AN: This is the final chapter. Currently there are no plans to continue, mostly because I haven't thought of a way for Harry to have his adventures with responsible adults in his life. But I do hope you enjoy!
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By the end of the first week, Harry was starting to feel more settled, and less like he could wake up at any moment and find all this just a dream. Most of the lessons were quite interesting, and Cedric was a treasure trove of information about the professors. There was an odd moment during Potions where professor Snape gave him a long, hard look during roll call, but he didn't single him out so Harry counted that as a win.
On Friday evening after dinner, he was playing a game of Exploding Snap with Justin, Ernie, Susan and Hannah, when professor Sprout came up to him.
"Mister Potter," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder, "headmaster Dumbledore has asked that you join him in his office."
Harry felt his stomach drop, and he swallowed nervously. Had he done something? Broken some rule he didn't know about? Was he getting expelled? He looked up at the professor.
"Can... could you come with me? Please?" he asked with some trepidation.
"Oh, my dear boy, of course I'll go with you! Interviews with the headmaster are generally done with the Head of House present. And it can't be a disciplinary matter, or it would have come through me first. Do try not to worry too much."
Reassured a little by her words, Harry nodded and stood up.
"Let us know what happened?" Justin said.
"We'll see you when you get back, yeah?" Susan added.
Harry nodded again and followed the professor. As they walked, she put an arm over his shoulder and pulled him into her side for a moment. "You'll be fine, love, just you wait and see."
Harry smiled up at her, pleased that the motherly woman who had explained magic to him was his Head of House. He could not imagine being comforted like this by the stern professor McGonagall, nevermind professor Snape.
Soon they were standing in front of a stone gargoyle. "Licorice drops," professor Sprout randomly said. A moment later, the words were revealed to be a password, because the gargoyle stepped aside to reveal a hidden staircase.
As soon as the two of them stood on the stairs, it started moving of its own accord, taking them up with it. Huh, magical escalators. Neat.
Then they were at the top, and professor Sprout knocked on the ornate door they were facing.
"Enter!" a voice on the other side said, before he could remember his nervousness and start fidgeting. The door opened to reveal not only the headmaster, but a few other people as well.
The first person he saw was Iris, who was grinning madly and giving him two thumbs up. He smiled hesitantly back at her. Had she found out something about his family?
His gaze moved to the two men standing behind Iris. They were looking at him with wide eyes and open mouth, which he thought was an odd reaction. One of the men had sandy blond hair and a moustache and scars all over his face. He was gripping the shoulder of the other man, black-haired and grey-eyed. They seemed frozen in shock. Harry looked uncertainly at professor Sprout, who squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.
"Alright, mr. Lupin, mr. Black, that is quite enough of that. How about we hear what this is all about, instead of worrying my pupil?" she said to the two of them. If Harry hadn't been quite so worried, he'd have found the identical way they shook their heads and blinked comical.
"Right!" the black-haired man said. "Right, so. We asked to meet with... with Harry, here, because there is a suspicion that he might be related to Iris, and we want to get to the bottom of how that could be possible."
"That sounds like a worthy endeavour," professor Sprout said, "one for which we had better be seated. Albus, if you would?"
Harry looked at the headmaster for the first time. He'd had little to do with the man in his first week of school, other than to note he seemed a bit odd in a way that uncle Vernon would never in a million years approve of, and that he had questionable taste in clothing. Other than that, he was just sort of always there at mealtimes, seated on his throne in the middle of the teacher's table, and Harry paid him little mind.
Right now, he inclined his head to professor Sprout and waved his wand. When he was done, enough chairs had appeared that they could all sit.
"Thank you," the professor said, before steering Harry to the chairs on the left. He sat gingerly, right on the edge of his seat, still trying to feel out the situation and immeasurably glad of the support he had from professor Sprout.
Iris quickly took the chair next to his, leaving the two men to sit to the right. They kept glancing in his direction, but at least they'd stopped staring quite so intently, so that was something.
"First off, mr. Black, why don't you tell us why you believe Iris and Harry are related," the headmaster said, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses.
Mr. Black looked sharply at the headmaster. "Don't play games with us, Albus. Not about this. You're supposed to be able to see so much, so don't tell me you don't see this – he looks exactly like James!"
Harry started, as did professor Sprout. She quickly looked at him, her eyes wide, as if only now seeing him for the first time.
"Merlin's beard, it's true! How did I not see that immediately?" she muttered.
Harry was mostly confused. James... that was James Potter, Iris' dad who had died in the same attack that she had survived. He looked like that James? How was that even possible?
"Dammit, Albus, stop twinkling for one bloody second and tell us what it is that you know and we don't!"
"Language, mr. Black!" professor Sprout said chidingly, "there are children present!"
At the same time, the headmaster raised both hands at the outburst. "Peace, Sirius! I will tell you. I suppose the Secret could not long survive mr. Potter's coming to Hogwarts. Although the fewer people know this, the better, I believe, so perhaps professor Sprout could leave us for a moment..."
"No!"
Harry was surprised to find that he was the one who had shouted. Suddenly everyone was looking at him, and he hunched into himself, flushing a little. But he'd also grabbed hold of professor Sprout's hand, and he wasn't letting go. He was not about to lose the support of the only adult who'd ever chosen his side, not when so many confusing things were happening.
"That is to say... I'd really like for her to stay," he said in a small voice.
Professor Sprout squeezed the hand that was holding hers. "Oh, dear heart, then I shall remain right here," she told him softly, before turning a flinty look on headmaster Dumbledore. "Will I not?"
The headmaster pursed his lips, but nodded slowly. "Very well, if that is how you feel."
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and when he spoke Harry could hear the weight of the Secret behind the utterance. His words would change Harry's life forever.
"James and Lily Potter have a son called Harry James Potter."
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A moment of silence followed the sharing of the Secret, as everyone present absorbed that information. Iris was the first one to recover when she whooped loudly. "I totally called it! The moment I saw him, I said something was going on!" She jumped up from her chair and fell to her knees next to Harry, who was looking shocked. She looked searchingly into his eyes. "Harry? Are you OK?"
He looked down at her, and she saw tears in his eyes. "James and Lily were my parents too?" he asked quietly. "I have family?" He stood up, and Iris followed suit. "You're my sister?"
She nodded, more restrained than she'd been a moment before. "Yes. You're my brother. I'm your sister. I hope that's ok for you." She didn't know why she was suddenly nervous. She just really, really wanted him to like her.
He squeezed his eyes shut – green eyes, like mum's – and let the tears fall, before lunging forward and wrapping his arms around her. It took her a moment to realise he was hugging her, but once she did her arms went around him of their own accord.
"I did tell you I'd like any relationship with you, didn't I?" she murmured into his ear, low enough that she thought only he heard, although uncle Remus probably did too. "It's just a bit closer than what you thought, is all."
Harry nodded where he had his head pressed against her neck. She noticed he was a little smaller than her. When he released her, she saw uncle Sirius stretch out his hand longingly before snatching it back. Professor Sprout was watching them with her hands clasped in front of her chest and a delighted smile on her face. She looked a moment away from actually cooing. When Harry sat down, she patted his hand.
"So," Iris said brightly when she sat back down, "what now?"
"Now we find out why we were made to forget that Lily and James had twins, instead of just a daughter," uncle Sirius answered. "Albus? I do believe that was the revelation of a Fidelius-kept Secret, so that's how. The question we have now is... why would you do that?"
Professor Dumbledore steepled his fingers in front of his face, looking very... well... serious.
"That Halloween night, when Voldemort attacked the Potters, the events happened as we know. Peter betrayed the Potters, Voldemort attacked them and killed James. He went to the nursery, where Lily defied him before he killed her as well. But then came the difference. Rather than one girl, as the story goes, he encountered two children. And he raised his wand, not to the girl, but to the boy."
Iris felt her mouth drop open. She wasn't actually the Girl-Who-Lived? Ha! In your face, sheeple!
"I judged it best that the wizarding world be oblivious to the existence of the Boy-Who-Lived, so I performed the Fidelius to hide him and placed him with Lily's sister. That way he could grow up as normally as possible, without the adulation of the wizarding world."
Iris blinked. That... none of that made any sense. Before she could say as much, professor Sprout raised a hand.
"Am I the only one who can see the flaw in that plan?" she asked the room at large.
Uncle Remus gave her a tight smile. "One flaw? I can name several," he answered.
The headmaster drew himself up, looking rather offended. "What are you talking about?"
Professor Sprout pinched the bridge of her nose in a move that seemed much more suited to their dour Potions professor than the matronly woman. "Albus, if the wizarding world at large was unaware of the existence of Harry, what was the added benefit of making him grow up believing he had no close relations of his own?"
"Also," uncle Remus continued, "they might not know about Harry, but they do know about the existence of a child surviving where You-Know-Who did not. Why did you not have the same qualms about Iris as you did about Harry? She did grow up with the adulation of the wizarding world, and I do believe we did an adequate job of not letting it go to her head. It might just be me, but if we managed that with one child, I believe we could have done it with a second."
"And if your concern was the safety of the child-who-lived, be they boy or girl, what with Death Eaters looking for revenge and whatnot," uncle Sirius said, "the same question applies. Apparently we were good enough for the protection of the perceived vanquisher of Voldemort, so why not the actual one?"
The headmaster visibly deflated with each question. "I'm... I'm afraid these are questions I did not consider at the time," he finally admitted.
"Well then, I think our course is clear. Harry will come to live with us, where he belongs, and we will decide further how he is best protected and raised," uncle Sirius said calmly.
Professor Dumbledore sat up a bit straighter again. "Oh, no, that is quite impossible. Harry has to go back to his aunt and uncle! It is imperative!"
Uncle Sirius raised an eyebrow, much more in charge of his facial expressions than he had been when Harry had just come in. "Oh? Care to enlighten us why that is?" he asked, dangerously quietly.
Apparently not sensing the danger, the headmaster replied. "There's a blood ward on the property, linked to Lily's sister. So long as Harry calls her house home, he will be protected."
"And you're quite certain about that, are you, Albus?" That was professor Sprout. "What definition of the word 'home' are we talking about here? Because I can tell you, if we're talking about any – and I do mean ANY – definition broader than the bare minimum of a roof over his head to ward off the rain, then your blood ward is worth less than nothing. Even basic needs such as getting clothed and fed are done with such ill concealed resentment that they hardly even count as the bare minimum."
She stood up and leaned over the headmaster's desk, her voice full of steel. "I assure you, Albus Dumbledore, blood ward or no, if Sirius and Remus don't take in Harry, then I will. Even if it means quitting my job and moving to America to protect him. Harry Potter is never, EVER going back to an abusive house!"
The headmaster looked positively shocked, Iris gleefully noted.
"But... they're his family! Family should stick together! I'm sure if we ask him, he'll say that he wants to go back to them."
Iris suddenly realised that in all the verbal back-and-forth, Harry had not said a single thing since he sat back down after his hug. When she looked at him, he sat with bowed head, his hands held still in his lap.
At the headmaster's words, though, he looked up, and Iris was shocked at the bleak expression in his eyes.
"The first time I burned myself on the stove, I was five years old. My aunt thought I'd taken enough advantage of their generosity and it was time I started earning my keep. I could barely reach even when standing on a stool, and then the pan was too heavy and it slipped and landed against my arm. I cried; my aunt locked me in the cupboard under the stairs until I stopped crying. She was afraid if she went to the doctor, I'd tell them the truth about what had happened."
The conversational tone of voice he was using stood in stark contrast to the darkness in his eyes and the contents of his words. Iris felt a chill move down her spine. Harry had not just grown up apart from his real family. He'd grown up in hell.
"I was seven when I broke my arm. My cousin Dudley had chased me with his gang. What kind of seven-year-old has a gang? Dudley does. He was playing his favourite game, Harry Hunting, where if they could catch me, they could beat me up. I'd managed to climb a tree, which usually meant I was safe, he was too fat to climb. But he grabbed my foot and dragged me down, and I fell and landed on my arm. I can still hear it snap. I screamed, and he dragged me to his mum, and she... locked me in my cupboard until I stopped. I think maybe my magic healed me? I don't know."
The headmaster was listening to the recitation in horrified silence, gripping the armrests of his chair. Iris thought maybe he was starting to realise how monumental a mistake he'd made, but she had little room for sympathy for the old codger. He was directly responsible for the whole thing, as far as she was concerned.
Harry's voice was growing louder as he talked. "When I went to school for the first time, they had to explain to me that my name was not Freak, or Boy. For ten years, TEN YEARS, I slept in that same cupboard under the stairs. That was my room, in a house with an empty guest room AND a second bedroom for Dudley filled with broken toys, while I got NOTHING!"
At some point he'd gotten up, still looking straight at the headmaster. Various silver gadgets that lined the office had started wildly vibrating, as though they were moments away from blowing up.
"No, I do NOT want to go back to hell, not if I have ANY other option!"
A wind picked up and whipped at everyone's hair, with Harry at the center. Iris realised he was in the middle of a mental breakdown, coupled with an outburst of accidental magic. She had to do something to snap him out of it, so she jumped up grabbed hold of his hand and wrenched him around. Now he was facing her, standing with his back to Dumbledore. She hugged him.
"I've got you, brother," she whispered into his ear. "I've only just found you, and I can tell you I'm never ever letting go. You're never seeing those people again. You'll come live with us, uncle Sirius and uncle Remus and me, and we'll bicker until you can't stand the sight of me, but we'll always, always make up because that's what siblings do. We'll discover together everything else siblings do, together, and woe to whoever would try to get between us."
As she talked, the wind died down, and gradually the silver gadgets stopped vibrating and resumed the ticking and whirring they'd been doing before. She held Harry a moment longer, until he moved to disentangle himself.
"Better?" she asked, looking closely. He nodded silently, perhaps ashamed about his outburst, but who could blame him? When he sat down again, looking wrung out, she kept a hold of his hand.
Uncle Sirius took charge of the conversation. He seemed to have cloaked himself in his Lord Black guise, which he usually only used for the Wizengamot. "Headmaster Dumbledore, you have proven that you cannot be trusted with the welfare of Harry James Potter or Iris Lily Potter. I hereby, in my capacity as godfather and guardian of both Potters, forbid you any contact with them outside your purview as headmaster of their school. Any other contact will be in the presence of myself or Remus Lupin, and any contact within said purview will be done in the presence of their respective Heads of House. You will switch the Secret to me, and I will decide who can be trusted with the information – or indeed if a Fidelius is the best solution we have available."
Dumbledore turned visibly greyer and older under uncle Sirius' onslaught. "My dear boy," he said, sounding anguished and in despair, "you don't know what you're doing! There are things you don't know, information not in your possession! Voldemort will come back!"
Uncle Sirius looked at him coldly, and Iris didn't know what she would do if he ever looked at her like that. "In that case, headmaster, you will share any and all relevant information, and we will discuss how best to proceed. If the decisions that brought us here are anything to go by, I cannot in good conscience follow you into another war. If you try to take charge through the witholding of information, I will reveal your failings so that others will not fall for your honeyed trap. If your words are true, we will need a leader who does not sit on his information like a dragon on its hoard. You have proven extensively that you are not that leader. Now, I suggest that Iris and Harry return to their common rooms, and we will begin said transfer of information. I am sure one evening will not be enough for the endeavour."
Uncle Sirius turned to her and Harry, and immediately his gaze warmed and his eyes crinkled with his smile. "Iris, pup, I'll talk to you soon, ok? And Harry, I will make sure to come by a couple of times in the coming weeks, so we can get to know each other. If that's ok with you."
When Harry nodded, Iris pulled him gently towards the door. The last thing she saw was Sirius turning back to Dumbledore, his eyes as cold and hard as ice. The headmaster was sitting with his shoulders slumped and his head in his hands.
"Now," uncle Sirius said, flanked by an equally determined uncle Remus and professor Sprout, "start talking."
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Later, Harry would never remember the walk back to the common room. He walked in a daze, the only thing he was really conscious of was Iris' hand in his own. His thoughts were roiling and tumbling, scattering whenever he tried to focus on one, too chaotic to really make sense of anything.
After a while, Iris nudged his shoulder. "Hey," she said, "this is my staircase."
He looked around, and realised they weren't far from the stairs he needed to go down to the Den. Iris put both her hands on his shoulders and looked at him earnestly. "Listen, Harry. I meant what I said earlier. We're brother and sister, family. It was a lot for me to take in, and I grew up knowing about our parents, so I can't imagine how much more dizzying this must be for you. Whatever happens now, we'll get through it. Together. OK?"
Harry took a deep breath and held it for a moment. One thing stood out cyrstal clear in the maelstrom of his feelings. He was glad that Iris was his sister. Slowly he exhaled, and then he smiled and nodded.
"Together."
They hugged for a long time, before they made their way back to their common rooms and the questions of their friends.
