Apparating to the edge of Hogsmede, I take a moment to enjoy the crisp air, drawing in a deep breath.
I run an eye over the village behind me. It really has been too long. I should tour the shops, for old times' sake. After the meeting, perhaps. I have a good feeling about today.
Making my way up the path to Hogwarts, I keep to a leisurely pace, taking in the morning,
To think, just a few years ago I may very well have not been able to even make the walk. And now here I am, coming to put Dumbledore in his place, remind him that he is every bit as human as the rest of us. How quickly times change.
I whistle a merry tune as I walk, eventually spotting two people waiting for me at the gates. The Deputy Headmistress, McGonagall, and the one the twins told me about, Hagrid, Keeper of the Grounds and Keys. How appropriate.
Neither appears happy to see me.
"Mr. Black." McGonagall at least greets me, though her tone is hardly friendly. The likely part-giant simply glares.
"Come now Minerva, no need to be so hostile, it is a wonderful day! And you as well, Mr. Hagrid, such a cold reception, I am disappointed. Andromeda and my grandchildren spoke so highly of you too..."
He blinks. "Huh? You know Andy? And...Wait, but Dumbledore said you were his Grandfather!"
I sigh. "Fine, great grandchildren, it doesn't roll off the tongue quite so well."
The giant appears confused. "But...tha would mean the twins..."
Minerva sighs. "Yes, Hagrid. The twin's father is Sirius Black. Dumbledore knows, but we have been keeping it quiet for obvious reason."
The great man steps backward, shocked.
"But...but they was so nice...takin care o' Iris and all..."
His eyes narrow in suspicion.
"Course, then ol' Sirius were always James bes friend, righ' up till the end..."
"Hagrid!" Minerva shouts. "I will not have you judge children for the crimes of their parents, however questionable their lineage! Do you understand me?! I will not tolerate it! And nor will Dumbledore!"
He shrinks into himself, chagrined.
"Srry Minnie, jus'...I were right there. Right there! And I let the bastard go..."
She pats his shoulder consolingly.
I clear my throat, attracting their attention, and reminding them of my presence, which they appear to have forgotten, amusingly.
"I do think the two of you will see this conversation in a very different light in a couple of days, but that is neither here nor there. Now, I do believe I have a meeting with Dumbledore?"
"Hmph. Very well, come along then."
"Of course, madame."
Minerva leads the way, the giant following behind me. I can feel his suspicious gaze on my back. Ironically, unlike with Minerva, it is not even for anything I have done, but Sirius's fault. Yes, I am quite glad I paid him a visit first.
I can feel the magic slowly building as we approach the castle, and by the old gods is it invigorating. And just seeing the old towers once more...such nostalgia. I should pull a Lucius and buy my way onto the Board of Governors, so I can visit more often.
Yes, actually, with the twins attending? That sounds like a fine idea. It will tweak Dumbledore's nose something fierce as well, always a bonus. I can't imagine it will be too expensive either, the school always needs money. Dumbledore is terrible with his finances.
The man is the greatest magical genius since Merlin, but couldn't balance a checkbook. I admit I am uncertain how he manages complex Arithmancy when simple arithmetic often seems beyond his grasp. It does make the Wizenmagot rather lively at times as well. Financial corruption has flourished under Dumbledore's watch. Since he can't actually understand those sorts of bills he tends to just pass them along rather than fight over them.
As much as I enjoy seeing my old school again, all too quickly we arrive in front of the Gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office.
"Ice Cream," Minerva intones with the utmost seriousness.
It leaps to the side, allowing us passage.
I shake my head at Dumbledore's usual quirkiness.
The last password I remember from my time at Hogwarts was "Excellence", far more appropriate.
We make our way up to the office, and I find it rather changed from what I expected.
Oh, the portraits of past headmasters still cover the walls, but the shelves are now covered in...knickknacks. I want to believe they have some obscure function but, knowing Dumbledore, they could very well just be there to drive others to distraction. I do hope Coeus is not called in here often, he will react...poorly.
Fawkes is suitably impressive at least, though the effect is rather ruined by his companions hot pink robes.
I only sent the letter for our meeting this morning...I wonder, did he actually change his robes for it? I would not put it past the man to attempt to annoy me. Then again, it is Dumbledore. He may have actually intended to spend the day dressed like this.
"Ah, Arcturus, do come in, do come in. Minerva, Hagrid, thank you for bringing him up. Please, return to whatever you were doing before, we should be fine."
I take a seat as we wait for the two to leave, smiling at each other.
He does have good manners at least.
"Lemon drop?" he asks offering his favored candy.
I begin to reflexively decline before deciding I may as well throw him off his game a little more.
"You know, in all my years I have never actually tried them. Why not?"
I take a piece of the offered candy, plopping it in my mouth.
Dumbledore is shocked, staring open-mouthed for a moment.
Once he overcomes that, however, he appears delighted.
"Oh? How delightful! So few are ever willing to try new things, especially at our age. Tell me, what do you think?" he asks eagerly.
"Hmmm. It is tolerable, I suppose. I admit, I still prefer good dark chocolate." I reply.
He blinks, before chuckling.
"I know, I know. How appropriate for the old Black to prefer such."
I shrug. Taste is taste.
"Now, as nice as this has been, I am afraid we are not getting any younger. We do need to get down to business at some point, else we drop dead of old age while we sit chatting."
His smile fades, and he nods sadly.
"Young Iris..." he says quietly.
"Indeed. Iris Potter."
He adjusts himself, sitting more properly in his chair.
"Very well then. Please tell me, what exactly happened that day?" he requests. "I admit, I have had some difficulty in getting good answers. The Dursleys have proven remarkably uncooperative, and everyone else has only partial stories. Oh, and I assume I have you to thank for the story in this morning's paper? Was that really necessary?"
I can't resist a chuckle at the assumption. One more reason I wanted to wait for this meeting was to ensure the rumors had time to get around.
"Surprisingly, no. Nor was it any of my dear friends, though several of them have been informed as well. Lucius is very interested, you should know, though for the moment he is trusting me to handle things."
He can't hide the grimace at the name. While Dumbledore and I are at least civil with each other, the two of them do not get along at all, it is quite amusing to watch.
"But no, you can actually thank little Coeus for that, he made sure to spread the word around Diagon. Said he did not want any chance of you "wiggling out of things" as he put it."
He closes his eyes.
Yes Dumbledore, even the children can recognize you made a dire mistake, and are calling you out.
"I...see. But the rumors in the paper, greatly exaggerated of course, so I don-
I slam my hand on the chair, hard enough to bruise.
"And there you go, making assumptions again. You are a genius, Dumbledore, and usually right, but you have a problem. A deep, deep problem, one that most genius's have. Arrogance." My voice remains light and conversational. My posture, even my smile, exactly the same as earlier. If not for the words themselves, and my abuse of the chair, you would think we were still chatting about candy.
"You know it, and you try to downplay it, try to be humble. But you fail. You know you are smarter than everyone, and despite your best attempts, you act like it. You naturally assume you are right, and everyone else is wrong. So you ignore them. Every time someone else tells you you are wrong, suggests something different than what you believe? You ignore it. You ignore their words. Because who's the genius here? You are. What do they know? You are nice about it. Polite. You play it off with platitudes and pretend wisdom, but in the end, the result is the same."
He starts to reply, but I speak over him.
"It is hardly a problem unique to you, we are all guilty of it at times. I know I certainly do it myself, but right now, you are the one in the limelight. The rumors in the paper are inaccurate, Dumbledore. I have read them myself, and I must say, Minister Fudge? His statement supporting you? He is going to be very, very disappointed soon."
I lean forward as if confiding a secret.
"The rumors are wrong because they are underestimating how bad things were. Greatly, greatly, underestimating."
I lean back and wait for his response.
He is silent, eyeing me carefully.
"What...exactly...do you mean, Arcturus?" he asks.
"The twins talked to her quite a bit, got a few stories out of her. Those alone led to the rumors in the Prophet and painted a very, very nasty picture. One more than sufficient to get her out of the house, and for Andromeda to...express her displeasure.
I smirk at him, as he looks away, at the reminder that yes, one of his biggest supporters hit him. Lost that degree of faith in him over the matter.
That very much should help drive home the seriousness of the situation.
"Ted gave her an examination. The results...well. They went to Mungos, and met with a healer I know, for a more detailed examination."
He closes his eyes and slumps, at that, if only a touch.
I pat my robes and speak seriously.
"I have a copy here. Now, I want to know exactly what you were thinking in sending the Potter scion, the Girl-Who-Lived to live with bloody magic-hating muggles Dumbledore. If it is a good answer, then we can continue our conversation. If you refuse, if you keep your damnable secrets, or if it is a bad reason, then tomorrow you are going to be reading these results in the Prophet, and Dumbledore," I look him in the eyes, and give him my most vicious smile, the one I usually give people right before I kill them personally, "you do not want that to happen."
...
He looks at me. He just sits there at his desk, staring at me.
For anyone else, it would be an easy choice. An obvious choice.
But Dumbledore? He hoards secrets.
As I said. Arrogance.
Pure and utter arrogance. He believes he, and only he, knows best. And so only he can know anything of import. Only he can make any of the important decisions.
It is...incredibly frustrating, and one reason that he has almost no true allies. Many followers, yes, but precious few allies. For all his claims to be better than the Dark Lord, he acts far more like one than he will ever willingly admit.
Though I will give him some credit, if Andromeda had ever slapped the Dark Lord...well. That would have ended rather differently, no matter how justified she was.
"Hmm, tell you what Dumbledore, how about I tell you one of the stories the Twins managed to draw out, and what happened afterward?"
"...Very well," he responds slowly.
"Well, they were buying her a birthday gift, her second-ever birthday gift, by the way, the first being the owl Hagrid bought for her earlier."
Dumbledore doesn't so much as twitch at the side note.
"Regardless, after giving her the gift, she had something of a breakdown, unable to believe everything was real. It wasn't the magic that was hard to believe, no, it was the idea that people were nice to her. That she owned things. She was convinced that she was dreaming, that she would wake up back in her cupboard."
Again, no reaction. I know he has an excellent poker face, he has been in politics for decades now, so it is no surprise. Still, it is hard to tell if he is surprised and hiding it, or knew and doesn't care.
"They did eventually calm her down, but one particularly interesting note, was when they discovered that they were her first human friends. The only other friend she ever had was a small snake when she was younger."
His form is rock solid, but I can see the light dim in his eyes, just a fraction.
"Of course, even that was only for a few days before her uncle found and killed the snake. Do you know what he did then?"
He is silent.
"It was not a rhetorical question Dumbledore. Do you know what he did then?"
"...No. No, I do not." Dumbledore answers, his voice and demeanor as serious as it has ever been. There is none of the kindly grandfather, or the strange, quirky wizard.
"He beat her Dumbledore. He did not strike her, or spank her, or paddle her, or any reasonable, modern punishment, or any punishment that would be reasonable even for most older generations. Even my own family, ill-reputed for our own often extreme measures of punishment, at least have reasons for our actions. Goals. There is no justification here."
Dumbledore remains silent.
"When they were looking at clothing, they had assumed she was shy. That was a factor, but in truth, she was mostly attempting to hide the bruises, and the scars, and oh my are they numerous. She could give any Auror short of Mad-Eye himself a run for their money, and I would not be betting on the Auror."
His face remains perfectly impassive, but his fists clench, and I can feel his magic in the room, just barely.
I lean forward again, just a touch.
"Dumbledore, she doesn't like talking about her time there. They only managed to get two real stories out of her. That is the better one. And neither are the worst of the news."
I have his full attention now. No games. No play acting. The defeater of Grindelwald sits across from me, in fine, imposing form.
Now, how much will it take to break that composure? How much, to lay. Him. Low.
Sitting back, I withdraw the parchment from my robes.
They are still Geminio copies, but they should hold up for a few weeks at least. Sufficient time for Dumbledore to copy them out himself if he is so inclined. I certainly will not do the work for him.
Placing the stack in my lap, I look at him and raise an eyebrow.
...
He sighs, and leans backward himself, massaging his eyes.
"Iris Potter...did not defeat Voldemort."
...
"Come again?"
Not how I expected this to start, certainly.
He snorts.
"As I said. Despite the hubbub surrounding her, Iris did not defeat Voldemort. Really, she was a toddler, it was ridiculous. But the world needed a hero, so...I allowed the story to flourish. For that and...other reasons. She was...and will be...the hero the world needs."
He is still hiding something, but I get the feeling he will not budge on it so easily, and I can make a guess.
"...I see. So...who did then?"
"Lily Potter. Her mother. She was, well, a genius. The brightest witch of her age. She never let anyone tell her something was not possible. She could have easily earned her mastery in half a dozen fields, but she never really cared for recognition, instead pursuing her own projects. She at least kept me up to date on them...until we knew Voldemort was after them personally. Then she dropped contact entirely."
He sighs.
"I had thought she was merely in hiding. It wasn't until I examined the house after the attack that I realized my mistake. Lily was not only smart but...well, she wasn't the sort to just hide, to hope a problem goes away on its own. She was busy. She invented something. Something new. Something never seen before."
He smiles.
"She invented a way to not only block the killing curse but to do so much more...a long term protection on a scale that to this day I can barely comprehend, much less replicate. I can say without question, that she did something far, far beyond my own capabilities or understanding."
I admit, my own eyes widen at the story and the admission. The Dark Lord, felled by a Muggleborn. And the "Light Lord", admitting inferiority before her. Oh, how Walburga must be spinning in her grave. Actually, yes I think I might visit that grave and tell her this story.
See, this is why I wanted to integrate muggle-borns in the first place...I need to have a long, long talk with Lucius.
"Alas, the protection required her sacrifice, her willing sacrifice, to power. So she gave her life to stop Voldemort, and protect Iris. And even then, it fades over time, unless in the presence of family. Given the lack of other options, I thus placed Iris with her only living relatives..."
"The Dursleys..."
He nods sadly.
"So long as she was accepted into their home, however reluctantly, she had a level of protection that could not be matched. Layers and layers of protection, I know of at least three separate attempts to get to her that were prevented, and there are no telling how many more casual ones were stopped that I missed."
"And beyond the protections on the home, she has more limited protections on herself, that will be of great aid to her against...certain parties, should they ever attempt to return."
"Oh? So the suspicious are true then? The Dark Lord is not as dead as most would hope?"
Dumbledore hesitates.
I roll my eyes.
"I was never exactly their biggest fan, regardless of my family's allegiances Dumbledore. And now that my heir has thrown in with their nemesis I rather doubt I will be on their Christmas list should they make a comeback."
He sighs.
"Yes, yes I strongly suspect Voldemort is still active in some manner. I have suspicious as to how they achieved this, but no confirmations as of yet."
I nod.
"Something to discuss in the future, but we were talking about Iris?"
He nods. "Yes, though I do believe I have covered everything..."
"I see. Mmm, these unmatched protections you are so proud of, I have to say, I am not impressed."
He frowns.
Lifting up the parchment, I begin reading.
Dumbledore's expression drops as I start listing the broken bones, the tears, the burns. He pales as mention the the organ damage, shakes as I get to the bites.
"Oh, we do have the story for those, would you like it?"
...
He does not respond.
"Dumbledore?"
I can feel his magic buzzing as he looks at me, fury in his eyes.
"How?"
"I'm sorry?"
"How?" he asks, almost pleadingly, despite the fury in his voice. "How could someone do this to...to their own...family?"
I snort. "I don't think you really want me to answer that. Now, do you want me to tell you the story?"
...
"No...I...think I would prefer...not to hear it..."
I smile.
"Too bad. I am going to give you every detail I know. You sent her to that hell, and I know you were considering sending her back, to get that precious "protection", so you are going to listen."
He does so, while I tell him about Ripper the bulldog, and how she was hurt even worse if she dared to fight back.
Seeing him with his head bowed, resting it on his arms on his desk is wonderful. And there is so much left to go.
"Dumbledore? We aren't finished yet."
"What?" He asks. "What more could there possibly be?"
"Why, we haven't even started on the starvation or all of the horrific side effects it caused."
...
He gapes at me.
"Star...starvation?"
"Indeed. I know, hard to believe is it not? I have heard that the boys of the family are rather rotund. And yet young Iris ate so little that her body was actually physically starving."
...
He appears unable to even process the idea. I could give him time to work it out, but I am so looking forward to these bits.
"Indeed, it was a serious problem. She had to heal constantly due to her injuries, but with the regular starvation, had no material to heal with. By any and all logic, she should have died years ago Dumbledore, any other child would have. She should have never lived long enough to get her letter."
He draws back. Yes, that got through to him.
"But somehow, she managed some sort of accidental magic that has been slowly replacing her body with magic essentially. It kept her alive up until this point, but...well, it is temporary. Very temporary. Her body is already failing. Even breaking fundamental rules of magic, she most likely had around a year to live."
He sits in his chair, half slumped to the side eyes wide, staring off into space. If only I had a camera.
I lift the stack of parchment and place it on his desk.
"Dumbledore."
"Dumbledore!" I repeat.
He blinks and turns towards me.
"Arc...Arcturus...what..."
"Tell me, what were you saying about the Daily Prophet's rumors being exaggerated again?"
He stares at me.
Cruel of me. Petty of me. But how could I resist?
Slowly, he reaches out and grasps the parchment, pulling it towards himself.
"Oh, I know how you can get sucked into your projects, so there is something else we need to go over before that."
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
"Arcturus...please..."
"Oh, you are going to want to hear it. Well, it is going to hurt almost as much, but you will want to hear it anyway if I know you."
He takes several more deep breaths before opening his eyes.
He shakes his head, sits up fully, and adjusts himself in his seat.
"Ok...Ok. What is it, Arcturus?"
His voice is still weak, but he almost looks like a living person again. Let's see if I can't do it again!
"My grandson is innocent."
...
I can see the flash in his eyes, for a fraction of an instant. The urge to deny, to call me a liar...but he can't.
He knows that I wouldn't waste my time if I wasn't confident, and the usual arrogance that fills him is quite broken.
"...How?"
I fill him in, on everything I learned from my visit to Azkaban.
He is slumped in his seat once more by the time I am finished.
"It...it is not proof..." he says weakly, desperately trying to deny it.
"But you believe it. It makes far more sense than the official story. And there are so many little things that add up, aren't there?"
And really, the traitor being a literal rat? How the "marauders" did not know exactly who it was from the beginning...
Dumbledore's vaunted Order are every bit the failures he is. If the Dark Lord were not completely insane they would have rolled right over those incompetents.
I can see the pieces falling into place in his head, before he falls onto his desk once more, holding his head in his hands.
"...I...I left him there...for all these years..."
"You did. You never even checked. On him or on Iris."
I can't resist driving the nail in deeper.
He is silent, half bowed over his desk, arms shaking.
"As I said. Arrogance. You assume that you know best, that you are right. And then, you move on. And people are hurt for it."
"...So...you did all of this...to teach me a lesson? To help me?" He looks up at me, almost hopeful.
It is almost cute, how he is always trying to see the best in people, even now.
"Hah! Of course not. I am no hero Dumbledore, I wanted to see you squirm. To watch the light in your eyes die, to see the realization when you understand just how badly you failed."
Even when it doesn't exist. Hmm...perhaps especially when it doesn't exist. The man is notoriously weak to a sob story.
I smile.
"I got exactly what I wanted. Now, if you do learn something from this, great. But I admit, that wasn't my goal."
He looks back down, and lays his head on the desk.
I shake my head.
"I admit, it is sad. You try so hard to do the right thing, to make the world a better place, and you keep failing. Over and over again. The twins will be attending soon, so I do hope you are better as a headmaster than you are at...everything else."
Standing, I take a moment to work the kinks from my back. He really needs some new chairs for his office..perhaps I should recommend Coeus?
"I will keep in contact about Sirius, do work to get him out quickly if possible, will you? I may have dropped the bombshell about Iris on him yesterday. If we don't, I suspect he will self-destruct."
I suppose in retrospect putting Sirius on a potential timer right before I mentally assault the person supposed to help me free him may not have been the best idea. Now I have to rely on Dumbledore's mental stability. Poor Sirius may be in trouble.
The old wizard doesn't answer. I can't see his eyes with his face buried in his arms, but I like to think he is crying.
I take that as my cue to leave and make my way out of his office.
What a wonderful week.
