Chapter 14 - Facade
For all the insanity of the first half of her summer, the second half had been a lot quieter. Luckily, getting out had been just as smooth as getting in, even if the intense stare Greengrass had kept shooting her had made the whole thing a lot more uncomfortable than it already had been. And as much as she had wanted to maybe try and keep looking for the Stone, they'd already had lost way too much time, and she had had no idea when the people who obviously worked there would show up, so she'd decided not to test her luck even further. Especially since the bigger challenge lay ahead still. Greengrass hadn't pushed, instead she had claimed that she had some things to take care of herself for now. Since Iris obviously wouldn't be bringing Harry back any time soon, she had happily taken the lucky break to focus on the remainder of all the not immediately do-or-die-things that had kept piling up.
Iris had buried herself in her research, trying to distract herself from the events at the ministry, the implications, and what possibly lay ahead. She had worked her way through all the books she had liberated both from Flourish and Blotts, from Knockturn Alley, and from Germany. And who would have guessed, there had been a reason why Raising the Dead for Dimwits was actually... for dimwits. And why it had been so cheap.
Apparently, Emeric had found a specific ritual using some symbols in a certain configuration that would result in a new kind of Inferi, one that wouldn't just temporarily animate the corpse with a spell or something, but instead sort of put the dead body back to life, except, of course, not really. What he described had something of a Zombie movie, really. No hint of any soul, of any mind being brought back, just a corpse coming to life and sometimes following its creator's will to a certain degree. And of course, since it was a ritual, it wouldn't just decay, and be incredibly hard to destroy.
But it was also blatantly obvious that Emeric had no idea how rituals actually worked. He presented every single step as facts, step-by-step instructions, as if he were brewing a potion. Iris wondered what would happen if someone actually tried to follow these instructions without any attempt at finding more modern symbols to replace what was there. But whatever it would be, she was sure it wouldn't be bringing any dead back to life. She wondered how he came up with this in the first place, or if he even did come up with it by himself at all, if that was his approach to rituals.
After that disappointment, Iris spent some more time practicing her magic, and finally got to finish the book on Occlumency. And yeah. It was bad. Unless she was very mistaken, forcing her mindscape into solid shape with her Mindlight without bringing any sort of order to it beforehand had probably done more harm than good. But she had no idea what exactly that would mean. She suspected that the process of becoming solid made—as the name implied—the whole structure a lot more rigid; resisting change. But who knew what else it might do. Or if it would still get worse.
If Greengrass couldn't help her with that, she'd probably have to ask either Dumbledore or Snape, she guessed. But she realized she couldn't just ignore it.
Yet right now, as the first of September loomed, she found herself in a different mood for a whole different reason.
A week ago she had received another letter from Dumbledore. This one had—with lots of roundabout phrasing and hidden truths—told her that on the first Sunday after their arrival, all students were invited to attend Harry's funeral.
Which yeah. Iris was oh so very tempted to just ditch Hogwarts altogether simply to avoid that. Attending his funeral was the last thing she wanted to do. That was much worse than just telling people, this was outright lying down and admitting that he was dead, and that he wouldn't be coming back. But she also knew she wouldn't be able to bring him back before then. And not attending might make the headmaster even more suspicious.
If only it wasn't for Dumbledore. If not for him she could keep her friends out of this mess, she could dodge Harry's funeral and instead rub it in everyone's face when she "found" him later, after she had spent the whole year scouring the Restricted Section in peace. But no. Instead she was caught between three separate factions at odds with each other, and all of them were in one way or another standing in her way.
Apparently, not even the supposed "good guys" could pull on the same rope for a minute, if the latest smear campaign against Dumbledore in the Prophet was anything to go by, where she still wasn't sure if the ministry was behind that as well, or if the Prophet was just somehow dancing to Voldemort's tune. They certainly hadn't put a stop to it.
Then, there was the situation with her friends, if she was even allowed to still call them that. Ron hadn't just stopped sending her cauldron cakes, at some point he had stopped replying altogether. So had Hermione. Luna had replied once, after Iris had replied to her ingame mail that she wasn't mad about the cake, but hadn't sent anything ever since. Tracey, Susan and Neville surprisingly were still writing. Also, she still hadn't replied to Theo, and she had no intentions to, either.
No news from Lupin.
And while she had received another letter from Sirius, it seemed after the following silence that he had taken the hint. Although she guessed that he would find an excuse to talk to her sooner or later.
At least the Dursleys had this time kept to their deal and left her as alone as they were able. Today, however, they'd actually need to interact for once. It wasn't like she could carry her trunk through the shadow realm.
Iris finished noting down the final order of post-it notes into her notebook, then took them down from the wall, removing any evidence of what she had been working on. Once she had run out of concrete research, she had tried to follow up on the possibility of parts of that fairy tale about the surgeon being true, specifically the objects allegedly created by Death. And more importantly, their current whereabouts.
The stone was still as much of a mystery as ever. As was the cloak. But the wand...
She couldn't be sure, but there were definitely a lot of theories going around about the so-called Deathstick. Most of which, apparently, led back to Germany. Not that she had any use for a wand like that, no matter how tempting a wand wielding the power of an empire sounded, but she was still painfully aware that she had no chance of ever using any sort of normal wand, no matter how special it might be. But then again, perhaps finding one of Death's artifacts might lead her to finding the others?
Maybe there'd be yet another joyful Deutsche Bahn experience in her not too distant future.
But for now, she had a different train to catch.
~V~
Iris glared at the brick wall, and the wall glared back. No, you wouldn't be convincing her that it wasn't. It was painfully obvious that the thing still wasn't over what Iris had done to it and consequently harbored a strong dislike towards her in particular. Well, the feeling was mutual.
She reached out again and pushed once more, to no avail. What the hell had she ever done to the blasted thing? ...Well, besides from—Shut up!
"Ugh. You stupid waste of clay. Listen! I'm sorry for what I did, okay? It won't happen again... probably," Iris grumbled, feeling increasingly silly talking to a brick wall while standing in the center of platform nine, being surrounded by Muggles on all sides. Another nudge just to check... Iris sighed.
"Come on... I need to get to school, and my friends are waiting for me!" Iris begged the piece of crap to finally let her through. "...Please?"
"Potter?"
Iris' head lost its support and thunked against the pretty brick wall with a groan.
"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" said the incredulous voice of the last person she wanted to talk to right now.
"Piss off, Malfoy," she said with a sigh.
"Do you still need your parents to show you how a door works?"
She was almost surprised he hadn't immediately taken a cheap shot at Harry instead, although he probably suspected that doing so might prove the quickest way to join him right now. Iris slowly turned and met his baby blue eyes with the coldest picture of annoyance she could muster. She didn't have to try all that hard. No. Because if he actually went there, the trip would be far from quick.
Malfoy met her eyes and paled, before shooting a quick glance towards the blonde standing next to him, then met her once more with a sneer, but there didn't seem to be that much confidence behind it. Iris blinked and shook herself. No. She had to keep herself together. He hadn't even said anything yet. Instead, she took the one avenue that was expected of her as a member of Slytherin house.
"Obviously, you don't, seeing how they didn't even bother to show up to see you off."
Malfoy stilled, and his expression seemed to waver for a moment. Iris raised an eyebrow.
"My parents, Potter, have far more important things to do. Like running the entire country. What are yours doing again?"
"Saving the entire country."
"And in doing so, apparently forsaking their children's education. Come, let me show you how to properly use a door, Potter."
He stepped up and approached her, the blonde girl following in tow shooting her a look as if Iris were a particularly disgusting rat that had just crawled out of the sewer, before Malfoy dragged her further along by her hand.
Iris froze, as her mind finally fully registered the girl that had been standing next to him. Any thoughts of standing in his way or somehow smacking some sense into him left her mind. She recognized her. Even if she had no idea who she was.
Long, blonde, braided hair, even her eyes were the same shade as his. Perfect immaculate robes that seemed to be Hogwarts school robes but for all intents and purposes looked to be anything but, and a very familiar pair of long thin rectangular golden earrings. The girl didn't show any signs of recognizing her, other than through association with Malfoy. But then again, she also didn't show any signs of having been obliviated into a vegetable, at least. The girl had actually been real. Was she Malfoy's sister? Wait, Malfoy had a sister? And why were these two spinning pictures of spoilt Pureblood heirs using the Muggle entrance?
"Let's stop wasting our time with the half-blood, shall we?"
Holy crap, even her voice was exactly the same. Iris stared, but she couldn't reconcile this girl which seemed to act like a small, female version of Malfoy with the eerie construct that had been single-mindedly counting seconds inside her Mindscape.
Her mind was still in turmoil as Malfoy stepped up towards the wall, gave her an aloof smirk, and took a step forward. Iris' silent prayers that he would eat his words and just smack into it sadly fell on deaf ears. Instead, Malfoy stepped right through to the other side, as if the wall wasn't even there, dragging the unknown blonde with her.
Not wanting to waste her chance, Iris dashed for the barrier, dragging her trolley behind her, and jumped in after him, before the bloody thing could close up right in her face again.
Only, of course, that was exactly what happened. Iris groaned and rubbed her head, sitting on the ground where she had fallen, the contents of her trunk splayed all over her limbs.
"Oi! You alright there?"
Iris slowly turned to meet the face of a young woman wearing a black Metallica t-shirt, and some tattered jeans, and black... no dark-ish...red? Wait, was her hair color—
Her thoughts drew a blank as the hair stopped shifting and ended up on a very familiar shade of dark with a red shine to it. And style, too. A wild mess of loose curls and errant strands, somehow never becoming quite so tangled that they would resemble Harry's bird's nest, yet also refusing any sort of order that would allow her to tame them properly. The woman's eyes widened, her face turned hesitant for a second, then the smile returned.
"Merlin, you're Iris Potter! Saw that tumble, must've been a nasty bump, yeah? I'm Tonks," said the young woman who was now shooting her a gentle smile while seemingly wearing a hairstyle that was exactly identical to her own, and holding out a hand to her.
Iris' gaze involuntarily trailed down towards the older girl's chest where she found a familiar silver badge. Crap. Was she in trouble?
Her eyes were once again drawn to the copycat hairstyle. A second later, the Auror named Tonks blinked, shook her head, and her hair instead straightened out, became somewhat shorter, and turned to a bright pink hue.
"Erm... sorry about that. It tends to... do that," she replied with a sheepish grin, still holding out her hand. "You good?"
Iris reluctantly reached out to grab her hand, and let Auror Tonks pull her to her feet. The girl didn't look much older than a Hogwarts student, was she really... an Auror? As in badass wizarding cop? She tried, but found it really hard to reconcile the image of this peppy girl with the likes of trench coat guy and Not-Snape.
"Ugh... Thanks... Stupid wall won't let me through," Iris mumbled, then turned to gather up her things.
Said things slipped her hand and began to repack themselves into her trunk with a wave of Tonks' wand. Iris shot her a grateful look, both at the gesture, and also at the fact that she had completely skipped over the topic of Harry so far. The last piece of luggage stacked itself into her trunk, or rather, onto it. Everything was just slightly skewed, just enough that it wouldn't fit properly, resulting in the pile of luggage ending up twice the size of her trunk, leaving no chance for her to actually close it.
"It won't, huh? That's odd. It's not supposed to do that, well, unless... Although I remember one particular student that'd constantly end up covered in cobwebs on the other side..." Tonks mumbled, then turned to notice the predicament of her trunk. "Bugger. Mum's gonna have a fit if she sees this... Sorry. Household charms sorta hate me."
Tonks gave her a sheepish grin, then crouched down to help her painstakingly stuff the remainder of her luggage back into the trunk, until she finally got up, brushed imaginary dust off her hands, and turned towards the problem at hand.
"One second, let me try something."
The older girl stepped up to the wall, and reached out a hand and stuck it inside it.
"Seems fine to me... Try it now?" she said, while still keeping her hand inside the wall, as if holding a door open.
Iris reached out a hand, and this time, of course, it just worked. Iris returned a thankful smile at the older girl and grabbed her trunk.
"Well, you better be off now, train's leaving in three minutes."
Iris paused, and turned back for a second. "Thanks, I guess... Auror Tonks."
That yielded an impish smile in response. "Eh, just doing my job. Also, I barely qualify, really—still fresh outta basic training—so don't you go calling me Auror like I'm some sort of Professor, okay? Off with you now, before the barrier gets mad at me too."
Iris gave a grateful nod, and finally stepped through.
~V~
The search down the train had ended when she found a compartment that was empty save for two very familiar people. Except she had really not expected to see them together. And apparently, neither had they, given the looks the two were shooting each other. That lasted for half a second until they realized who was standing in their door, and their expressions fell into a strange mix of happiness and wariness. Or at least one of them did, the other one tried his best to hide it.
Iris, of course, proceeded to pretend like he wasn't there at all. It was showtime.
"Hey, Tracey," she said with a smile.
"Hey Iris..." Tracey said, then both their gazes drifted as one towards the third occupant of the compartment.
If he was in any way intimidated, he didn't show it.
Iris took a breath, gathering herself. This was it. Either she set a different tone from the start, or she dedicated herself to deceiving her friends for the rest of the time until she managed to bring Harry back. She flicked her wand to send her trunk up to the overhead rack, and settled down next to Tracey, trying to both not appear too unconcerned, but also not completely crushed. She'd already had two months to 'move past it', after all.
"How are you doing?" Tracey asked quietly.
Iris didn't meet her gaze. She had an entire month to prepare for this, to figure out what to do here. She just hoped that the movies she had watched had done a decent job of depicting how people coping with loss would act around their friends.
"I'm fine, I—" Iris trailed off, staring down at her hands. Then she shook her head. "Can we just... not talk about it, please? At least not right away? I..."
She looked up and met Tracey's eyes at last. "I just... want some change of tapestry for once."
Tracey's expression echoed that she was sharing a very similar sentiment, and she nodded. Iris gave her a grateful look, then both the girls turned once more to look at the black-haired prat sitting next to them. He looked like he very much didn't understand. But also, at least, he didn't seem inclined to vocally disagree.
With her piece being said, silence returned to the compartment. Iris fumbled with the hem of her robes, and she was sort of tempted to pull out a book to make it less awkward. The compartment shook, announcing their departure from Kings Cross station, and the outside slowly began moving.
"Did you make... any progress on your magic?" Tracey asked awkwardly.
Iris blinked, not having been prepared for an actual conversation. Which was silly, that was exactly what she had asked for. "Well... yeah, sort of? I did manage to finally combine a third color. Nothing fancy, basically it was just the same thing as before, except ten times harder. Draw Indigo and Violet as one, then try to make it purple again, which added another Red. But that seems to be the limit, because with Red, Orange and Yellow, or Violet, Indigo and Blue, trying to make it purple again seems to remove one of the colors, maybe because I wouldn't get purple with that much Green in there..."
Iris trailed off, realizing the looks she was getting. "Er... sorry, I'll just... shut up now."
Tracey opened her mouth as if in protest, but that just resulted in even more awkward silence.
"I didn't think of that, but it does make sense. Apparently congratulations are in order then. You've graduated from the Killing Curse all the way to Bluebell Flames."
A momentary vision of green lightning flashed before her mind's eye. Iris' glare lanced out and Theo stumbled in his seat, as if struck by an invisible force. Yeah, the prat really had no concept of tact. But she was used to his twisted sense of humor. The problem wasn't really that. No, for one, he really couldn't have picked a worse subject to joke about. And also, there was still the slight issue that both her and Tracey were kind of mad at him for ditching them last year.
"And apparently, you've graduated from regular asshat to spineless asshat," she snapped back.
That elicited a frown from Theo, who turned to Tracey, looking for support. Tracey's resentful glare made it clear that he had even less a chance of making amends there.
"What?" he shot them both a confused look. "You want a written apology or something?"
"How about apologizing at all to begin with?" Tracey deadpanned.
Theo frowned and rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry for trying to protect my family when I obviously should have considered your feelings."
"We're not mad for doing what you had to to protect your mum, alright? But... nothing?!" Tracey snapped.
Iris took a breath and interjected her own two cents before Theo's reply inevitably made the situation even worse. "I understand that, believe me, but you could have still... written a letter? Done... something, left some sort of hint that you didn't just completely drop Tracey and me because it was convenient. I know that's not what you meant, but believe me, that was kind of how it felt," Iris said.
"The whole house was watching me. They made me promise in the middle of the common room. You know the rumors about that room," Theo replied unrepentantly. "They would know if I broke it."
Iris did know the rumors, but she still wasn't sure if there was that much substance to them. Allegedly, their common room really didn't like it when people broke any promises made within its twisted halls. Whatever that meant.
Iris sighed. "Still. You completely cut us off. The least you could do is properly apologize."
Theo shot her a look. "You're one to talk. You've isolated yourself from both of us long before I ever left. You were going off on your own, keeping your secrets—No, don't deny it. We both know it's true."
Iris narrowed her eyes at him. "You don't get the right to judge me after what you did."
"But he is right, you know?"
Iris froze, and she met Tracey's eyes with a pang of betrayal. But in her face she saw only determination. Iris opened her mouth to—
"After everything that happened, are you really going to tell us not to judge you on that?"
Tracey's unexpected verbal dagger plunged right into her gut, and Iris couldn't find the words to reply.
Iris' eyes jumped between Tracey and Theo, all the while her mind was wrestling with the memories, guilt and self-loathing all originating from that one moment, the moment which exactly this behavior had led to. And she knew that, hell she agreed wholeheartedly. It was exactly what she had wanted during her last time meeting the girl. But the real reason why she was on the defensive here was that she still had to keep going even now. Even if they wouldn't know about it. All she had to do was admit it, apologize, say all the things she had wanted to say anyway. It would hopefully lay the groundwork for rebuilding their friendship, for doing what was necessary to keep Dumbledore's suspicions off her.
But the truth of the words stung, and made it all the harder to accept them, when in fact she was still doing anything but.
"You know that we aren't judging you for what happened, right?"
Oh, it was we now, was it?
Iris' gaze flicked between her two supposed friends once more. Apparently, she had been horrible enough of a friend to even Tracey that the two managed to unite, even over the rift of what Theo had done, in order to smack some sense into her. Great.
"What I am saying is that we are judging you because you are still doing it."
Crap. Did they know? Was she really that transparent? She almost wanted to skip over the charade and get shipped off to Azkaban already, at least then she'd be spared having to continue to try deceiving her best friends like this. But she still had to try. She couldn't give up, not when she had already come this far.
"I'm sorry," Iris said quietly. A heavy lump began forming in her throat, making it hard to swallow. "And I promise. I promise I'll be better. And that I'll talk to you," she added, her eyes downcast. There was no way she could look them straight in the face while saying that. Iris just hoped that they would still take her word for it.
A hand enclosed around her own, and held it.
"You promise?" Tracey echoed that single word, and Iris finally met her gaze.
There was no going back now. "I promise," she repeated with a small smile that felt as if she were dancing on Harry's grave.
Tracey held her gaze for a long second that just refused to end. But somehow, that hollow caricature of emotion caused her best friend to return a relieved smile, and squeeze her hand supportively, the soft grip almost burning her skin.
"I still don't see why I have to apologize—"
Thunk! "Oi!"
Theo's own book had just risen from his lap and smacked him in the face.
Iris lowered her greenish glowing finger, and shot him a deadpan look. "Just do it. At least, apologize to Tracey. Merlin knows she deserves it more than me. At least, you told me in person."
That finally caused Theo's expression of aloof annoyance to slightly crack, as his gaze flicked over towards the brunette sitting across from him.
"Er..." came the eloquent reply. Apparently, the antisocial knobhead hadn't even realized that he hadn't told Tracey at all, and how that would have been received by the girl.
"Fine. I admit I could have handled that slightly—"
"A lot," Iris interjected.
"...a lot better. I forgot to think about my friends. And for that, you have my sincere apologies. You deserve better."
God, did he have to make it all weirdly formal like that? But at least, apparently Tracey seemed somewhat mollified, if the small smile on her face was any indication.
"And you admit to being a total knobhead?" Tracey doubled down.
Theo gave a small bow. "The knobbiest of them all."
Iris let out a silent breath, having successfully diverted the conversation away from her own hollow apology. Iris wasn't sure if she had really forgiven him for what he'd done to Tracey, but apparently, at least the girl herself had. Now if only they'd be that quick to forgive her, if they ever found out what she was actually up to.
~V~
The hall slowly fell quiet as Albus approached the lectern. He had not raised his hands, nor his voice. Neither had Minerva needed to do him the courtesy of rapping her glass. The silent, invisible weight of the past began to settle onto the hall, and onto his very shoulders. All the faces were looking up at him, but for the first time, none of them were smiling. The usual awe and excitement of the welcoming feast was shadowed by grief, and a heavy absence lingered over them all.
"My dear students," Albus began, his voice quiet, yet it echoed through the hall. "There are many occasions when we gather in this great hall to celebrate—to look forward to the year ahead, to welcome new faces, and to honor the bonds that bind us as a school and as a community."
He paused, letting his gaze sweep across the tables. "But tonight is not such an occasion."
Silence blanketed the hall. It pained him to see his young students like this, but Albus pressed on, his eyes grave. "By the end of the week, we will honor one who has been taken from us too soon. Harry Potter was not just a student. He was a friend, a brother, a beacon of hope in dark times. His courage... his sacrifice... will never be forgotten, though the weight of his absence is something we must now carry."
His voice trembled, just for a moment, before steadying. "Yet, as we remember him, we must also remember what he stood for. Harry believed in the power of unity, in the strength of friendship, and in the hope that light can always be found, even in the darkest of places. It is up to us now, to honor his memory not only in mourning, but in how we choose to live."
Another silence fell, deeper than before. He let his gaze sweep across the assorted students, then let it linger on the sister he had left behind for a moment.
"On Sunday, we will lay Harry to rest. But tonight, let us remember that the ties between us—our friendships, our loyalty, our love for one another—are the very things that gave Harry the strength to fight, and what will help us move forward. Let us hold onto them, now more than ever."
He let that statement linger for a moment, before taking a breath, and turning towards the staff table.
"Now, it would be remiss of me not to introduce Professor Umbridge, who will be substituting for Professor Lupin as your History teacher, as well as our newest teacher for Defense against the Dark Arts, Professor Black," he said, gesturing towards the black-haired wizard who gave a grim nod, and the witch clad entirely in pink, who merely smiled at the introduction. The hall met that announcement with a standing ovation of silence. Not even Mr. and Mr. Weasley found it within them to attempt to lighten the mood.
Albus looked out at the sea of somber faces, and then added, almost in a whisper, "The feast will begin. But I ask you all—tonight, think not of what we have lost, but of what remains, and what we must carry forward, for Harry's sake."
With that, he stepped back from the lectern, and the hall was left in a heavy, deafening quiet.
~V~
Iris stabbed the rib-eye with slightly more force than strictly necessary, lifted it and added it to the pile. She shot another glance towards the staff table, trying her very best to make it less of a glare. So that was why he had been so suspiciously quiet. Of course, there was no need to keep nagging her with letters over the summer, if he could spend the entire school year trying to butt into her life instead.
Not that she was necessarily opposed to the thought in principle, but right now, she really could have done without another person she had to walk on eggshells around for however long her quest would take. And possibly even after that. But if she was honest, any thoughts to an after had so far mostly taken the backseat. The main goal was to actually bring back Harry first and foremost. But to do that, she also needed to figure out a way to prevent Voldemort from just somehow randomly showing up in the middle of her attempt, and foiling her at the very last second, just like he had in Germany. And she had no idea how to even start with that.
Her Not-Glare wandered down the Slytherin table towards the girl sitting next to Malfoy, who was still constantly shooting her looks that would rival Snape on his worst days. The girl who she now had even less of an idea what to think about. Especially about the circumstances of how they had first 'met'.
Because it had turned out the girl wasn't actually related to Malfoy at all. No. The name Professor McGonagall had called out right before the blonde had been sorted into her own house was still echoing through her head, and no matter how many times she looked towards the other girl sitting at the other end of the table, the resemblance was so miniscule that she still couldn't quite wrap her mind around it.
"Greengrass, Astoria."