Chapter 11 - Unknown
Iris flipped the black leather book closed with a frown on her face. That had been... well, messed up, for one. Also enlightening. But then again, not by much. Mostly, it had left her with even more questions.
If what was written in the book was actually true... It could be interpreted that he had actually created an artifact capable of bringing the soul back from the dead, but not the body. Which would be exactly what she needed. But also, she wasn't sure if there was a way to combine the two. And if she brought Harry back into his body, there'd be no point to it if he would suffer for simply existing because Death wanted him back. Also, if the thing was real, she wouldn't even know where to start looking for it. It might just be lost entirely.
But this had also revealed a much more important piece of information. It was possible to make other deals with Death. And from what she had read, they transcended both the laws of Magic, as well as the rules of adequate sacrifice. Between the three artifacts, the only common denominator seemed to be Death itself. The only deciding factor was whether you could get Death to agree. Or, well, given what she had seen from Voldemort's creation, maybe it wasn't even about getting it to agree, just by performing a symbolic act in its presence. Maybe Death didn't even care at all about what was happening around it, it just came to watch and left again, uncaring of the effect its mere presence had on existence itself.
But then again, there had been three artifacts, and the creation of each had been tied to an event of massive scale. The disappearance of Atlantis—if that had actually been a thing—the destruction of the Roman Empire, and finally the worst plague outbreak Europe had ever seen.
Maybe there was a way to do something like this for herself. Maybe, she'd just make things worse. And if the story had even a hint of truth there was room to make things worse. Much worse.
And no matter what her mind kept telling her, no. It was one thing to accidentally kill a sleazy shopkeeper in Knockturn Alley to gain the knowledge she needed, but she had to draw the line somewhere. And causing the actual Black Death was way past that line. There had to be another way.
But there was one realization that had been settling in over the last week, and had finally crystallized into a concrete idea after reading this latest book. Iris was slowly coming to terms with the idea that her project might take a lot longer than she had originally envisioned. Of course she wanted Harry back as soon as possible, but, well, it wasn't like there was an actual time constraint there. He was already dead. All that remained was his skeleton, which wasn't exactly going to decay any more than it already had, if she didn't bring him back right away.
As much as she hated it, as much as every single second of staring at his empty bed was tearing her apart inside, waiting and taking things slow would be to her benefit. If anything, the end of last year had taught her that even she could make mistakes, especially in face of a ticking clock, dangers from all sides, and her growing isolation. At least one of those things she could remove from the equation now.
Oh yeah, and sleep deprivation. Which, speaking of, she'd better take care of that before she ended up wandering the forest with bare feet again.
~V~
It had been a chore and a half to actually fall asleep, but she had stuck the course, and had stubbornly returned to sleep again and again, no matter how many times she had woken up from her nightmares and felt guilty about sleeping while she could be working on trying to bring Harry back.
Not having any specific time where she needed to get up had helped a lot. And after she had finally decided to get up for good, having gotten a solid eight-ish hours—even with several interruptions—she had come to a humbling realization. This had been the first good decision she had made in weeks.
What the hell had her life come to?
A soft hoot from the window seemingly agreed with that sentiment. Iris turned to an approaching Hedwig, the snowy owl clutching what looked like the latest edition of the Daily Prophet.
Her mind was still feeling sluggish, not quite all the way awake yet, but that constant heavy droning was gone. In fact, she had only realized it had been there at all now that it wasn't anymore. Iris absent-mindedly began to untie the newspaper while vowing to herself to make sure to keep at least a somewhat reasonable sleep schedule, no matter how screwed up the situation was. Pretty much all of her issues had been caused by not thinking properly, and forgoing sleep to try and solve those problems was like casting a Stupefy on a rampaging dragon.
Flipping open the newspaper, Iris blinked. Then closed her eyes, shook herself to check if she was actually awake, and then re-read the title.
Boy-Who-Lived Killed at Hogwarts
Albus Dumbledore — Senile or Malicious?
by Rita Skeeter
In a shocking twist that will send shivers down the spine of every witch and wizard across the land, it has now been confirmed that the famous Harry Potter—The Boy Who Lived—did not merely "disappear" at the end of last year, as the staff at Hogwarts would have us believe. Instead, the boy celebrated across all of the wizarding world has met a far more tragic fate than anyone could have imagined.
For weeks, speculation ran rampant. Harry Potter's abrupt disappearance at the end of the school year was met with confusion and fear, but the public was reassured that the Hogwarts staff were looking for him, and that finding him would only be a matter of time. Yet, the truth, as it turns out, is far more sinister. Sources within the Ministry of Magic have confirmed that Harry Potter is not merely missing, but was, in fact, killed—yes, killed—under mysterious circumstances within the very walls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Only weeks after the sudden death of our greatest hero, his protege would be found to have met the same tragic fate—likely even before Gilderoy Lockhart himself. But as horrifying as this tragedy is all by itself, it does not end there. No, dear readers, it gets worse. I, Rita Skeeter, have uncovered chilling evidence that raises serious questions about the role Dumbledore may have played in this tragic event.
Let us consider the facts. The attacks in the Chamber of Secrets, which left the school in a state of terror, were linked to an ancient monster said to have been unleashed by the Heir of Slytherin. Who but Dumbledore, with his vast knowledge of Hogwarts' darkest corners, could have possibly known the truth about what was happening within the walls of his own school? Who else would have been in a better position to recognize the pattern, and put a stop to it? And yet, he remained silent, returning the school to business as usual, allowing the students to continue to be put in grave danger, leading to more and more preventable attacks, culminating in the ultimate horror: the death of Harry Potter.
But Dumbledore's involvement may go deeper than mere negligence. My investigation into Ministry records has uncovered a disturbing detail—one that Dumbledore would undoubtedly prefer remained hidden. The official student registry for the upcoming school year reveals a glaring omission: Harry Potter's name is nowhere to be found. This, my dear readers, is incontrovertible proof that Dumbledore knew all along that Harry Potter was, in fact, dead. And yet he chose to conceal this fact from the public, even from Harry's own friends and allies. Even from his own twin sister.
Why would Dumbledore do such a thing? There can be only two explanations, neither of which bodes well for the venerable headmaster. Is it possible that Dumbledore has simply lost his wits? Could it be that the pressures of his long tenure, the weight of his many secrets, have finally driven him to madness? The idea of a senile old man, wielding immense power and making decisions that put countless lives at risk, is terrifying in itself.
Or is the truth far more sinister? Could it be that Albus Dumbledore, long revered as a beacon of light in the wizarding world, has been harboring a secret agenda all along? The evidence suggests that Dumbledore may have had something to do with the events that led to Harry Potter's death. After all, why else would he go to such lengths to hide the truth? What could he possibly gain by keeping the wizarding world in the dark?
Perhaps Dumbledore feared that the truth would reveal his own involvement in the dark happenings at Hogwarts. Perhaps he had something to do with the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, with the summoning of the very evil that caused the petrification of four students, three Muggleborns and one teacher, and possibly took Harry Potter's life—and would have taken his sister's life along with it if not for the heroic intervention of the late Gilderoy Lockhart. Or perhaps he saw Harry as a threat to his own plans—plans that have yet to be fully uncovered.
One thing is clear: Albus Dumbledore is no longer the wise, infallible leader we once believed him to be. His actions, or lack thereof, have led to the death of an innocent boy, and his subsequent actions which to me all but reek of a cover-up raise serious questions about his fitness to lead. It is time for the wizarding world to demand answers. It is time for us to ask ourselves: Can we really trust Albus Dumbledore? Or has the man who was once our greatest hope become our greatest threat?
The tragic death of Harry Potter must not be in vain. One man's action or inaction has left a nation without heroes, a generation without their friend, an orphaned sister without her last remaining family. The truth must come to light, and those responsible must be held accountable—no matter how powerful they may be. Albus Dumbledore's reign of secrecy and deception must come to an end before more lives are lost.
The wizarding world deserves better. We deserve the truth. And I, Rita Skeeter, will not rest until it is brought to light.
What. The fuck.
Iris only barely managed to restrain herself from letting her magic have its way with the bloody rag that called itself a newspaper. So much for releasing the message in a controlled manner that would prevent chaos. In fact, this couldn't have come out much worse if she tried.
Yeah. There was no way this was mere coincidence. The fact that it leaked now, and in a way that would severely torpedo Dumbledore's reputation... this reeked of Voldemort. He had somehow known that Harry was dead, and had turned that piece of knowledge into a dagger thrust into his mortal enemy's gut.
If Dumbledore came out with the news of Voldemort's return now... Not only would it send those who still believed in him floundering, but it would just confirm to everyone else that the Prophet had been right about him, especially if it was revealed that he had known this fact all along as well.
And it was all because she had tried to do the right thing and told Dumbledore.
Anything she did only seemed to make things worse. Maybe she should just go back to bed and stay asleep until it was all over.
Iris kept staring down at the crumpled-up newspaper. Her gaze drifted over to the vacant bed. If anyone should hate her, it'd be him. Yet he was the one person who had always forgiven her in the end, without question. Eyes drifted across the room, ending up on the stack of forbidden knowledge she had acquired through ticking off felonies like it was a Merlin-damned bucket list, only to yield no tangible results so far. And any good spirits she once had from her initial successes had been thoroughly crushed when she had gone to visit her friends.
She really couldn't call herself their friend anymore, could she? If they knew how she had lied to them, what she had done, what she had considered doing...
Iris idly lit up her finger with a mix of Force and Control, and began to flick the crumpled waste of printer-ink across the room.
The fact she still thought of them as her friends, even after doing all that, even after thinking that...
Iris kept bouncing the ball of paper off the walls, letting it zoom across the room and smack into the same spaces over and over again. She didn't think she could feel any lower than she did right now.
She just wanted a break. She needed to reset; to stop thinking. Things kept piling up, everything was just getting worse and worse... And if she kept pushing, something was inevitably going to break. And a part of her was scared shitless about that. Not about herself snapping, about her mind giving in, or whatever might happen to her, but about what would be left behind.
A final flick sent the useless rag sailing right through the open window, never to be seen again.
Her eyes came to rest on the laptop sitting at her bedside table. And just like anytime she had felt suffocated, trapped inside her own world, and with nobody but Harry to ground her, she flicked it open and escaped into another world.
Before she could even open the game, she was caught off guard by something else entirely. Apparently, Dudley had been using the thing while she was gone. Because right now, the screen was filled with a full screen browser window, containing some website, at the center of which there was a paused video. She had no idea what it was, but she recognized the odd drawing style from the weird wallpaper that Dudley had set on the thing. And despite better judgement, she hit the play button.
Iris just sat there for a while, having no idea what was going on, with no context to the strange scene playing before her. A bunch of teens with crazy colored hair jumping around and embroiled in a fight of sorts, except using swords and knifes and such. Of course, it was completely unrealistic, but it also looked sort of cool, she guessed. But the more she watched, the more it instead reminded her of something else.
The holographic Pensieve, the magical overhead projector, or whatever it was they had been using in Lupin's class. Or more specifically, the memories of the last goblin rebellions. This strange cartoon had some odd similarities between how the goblins... moved? Fought? How they'd just pull giant bloody battle-axes from nowhere and swing them around like a butter knife. How they would move, strike and slash faster than she could blink, several times all at once, in a way that made no bloody sense whatsoever, but still looked sorta cool. Was this inspired by a bloody Goblin rebellion or something?
Not the exact technique, or even the weapons they used, but just the way reason seemed to take a backseat, how time seemingly slowed down at the most impactful moments, how there was always just enough of a break to finish witty banter between attacks...
But then the show suddenly took a turn from the strange to the very strange, and she found herself reflexively closing the window with a blush. What the fuck, Dudley. Whatever, this wasn't what she'd wanted to do anyway. A few clicks found her navigating to the familiar game, and once the progress bar had finally met the end, she let out a breath, and started moving in a random direction. She just went through the motions, almost on auto-pilot, before she remembered something else. Almost scared to check, she finally opened her friends list, and sagged. 0 Friends online. Of course.
Luna still hadn't responded after their talk. She had no idea what to do with her, if she was honest. Iris wasn't any good with this kind of stuff. She had no idea how Luna really felt; what would cause her to act like this, or what to say to make it better. Except for the truth. Maybe, at least one of her friends actually blamed her like she deserved?
A particular icon caught her attention, and as had been her habit, she approached and opened the Mailbox.
Hello Irisistible,
since the mail takes a bit to arrive, and I can't be online tomorrow, I'll send this ahead of time, hoping you won't check it until tomorrow, since you're busy looking for Harry. I hope you're still getting all of these messages at least, even if you're not able to respond right now. But that's alright. I know you'll find him. Just remember to make some time for yourself, too. Especially today.
Happy Birthday!
MOOnSpiraC
Iris blinked as she stared at Luna's awkward attempt at cheering her up.
Oh.
In hindsight, she probably felt about as awful about having written that as Iris now felt reading it, knowing what she knew now. It wasn't like there was any way to un-send mail, after all. As if on autopilot, her cursor drifted down towards the unfamiliar icon.
Delicious Chocolate Cake
Use: If you spend at least 5 seconds eating you will become Very Happy for 1 hour.
She'd become very happy. At least, for an hour. Yeah. If only. But real life didn't work like that.
Iris moved her cursor over the icon, and clicked. As her Night-Elf began eating the cake, a burst of fireworks erupted all around her. And, as promised, after five seconds there was a new buff icon bearing a smiley face.
Very Happy
You feel great!
Duration: 1 hour
What the hell was she even doing? Sure, that stupid ingame cake would fix all her problems, why hadn't she thought of that before?
Iris sagged, causing the laptop to begin sliding off her lap and tumble to the ground as it slammed shut. She was incredibly tempted to try and at least replicate the effect with the use of her Mindlight, but she had read and seen enough about drugs on the internet to recognize that as her worst idea yet. No matter how fucked up everything felt right now, if she tried to use magic to force herself to be happy, there was a good chance that she'd lose the ability to feel happiness without it. She supposed there was a reason why the Cheering Charm was heavily regulated.
In the end, she wasn't even asking for all her problems to be magically fixed. If she was being honest, all she wanted was to talk to someone. To truly talk to someone. The same way she had used to with Tracey in her first year. Just to get her thoughts in order, to work through everything that was going on, or at least pretend like she wasn't all alone.
But sadly, that wasn't an option.
No, she'd have to see this through to the end, until she brought Harry back. Then, she could tell him everything. And he'd forgive her, just as always. No matter how much she didn't deserve forgiveness.
She really had to get her shit together, Mindlight or no. Iris still didn't quite understand what it actually did, but thinking about it, she felt relying on it too much might not be such a great idea in the end. With the way Dumbledore had reacted when she had told him...
Maybe she should actually finish reading that book on Occlumency first?
Iris' gaze wandered over to the other stack of not-quite-as-illicit books she had only liberated from the Restricted Section. Yeah. Once again, thinking properly was a primary objective. This was the way to go. Iris pulled out the book from Q. Goldstein, and began to read the start once again, slowly making her way through all the parts she had skipped.
Somewhere from downstairs, a sound of a ringing landline phone jolted her out of the zone. Iris sighed. Petunia was still straight up refusing to get a mobile phone. She wondered how long that was going to last. Speaking off, maybe she should actually look to get one of her own? At least, she'd be able to contact Tracey and Hermione, she guessed. And maybe Luna. Also, lugging the laptop around for everything wasn't really practical.
Deciding to put that off for later, Iris focused her thoughts back on the book. These latest chapters had thrown up some pretty worrying questions about the implications of how she had achieved her "Occlumency."
Also, would someone please answer the bloody phone already?
Iris blinked. Slowly, a shiver made its way down her spine. No way.
She carefully fired up her Mindlight and turned her gaze inwards.
BRRRRRIIIIIINNNNNNGGG!
It was the emergency roadside telephone.
Iris swallowed. Before she knew it, her hands were resting on the metal receiver still lodged in the cradle, but just at the last second, she hesitated.
The orange device echoed another wavering metallic ringing sound, sharp and crisp, yet somehow sounding more discordant than should be possible by mere physics alone.
She swore to God if she was just here to mock her about her choice of attire again...
Iris took a breath, firmed her expression, turned to face the road again, and lifted the receiver. "I told you not to call me."
"Life is not a wishing well, Potter," replied the unperturbed black-haired girl, now standing across from her on the mountain road. "We need to talk."
Iris took a deep breath and sighed, trying her best to not let the unease of the situation get to her. "Fine. What's this about?"
"You've read the Prophet?" she asked.
Iris' face twisted into a scowl.
"I suppose that answers that. What are you planning to do about it?"
Iris raised an eyebrow. "What's it matter to you?"
Greengrass returned her gaze, but didn't deign her with an actual answer. "Humor me."
Iris sighed. "No idea. But the situation is fucked. Part of me is still hoping that people aren't stupid enough to believe that drivel at face value—"
"They are," Greengrass interjected.
"Yeah. And I'm sure that bodes well for anyone hoping to prevent the Dark Lord from just waltzing into the ministry without resistance. I'm thinking maybe I could... I don't know... make like a public statement, tell everyone that I was the one who told Dumbledore about Harry. That'd undermine their whole argument."
Greengrass gave her a look she was pretty sure was supposed to be condescending. "And now you tell me what's wrong with that idea."
Iris glared back but then took a breath and decided to humor the girl. "It might...raise questions to how I knew?"
"For one, yes, but that's not the main issue," she shrugged.
"People might turn around and call me a liar or in league with Dumbledore?"
"Possibly, but again, missing the point," Greengrass said.
Iris frowned. "It... might draw attention to the fa—"
Greengrass cut her off. "It might draw attention, period. You have a goal. So do I. And both of these require, absolutely require as little attention to be pointed our way as possible."
Fucking hell, she hated that the bitch was right.
"You will do nothing," Greengrass said. "You can do nothing. This is Dumbledore's issue to deal with. We will deal with it if and only if it affects what we are trying to do."
The Gryffindor part of her mind was screaming in fury, wanted to lash out at her and call her out for the cold-hearted bitch that she was. It was sort of her fault, so of course Iris wanted to fix it. But she was painfully aware that the girl was basically echoing her own past thoughts about her own goal. There was some biting irony about the fact that she instantly recognized what was wrong with this sort of thinking when others did it, yet had completely dismissed it as necessary when she did it herself.
Deciding to change the topic before she did something she would regret, Iris finally asked, "Was that why you were here? Just to mock me for my bad choices?"
"No," the girl replied. "I'm here because I need your help."
Iris' gaze turned back into a firm glare. "You still haven't done anything for me, other than completely bugger up our first deal. If you want me to help, you will... show some good faith."
Greengrass, of course, was completely unperturbed. "Fine. What do you need?"
"Two things, actually," Iris said.
"You get one. Then you do one for me. And then you get another."
Iris rolled her eyes. "Fine."
She pondered for a moment what to start with. There was this one issue that was still fresh on her mind, given what she had just read, but she still wasn't sure if she could trust the girl with something like this, even given their deal. So Iris decided on a trial run instead.
"I need to learn the Obliviation Charm."
Greengrass didn't even blink. "I could give you some pointers, but with that charm, there won't be a way around actual practice. It's mostly a question of control."
"I can't just go around obliviating random people just to learn a spell," Iris replied incredulously, as if that should be obvious.
Greengrass gave her that look again. After a second, she shrugged. "Fine. Cast it on me instead."
Sure, why didn't she think of that. Just one question. What. The fuck.
Iris held the gaze of the black-haired nutcase, but the girl didn't blink. Somehow, she was getting the impression that Greengrass hadn't been kidding.
"Come again?"
"I want you to try it on me instead," Greengrass repeated matter-of-factly.
Iris returned her gaze incredulously. Finally, she carefully said, "You're that confident in your ability to block it?"
There was no way Greengrass would go along with this if there was even a chance of Iris actually obliviating the girl.
"You could always go and practice on some random Muggle in the streets..." Greengrass said with a shrug.
"You..." Iris said, then mulled over her words. She was so very tempted to just try it and let the girl deal with the consequences of her own making. But once again, despite better judgement, she asked to clarify, "You do realize that spells cast using pure aspects sometimes can achieve things that they normally shouldn't?"
The black-haired enigma mirrored her own slightly condescending look. "This isn't Charms class, Potter. It's the Mind Arts," she said, as if that explained anything.
When Iris didn't let up, she sighed, and finally, deigned her with a sort of actual answer. "The Obliviation Charm, much like the Legilimens Charm, is but a crutch. An attempt to let the wand do, what the mind should."
Wow. This girl was almost worse than Dumbledore and Snape combined.
"It is one thing to craft a spell with a predetermined command to enter the mind and perform its task. But it is a different matter altogether to penetrate into the deepest layers of a fully formed mind. With sufficient skill in Occlumency, once you have achieved a material mindscape, penetrating the Mind with anything that does not bear a mind of its own becomes all but impossible."
Greengrass had somehow managed to sound both helpful and condescending at the same time.
"The only way to achieve what the spell should, once the target has mastered Occlumency, is to use Legilimency—true Legilimency—not a wand, and match them in a battle of wits on their own home turf," she concluded.
The girl's gaze swept across the scenery of the mountain road, and towards the tall and surreal buildings looming in the distance.
"Take this abomination that you call your Occlumency for example. A spell could enter here like any other, but the moment it does, it transitions into this realm. It is confronted with rules that it does not comprehend. While this place wouldn't stop a flobberworm with true Legilimency, just the fact it is so different from what the spell expects would cause it to majorly malfunction on its own. I suppose if someone tried to cast the Obliviation Charm on you in this state, it might not fail outright, but you would still retain the majority of your memories."
Well, there went her backup-plan of just obliviating Voldemort if it turned out he was actually immortal.
"Okay then..." Iris finally muttered, but then realized the problem with that. "But if you're just going to block it, then how do I know if it worked?"
The girl didn't even blink. "Fair point. Then how about this."
"What the f— Who is that?" Iris exclaimed.
A girl with long blonde hair had just materialized out of thin air next to Greengrass, after her eyes had glowed in the eerie deep blue of the Mind aspect for a second.
"That..." Greengrass said, as if talking about the weather, "...Is your target."
"Nine, Fifty-two, Thirty," said the blonde next to her in a snooty voice.
"Who is she?" Iris repeated.
Greengrass sighed. "A construct."
"But who—"
"Nine, Fifty-Two, Forty," interrupted the new girl.
Iris studied the girl for a moment. She was a bit shorter than either Iris or Greengrass. Her long blonde hair seemed meticulously maintained, braided in some places and not a single strand out of place. She seemed to have gone heavy on the eye-liner—not that Iris would know much about that—and generally her face looked like she spent more time in front of a mirror daily than Iris and Tracey did combined in a year. She was wearing long and thin golden earrings, a robe that seemed to absolutely scream upper-class, and high-heels that had no business being on a girl that young—in fact, she'd probably be a lot shorter compared to them without the heels. This girl looked like she had taken Pansy as an idol and then never figured out how to stop.
For a simple construct, this was a heck of a lot of details that seemed anything less than random.
"Nine, Fifty-Two, Fifty."
"Is that... all she does?" Iris wondered for a moment.
Greengrass flicked her fingers. "Pay it no mind. Try beginning with a span of a few minutes. Do you know the spell specification?"
"Yeah, but—"
"Nine, Fifty-Three, Zero," the blonde interjected.
Oh. She was... announcing the time? Yeah, but... Oh.
Iris raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure about this?"
Greengrass had begun tapping her foot impatiently. Finally, Iris relented and sighed, as she drew her wand. Which, huh. She wondered how this would compare to doing it in the real world. But then again, if anything, mind magic was the one thing that should definitely work in a non-real place like this.
"Nine, Fifty-Three, Ten," the unnamed girl announced haughtily.
"Well, don't say I didn't warn you," Iris said with a sigh.
She focused, drew a mix of Mind and Destruction to her virtual wand, and performed the first stage of the pattern. Memories went backwards, so she focused on the starting time—which was now—until the left of her wand lit up in a purple half-circle. Then she performed the second stage, and focused on five minutes ago, which lit up the right half of the circle. Finally, she began to pull it back together. Once she felt the intent imprint into her wand, she performed the final circular swish and incanted, "Obliviate."
A flash of purple light, Iris felt something catch. The spell latched on... swept her mind in search, sunk in and wrapped itself around something. The blonde stumbled in place. Then she blinked. And blinked again.
"Uh... N... F... Th— Four? Four Thir... No, Four Fo— Four Fifty! Four Fifty and... Something. Four Fifty-Two! I think. Yes."
Greengrass sighed. "How did you picture the timeframe? Let me guess, numbers?"
Iris wasn't really listening. She had thought the girl was just a blank construct, but right now, she was almost acting as if... Had she... had she just... Wait, had Greengrass— Just who was this girl?
"Potter?" Greengrass had clicked her fingers in front of her face.
"Mind magic doesn't really do numbers. Especially in combination with other factors. I found that it works best when you picture something as far removed from math and writing as possible. Either the actual memories, a spot in time, or failing that, an analog clock. Magic seems to understand those a lot better."
It said something about the situation that Iris just completely skipped over the fact that Greengrass had apparently experimented with this spell to a sufficient degree to know all of that. All of this was messed up. But amidst it all, there was still the path. Her goal. And Greengrass had just provided one useful tip.
Greengrass' eyes lit up once again, and the blonde blurred for a moment, until she was back, and immediately spoke up again.
"Nine, Fifty-Four, Twenty."
Had she just... wiped out that girl and replaced her or something?
The black-haired girl tilted her head and queried, "Try again?"
Fuck this. Fuck all of this. She had to quit thinking about this before she lost the chance to actually learn this spell. She needed this spell. She wasn't going to have another shopkeeper blow his own brains out just because she was too skittish to take what was right in front of her now.
Iris shook herself, raised her wand, performed stage one, pictured the current time on the handles of petunia's kitchen clock, then stage two, and the same time with the minute hand moved one tick back. "Obliviate!"
"Uh... Nine, Fifty... Th... Four! Nine, Fifty-Four, Z... Ten? Maybe?"
"I suppose that was a decent enough attempt," Greengrass concluded.
Iris let out a breath. She was glad that she had managed it in the end, but... holy fuck. This whole situation was so messed up, she had no idea what to think. And she wasn't even slightly reassured by the fact it was sort-of happening inside her own mind.
"Well, you've achieved the scalpel, let's see if you can handle the dagger."
The... oh.
The blonde blurred again, reformed, and then blinked. But this time, she wasn't counting. "Oh. Who are you?" she said, as her eyes met Iris', and her face warped into a grimace of disdain as she took in Iris' appearance.
"I—"
"Just ignore her," Greengrass cut in.
Iris turned her gaze towards the black-haired girl instead, her expression demanding an answer.
"Standard Obliviation is very much reversible, as you know first-hand. The only way to make it irreversible without diving into true Legilimency is a full-scale Obliviation. The simplest is to set the end point to infinity, as far as it will go. But that simply wraps the charm around the whole of all memories at once, which while harder to reverse, is still very much reversible by a very skilled Legilimens, despite what the books say."
Oh. So it wasn't as simple as that?
"There is a trick to it, to make the spell do something that even the most accomplished of Legilimens can only do through the greatest effort. Instead of making the spell do one action, carve out one memory, you bend its purpose around on itself. In essence, you tie the starting point to the end, creating a sort of infinite loop, where the spell does not stop after it has carved out a memory, but just keeps going and going, until it runs out of memories."
Iris stared back at the girl who was talking about tearing apart someone's mind like they were learning about the Merlin-damned Lumos charm.
"I realize that this is not exactly what you asked for, but it is what you might need. And also, you asked for a gesture of good faith."
Good faith, huh?
"What are the two of you talking about?" snapped the still unnamed blonde with a tone that reminded her eerily of Aunt Petunia.
It had been creepy as hell before, but the way the girl was acting now... Was there something going on? Was Greengrass testing her somehow? This was all sorts of wrong. But...
A single word, a flash of blue, a splatter of red.
Never again. Iris gripped her wand. This girl was just a construct. Nobody was getting hurt.
She met the eyes of the blonde, who sneered at her, but as Iris held her gaze, the girl's expression wavered.
From what Greengrass had said, she had a vague idea of how she was supposed to do this. Instead of an absolute timespan, she needed a relative timespan. The only thing she could come up with was to use numbers like she had before. But then again, it didn't matter if she wiped out five minutes or five hours.
Iris performed the first pattern, and focused on the here and now. A purple half-circle lit up to the left of her wand. Her wand swiped through the second half, while focusing on going five minutes back again. Finally, the second half lit up. Now came the hard part. She focused on the half-formed spell, and began to tug at the half-circles. She stretched them out, right into left, and left into right. Both circles quickly growing into a full circle each, both merging into each other. The end became the beginning, and vice-versa. Just for extra-credit, she sent it spinning, and finally pulled it all back into her wand, as she finished up the spell.
"Obliviate!"
A flash of purple and Iris felt it catch. Except this time, it just kept going. The girl gasped and collapsed to her knees. Her eyes were glowing, flickering with a mix of Red and Indigo. On and on it went, five seconds, ten, twenty, the spell running through her mind over and over again.
Finally, the glimmer died down, and with one final gasp, the girl collapsed back to a sitting position, where she remained. Iris stared. Vacant eyes stared back.
"You never cease to defy the expectations of reason."
Greengrass flicked her hair out of her face, and almost as an afterthought, the unnamed blonde promptly faded into thin air, as if she had never been here in the first place.
Iris stared at the empty space that was left behind. Fucking hell.
"That... just who was—"
Greengrass once again cut her off. "Satisfied? Good. Because I still need your help."
Iris took another breath, trying to get her thoughts back into order. Yeah, fuck all of that, but she could work through that later. Iris still needed the girl for something else. So she supposed it wouldn't hurt to see what Greengrass wanted.
"Alright. What do you need?"
Greengrass was leaning against one of the lampposts and gave her a smirk. "What I need... is your expertise on polarized magic."
"And what exactly do you mean by that?" Iris replied.
"Ideally, I would just copy the knowledge from your mind..."
"Life is not a wishing well, Greengrass," Iris interjected.
"So instead," Greengrass continued unperturbed, "I require your help. You asked for a spell, so I shall do the same. Whether you can teach me, or just perform it yourself is up to you."
Iris sighed, then pinned her under a glare. "What exactly do you need?" she repeated.
The girl held her gaze for a moment, before she finally spoke in a more serious tone. "I need to either cast, or have someone else who can cast, the Patronus Charm."