Chapter 3 - Resolve
The tiny brass gear tumbled down the metallic staircase, each step hitting an ever-descending note.
Cling cling cling cling cling.
A choice. Was this even a real choice?
It toppled to the side, glowed white, and transformed into a molten blob.
Would she have to choose at all? Were they mutually exclusive?
The red glowing blob floated upwards, like a soap bubble, hitting an inverted slide, spiraling around the outside of the Thingomagic.
Couldn't she just do... all of those? None of those?
The inverted drop of metal hit the white surface at the top and hissed, as it solidified.
No. Because the Paths didn't represent outcomes. Or even specific actions.
A small white cylinder plunged upwards, stamping down onto the solidified blob of brass with a sound of a tiny hammer striking metal, and when it retracted, it was in the shape of a gear again.
Taking the first path was to do what was easy. To do what Harry would have wanted her to. To live, to be with her friends. To put herself first.
The cylinder tilted, and the gear slid off, and tumbled back onto the staircase.
Taking the second path was to do what was right. To do what everyone else expected her to. To put the rest of the world first.
Cling cling cling cling cling.
Iris kept staring at the pointless magical contraption, as if it would hold the answer to all the world's questions.
Taking the third path... was to do what was impossible. To do what no one expected her to. To put Harry first.
The gear came to a stop and toppled once more.
Even if the actions weren't mutually exclusive, or even the goals, the methods were; the mindset was.
The gear melted into a red blob and began floating.
She didn't know much, but she knew that magic that dealt with Death, magic of the Soul, rituals of that nature, all of those were some of the darkest and most forbidden magics there were. Lock you up in the Department of Mysteries and throw away the key kind of forbidden. Back when she had done her failed ritual with Salem, the Aurors had seemed deeply disturbed just at the memory of what she had left behind. And that had been without them even knowing for sure what had happened there, and what had actually come back.
The red drop began spiraling along the slide, round and round.
Only Voldemort ever had the audacity to perform magics of this kind, sometimes using Inferi in the war, not to mention bringing himself back to life. Not even Grindelwald, for all the terrors he had wrought, had ever dabbled into such magics. At least, as far as the history books were concerned.
The molten brass impacted the top, and with a hiss, solidified once more.
If she were to embark on this path, to learn what she needed to learn, do what needed to be done, nobody could ever know.
Nobody.
The cylinder slammed into the tiny drop and forged it into gear shape once more.
Because once she embarked on this path, there would be no turning back. What this path required of her, that was mutually exclusive with the principles of either of the others.
The cylinder tilted, and the gear once again braved the staircase.
If she went down this path, she would do so alone. For the rest of her life.
Cling cling cling cli—
The tumbling gear was arrested mid-motion by the wrinkled fingers of her headmaster.
"I know how you must feel. I know much better than almost anyone, I imagine," Dumbledore said softly, his blue eyes shadowed with old grief.
Iris' gaze dropped to the floor; her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. Of course he wouldn't understand. How could he understand? She had gotten her brother killed, in her reckless search for more power, all while trying to protect him.
Dumbledore took a step closer, his gentle voice slowly beginning to speak. "Iris, blaming yourself is a natural response to loss, especially when you believe your actions led to it. But I need you to understand something very important. No matter how much we wish it, we cannot change the past. We cannot bring back the dead."
Instead of tears, or sorrow, anger rose. "What would you know about that?" she snapped.
The old wizard's face grew more somber. "There is no magic powerful enough to truly bring back the dead, Iris. Trust me, I know. I have searched for it myself, long ago, after my sister Ariana... passed."
Iris looked up at him, startled. She had never heard Dumbledore speak of his family before. "Ariana?"
Dumbledore just looked back; his eyes distant. "She died because of a foolish duel between my brother, a friend, and myself. I have spent a lifetime grappling with the guilt of that day, wondering if there was something I could have done differently. But trying to change the past, to reverse death... it leads only to darkness, despair, and inevitably, even greater loss."
"So what am I supposed to do? Just pretend like nothing happened? Just... accept it and move on?" Iris hissed.
Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You honor his memory by living, by continuing to fight for the things he believed in. Harry's sacrifice was not in vain. He died to protect you, to protect all of us. His legacy lives on in you."
She slowly looked back up and stared at him, until she finally said, "He didn't deserve to die."
"Neither did she," Dumbledore said. "Grief is a powerful emotion, but it does not have to consume you. I implore you, do not allow yourself to make the same mistakes I did. Instead, allow yourself to feel it, to mourn. But also allow yourself to heal, to find strength in the love and memories you shared with Harry."
Iris nodded slowly, the weight of his words settling over her like a heavy blanket. Her memories of him. If only she still had them. "I'll try," she whispered.
"That is all anyone can ask," Dumbledore replied, his voice gentle. "And remember, you do not have to face this alone."
Oh, she would try, alright. But he was wrong about one thing.
She turned to look back over to the perch, where the newly resurrected phoenix sat; the living antithesis to everything he had just said.
She did have to face this alone.
Because nobody could ever know.
Not until she had succeeded.
Dumbledore gave her one final look that seemed to convey a lot more than just worry, but she had already decided.
"I hesitate to bring this up in light of what we have just learned, but since you are already here, there is another matter we need to discuss."
Really?
"I presume you know who the man was that you so unfortunately intruded upon before?"
Iris swallowed. Yeah. Sirius Black. Their presumed godfather, who had been unjustly imprisoned because everyone had believed he had committed a crime that had in truth been committed by Scabbers. She wondered what had become of the man who had been hiding as Ron's pet rat. Presumably he was already in Azkaban?
"As you have witnessed, he has been released from his rehabilitation program and cleared to be of sound mental health. Additionally, he has approached me with an offer to take over your guardianship."
Right, he had written something about that. At the time, they had both been hesitant, unwilling to believe that someone would actually take them in, that someone would take them away from the Dursleys. At least, they wouldn't get their hopes up until it actually happened.
And now, now that it seemed to be becoming a reality, she couldn't help but let out a hollow chuckle.
It was some sort of ironic cruelty of fate that they would finally get the chance for a normal childhood, only for Harry to be robbed of that, permanently; just a week before it would have become a reality.
"I was hesitant about this at first. You see, the reason why I sent you to live with your aunt and uncle in the first place..."
He did what?
All the time, she had assumed that they had just fallen to them by default, as the Dursleys had been their closest living relatives. Had he really just said that? He had placed them there on purpose?
"...the protection that Lily provided through her sacrifice would be strongest if tied to her blood, so naturally, it would be the best decision to send you to live with her sister, in order to strengthen her protections as much as possible. The sacrifice would prevent You-Know-Who from even so much as touching him, as long as he stayed true to her blood. I have placed a great many protections around that place, but by far the strongest is the one provided by your mother's sacrifice."
God damn it, why did it have to make sense? Sometimes she hated her intuitive understanding of magic.
"...Additionally, there was the issue that your own magic was grievously damaged during the attack, and we came to the realization that the best chance for your magic to recover would be to grow up in the Muggle world."
Ah, and there it was. At this point, she had almost expected it. He had been dancing around it, but it turned out, it had even been her fault that Harry had been stuck at the Dursleys.
"However, since the protection had been tied to him, and not to you, I suspect they will be fading in due time. So if you wish it, I can arrange to have your guardianship transferred from your aunt and uncle over to Sirius instead."
Well, she'd be damned. He was actually giving her a choice. Although he was probably expecting her to jump at the chance in a heartbeat.
"Do I... have to decide now?"
But today had changed things.
Yes, eleven-year-old Iris would have jumped at the chance with a tackle-hug. Even twelve-year-old Iris would have quickly agreed, even though she had already pretty much neutered their home-situation through the targeted use of a polarized curse and implied bodily harm.
But her current almost-teenage self had different priorities. On the one hand, there was a possible father figure. He might prove a good guardian; he might continue to affirm his first impression. But one thing he wouldn't afford her was the freedom that her current situation with her relatives did.
Then on the other hand, there were the Dursleys. The same people who had done their very best to ensure that Harry and her were unloved, and that they knew it. Although ever since their last birthday, they had been almost bearable. They pretty much left her completely alone, gave her food and drink and shelter, and she was free to wander about London, use magic as needed, and study in peace.
If she had learned any lesson from what had happened, it was that she couldn't afford to keep acting reactionary. If she wanted to bring Harry back, she would have to take matters into her own hands. And in that moment, Iris Potter made a decision that her younger self would have her checked for Polyjuice and declared clinically insane for. She would turn down an offer of actual guardianship, in exchange for willingly returning to her hated relatives.
But how to play this? Dumbledore already suspected that she was thinking about doing something like trying to bring him back, which she very much was. She knew she wouldn't be fooling him with any lies, deflections or trickery. He was very much like Harry in that regard. And the only way she had ever been able to bullshit Harry was by telling the truth, and letting his emotions fill in the gaps.
"If you do agree, you will never have to go back to Privet Drive. Even if Sirius isn't here just now. After what he told me earlier... I couldn't in good conscience force you back," he said, his voice increasingly wavering towards the end.
Her eyes widened slightly. Right, she had almost forgotten. That would make this harder. But also... maybe she could use that.
Iris looked down and squirmed in her chair. "Could I... I don't know... Well, it's just... I don't really know anything about him... and he's been in Azkaban all this time... what if... what if he..."
Dumbledore took in a sharp breath. "Iris... did... your relatives, did they... They didn't... touch you... did they?"
Her eyes went wide. She hadn't been going for that. Apparently, she had played her part a little too well.
Iris quickly shook her head. "N-no! Nothing like... that... Well, they... They only ever punished Harry... even if it was my fault. Also, well..."
Iris paused, unsure if she should tell him that much. But she had to, if he suspected they did... something like that... there's no way he'd let her return back there.
"Last summer... we had a talk. They haven't bothered us since then," she said, trying to make it sound like it wasn't really that big of a deal.
"I... see..." Dumbledore said, then he fell silent, seemingly pondering.
"Iris, I can only imagine what the two of you must have gone through due to the decision I have made twelve years ago—a decision which I could never apologize enough for—but I do want you to know one thing. Sirius has my complete trust."
Iris did a little mental jig. She slowly looked back at him, then hesitantly said, "But... didn't you say that... you believed him to be guilty until last Christmas?"
There was no good answer to this question, and they both knew it.
Iris let the moment stretch a bit more, and then asked, "Could I maybe... meet him first? After I've had some time to... you know..."
She looked to the side, then down again. "Right now it's just that... With them, I know what to expect... With him? I... I don't know what he'd..."
The headmaster was wearing a pained expression, but he still continued to let her speak her mind.
"I... I just think with everything going on, I'd be less worried... if I stayed for now... at least until I get to know him..."
Technically the truth. One look at his face revealed an expression of heartbroken resignation.
Had it worked? Had he bought it?
"I had been hoping that he'd be back by now," Dumbledore said to himself.
"But I think that yes, it is perhaps for the best if the two of you spend some time to get to know each other before committing to a major decision like this. And perhaps, after he has had some time to come to terms with what we have just learned as well..."
He still looked torn, but apparently, she had won him over.
"I will inform you by owl about how we shall proceed, and once you are ready, arrange a proper reunion for you and your godfather."
Iris met his eyes, and finally gave a grateful nod. She just hoped that he hadn't picked up on the real reason behind her words in the end.
~V~
For the second time that night, the quiet of Privet Drive was disturbed by a loud noise. This time it sounded like a backfiring car. Which, in a way, it was. A massive triple-decker bus materialized out of thin air and swerved into the street at a speed that even the most adventurous of drivers would consider unsafe, and slammed its brakes, causing it to come to a screeching halt in front of No. 4.
This time, strangely, none of the neighbors showed even a hint of annoyance at the noise. Nor did Mrs. Olsen even raise an eyebrow as the door creaked open and revealed a man in shabby robes, wearing a large metal contraption around his neck, as he waved his goodbyes with a grin to the girl who had just gotten off the bus.
Said girl didn't even look back at the man who was still waving until someone shouted at him from behind the window, and he reluctantly pulled the door closed. With another bang, the bus began barreling at break-neck speed once more, and one second later, it was gone.
Iris took a deep breath, as she beheld the pristine suburban home. After all those years, after everything they had gone through here, when she finally had the chance to get away, she had turned it down.
All for a chance to pursue her goal in peace for one more summer.
She'd better make it count, then.
Finally glowing with purpose again, she directed her thoughts towards doing exactly that.
Step one, she'd have to find some way to get information, research materials. Most likely, she'd have to get to Diagon Alley, although there was also the possibility of following her original plan and sneaking into Hogwarts to try and get to the Restricted Section. But, she figured, if anything, she'd put that off until the start of her third year, she'd be at Hogwarts then anyway, and also, she was trying to avoid Dumbledore's suspicion first and foremost. If anyone would figure out what she was up to, it would be him.
Step two, look up stuff. More specifically, anything to do with healing, rituals, souls, death, maybe even Death with a capital D. This time, she'd do it properly. This time, she'd know what she was doing. There was no way she'd risk bringing Harry back if he would end up as another Salem in turn. And only then, she'd decide on what or how to actually go about bringing him back.
Step three, Voldemort. She wouldn't delude herself and assume she even held a fleeting chance of defeating him now that he was fully resurrected—which once again, of course was her fault—not after what she had witnessed during the time she had been inside his thoughts due to the Imperius. The problem was that she might not get a choice. If he knew about the prophecy—and wouldn't that explain why he personally came to attack them in the first place—then he might draw the same conclusion as her, and try to come after Iris as well, just to be sure the prophecy was fulfilled the right way. So she'd at least have to get strong enough to be able to escape and avoid him—or at least his followers—until she figured out the situation with Harry. She couldn't rely on Dumbledore to protect her either, because the whole point was to avoid Dumbledore as well. The same went doubly so for the Ministry. No. The only one she could rely on here was herself. And wasn't that an encouraging thought?
Step... four? She wasn't sure if there was any point to ordering them anymore... Anyway, step four, her friends. She had no idea what to do about them. She obviously couldn't tell them, so that really left only two options. The first was to pretend like nothing was wrong and continue on how they would expect. This would at least leave their friendships intact—at least, until they figured something out anyway. And a part of her very much craved that little detail. But it would also leave them at risk of being dragged down with her. So the obvious solution was to push them away, to willingly isolate herself in order to protect them.
But that left another issue, once again in the shape of Dumbledore. If she suddenly pushed away all her friends, at some point, he was bound to notice. Yes, she could initially explain it away by having to deal with what had happened, but the longer it went on, the more he'd feel like there was something wrong, the more likely he'd be to stick his nose where it didn't belong. So, no matter how much she hated it for putting her friends at risk as well, and how annoying it would be, she wouldn't do that. In the end, Harry was all that mattered. And if anything, she'd choose the path to bringing him back that had the highest chance of success. It was all she could do as his sister. So actual step four, she'd have to slowly reconnect with her friends, put on a front, and prevent people from noticing what she was up to.
Iris pushed open the front door, and paused at the sight that met her.
"You have some nerve, barging in here like you own the place at an hour like this," growled her uncle, lounging in his armchair in front of the TV as usual.
Iris slowly closed the door behind her, pondered for a moment, and nodded.
Step zero, clarify where she stood with her relatives.
Iris slowly approached the living room, not saying anything, then entered and came to a stop in front of the sofa, just staring him down. Petunia over to the side, had stopped ironing the laundry mid-motion and was just staring hesitantly. Iris stopped for a moment, simply holding their gazes, as she pondered what to do.
Finally, Iris raised an eyebrow. "Do we need to have another chat, uncle?"
His beady eyes darted over to where Petunia stood, but he didn't reply. When she had chosen to willingly return here, Iris had been counting on the fact that the last time she had demonstrated that she could and would use magic in their house—if they didn't leave them alone—would suffice to keep them off her back while she did what she had to. But apparently, a whole year of having the house to themselves had eroded the message to the point where they were falling back into their old patterns. So this time, she would have to make sure that it would stick, at least, for the span of the next two months. Iris mentally gathered herself, and finally put on her most innocent of smiles.
"Because... I think we're going to have one anyway."
She skipped over to his armchair, and before he could say another word, plopped down on one of the armrests.
"What the hell do you think you're—"
"Shush," Iris said quietly, as she raised a single finger which lit up in a blue glow.
Uncle Vernon made to get up from the chair, fear and disgust clearly written on his face, but she held the finger in front of him, causing him to freeze. That smile still locked on her lips, she slowly reached out, until her finger touched his chest. She didn't use any spell, really. Just some application of Force aspect, given direction by her intent.
As if moving a chess piece with her finger, she pushed, and forced his body back into the chair. Petunia had dropped the iron at this point, and Vernon was staring at her wide-eyed.
"You see..." Iris began, and then decided to drive the point home, why not go all the way.
Suppressing a shiver, she shifted off the armrest and onto his lap, pointedly facing to the side towards Petunia. Iris overrode her internal revulsion at the motion, knowing that if it felt this wrong for her, it must be ten times worse for them.
Which was the point. They needed to realize that she could do whatever the hell she wanted, and that they were powerless to do anything about it. The last thing she needed was her chance of bringing Harry back being ruined by her relatives poking their noses into her business, or worse, alerting anyone from the magical world about it. Especially if she could have prevented it.
"I probably won't be coming back here next summer," she continued, as if talking about the weather.
"So this'll be the last time we see each other..." Iris whispered, still resting that one blue glowing finger on his chest. Vernon's face had gone past pale into purple now. But he still hadn't tried to speak.
Unlike Petunia. "You're crazy! I knew—"
"Silencio."
Iris clicked the fingers of her free hand while flashing in the yellow glow of the Control aspect. The resulting spell was massively unstable, and collapsed after barely a second, but it did manage to interrupt her tirade before it had even started.
"You should take a page out of Uncle Vernon's book, Auntie," Iris said brightly, as she turned away from him to face her. "He at least figured out when it's better to shut up."
"If you think I'm going to..." said uncle growled behind her, but she didn't even turn to face him.
Instead, she spread the blue glow from her finger down her arm, and quickly covered her whole body in a very faint blue. Then, she slowly gave it direction—downwards.
His words cut off on a choked sound as her weight seemingly increased tenfold and he found himself pinned to the chair. Iris tried her best not to jump up and flee at the sensation, but she persevered, being able to see the fruits of her labor in the horrified look on his face. They did call her a creepy freak all her life, it was only fitting she gave them exactly what they asked for.
The chair groaned under the combined weight, and Petunia looked like she was about to speak up again, but Iris beat her to it.
"Today I got an offer of guardianship from my godfather, who just got out of prison by the way..." Iris helpfully explained.
She let her gaze wander between the two of them, but it seemed they had finally given up on trying to speak, so she lowered the Force a little.
"That means, most likely, by next summer, I won't be returning here again... But it seems I'm still stuck here for another two months."
"Get. Off. Him. Right. Now!" Petunia hissed, clutching the ironing board in a death grip.
Iris turned to Petunia again, and her smile widened into a grin. She slowly and deliberately raised her hand again, and made it glow green from the combined aspects of Force and Control.
"Accio."
The steaming hot iron glowed blue, then rose off the board before Petunia realized what was happening. It began to float towards her, tearing the cord from the socket in the process with some sparks. Iris caught it in her hand and gave Petunia a meaningful look. She could almost see the gradual horror of the realization eclipse her face inch by inch, and her smile widened into a grin. Slowly, but inevitably, she began to turn, the iron still clutched in her fist, resting her other hand on his chest again, as she moved it closer and closer to his face.
"No! Stop it!" yelled her aunt from across the room.
Iris pushed the round button at the handle, causing a gust of steam to billow from the still hot device, despite having already been unplugged.
"Aahhrrg! Stop! Please! Don't!" croaked Uncle Vernon, as her aunt instead descended into incoherent screeching.
She held it there for a few more seconds, until she slammed it down, hard.
The leather of the armrest began hissing and sizzling from the boiling hot water that escaped. Iris let it sit there, until even Petunia calmed down enough for the room to descend into silence once more.
"Here's the deal," she whispered.
"I have things to do while I'm here. And you're in the way. So here's what you'll do."
She lifted her hand off the still sizzling iron, and raised a finger. "One, you won't go into my room, ever. You'll ignore anything that happens there, and you'll know nothing about it."
Then she added a second finger. "Two, you'll give me food, water, and otherwise pretend I'm not here."
Finally, she raised a third finger. "Three, you will let me do... whatever. the. fuck. I want."
Iris tilted her head, and her smile widened. "Because if you don't..." she trailed off, then reached out, and raised the iron off the leather armrest, revealing the charred surface beneath. "If you're lucky, that... could be one of you."
Her uncle just stared at the pyrolyzed leather and finally turned to look back up at her beaming smile. "...And if we're not?"
"Well..." Iris turned away from him and pointedly inspected her nails, like she'd seen Pansy do sometimes. "I'm sure you can figure it out."
His eyes snapped up the staircase towards the other upstairs bedroom, likely imagining something far worse than she'd ever even consider.
"So for the next two months, you'll do nothing, and if anyone asks, you'll tell them nothing. And if you somehow manage that... by the end of summer, I'll be gone. For good," she added with a wide smile.
She turned back to face Vernon. "So... What do you say? Sounds reasonable, doesn't it?"
Vernon nodded so quickly he had probably sprained his neck. Iris slowly turned an expectant gaze towards Petunia whose lips were so thin they might as well be non-existent. She stared back with an indecipherable mix of revulsion and loathing.
"You really are just like her... except somehow even more insane. I knew you were—"
"You know, I still haven't heard an answer yet..." Iris interrupted, absently-minded pretending to raise her hand to look at her non-existent wrist watch, while accidentally moving the iron still held in said hand closer to Vernon's face.
"Stop that! Absolutely mental... Fine. You'll get your way. Just like she always did."
"There we go. Did it physically hurt to say that?" Iris replied, and slowly and pointedly set the iron down on the armrest, the hot side still facing Vernon.
But she had to be sure. She needed to be firm, but by pushing this far, she was running a very good chance of just pushing them towards finding help from the magical world to deal with her. So there was one last act to this little pitch. She had the carrot, the stick, a heck of a lot more stick, and now, she had to cut off their escape as well. Iris was pretty sure Vernon had taken her message to heart, but Petunia...
Iris focused and carefully brought a faint amount of Indigo to her eyes, just enough for it to be barely visible, and met Petunia's eyes.
...that thing in my house. I should have gotten rid of her years ago. Lily was a freak, yes, but that girl... is a monster. Just like her, smiling all the time, getting everyone to dance to her tune, thinking she can do whatever she wants with her magic. But at least Lily still pretended to be human. I wonder what those freaks would say if I told them...
"Oh come on, Auntie, now that's just mean..." Iris said, cut out the light, then turned back to look at Vernon.
"She thinks I'm not human enough for her," she told him with a pout. Then, her expression turned conspiratorial, and she leaned closer to whisper, "Also, she was thinking about telling the other freaks about what I've been doing..."
Vernon's eyes bulged, and there was an audible gasp from across the room.
Iris tilted her head and her smile widened. "Would you mind telling her what you think about that idea?"
"Tuni... please..." he gasped under the pressure of her weight.
Iris turned back to meet Petunia's eyes to finally see her mask of loathing firmly cracked, staring back like a deer caught in the headlights. There. Mission accomplished.
Swinging her legs up, she cut out her blue light, pushed off her seat, and got to her feet.
"Anyway, it's been a nice chat and all, but I'm like really busy, so I gotta get going," she said and began to turn towards the door, took a step, but then turned back.
"And this time, I suggest you remember it." She gave a pointed look at Vernon, and finally Petunia. "Because we will not... be having a third one."
Deciding to add the cherry on top, she flicked her hair back, and began to skip from the room, applying a final wandless Depulso with her orb to slam the door shut in her wake. Only once she was safely back in her own room did she finally allow her smile to shatter.