walk to the Gaunt shack, she learned that its members were guarding something in the Department of Mysteries and her former location at Privat Drive.

Now it appears Dumbledore will have two things to worry about, loss of his wand and loss of his weapon.

"The thief was also supposed to be on watch but has gone missing."

Iris held back a snort but wasn't too worried about Fletcher. Kreacher wouldn't have taken the punishment too far, probably.

Afterward, curled up on a conjured couch, she began to go through the stack of letters.

"How did they not know." Furious, she tossed the Hogwarts acceptance letter to the side. What else did Dumbledore and the teachers miss or choose to ignore?

Calming down, she started reading another letter from what might have been the summer of second year. From its contents, she could tell that the writer was a Chudley Cannon fanatic, a Weasley, and was named Ron.

His other missives were somewhat sparse, but then again, Iris could count on one hand the number of letters Terry had sent to her, and she had dated him for a time. With nothing written by Ron this summer, she hoped that the two went to the Yule Ball as friends.

If not, she remembered the boys were overly fascinated with Lavender Brown's baps at the start of her fifth year as the girl seemed to have blossomed over the summer. Maybe she could point the extremely enthusiastic Gryffindor in Ron's direction.

It's not like she hated the boy. Iris didn't really know him. And as much as breaking the heart of a fifteen-year-old disturbed her, even dating a seventeen-year-old Viktor Krum would be creepy as hell.

The handful of letters from Sirius made her smile but confirmed he was on the run or had been up to last year. Iris remembered how tired the man looked, and unlike the letters she received from her father, the humor in them seemed forced.

"Man needs a vacation."

A couple of letters were from the Weasley twins and quite a few from their younger sister. Reading further revealed that Ginny was also the one saved in the Chamber of Secrets. Iris closed her eyes and absently rubbed her forearm, remembering her own second year. Davis' possession by Tom Riddle's diary, her own kidnapping from the library, and the desperate fight with the basilisk.

The only good thing that came out of her second year was making two new friends, Tracey Davis, and Daphne Greengrass. Oh, and the egregious number of galleons added to her vault from the corpse of the dead snake.

Another letter found another issue that would need to be addressed. Ginny had become a successful seeker for the Holyhead Harpies after Hogwarts, so Iris was surprised to discover that wasn't the case with the Gryffindor school team. Somehow her other self had somehow made the team in her first year. Now she enjoyed flying well enough and had loved watching Viktor but had no interest in playing the game herself.

Deciding to tell whomever that she would focus on her OWLS this year, she put any thoughts of Quidditch aside as unimportant. It's not like anyone would care if she decided to quit the game,

Most letters, however, were written by Hermione Granger. A girl, at least according to the letters, happened to be her other self's best friend. A child of two dentists appeared to go on quite a few holidays with her parents when away from Hogwarts. From the rest, the young girl was a bit lonely, a huge bookworm, which Iris approved, and didn't seem to like her other roommates much.

"Best friends, huh," Iris frowned. "OK, I now have a name for the bushy-haired girl and a little more information about her, but who are you really?"

Obviously, it wasn't Hermione Longbottom or any other boy flipping genders like her cousin. Then a memory of Iris's first year came to the front, of a young muggleborn killed by a Troll on the night of her first Halloween at Hogwarts.

And if rumors flying around the school at the time were to be believed, the Weasley kid had something to do with the young girl's death. And in this world, the three of them were best friends. Feeling a headache coming on, she decided to read the rest of them later.

Continuing with what she started the day before, Iris opened her old trunk, placed all the schoolbooks into a stack, and added the summer homework list to the collection. Broken quills were thrown into a pile along with any other trash. Finally, any loose parchments and schoolwork were sorted but not before noting the poor grades with a frown.

Vanishing the trash, Iris pulled out Melanie Black's trunk and peered inside. It had been expanded and had several compartments, so it had plenty of space. Still, she needed to continue the illusion that she was Iris Potter of this world, so most of the other girls' contents would need to be moved. With that finally done, Flourish and Blotts should already have a book list, so a bit of shopping after lunch would be in order.

Bur first, Iris looked over the summer homework. Then seriously contemplated heading to the Ministry and signing up to take her NEWTS before school started. Add to her annoyance of having to attend school a second time with a bunch of hormonal teenagers was not helping.