Iris Potter looked around in excitement at the high ceiling filled with floating candles. This was it! The moment she'd been waiting for all her life. Soon she would be Sorted, and then her life at Hogwarts would begin for real.
She clutched Neville's hand in her excitement. Neville Longbottom was her best friend, her confidant, her brother in all but blood. They'd more or less grown up together. She lived with Sirius and Remus, and Neville lived with his parents and grandmother, but his mother Alice was her godmother, and so she'd spent quite a lot of time at Longbottom Manor.
In the beginning there'd been a great-uncle Algie but nobody mentioned him anymore, ever since he'd tried to scare Neville into showing magic by endangering his life. His dad had banished the uncle from all contact with his son, and he'd assured Neville that he loved him whether or not he had magic. Neville had nevertheless shed a few relieved tears when he received his letter, but only Iris had been allowed to see.
And now here they were! This was going to be great!
***US***US***US***
A bit further in the line of first years, Harry Potter stood alone. He didn't know anyone here and he was still afraid that all of this was just an elaborate dream and he would wake up in his cupboard under the stairs. It was a month after the visit from a motherly old woman and he was still reeling.
She had introduced herself as professor Sprout, a teacher at a magic school. When his uncle Vernon had started blustering and claiming that magic was not real, she'd frowned and then did something with the stick in her hand. After that she'd kindly asked to speak with Harry alone and amazingly, uncle Vernon and aunt Petuna had left the kitchen!
Harry was in awe.
In the ensuing conversation, she managed to get him to confide in her more than basically any adult ever. Almost without meaning to, he told her about the bullying and the chores, and even about the cupboard under the stairs.
She frowned, and tutted, and gave his hand little pats, and when he was done and she was quite sure that yes, he really did want to go to Hogwarts and no, he really didn't think his aunt and uncle would just let him, she winked at him and said she knew just the spell.
Not long after, he was enrolled in Hogwarts, his aunt and uncle were convinced he was going to a boarding school for gifted children that had nothing whatsoever to do with magic, and they'd fixed a date when she could help him do his shopping. She had access to a bit of funding, which Hogwarts provided for children who could not afford to buy their own stuff, like orphans such as himself. It meant that he had to buy his things second-hand, but he didn't mind that one bit at all. It was still his, and he'd still be away from the Dursleys for ten months out of twelve.
He'd even found some decent second-hand robes that were only a little too big. Professor Sprout was kind enough to adjust them to his size. She promised to let them out again when he grew a little.
Truth be told, he'd hoped to find out more about his parents in the wizarding world. The problem was he didn't know his parents' names. Potter, yes, sure, because he was a Potter so it stood to reason, but his relatives never talked about them, and when he asked they just got a confused look and then snapped at him to stop asking questions.
Professor Sprout did mention a family called the Potters at one point, while she was explaining the recent history of the wizarding world, but they'd only had a daughter, Iris, who was famous for surviving wizard Hitler. Maybe he was distantly related to them? That would be something, distant wizarding family beat normal muggle relatives any day as far as he was concerned. He hoped he might get to talk to Iris when he got to school, though he didn't know why she'd want to talk to him, her being so famous and all.
The rest of his summer had flown by and before he knew it he was sitting on the Hogwarts Express. And now he was standing in a line of other 11-year-olds, clenching his fists nervously. He felt a bit sick, because he had no idea what was coming. The people around him mostly ignored him, which suited him just fine. If he had to talk right now he thought he might sick up, and that was not the kind of reputation he wanted to start his school years with.
And then... a hat started singing. Harry looked at it with open mouth. What?
In its song, it explained what the four Houses stood for. Brave, loyal, wise or cunning... what if he was none of those things? Would the hat tell him he didn't belong and he'd have to go back to the Dursleys?
After the song, one by one the students were called forward, under the watchful gaze of the whole school, and the Hat called out the House they should be in.
Before he knew it, the stern witch who'd welcomed them into Hogwarts called for 'Potter, Harry', so he trotted forwards and took place on the stool. He wasn't exactly prepared for the storm of whispers that broke out at the mention of his name.
"Potter, did she say? D'you think he's related to Iris? Can't be a brother, everyone knows the Potters only had one child."
Harry was glad when the Hat's brim sank over his eyes, shielding him from the worst looks. They seemed to be judging him for daring to share their Saviour's last name. It wasn't like he'd asked for it, was it? It was altogether more attention than he'd ever received in his life, and he did not like it one bit.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" A voice in his mind said. "Hmm... difficult. Where should we place you?" Harry was immediately reminded of his fear of not fitting in anywhere, but the Hat chuckled. "Oh dear me, no mr. Potter. The problem is not at all that you don't fit in anywhere. The problem is that you are – or could grow to be – a good match for each House. You have a good mind and a certain drive to prove yourself. Plenty of courage, too, and you could be a loyal friend. If only you should get the chance to prove it.
"So the question, mr. Potter, comes down to this: what are you looking for? What is the most important thing for you in coming to Hogwarts?"
He didn't need long to answer that question. "I just... I would really like to make friends," he answered, "good friends, the kind of friends that won't drop you just because that's the easy thing to do."
Because that's what usually happened when he tried making friends. He'd approach someone, they'd play together for a while, Dudley would get wind of it and scare off any would-be friend. Well, that was how it used to go. As time went on, new kids were generally warned away long before he could even play with them.
"Good friends, hmm? Well, there's only one place for you then. HUFFLEPUFF!"
Harry gave the hat back to the stern witch with a shy smile and ran off to the yellow-and-black table, who were clapping enthusiastically. For him! Just because a hat had said he should be here! He grinned and sat down next to a blonde in pigtails just as the witch called for 'Potter, Iris!'
The whispers that had broken out after his own name were nothing compared to the storm he could hear now. The girl who came forward good-naturedly rolled his eyes at all the people gawking to get a good look at her. She looked nice, Harry thought, with auburn hair down to her shoulders and a confident smirk on her face. There was someone who had no doubt whatsoever that she was exactly where she was supposed to be. Must be nice, Harry thought. He hoped to gain that sort of confidence at some point.
That night, Harry lay in his new bed in his new home with a happy smile on his face. His belly was fuller than ever, and he'd met lots of people who wanted to get to know him. There'd been some questions about his relation to Iris Potter, but when they realised he didn't even know anything about his parents, they were quick to reassure him that it didn't matter, and if his parents were magical they'd help him find them. He fell asleep to the happy recitation of everyone he'd met today, and who he hoped to be friends with.
***US***US***US***
Iris, for her part, had been staring at the boy who'd come just before her in the Sorting, ever since his name had been called. There was something about him... what was it? Well, there was the name, of course, but that could just be a coincidence. It wasn't that so much as... well, he really looked like the pictures of her dad that she had back home.
It seemed to take the Hat some time to decide that the black-haired boy was a Hufflepuff. She had to stop her milling thoughts when she herself was called to the front.
Whispers followed her progress to the Sorting Hat. She rolled her eyes. Uncle Sirius had done his best to raise her with both feet on the ground, but she was not unaware of the reverence the wizarding world had for her. Orphaned as a baby, survived the Killing Curse, then raised by the dashing young Heir of House Black? Oh yes the sheeple gobbled it right up!
Just as the Hat was put on her head she spotted Nev where he was seated at the Gryffindor table and she shot him a grin and a thumbs-up, which he duly returned.
Then her sight was blacked out by the Hat's brim. "Hmm, another Potter, eh? I can tell you won't be nearly as hard to decide as the other one. With a dogfather such as yours, what other House could it be but GRYFFINDOR!"
Iris grinned and stood up, sweeping the Hat off with an exaggerated bow. Hey, if they wanted to gawk at her, she might as well give them a show! She skipped off to the Gryffindor table, where a couple of redheads were dancing a jig.
During the remainder of the Sorting, her eyes kept straying towards Hufflepuff, but the boy, Harry, was looking earnestly at the other first years and clapping for each Sorting regardless of House. If he clapped a little louder for the Hufflepuffs, well, he could be forgiven.
After the Sorting, her attention was thoroughly diverted towards the food that had suddenly appeared. She hadn't realised how hungry she was until just now, so she ate with gusto. Once the worst hunger had been sated and she'd slowed down considerably, Neville nudged her shoulder.
"So, do you have a secret brother you've never told me about?" he asked, nodding towards the Hufflepuff table.
Irish shrugged. "Not as far as I know, but you've seen those pictures, same as me. It's uncanny, right? I don't know what's going on, but I'm mirror-calling Sirius tonight. If anyone can get to the bottom of this, it'll be him."
"You're Iris Potter!" a redhead seated across from them suddenly butted into the conversation. With his mouth full of food. He looked like he'd been sitting on that particular exclamation for a while now, probably ever since sitting down after his Sorting. She remembered he was one of the last kids in the line.
Iris gasped dramatically, pressing a hand against her heart. "I am? Merlin's beard, am I glad you're here to inform me about that! I'd never have known otherwise!"
The ginger turned as red as his hair and muttered something that she didn't bother to decipher.
"General warning," she said to everyone within hearing distance, while gesturing with her fork, "if you hero-worship me for something that happened when I was a baby, and that was most likely my mother's doing, you will get mocked mercilessly. Yes, I'm Iris Potter. No, I didn't do anything – I was 15 months old, for Circe's sake! And no, I do NOT appreciate questions about the night my parents were brutally murdered. I don't remember, anyway, because again, I was a baby."
She put down the fork she'd been gesturing with and took a deep breath, releasing it with a whoosh. "With that out of the way," she continued, "I'd much rather hear about all of you, because everyone already knows my story. Who wants to go first?"
***US***US***US***
After the Feast, the first-year Gryffindors were gathered together by yet another ginger, apparently brother to the Ronald Weasley who'd accosted her. Weasley had managed to get rid of enough embarrasment to explain that he was the youngest son and second-youngest child of seven, with three of his older brothers still at Hogwarts. One was the prefect, Percy, that was leading them now, and the other two were the twins she'd seen dancing after getting Sorted.
They came to Gryffindor Tower guarded by the portrait of a Lady, and some minutes later they were sent on to bed. Another round of introductions followed, accompanied by her warning against hero-worship, and then she could close her bed curtains, apply a silencing charm uncle Sirius had taught, because of course he had, and take out her mirror.
"Sirius Black," she told her reflection. He must have been waiting for her call, because within seconds her own face was replaced by her uncle's.
"Hi, pup!" he grinned. "Did you make it?"
"Hey, uncle Padfoot! Yep! Gryffindor, just like we'd thought. Neville is too, so... Hooray!"
"Congrats, love! To Nev too! I called it, didn't I?"
"Congratulations from me too!" a voice said from uncle Sirius' left. Iris smiled. Of course her other uncle wanted to hear from her too.
"Thanks, uncle Moony!" she laughed, before sobering. "Listen, both of you. I have a question. Something happened during the Sorting and I just need to know... if I had a brother, you'd have told me, right?"
Uncle Sirius looked stunned at the question. Ok, so it was probably a very weird question to just drop on them, but... she couldn't not ask.
"Iris, honey... if you had a brother that we knew about, he'd have been living with us and you'd already know him. Where is this question coming from? What happened?"
"Well, there was a boy just before my own Sorting, his name is Harry Potter. And before you say it's just a coincidence, you should really see him. I mean it. Uncle Sirius, he looks exactly like those pictures of dad we look at sometimes. Something is going on, I can feel it in my core. Just imagine for a moment, if I do have a brother, there'd be so many question! Did he know about me? Where has he been for the past ten years? Why does nobody know about him?"
"Alright, pup, calm down. We'll find out what's happening, don't you worry. Here, how about this. See if you can talk to the lad this week, he might let something slip that answers at least one of those questions. We'll see about coming over maybe this weekend, get a look at the young man and talk with Dumbledore. If he really is your brother, he's been gone for ten years. The mystery can keep for another week. What do you say?"
Iris drew in a deep breath and nodded. She was glad her uncles were taking her seriously – pun not intended.
"Okay, I'll do that. Let me know when you'll be here?"
"Will do. Give our love to Neville and sweet dreams!"
"Nighty-night!"
The conversation had done much to calm her roiling thoughts, and it didn't take long for her to fall asleep, excited about the coming week.
