Chapter 12 - A friend in need
Pansy was slowly losing her mind. What in Morgana's name had possessed Draco to sit at the Gryffindor table of all things? Things had definitely gone too far. She glared at the girl responsible for this. Potter.
She hadn't thought much when they had been sitting together at the sorting. Then she did whatever she did with the fire in the common room to show off to Draco, and to her dismay, it had worked. They had only been hanging out more since. Somehow, Potter had taken the place next to Draco that she had coveted for herself.
She'd overheard them in the common room, talking about rituals of all things. Apparently, Potter was some sort of expert on the banned art? She had thought of ways to use this information against her, but in the end, there was really no way to prove it. Even if what she did in the common room had actually been that. No, what was worse was that Potter seemed to have somehow convinced Draco to try some sort of ritual himself. She heard him plotting in his corner of the common room with Vince and Greg, and she didn't like it one bit. If Draco got himself hurt because of her, she didn't know what she'd do.
She saw the object of her envy get up from the table, and make her way towards the entrance of the hall, alone. This was it; this was her chance. She scrambled to her feet, and hurried after her.
Once they turned the first corner, she finally caught up to her.
"Potter!"
The girl stopped, and turned, her head tilted to the side curiously. She would wipe that smirk off her face.
Pansy gathered her courage, and growled out, "Stay away from Draco, if you know what's good for you."
Her eyebrows rose, and her gaze swept the empty corridor. She was worried. Good. She'd show her.
"Your little spiel with him ends now. I've been watching this for far too long. Someone like you doesn't deserve to be by his side, but worse, you're dragging him down with you."
Her eyes widened slightly. Pansy's mouth twisted into a snarl.
"That's right, I know all about the rituals." She didn't, but the girl didn't have to know that. It worked anyway, the girl took a step back, a shocked expression on her face.
"You... what? What are you talking about?"
Pansy took a moment to savor her little victory over the girl, and then continued. "Who knows what I could be talking about? After all, it could be anything, really..."
She took a step towards the girl, and she shrank back an inch. Pansy smirked. "And if you don't want to find out, you'll stay. Away. From. Draco."
Potter's mouth opened in shock, but no words came out. Pansy let her threat linger just a bit longer than necessary, then turned on her heel and swept back into the great hall.
All was right with the world again.
~V~
Iris glanced nervously across the classroom at Draco. She still had no idea what to do. If the girl really had something on her, she couldn't risk her exposing her forays into free ritual, especially since it would incriminate Draco as well. He had given her the book, after all. It still hurt, but she had no choice but to stay away from Draco for now. Iris had done her best to dodge him in the hallways between morning classes, as well as at lunch. But now they were sitting in their history class, and there was literally nothing to do, except either sleep, or be lost in your thoughts. Neither sounded particularly appealing to Iris at the moment.
At least she wasn't alone in her thoughts, although Tracey's mood had quite a different source.
"The uprising of Lorbog the second was not only the last, but also the bloodiest of goblin rebellions-" droned Binns' voice.
"That's not even true! There was another one a hundred years ago with Ranrok the third!" Tracey cried in despair.
The girl had slowly but steadily been losing her faith in humanity as the class progressed, as it kept making more and more of a joke of her favorite subject. She had taken to interrupting and correcting the professor at every turn, but it only served to make her mood worse, if anything.
"-as I said, the bloodiest of rebellions, also perhaps the bloodiest of all wizarding wars that century-"
"Except it wasn't! Emeric the Evil created a terror state that killed at least twice as many muggleborns, and that was just the muggleborns!"
"Miss Haberforth," came an annoyed rattle from Professor Binns, "if you'd like to teach the class instead of me, go right ahead."
Iris rolled her eyes. She had gotten that exact line at least three times in primary school.
Tracey, however, was undeterred. "Fine! I will!" she declared indignantly.
It was now Iris' turn to facepalm.
The professor stared at her unmovingly, for a disturbing amount of time. Tracey started to shift under his dead eyes. Then, against all reason, he nodded and rasped, "Very well."
To the shock of everyone, most of all Tracey, the ghost promptly faded into nothingness. Somehow, Iris felt a facepalm didn't do the situation justice.
The whole class was now staring at Tracey, nobody knowing what to say. Tracey blinked, "Er... kay?"
The class had ended after that. Iris had been kind of curious if Tracey would actually take a crack at teaching, but it seemed the girl had other things on her mind, and the rest of the class wasn't any more inclined to stick around either.
Iris saw Draco moving to catch up with her together with Vince and Greg, looking like they wanted to talk to her for some reason. She looked around and saw the Parkinson girl give her an intense look across the room. She shrank back and hurried out of the classroom, successfully evading Draco.
Iris didn't know where to go from here, so she started wandering aimlessly, until she found herself in front of the library. All of this just because of that stupid book from the restricted... section...
Iris' eyes widened. That's right, she had completely forgotten! The other book. The one about polarized magic. She had hidden it in the piano in the restricted section, and then never thought to retrieve it. She still had no idea what polarized magic really was, except it had to do with Light and Dark magic... Maybe, Dark, as in whatever the hell she had done on accident yesterday? Then would Light refer to her magical light? Also, now that she was thinking about it, the caretaker had reacted really weirdly when she had mentioned polarized magic. If it really had something to do with why her magic was broken, she had to find out. She just hoped she could find her way back there, and that the book was still there.
Row by row, she was combing through the library. She had gone all the way from one end to the other and back, but she had yet to encounter the row that was filled with clocks again. How had she gotten there in the first place? Was there some kind of trick to it?
Frowning, she decided she needed a different approach. Looking down the main aisle, she spotted the librarian's desk. Could... could she just ask the librarian? But what if she knew about the secret passageway? Or if she suspected something? How could she ask her for what she needed, without giving anything away?
Iris nibbled on her upper lip in thought. Which subject could be related to clocks? Or time? Something she could ask about that would seem plausible?
History was a possibility, but then again, they had just famously lost their history professor to Tracey's enthusiasm, maybe that would raise additional questions. She guessed she could make an argument for Potions or Herbology or even flying class, if they needed a watch to keep time for some reason, but that still seemed a bit farfetched. Keep time... Hang on. She looked around the library. No matter how hard she looked, she couldn't find any clocks. That was odd, most of the classrooms had at least something, and the great hall had a giant one. Could it be that simple?
Shaking off her doubts, she approached the stern librarian, who wrinkled her nose as she recognized her. Iris put on her trademark wide-eyed innocent smile.
"I'm sorry Madam Pince, would you happen to have the time? It's just... I've been studying, but I don't have a watch on me, and there don't seem to be any clocks in here either. I wouldn't want to be late for class..."
Madam Pince's expression melted, and she gave a small smile. "Oh, well, that is because distractions should be kept to a minimum. Not to worry dear, there is a simple trick for that. When in the library and you need the time, just turn right six times and you'll find all the time you need. Be sure you return any watches you take for the duration of your stay. Those are school property."
"Oh, thank you ever so much," Iris chirped. That had almost been too easy.
She skipped down a random aisle and turned right, and right again. Long after she should have crossed her own path, she suddenly ended up in a familiar place. She heard the ticking before she saw it. Clocks. Perfect. She approached the familiar grandfather clock, and after looking around, climbed into the passageway inside it.
The familiar ticking noise followed her all the way to the end, until she pushed open the exit and climbed down onto the shelf below the clock she had emerged from. The restricted section was as dark and ominous as ever.
There was a rustling noise above. She looked up and gasped. Instead of the gently flapping books that seemed to fly across the library everywhere, there was what could only be described as an angry dark cloud of tomes, swarming and diving in sharp circles, carving through the crooked aisle, and almost toppling one of the bookshelves. Iris swallowed. She hoped that the books hadn't noticed her, she had no idea what they would do to her. Bringing up her trusty light, she forged onwards down the dark corridor.
At the end, she could make out a silhouette. It was the grand piano. Iris broke into a sprint, anticipation building. Finally, she made it, took a breath, and flung open the cover. There was a rustling whoosh, and for a moment she thought there had been bats hiding inside the piano, but a second glance revealed the bats to be loose pages of text, that seemed to have gained a life of their own. She hoped that her book was still okay.
Carefully lifting the cover further, she peered inside. There, in the corner of the piano wing, there lay a familiar book. Iris reached out, and snatched it up. Her hand slipped, down off the edge of the piano and hit the piano keys.
The sound that resulted caused her to shiver to her core. She had no idea a piano could even be tuned this wrong if you tried. It sounded like a mixture of a creaking door, and chalk screeching across the blackboard at a very unfortunate angle. Also, it was way louder than it had any right to be. Frozen solid, she stood, book still clutched in her hand, as the sound faded.
Just as she took a relieved breath, she heard another sound. The rustling was returning. And this time, she had no illusions where it was headed. Iris broke into a sprint down the corridor, her light desperately clutched in one hand and her book in the other.
The angry fluttering and rustling of dark tomes drew closer. She could almost feel the air moving, licking at her boots, as the swarm descended upon her. She yelled out in panic, as she caught a sight over her shoulder. The books were almost upon her, and looked even angrier up this close. In a desperate attempt, she whirled around, thrust her light in the direction of the books and forced as much power as she could into it, causing a blinding storm of iridescent colors to fill the aisle.
The bookshelves were rattling, the floor was groaning, everything was shimmering in different colors. The murder of books screeched as it swarmed, but the light somehow only served to make them angrier. She threw a desperate look over her shoulder. The open clock face was so close, yet so very far away.
In a desperate attempt, scared out of her mind, Iris once again resorted to do something reckless. She withdrew her light, and instead attempted to call back the shadows. Her fear provided the necessary emotions, and after only a few seconds, she could see the darkness enveloping her, even though it was already almost pitch black. The books, however, seemed to relax. Somehow, as if they could sense the presence of the shadows, they calmed down, and started to circle slower and slower, as if the darkness was soothing them. Iris took a deep breath, and took a careful step back. She had no intention of ending up in that shadow dimension again, so she tried her best not to go overboard with the darkness. Iris took another step. The books didn't respond. Slowly, she edged closer and closer towards the exit, keeping herself carefully wrapped in shadows, although hopefully not too much shadow.
Finally, she made it to the clock, and with one last deep breath, she climbed up into the clock face and slammed the door shut behind her.
At last, safety. She let go of the shadows, and called her light back. At first, the shadows seemed to linger, spying at her from the corners of the room, but as she kept bathing them in colors, they slowly retreated for good. The fact these shadows seemed to almost have a will of their own was deeply worrying. Maybe she shouldn't be playing around with them like that. Although, she hadn't had much of a choice, she guessed.
Regaining her bearings, she made her way through the passage and out of the old grandfather clock on the other side. The time aisle was still empty save for the ticking. Iris decided to make her way to the grounds to find a place to read. She didn't want to be caught with this book any more than with the ritual book.
Walking along the shore of the lake where she had explored yesterday with Harry, she found a large tree by its shore that she had dared Harry to climb, but he had declined. The treetop was lush and thick, and provided adequate cover for anyone who happened to be hiding inside. Casting a gaze around, she spotted nobody nearby. Iris tightened her bag around her shoulders, and started to climb.
Her fingers found purchase on the brittle bark as she slowly inched her way up the massive trunk. Thank God she was so bloody short. Although, she'd gladly trade being able to climb trees for a few extra inches of height.
Finally, she managed to pull herself into a large branch, slowly shifted around, and leaned back against the massive tree trunk. This was kind of comfy. From here, she could almost see the whole lake. As well as anyone who would be approaching her, at least, if she squinted through the leaves.
Iris retrieved her book at last, took a breath, and dove in.
~V~
A change in the song of the birds, an increase in the chirping of crickets, and the world seemed to slowly shift to red. Iris blinked. Was it that late already? She had been more absorbed into the book than she perhaps should have been. Her original instinct about this book had been right. It didn't care much about morals or ethics, it just plainly presented facts. And a lot of these facts were more than dubious in nature.
Yet, she didn't regret a thing. She felt like she really was on the right path to understanding more about her magic. Apparently, Light magic was a representation of pure positive emotion, while Dark magic was the same for negative ones. Also, she was almost a hundred percent sure now that whatever she had been doing with shadows was her somehow summoning raw Dark polarized magic. Even though the book said that's very difficult if not outright impossible to do without the use of the vocalized Tenebris spell. This made her wonder if she could do the same for Light magic. At first, she had thought that referred to her colorful light, but apparently not. Light magic is supposed to be pure brightness, devoid of any colors, just like its opposite. So was she stuck with producing white light again? That didn't sound quite right either. Flitwick had explained that everyone's magic was white in its natural state, well except for hers, and somehow, she doubted that the simple first year Lumos spell actually summoned Light polarized magic. There had to be a difference.
Also, she had found a passage that referred to destructive interference. Apparently, when opposite polarized spells of similar magnitudes collided, sometimes instead of the spells reacting, the Dark and Light elements would destructively interfere, resulting in an 'explosion of pure color'. That sounded way too familiar to what she could do, so she resolved to investigate this further in the future.
Suddenly, there was the sound of a snapping twig to her right. Iris jerked up and looked through the leaves hastily. She had completely lost awareness of her surroundings. Down there, she spotted Gryffindor robes, a small boy, with black hair, not Harry, but somehow familiar...
Her eyes widened. It was him! Neville! The boy she had almost killed on accident. Quickly checking her bag, she looked for what she needed, and found it. Clutching the Remembrall in her hand, she stowed away the book, closed up her bag and dropped down. She swung off her branch, hung on by one hand, then dropped to the ground with a thud, causing the boy to jump.
Iris attempted a smile, but her mind was spinning too fast. What could she say to him? How did one even go about apologizing for almost killing someone? She didn't think she deserved his forgiveness, but maybe, she hoped, he would at least not hate her for what she did, even though he should. She looked at his shocked expression and squirmed in place, unable to suppress a slight blush.
"Uh... Hi! Neville, right? Uhm... I'm Iris," she began awkwardly.
"I-Iris, right. I... Well, I was actually looking for you, Harry said you might be out here..." he said in a small voice, eyes wide.
Iris swallowed. This was it, he already hated her, was even scared of her, and was about to condemn her for what she had done.
"I- well..." Iris tried to apologize, but the words eluded her.
The boy however took a breath and cut her off, and her opportunity to apologize with it.
"I just... wanted to thank you," he blurted out.
Iris blinked. The words he had just said simply refused to register in her mind. Was this some sort of joke? Why would he be thanking her?
"T-the healers said it's a miracle that I made it to the hospital wing alive in the first place... A-and well... Harry and the others said you did something, they don't know what, just that there was lots of g-green light..."
Her eyes widened. She had almost forgotten about her freak-out after the crash. She still didn't quite know what she did, or if it had done anything, just that she had passed out from it.
"I- that was..." she mumbled, but he cut her off again.
"I don't know what you did, and I... I don't know why. Honestly, I'm the last person who d-deserves it, but still. T-thank you... you know... for saving my life," he almost whispered those last words, looking down at her feet.
Iris had no idea what to do with that. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. He couldn't just thank her like that, she had almost killed him for god's sake.
"But... I hurt you... Hell, I almost killed you..." Iris stammered, her mind unable to comprehend the situation.
Neville just shrugged. Shrugged. "Heh, I probably would have crashed my broom anyway if the teacher hadn't put me aside..." he said in a self-deprecating voice.
Iris just stared. How did that make any difference to what she had done? She nervously fumbled around with the Remembrall in her hand, then she realized what it was she was holding, and perked up.
"Oh, well still. I wanted to apologize for... you know... what happened. A-and I also wanted to give you this," she said uncertainly, and held out the Remembrall in an unsteady hand.
"D-don't worry about it..." he mumbled, then his eyes fell on the Remembrall clutched in her hands, and went wide. "Oh... that's... I was wondering where that went." he said and blushed.
Neville reached out and carefully took the glass orb from her grasp. "Thank you... I- I'll take better care of it..."
Iris' heart clenched. Did he really think she was... disappointed... because he lost it? Because that's what it had sounded like.
"If anything, you should thank Draco... he was the one who found it," she admitted.
His eyes widened. "...oh. I- I guess... But still, you saved me, so thank you for... you know. I don't care how you did it. I'm just... you know."
Iris didn't know how to feel. She realized that a small part of her had wanted him to hate her, had felt like she deserved it. Had she... had she really managed to fix things?
It still felt like this wasn't enough, she needed to do something for him. But what could she do? She didn't have much to offer to others, other than her friendship...
"Well, then... do you maybe wanna sit together in our next class?"
He shifted and looked at her wide eyed. "I... uh- Well, okay? I mean I'm not really all that good with magic. A-are you sure?"
She felt kind of bad using his perceived debt to her to get him to agree to this, but she thought she could do more for him if they became friends. Also, he seemed like a nice kid, even if he was really shy. A bit like Lily, except he for some reason didn't seem to dislike her even after what she had done, where Lily had always felt somewhat uneasy around her.
"Sure, I'd like to get to know you a bit." She decided that a straightforward approach was probably the best way to get him to open up a bit. "First thing tomorrow morning, that's Potions, right? Do we have that with you?"
"Uhm... I think so." He still wasn't meeting her eyes.
Iris beamed. "Great. I'll save you a seat, then."
Neville was finally looking at her, and a small smile made its way onto his face.
~V~
Harry looked back over at his sister, who was currently arguing with Ron about why it was a problem for Malfoy to sit at their table, but not for her. But he could tell both of them weren't really into it. Partially since it looked like they seemed to have an unspoken eating contest of sorts going on at the same time, which was pretty amusing to watch. Also, it told him that Iris had her good spirits back, after whatever had been going on the whole day. Her appetite still seemed to be a solid mood-indicator.
He looked over at Neville, who was sitting next to him, and who seemed to be staring at Iris with a forlorn expression. What was going on there? Had they already talked?
"Yo, Harry, budge over!"
Harry jumped at the sudden voice from behind him. With a bewildered look, he made room for Tracey between him and Seamus.
The girl shot him a bright grin as she squeezed into the gap and promptly started loading up her plate. It seemed like the two Slytherin girls were already almost inseparable. Wherever Iris would choose to sit for their meals, Tracey would follow. Or at least he assumed that's what happened. It's not like the girl was here for his sake, he guessed.
"So... Harry! I hear you're doing quite well in Transfiguration?"
Or... not? Who knew with that ball of excitement that called itself Tracey. He happily begun a discussion on the subject. He had really come to enjoy it, and it seemed Tracey was eager to discuss with someone who could at least cast the spells.
That thought made him frown again, as he looked back at Iris. He knew it was really getting to her that she couldn't do most of the spells that everyone else was learning, especially in Transfiguration. Even if she hid it well most of the time.
Thinking of his sister, and her friends, he threw a glance over at the Slytherin table. Malfoy was huddled together with Crabbe, Goyle, and the Parkinson girl, all of them bent over a book, while he was furiously scribbling something. Occasionally, they had been shooting glances at Iris. She had done her best to evade any attempts by him to speak with her, which Harry didn't quite understand, but also felt was a bit awkward to ask about. She had already complained about his 'over-protectiveness' often enough, he didn't need to make it even worse if there wasn't any danger to her. Also, he had never been quite sure about Malfoy, so if their friendship wasn't meant to last, he wasn't exactly complaining. Although, he had been pretty decent lately...
He looked back at Neville, who seemed to be following Iris' argument intently. Maybe he should make an effort to get to know Neville better, he really did seem like a nice bloke. Also, he was glad that he seemed to be all healed up, despite what the healers had initially expected. Apparently, he had been really lucky, although he wasn't going to tell Iris that. Hopefully, his recovery had convinced her that she shouldn't feel guilty about what had happened.
~V~
Neville hurried down the corridor, asked another portrait, and changed directions yet again. Merlin, the dungeons were confusing. How the Slytherins could navigate this maze every day, he would never know. He checked his pocket watch—Oh no, only one minute left! How had he gotten this lost?
Behind another corner, he finally found a large set of wooden doors, who were thankfully still open. He was just on time. Neville barged into the room and looked around. Students were huddled around round desks that were bearing large black cauldrons. Everyone was divided up in pairs, and there was a careful separation across all tables between Gryffindor and Slytherin. He gulped. Slowly, he scanned the room looking for- there! Iris was sitting on a desk in the corner, and the seat next to her was thankfully still empty. She spotted him, brightened up and waved him over.
Neville had no idea why someone like her would be interested in sitting next to someone like him. He probably wouldn't have agreed, just because he didn't think he deserved it, or rather because she didn't deserve to be partnered with someone like him. However, he couldn't exactly have turned her down, after what she had done for him, and with the way she had asked. Also, if she really wanted to be friends, well... He was secretly hoping that was true, even if he didn't really believe it. Who would want to be friends with a squib?
Well, he supposed, people had been calling her a squib too, after what had happened. Did she have problems with her magic as well? Well, there was no way he was going to ask about that.
Neville shuffled his way over to her desk, put down his bag, and retrieved his book.
"Hi, Neville! How's your day going?"
He froze. She was talking to him. But she didn't want anything? Was she really just trying to make friends after all? Even if she was a Slytherin?
"Uh, good, thanks," came the reply.
Any further queries by Iris were suddenly cut off, as the wooden doors slammed shut. Everyone was looking round in confusion and unease, until a sallow tall man with a hooked nose emerged from a dark corner of the room without making a sound. He was glaring at them, as if they had already done something wrong. Neville felt like he was glaring at him in particular, even if that didn't make much sense.
He hadn't said anything, yet the whole room was staring at him in worry and absolute silence. Neville had a bad feeling about this.
"Some of you may find it hard to believe this is magic," he began to speak in a low and steady voice.
"You will see no desks change into pigs or books tap-dance across the table in this class. You won't be shooting bright sparks across the room and scarcely use your wand at all."
Neville stared. Was the teacher trying to make his class sound even less appealing? Not that he was any good in any of those things anyway.
"Yet to the keen mind, this class is one of the rare few paths which can allow you to completely harness the almost limitless possibilities that magic has to offer."
Now he had everyone's attention.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking. If you have the... predisposition... I can teach you how to take even the most fantastic and improbable of ideas..." he drew his hand along his desk, and picked up a small light blue vial.
"...and make them..." he swirled the vial in his hand. "...a reality."
He flicked his hand and let go. Gasps arose as the vial sailed through the air, towards the gaping class. There was a crack, and the vial shattered mid-air. A bright flash of light washed over them, and the sound of howling wind filled his ears. The air seemed to freeze on his skin as it made contact.
A blink of an eye, and there was silence. Mist had enveloped the class, hoarfrost was coating the tables, cauldrons and everything else, and it had started snowing. In September. Indoors.
Neville blinked. Despite being scared out of his mind, he had to admit, it was kind of beautiful. He exhaled, causing a cloud of vapor to exit his mouth.
"To those who apply themselves, you may find that a cauldron can offer much more than you could ever achieve with a wand. To those who don't... we will regretfully have to suffer your presence for up to five more years."
For some reason, his eyes swept over him in that moment, and Neville shifted in his seat. His black eyes seemed to linger on Iris for a while, before he snapped around, and glared across the room. Ron had been whispering with Harry, and apparently, the professor had overheard.
"Potter! Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Iris shifted next to him nervously, but it was pretty obvious that the professor was asking her brother, not her. Neville gave her a questioning look. He knew about asphodel, but he had no idea what it could do in combination with wormwood, powdered or not. None of these plants were covered this year in Herbology. She replied with a shrug. Apparently, she was as clueless as everyone else. The only one who seemed to know the answer was that bushy haired girl from his house. He hadn't remembered her name from the sorting.
The professor paced across the room, getting closer to their table and started talking again.
"No idea? Pity. Let's try another question, Potter. Where would you look if I told you to fetch me a bezoar?"
Neville swallowed. He had never heard of that before; he didn't think it was a plant at all. Apparently, Iris seemed to have some idea, as she perked up.
When Harry failed to respond again, she spoke up. "It's a stone from the stomach of a goat, that saves you from most poisons, Sir."
His eyebrows rose as the wrong Potter answered his question. Well, Neville guessed, he hadn't exactly specified. When the professor didn't say anything, she continued.
"Although, given its universal use, I'd probably look for it in the ingredients' cupboard, or failing that, I suspect there's a good chance you even carry one on you in person?"
Neville cringed. He would never have dared to mouth of to a professor like that, especially not one as scary as Professor Snape. The sallow man looked torn between anger and... something else. Neville couldn't quite read him. For a second, it seemed like he wanted to snap back at Iris, then he closed his eyes for a second and took a breath. His eyes opened back up, and swung over from Iris, directly onto him. Neville shrank in his seat.
"Well, how about you then, Longbottom. Care to tell me what the difference is between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
His mind failed to function as Professor Snape was looming over him as if he had done something wrong, and he was already sure he had failed. Then, a spark in his mind, and suddenly the question registered. He... he knew this.
"N-nothing... Sir! I-It's the same plant, a-and it had many names such as a-aconite..."
He seemed to glare for another moment, almost as if disappointed, but not in him, no, he was glaring at Iris again. Then he slowly turned to look back at Harry.
"Well, Mr. Potter, it seems that at least your peers managed to open a book before class. Apparently, fame... isn't everything."
There were some snickers throughout the room at that. He could see Iris' expression had grown cold. Something about her eyes was just... He didn't know. Unsettling, he guessed. He felt an unexplainable urge to shift away from her, but suppressed it. She was trying to be his friend; he wasn't going to be scared of her for no reason.
There hadn't been much teaching happening after that. Professor Snape had pointed at the blackboard, where a set of instructions appeared on how to prepare a cure for boils, and without explanations, he set them to begin brewing. The professor had stalked around the class, looming over cauldrons and making snide remarks on the quality of their progress, especially the Gryffindors'. Neville was just glad that Iris seemed to have some idea of what she was doing. She was looking up things in the book at every other step, but so far, their potion looked at least similar to what the instructions described. Most of the class had ended up with mixtures of various colors and smells, only that Gryffindor girl had managed a potion that looked like the exact color from the instructions, and two groups of Slytherins had at least managed something close. Their own potion wasn't quite as accurate, but it was still closer than the majority of the class. Professor Snape had stopped several times to peer into their cauldron, but hadn't commented, which Neville guessed was a good thing, all things considered. They had settled into a rhythm, where Iris would figure out what they needed, Neville would go and find the ingredients, prepare them, and Iris would then mix them into the cauldron at the appropriate step.
When the class ended, they bottled up their result and handed it to the professor, who peered at it, frowned, as if he wanted to say something demeaning about it, but then seemed to reconsider and just nodded instead. Neville was just confused now. Whatever was going on between the professor and Iris, he was still glad that he ended up sitting next to her. He had seen how nasty the professor had been to the other Gryffindors.
Neville secretly hoped they could sit together in the next potions class again, although he didn't dare ask Iris about that. He still felt like he was holding her back.
~V~
Iris was wandering, aimless, restless. She had tried to go to sleep, but for some reason couldn't shut an eye. Her steps had led her out the common room doors and down the grand staircase, lower and lower into the bowels of the castle. She hadn't given any thought to being spotted out after curfew, her mind circling around all kinds of other, more important things.
Was Neville really okay? Had she really fixed things? What was going to happen with Draco's duel tomorrow? What would it mean if he lost? Would Warrington try and do something to her? What did Draco have to give up? What was the council? Could she help him somehow?
Questions flooded her mind, yet answers eluded her. Slowly, the deeper she descended into the castle, she noticed something else. Something was wrong, yet she couldn't tell what. It was just a feeling. Something about the castle felt off, its colors slightly slanted, the utter silence somehow more deafening than any actual noise. A feeling of uneasiness spread in her stomach. She had never felt like this before.
Footsteps approached quickly, and she almost didn't register them. Once they reached her, it was already too late. Iris looked into the panicked face of the last person she would have expected to find out here. Pansy Parkinson.
"Merlin - Potter, I... What are you..." she rambled, mind clearly someplace else.
Iris was too shocked to respond, resentment warring with confusion in her mind. Then, the girl said something she had never expected to hear from her.
"I... I need your help," she blurted out, eyes still jumping around distractedly, as she was wringing her hands in desperation.
What on earth could make the girl think that she would want to help her, after her little stunt yesterday? What had her this terrified? And why would she think that she of all people could help with it?
Her next words, or rather the way she said them, made her blood run cold.
"I-it's about Draco."