Chapter 15 - A Slytherin approach
Somehow, Iris decided, having other students actually wanting to talk to her for once wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
Apparently, the main topic was the exact circumstances of Harry's death. Because of course, Dumbledore had explained absolutely nothing.
Some believed what was written in the Prophet, some even the Quibbler. The rest either still believed in Dumbledore but were agitated because he didn't tell them anything specific, or just plainly didn't know what to think. And finally, there were the Slytherins. Half of them did what they always did and seemingly took a wait and see approach, but the other half? She wasn't sure, but she suspected a lot of them knew more than they let on.
So of course, Iris couldn't manage to take three steps without being accosted by random students.
"Hey, you're Iris, right? What happened? Is the Boy-Who-Lived really..."
"Can you tell us more?"
"Why didn't Dumbledore say anything? Do you know what—"
"My mum said I shouldn't return back to Hogwarts this year—"
"Has he told you anything?"
"Figures that his Slytherin sister would survive, I bet she—"
Iris reached for her wand and produced the charm she had copied from the barkeep girl in Germany, leaving her in blissful silence. She slowly shoved her way through the crowd of students, making her way towards the door. She caught Luna's eyes along the way, who gave her a hesitant look before averting her gaze. Iris sighed and moved on. She'd definitely have to try talking to the girl tomorrow.
When she finally reached the door, she shoved her way through to the grand staircase, but was once again stopped, this time by a familiar face, who was seemingly talking at her with a quite intense expression. When it didn't seem like he would easily let up, she finally flicked her wand and canceled the charm.
"—even listening?"
Iris met Ron's eyes and gave him an apologetic shrug. "Sorry. Noise-dampening charm. What did you say?"
"What were you doing with Hermione?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.
Iris blinked. "What? Nothing? I haven't even seen her yet."
"Don't play dumb. Over the summer. The two of you met, right? You visited her too. She mentioned something, but she won't tell me what you were doing," he said accusingly.
Oh. Well.
"Yeah, I did. She asked me for help, and I prevented her from doing something stupid," Iris said.
Ron's expression hardened. "Hermione's not stupid."
"That's not what I said," replied Iris.
"Well, it's what you meant," Ron shot back.
Iris returned a glare but couldn't find it within her to argue the point.
"What were you doing? If you're doing something that—"
"That is really not for me to tell. She asked me for help, and I did. The details are hers to share. You wouldn't want me to betray her trust like that, would you?"
"I'm her best friend!"
"And yet she seemingly didn't want to tell you."
"And that's exactly why I'm worried!"
Iris gave him a look. "Would you want me to tell Hermione about something you had specifically asked me not to tell her?" Which she hadn't, but Ron didn't need to know that.
"I can tell you this much. It's already over and done with, so there is no use worrying about it anymore."
He still seemed like he wanted to argue, but her previous statement had precluded any chance of that. Ron was many things, but he was not a liar. Not when it came to his friends. If anything, he was honest. And since the answer to her previous question was obviously no, he had reached the end of his argument there.
Ron didn't need to know about their ritual escapades. Even if she really hadn't done anything. There was no point in risking to implicate Hermione in doing something like that, and more importantly, possibly herself along with it.
"If it's that important to you, you should say that to her. It's really not my place to tell."
That seemed to finally mollify him somewhat, although he still held a slight frown on his face. "Fine. But I swear, if it's something... if she gets hurt from—"
"I told you, it's in the past," Iris said, finally making her way down the hall until she added over her shoulder, "Just let it go."
~V~
"Who the fuck else will be there?" Iris snarled, staring at the sheet of parchment posted to the notice board.
"By the fact he went out of his way to hold it on Sunday, pretty much all of Wizarding Britain is my guess," replied Theo with a shrug.
Great. All of the magical world, at least, here in the UK, and probably also some from abroad, all come to gawk at Harry. With her luck, they'd probably expect her to give a speech, too.
"But why would he do that? It'll be overrun with strangers, instead of, you know, people who actually... care," Tracey said in a small voice.
"That's likely the point," said Theo, setting Iris' thoughts alight with questions.
"That's... You're thinking he's looking for an audience?" Iris replied, as her mind took that information and ran with it, causing her to barely even register Theo's reply.
"Just that. And likely not for the funeral itself," Theo replied.
"Wait..." Tracey interjected dubiously. "You think he's going to reveal You-Know-Who's back? And... he's looking for support?"
"Exactly," Theo said with a nod.
"He's... holding a funeral... for H-Harry. But it's all just some giant scheme in his war against You-Know-Who?" Tracey repeated in a wavering voice.
There was some amount of silence.
"He'd probably argue that Harry would have agreed with it," added Theo.
"You're not helping!" Tracey snapped, then she whirled on Iris. "What do you think? Is he really holding the funeral just for that?"
"It's possible," Iris admitted quickly.
Too quickly. "But... you think there's even more to it?"
Merlin damn that perceptive social butterfly.
"Who knows," Iris tried vaguely. "It's Dumbledore."
"Don't gimme that!" Tracey snapped. "You just figured something out, didn't you? Well, spill."
Iris shifted on her feet, and threw a nervous glance at Theo. If she told them... well, they would probably try to help her, which was a bad idea in and of itself, but also... If somehow the information got out to the wrong people...
Wrong people, which hopefully, didn't include Theo. But after that half-arsed apology... Iris didn't know. A glance across the room solidified her decision as she noticed Snape looming in the corner of the common room, seemingly doing his best to pretend like he wasn't looking her way.
"Later. Talk to you at night in our dorm," Iris told Tracey instead, and made an effort to ignore her aghast expression at her obvious exclusion of their other friend.
~V~
"Good morning, class."
There were a few mumbled "Morning" replies, but apparently, the default reply hadn't satisfied the witch who had a taste for the especially eye-searing.
"Tut-tut. Now, that won't do. When I say 'Good morning, class,' I would like you all to reply with 'Good Morning, Professor Umbridge.' Now, let's try once again. Good morning, class!"
Ugh. She was one of those. Iris rolled her eyes, but went through the motions of pretending she was actually saying the words. She figured she had to be some sort of seer, since she had a very distinct premonition that the two of them would be getting along like a house on fire.
But she'd still do her best to avoid drawing too much attention to herself. She already had way too much on her plate anyway, the last thing she'd need to add was an unnecessary feud with yet another entitled teacher.
"Now from my understanding, your previous education in this subject has been rather... lackluster, not to mention the questionable choice of my predecessor."
Wow. That had to be the quickest way to make yourself unpopular with every single student she'd seen yet. And she'd had classes with Binns, and Snape. Iris wondered what her angle was. She recognized the name from her trip to the Ministry with Greengrass. Apparently, she used to work somewhere in upper-management there? Undersecretary, or something. She wondered what she'd be doing here, teaching school children instead.
"But you can rest assured, from now on your curriculum has been carefully designed and optimized by the Department of Education, to ensure the most valuable lessons taught to us by our very own history... are not lost on our youngest and most impressionable minds."
Next to her, Tracey made a gagging face.
Iris leaned towards her friend and whispered "Any chance you can exorcise her like Binns?"
Tracey's face turned hopeful. "Maybe if I mention the founding of the Ministry by the Muggle monarchy she'll spontaneously combust?"
"You know what they say about things that sound too good to be true?" Iris whispered back.
"A girl can dream..." Tracey grumbled quietly.
But apparently, not quietly enough. Umbridge's gaze had swept the room for the source of the noise, and of all people, had apparently ended up on Iris. Joy.
"Miss Potter. Is there anything you'd like to share with the class? Or perhaps you'd like to teach the class instead of me?" the woman said in a saccharine voice.
Both Iris and Tracey did their best to not react to that, that sense of Deja-vu making it incredibly hard for Iris to maintain an impassive expression. Ultimately, Tracey failed to hold in a snort behind her quickly raised hand, and Iris faltered in her wake.
Surprisingly, Umbridge didn't seem very amused by their outburst. Iris was just glad that she had somehow managed to resist the unbearable urge to just reply 'Hell, yes!' to that perfect set-up, despite how obvious of a trap it had been.
"No, Professor. I'm sorry."
Umbridge's smile had turned slightly stony, but after a second, she let her gaze move across the class once more, apparently deciding to make a show out of it instead. "That's right. There will be no speaking in class. If you have something to say, you raise your hand, and wait for me to call on you."
Iris let out a silent breath of relief. She really had to be better than this. Once she had successfully brought Harry back, she'd have all the time in the world to continue her year-long tradition from St. Grogorys—the art of systematically ruining her academic career by making entitled teachers feel stupid—which this latest target was seemingly almost begging for. But for now—no matter how much she itched to twist her own words back at her, begin poking holes in her reasoning and generally prove herself worthy of the title precocious—she'd have to swallow her pride and remain silent. She had been a Gryffindor for long enough. Bringing Harry back would require a Slytherin.
"Now, for this first lesson, I'd like you all to open your books to page four. We will be learning about the history of the most important institution of our entire magical society. The Ministry of Magic, or to be more precise, how its various branches came to be, what their purpose is, and the various methods that have historically been employed to perform its duties."
"Now, as you turn to page four," Umbridge began, her voice dripping with that sickly sweetness that made Iris's skin crawl, "you'll find an overview of the Ministry's founding. Can anyone tell me the year the Ministry of Magic was established?"
A few hands hesitantly rose into the air. Umbridge's gaze flickered over her but settled instead on a student in the back.
"Yes, Mr. Macmillan?"
The boy cleared his throat. "1707, Professor."
"Very good," Umbridge simpered. "Five points to Hufflepuff."
Iris raised a lazy eyebrow. Were they actually going to be learning some history in this class?
"The Ministry was founded in 1707 to bring order and regulation to the wizarding community, ensuring that magic was used responsibly and that our kind could live in harmony, hidden from the non-magical world."
Iris exchanged a look with Tracey, practically daring her to interject the nugget of knowledge she had mentioned before.
Umbridge paced slowly at the front of the room, hands clasped primly in front of her. "Before the Ministry, chaos reigned. Wizards and witches operated without oversight, leading to countless breaches of secrecy and endangering us all. It was only through the wisdom and guidance of the Ministry that we have achieved the stability and prosperity we enjoy today."
Iris felt Tracey shift uncomfortably beside her. Obviously, Umbridge had left out something pretty damn important there, and her friend was itching to correct her. Iris wasn't sure what the preceding form of government of their society had been, but she was pretty damn sure it hadn't been anarchy.
"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Umbridge continued, "is perhaps the most critical branch, upholding our laws and ensuring that any who threaten our way of life are dealt with appropriately. The Aurors, as you know, are our brave witches and wizards who risk their lives to protect us all."
Yep, apparently that had been the history lesson for today. Now they were having whatever this dragonshit was.
Umbridge smiled indulgently at the class. "Isn't it comforting to know that such capable hands are watching over us?"
Iris resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The same capable hands that had arrested Sirius without a trial? The same ones that ignored mounting evidence of Voldemort's return? The very same Aurors that hadn't noticed a schoolgirl attempting necromantic rituals right under their nose, not to mention two of them breaking into the most protected place inside the very Ministry itself—alright, she wasn't really complaining about that last part.
"The Department of International Magical Cooperation works tirelessly to maintain good relations with magical governments worldwide," Umbridge droned on. "Their efforts ensure that we can all live peacefully, sharing knowledge and culture."
Beside her, Tracey was attempting to put herself out of her misery with the help of a finger gun. At least, she hadn't attempted the same thing as with Binns. If anything, it felt like the teacher was just itching for an excuse to hand out some sort of comically evil punishment.
Iris leaned over with a smirk and whispered, "Could you try and un-exorcise Binns somehow? Maybe if you said Goblin Rebellion three times or something?"
"Miss Potter!"
Iris's head snapped up. Umbridge was staring directly at her, eyes narrowed.
"Perhaps you can answer a question for me." Umbridge's smile didn't reach her eyes. "What is the role of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?"
Iris took a steadying breath, glanced down at the open page, found the relevant passage, and began to recite. "They oversee the management and control of magical creatures, beings, and spirits. They ensure that magical creatures are kept under control to prevent harm to wizards, witches, and Muggles, and they also work on legislation regarding their treatment."
"Very good," Umbridge said, her smile seeming somehow foreboding. "Five points to Slytherin."
Iris felt like she had just been given a pass for some unknown reason, and wasn't sure whether that was a good thing. No. The witch wanted something from her. And she was drawing a line in the sand.
The lesson continued on from there, rapidly diverging from the pretense of a history lesson into full on propaganda. When the class finally came to an end, Iris felt thoroughly drained. She felt like the only person who would have enjoyed this class would be Ron's brother Percy. And probably Hermione, just for the principle of it.
Tracey gave her a look and the two made their way for the door.
"Miss Potter? Could I have a moment of your time in my office?"
Merlin fucking damn it. She had almost thought she had gotten away with it. Well, she'd better get it over with. With a look back at Tracey, she gave a shrug, and muttered "See you in Defense."
~V~
Iris stared in horror.
She hadn't thought it possible. It simply, categorically was not a statement that could or should ever have been true. Yet here she was.
For years, Iris had been fond of cats. Not just fond, she loved the damn fur balls. From Salem, to all of Mrs. Figg's cats, and even Mrs. Norris. She'd never been able to resist cooing, petting, and generally showering them with all the adoration that they obviously deserved. She had once wisely proclaimed to Harry that there could never possibly be such a thing as too many cats.
Iris had been wrong. So very very wrong.
This was what she'd originally imagined Lockhart's office would look like, except instead of pictures of him, it was just pictures of cats. Hundreds and hundreds of them.
"Please, have a seat."
And not even really picture frames. Most of them were on porcelain plates of all sizes, and all... no not all colors. Again, mostly pink. What the hell was wrong with this woman? Someone had watched way too many Disney shows.
"Tea?" came her voice, sweet as honey.
Iris blinked. "Uh... sure, thank you. Two sugars, no milk please."
She'd better start off by making a good first impression. Or, rather, less bad of one, she supposed. Iris slowly settled down in the fluffy pink chair sitting opposite the wooden desk, while the woman began to pour her a cup of tea from her kettle, then added the requested amount of sugar to it, before placing the cup in front of her. Iris accepted the cup with a smile, and began to idly stir the liquid with the ornate spoon she had been provided. The witch was apparently trying to raise the tension by just drinking tea while not saying anything, until she'd get uncomfortable. So Iris decided to nip that in the bud from the start.
"Thank you for the tea, Professor. The lesson was really interesting, by the way. You see, I grew up with Muggles, and... so far, our History class hasn't really covered much related to what the Ministry actually does or how it works, so I really didn't know much about all that... Well, that is, until today. My friend told me you used to work for the Ministry?"
Umbridge probably saw right through the heavy dragonshit she was shoveling, but she took it in stride. "That's quite alright, Miss Potter. And yes, I did, in fact. It is the reason why I am here, after all. To remedy this glaring hole in the education of our young witches and wizards."
Iris returned her smile, removed the spoon from the cup, and slowly pulled it closer. Finally, she reached for the handle to pick it up, looked down and... Oh.
Since she definitely had no business being able to notice anything at all, she kept her expression calm, trying to decide what to do with that. She had no idea what the heck that was. But it was definitely some sort of Reflective Potion. Something that had no natural color or discernable smell. And something that used what looked distinctly like the Essence of Honesty as a centerpiece, balanced by Control, Destruction and... Illusion? And there was only one potion that came to mind that would fit that description. Although she had never brewed it before, and that's why she had no way of recognizing it for sure.
So, that was her game. Should she pretend to drink it to avoid suspicion, and get her into a false sense of security? Or, actually...
"That is good to hear, professor," she said with a smile, while letting the cup pointedly sit untouched right where it was.
"Thank you. Now, Miss Potter. First, I would like to extend both mine and the Minister's condolences for your loss."
Iris didn't have to try all that hard to adopt a crestfallen expression, and she gave a single nod.
"You see, the Minister is growing quite concerned lately, both in light of what happened, as well as other events. But mostly, about Headmaster Dumbledore."
The spoon clinked against the porcelain as she kept stirring, Iris' gaze never leaving her eyes.
"It has come to our attention that the headmaster has been spreading concerning... rumors. And I worry that he may have used your situation to... try and influence you as well," she said with a saddened voice, then reached out a hand, and wrapped it around her own which was still stirring. "Have you spoken to the headmaster since it happened?"
Iris nodded, trying to stop herself from accidentally incinerating the hand.
"And has he mentioned anything... concerning to you?"
Another, more hesitant nod.
"Would you tell me what he said?"
Iris took a breath. "Well, I asked him about Harry, but he didn't tell me anything about how he supposedly died, but... he claimed that... that You-Know-Who might be returning."
A flash of triumph crossed the witch's eyes, and Iris knew she had been spot-on. This was about the whole smear campaign. Either Dumbledore had tried to tell the Minister directly, or the Ministry had noticed Dumbledore telling all kinds of people that Voldemort was back. And they obviously hadn't believed it. To be fair, it did seem pretty impossible to bring someone back from the dead so far.
"So... he tried to twist your brother's death for his own little power-play..." Umbridge mumbled in a low voice, where Iris wasn't quite sure if she was supposed to have heard it. The hand finally let go of hers as she nodded, and Iris quickly withdrew her own to fold her hands in her lap. Finally, Umbridge continued a bit louder, "Did he try to claim that You-Know-Who was responsible for your brother's death?"
And that was the Million Pound Question. How did she want to play this? Choices, choices.
"Well... not really, but..." she added, causing Umbridge to lean forward in her chair with interest while Iris fidgeted with her hands in her lap. "He showed me a memory. A memory of a prophecy. And he sort of alluded to the fact that Harry's death may have something to do with that prophecy, since it said that Harry would either kill or be killed by You-Know-Who."
Iris let that sit for a bit, until she continued, "He also said that it could have applied to me, but apparently his scar meant that it now applied to him. That's why he thinks that whoever k-killed him had to be You-Know-Who."
"A prophecy?" Umbridge echoed incredulously. "Even if there had been such a prophecy, it would have come to pass the moment that he defeated You-Know-Who twelve years ago."
Iris nodded. "Well, it's real, I have seen the whole thing. But yes, that's what I thought as well. He seemed very insistent that You-Know-Who might still be out there, but I'm not sure I really believe it though. I mean... wouldn't there be... some sort of proof? Or some signs? You worked at the Ministry, did they find anything there?"
Somehow, Umbridge's smile grew even wider.
"No. No, they did not. And you did well to bring this to me. I will be sure to look into this and verify whether there is any substance behind this claim of a prophecy. But even if there is—as you said yourself—the conclusion is that it was fulfilled with You-Know-Who's defeat twelve years ago. Any claims that he might still be alive—even if based on a prophecy like this—are nothing but lies."
Her smile turned so sweet Iris could almost taste it on her eyelids. "I can't begin to guess what the headmaster intends to achieve by spreading such dangerous rumors, but please do not hesitate to come to me should he talk to you again, so we can make sure that the truth comes to light. After all, it is what your brother would have wanted."
The teapot launched from the desk and crashed into the wall of cats. Iris bit down on her lower lip so hard that it hurt, and she felt the armrests start to crumble under the grip of her glowing hands.
Fuck!
She had been so close, everything had gone so smoothly, but then she had said that. Fucking hell. Apparently, there was such a thing as getting too good at wandless magic.
"What in Merlin's name?" shrieked Umbridge.
Crap, crap, crap! What the hell was she supposed to do here? Iris jumped to her feet, her eyes flicking around the room, trying to figure out how to get herself back out of this mess. She made a show of holding her empty hands up in worry. Then she gasped, and quickly turned to look at the wall behind Umbridge, pointed a finger, and yelled "There!"
The witch whirled around to follow her gesture. Iris lit up her finger in a Blue light and flicked it at the litter of cats on said wall, causing a number of them to come crashing to the ground.
"What is this?!" Umbridge screamed, now having taken out her wand.
"Peeves!" Iris yelled, sounding both scared and annoyed.
Umbridge turned back to her with a wild look, wand still frantically aiming every which way. "Peeves?" she echoed.
"Peeves! The poltergeist! He was right there!"
Suddenly, her eyes widened in realization. "PEEVES! I demand you show yourself right this instant!"
Peeves, of course, did no such thing. He was their resident poltergeist, or at least, that's what Iris had heard. Yet she had no idea what he looked like. She knew that the poltergeist could supposedly turn invisible, but he'd never pranked her before, at least to the best of her knowledge. Every other day she'd hear people complaining about him, including Tracey, Theo, Ron, Hermione, even Harry. But somehow, she had never once seen him in person before, ever.
But she supposed that the Professor must have, at some point. The pink-clad witch spent some more time fruitlessly shouting and cursing the innocent poltergeist, but finally, she seemingly gave up and slumped down onto her chair.
"My apologies for this, Miss Potter. But thank you for telling me all of this. My door is always open, should you have any further questions, or should the headmaster talk to you once more."
Iris met her with a small smile and a nod, and finally made to leave the room in the knowledge that at least a tiny bit was right with the world once more. Yes, even as a Slytherin, there still was a way to make a teacher's life hell. But still. Deflecting her outburst onto Peeves? That could have just as easily gone sideways. And apparently, her practice over the summer had gotten her to a point where she now had to actively reign in her magic instead, just like with her shadows lately. This could have just as easily ended up with Umbridge getting hurt, and then she definitely wouldn't have been talking her way out of it. She really needed to figure out the issue with her Occlumency sooner rather than later.
~V~
Iris awkwardly made her way into the class they shared with the Gryffindors, hoping she was not too late. And indeed, the students were still talking among themselves, with no sign of Sirius so far. Or, Professor Black now, she supposed. If she wanted to keep her distance for a bit longer, she'd better start with her mental image of him.
Tracey was sitting next to Theo already, Hermione next to Ron, and Neville next to some other boy from their dorm. So who did that leave her with? There was an open space next to Parvati Patil... nope. Another next to Malfoy—Double-nope. Turning back to her first option, she found that to her dismay, that space had just been taken up by an equally late Lavender Brown. God damnit.
But other than that... Oh. Crap.
...Fine. It was about time they had a chat anyway. At least, they could do that without anyone else eavesdropping, she guessed. With a sigh, Iris trudged over to the unofficial Slytherin side of the classroom, and plopped down on the empty chair next to Greengrass.
This earned her a raised eyebrow in return, to which she just shrugged, with a gesture over at Malfoy. She could see from her expression that the black-haired girl was anything but happy with this arrangement, but she didn't seem inclined to do anything about it.
At least not outwardly. Instead, a loud and discordant metallic ringing sound echoed through the classroom. A sound which nobody else showed even the slightest reaction to.
Iris shot Greengrass a challenging glare, but grinding her teeth, she braced herself, and reluctantly picked up the phone.
"We should not be seen together like this."
Iris shot the mental image of the girl an incredulous look. "Are you really telling me to go sit with Malfoy instead? I'm sure whatever that leads to would draw no attention whatsoever."
"If you had slightly more control than a five-year-old it wouldn't," mental Greengrass replied with a shrug.
"Some of us just don't have the luxury of being an emotionless robot stuck in a teenage girl's body," Iris replied while retrieving her ink jar from her bag. She then proceeded to innocently set it down on the desk, while vividly imagining how it would look splattered all over the girl's robes or bag with childish glee, just in case that Greengrass was still reading her mind.
"The Dark Arts."
Iris blinked, and turned her gaze to the front of the class, where she noticed her Professor—who had apparently at some point snuck into the classroom—standing in front of his desk with a serious expression. He was wearing less fancy robes this time, although he was still wearing some very impractical looking golden rings on several of his fingers. He met her eyes with a conflicted look for a second, and in that moment it was becoming painfully clear that her curse of getting called to the teachers office in pretty much every class she ever had was not coming to an end any time soon.
"So far, you have learned of curses spoken in ancient words, cast with a wave of a wand, or maybe creatures from the darkest corner of our world, existing for no other purpose but to kill witches and wizards in the most gruesome ways imaginable, or whatever else you may have read in your assigned book—You can put those away, by the way, we won't be needing those..." he added in a suddenly less foreboding tone. Finally, he cleared his throat again, and continued his speech. "What is out there... is far stranger than fiction, far more fantastic than stories, and far more dangerous than any curse you can cast with a wand. It is nothing more, and nothing less than the—" at this point he broke off into snorting laughter.
The whole class just stared dumbfounded at the man laughing at some sort of unsaid joke.
"...The... Dark... Arts. There."
He spent some more time wheezing and chuckling, gathering himself, before rubbing his head, looking almost embarrassed. "Sorry about that. I tried to do the intro and all, I really did, but I'm just not made for speeches like that it seems."
Iris exchanged a look with Greengrass.
"Was that supposed to have been funny?" Iris asked.
"No, I assume he was being serious," Greengrass replied matter-of-factly.
Iris hated herself for even having thought of the awful pun, and now finding herself left in limbo, not knowing whether Greengrass had intended it and consequently deserved a whack on the head, or if she simply did not possess the required immaturity for this lowest form of humor.
Professor Black clapped his hands at the front of the classroom, directing Iris' attention right back to the man. "Anyway. As I said, we will be exploring some very, very different things in this class than what you have been doing so far, to prepare you for everything that is out there, and to make sure you have the necessary knowledge and skills... to get you safely back here and finish your studies," he finished in a much more somber tone.
Iris couldn't help raise an eyebrow. It was like he himself didn't even know what sort of tone to go for. But then again, he had apparently been stuck in Azkaban for most of the past twelve years. Had he really been cleared as mentally sound in the end?
Black's gaze darted left to right across the class, as if to see the reaction to the end of his little speech, and when there was none, he cleared his throat, put a smile back on his face, threw another look at Iris—yes, she was still sitting here, big surprise—and finally, began the lesson.
