Chapter 1 - Solitude
At the beginning of a very normal street in a very normal town in northern Surrey, just one house down from the corner, stood a home like any other. Its hedges were trimmed in exactly the same way as their neighbors', the car in the driveway even matched in color with the neighbors across the street. And the occupants of said house were spending an almost inordinate amount of time pretending that they were just like their neighbors—if only slightly higher class, of course—when in reality, that couldn't be further from the truth.
The normally quiet neighborhood of Privet Drive was pierced by loud shouts, shrill yelling—both male and female—of at least two, if not three people arguing loudly, disturbing the nighttime peace that its residents usually enjoyed. So loudly in fact, that it caused Mrs. Olsen from next door to stick her head out of her window with a slightly deeper than normal frown of disdain. The silhouette of a black cat dashed down the street between the last raindrops of yet another British summer downpour, causing the lights to flicker in its wake, until it came to a rest just in front of the house which was the cause of the ruckus. Upon further inspection, it wasn't a cat at all. It was simply a shadow, empty blackness given form, although in the dim orange flicker of the streetlamps, one might be able to forgive the untrained eye such a mistake.
The shadow made its way through the hedges, and up the brick walls of No. 4, until it froze part-way as the door of the house was pulled open from the inside. A tall man with long black hair stepped through. He was wearing silky, flowing dark robes, faintly ornate silver and gold at the edges as well as around his neck, and was holding a long black wand. A frown was marring his face, as he slammed the door behind him.
He stood for a moment, seemingly pondering, until he spoke in a low and gravelly voice, "It seems that Dumbledore has a lot of explaining to do."
The man suddenly distorted, collapsed in on himself in a spinning blur, and within a second, he was gone with a loud crack, leaving behind just a faint rustle of the hedges and an angry shout from one of the neighbors across the street.
The shadow was still there, hesitating, frozen in place on the outside of the house. Its form was vaguely humanoid, but still very much not. Large long limbs bent at odd angles, where there was supposed to be a head there was more of a face, and it seemed to be shivering, almost glitching. After several seconds, it slowly began moving again, creeping closer to the window, until it reached out its dark disjointed tendrils in jerky motions, and began to slip inside through the narrow seam in the frame.
Inside, there was a room that was noticeably less well-kept than the rest of the house. There were two beds, two trunks, two cages. A chaotic mix of books and other utensils lay strewn out of the trunk and scattered across the room. Yet one bed sat unused, one cage just as vacant, and most importantly, the room was otherwise entirely bereft of its occupants. That was, until now.
The shadow slipped towards the darkest corner of the room, where it suddenly grew. The bedside lamp began to flicker as the shadows began to move, became more vivid, darker, deeper. Almost less like a shadow, and more like an infinite abyss that would entrap anything foolish enough to enter, and never let go. The lamp gave one final defeated glimmer, until it burnt out for good, plunging the room into almost perfect darkness, save for the faint orange glow of the streetlights from outside.
A shimmering outline materialized against the abyss, and slowly, a silhouette began to emerge, taking short and heavy steps as it re-entered the material plane. In the soft mix of moonlight and streetlamps, the silhouette grew more pronounced, slowly gained presence, shape, and... color.
It resolved into the shape of a girl. Her shoulder-length dark hair was tangled and messy, framing vacant, bright green eyes on a face devoid of any emotion, marred only by a haunted expression. She was wearing a worn-out dark T-shirt and gray shorts that she had gradually grown into, and was completely drenched in water from head to toe. The state of her attire had nothing to do with the rain, however.
The girl just stood there, as the shadows slowly ebbed away, retreating into corners far; whether to linger, or disappear, only she knew. The only sound in the room was the constant dripping of water onto the old wooden floorboards. Slowly, she raised a hand, and in her open palm, light materialized. A fist-sized orb of pure color lit up, bathing the room in all the colors of the rainbow, each color shining in different directions many times over, as they kept moving in a kaleidoscopic pattern of pure chaos given order.
The girl was staring into the orb blankly—as if contemplating—while the light danced across her eyes. Finally, she gave a flick of the hand, causing the orb to start floating. She took one lethargic step, then another, until she collapsed on the one bed that wasn't standing in its immaculate, unused state.
Iris Potter wasn't crying. Even though she admittedly had used to cry a lot growing up here; she had left that person behind when she had joined the magical world, left this home for a magical castle to learn magic. Real magic.
But even after all this time, especially now, she wished for nothing more than to be able to cry one final time. To find some form of closure, even if it was in something as simple as tears. Her gaze drifted across the room to the bed sitting opposite her. Next to it, in the one cage that wasn't empty, sat a beautiful snowy owl, who gave a silent whimper.
"Want me to let you out, Hedwig?"
A soft hoot came in reply. Iris got up, opened the cage, followed by the window. Hedwig jumped out, but instead of taking off into the night, landed next to her and nibbled at her hand for a moment, before giving a questioning chirp.
"I didn't find him," Iris whispered, her gaze fixed on the floor.
This resulted in a saddened trill. Iris looked up and met the bird's yellow gaze, until she finally spoke up, her mouth as dry as a desert. "I'm sorry."
Harry's owl had long since caught on that something was wrong; if only after Iris had tried to find him by sending Hedwig with a letter addressed to him, only for the bird to return back to her after a few confused circles around the neighborhood. After one final soft hoot, and another affectionate peck at her fingers, Hedwig took flight and left through the open window.
Her eyes rested on the second cage for a moment, which she still hadn't gotten rid of after over a year. Maybe there was some part of her hoping that she would still return to her, although the logical part of her mind mostly screamed in terror at the possibility. Those purple eyes still haunted her dreams to this day.
Feeling herself still dripping all over the floor, she brought up her wand, and lit up the tip in the bright orange glow of the combined Elemental and Control aspects. Iris had never been able to do spells the regular way, so this was her workaround. "Chorís ygró." A mumbled incantation later, the water seemed to evaporate from her clothing, but it was far from perfect. Instead of drenched to the bone, her clothes were now simply a damp mess. She had always had issues with the spells from that particular book.
She turned back around and her eyes came to rest on the small stack of letters sitting on their table. She had ignored all of them as they had arrived, one after the other, only glancing across their contents. It wasn't hard to guess what they would be about. All of Harry's friends were now suddenly writing her. All of them, hoping she would know anything more than they did. Iris hadn't replied. She hadn't wanted to get their hopes up by sending a reply only to have it contain no news one way or another. Now, she kind of wished she had replied to them before.
Next to it lay the Daily Prophet, depicting Gilderoy Lockhart's final moment in all of its gruesome detail, just as he was swallowed up by the Lethifold in the middle of Diagon Alley.
Everything had gone wrong. Everything had always gone wrong, as soon as she had gotten involved.
The second half of the page held yet another article speculating on the whereabouts of the Boy-Who-Lived. The general consensus seemed to be that it was either Dumbledore who was to blame, or Dumbledore's absence instead.
Aimlessly, her hand swiped one of the letters from the desk, flicked it open with a flash of yellow light, and began to read.
Hey, Iris,
I wasn't sure what to write, Merlin I'm still making it up as I go, It's just... You know. Messed up. I know, you're the last person I'd need to tell that. Are you doing okay? I... we're all worried. Mum keeps asking if I've heard anything, keeps asking Ginny if she heard anything, Ginny keeps asking me, even Fred and George...
Have you heard anything about Harry? I know he'd probably write as soon as he could, and you're probably busy looking for him on your own, despite what McGonagall said, it's just,
Sorry. I- Please write back? I'm not just worried about Harry, you know? We're friends too, aren't we? If you don't write back, I'm going to have to send you cauldron cakes until you do.
Hope you're doing okay, and that you'll find time to write soon.
Ron
The letter slipped through Iris' slackened grip, and dropped to the ground. She stared at the pen for a moment, but then collapsed back onto the bed instead, only further staining the sheets. Said cauldron cake was wrapped in a small package next to the stack of letters on the desk, but she hadn't touched it either. Of course, that made her just feel even worse about it. Not only did he know she loved those just as much as him, but he knew that she knew that he couldn't afford all that many with his pocket money, so he was basically guilt-tripping her into replying with his kindness. And on any other day, it might have worked.
But right now, she was just sitting, staring, letting her thoughts wander, to think about something, anything other than what had just happened. This wasn't a problem that she could just solve by pulling another impossible stunt with magic. She had tried.
Yet convincing her own mind of that fact seemed like a hopeless endeavor. Maybe she could...
Well, why not? It was worth a shot. Iris brought up her hand, and lit it up in the deep Indigo of the Mind aspect. She swirled her finger, bending the light into a sphere, raised it up to her temple, and finally pushed. Her thoughts lit up in all of their chaotic glory under the influence of her homebrew brand of what was supposed to be Occlumency.
Which mainly caused her to descend away from despair and straight back into panic. How had she messed up this badly?
"I don't know what to do if you keep doing things like that..." Tracey's worried voice echoed through her mind, only to be immediately replaced by another one.
"Why... aren't you angry?" her own voice, entrapped in another memory of herself sitting in this very room, with him sitting next to her. One of the few treasured memories she had left of him.
"Because you're my sister, and I love you."
No matter how much she messed up, he had always been there for her. And the only time he hadn't... he had been trying to protect her.
"Sorry I ruined our birthday."
An almost painful feeling was building in her throat, yet somehow, her own tears still eluded her.
"You're not my mum, alright? I can take care of myself!"
It still hurt. And she still didn't know why. She had realized afterwards that he had only said it to keep her from getting involved. Even though she was supposed to be the one to protect him. Yet in the end, he once again had had to rescue her instead.
"It seems that Dumbledore has a lot of explaining to do."
Iris blinked. She had almost forgotten.
Who had that man been? She had never even seen him before. And yet he not only seemed to know Dumbledore, but also had been doing Merlin-knows-what in their house. Of course, she couldn't have cared less at the time. Still didn't, really. But in her magically-addled state of mind, she couldn't help but find things to focus on. Other things.
Should she ask her aunt and uncle what that had been about? Did she even care?
The instant answer to both was no. However, her mind still kept coming back to it anyway, being barred from what it wanted to actually think about.
With everything that had happened, she wished she had never talked with Dudley, never talked with Luna, never talked with Greengrass, never talked with Snape. She wished she could have just continued on for another year, until the ritual would have sealed her fate in blissful ignorance.
But she had. She had wanted to know. And now she did. And she wished she didn't.
The shadows slowly came alive around her once more, and she didn't bother to push them back. She just let them creep up the folds of the sheets, under the bed, underneath herself, feeling their familiar tingling sensation on her skin. The glimmering light of her still floating orb of color clashed against the oppressive darkness of the eldritch horrors at her fingertips, light and dark warring for dominance, all while she couldn't care less about either.
Dumbledore had a lot of explaining to do. Whatever that meant. Would he still be at Hogwarts? Was he still looking for Harry? Had they found out anything?
Her eyes fell back onto his trunk. The only things he had left in there were some robes, some books, the Map, and the Cloak. One she couldn't use, and the other she had no use for.
Somehow, the things that remained of their father were still more significant than anything that he had left behind. Anything save for Hedwig.
Anything save for herself.
Only of her mother did she have even less to remember her by. Nothing but her name. The name she had passed on to her. What would she think? What would she think of what had happened? Of what she had become? Would she hate her as much as she did herself?
She definitely should.
Iris had no idea where his wand had gone. Last she saw it, Lockhart had had it. And of course, before she had thought to ask him about that... Her gaze drifted over to the Daily Prophet, playing that same scene on repeat again and again. Yet her own mind was still trying to play an entirely different scene.
And that scene refused to let her go. What if it all was just another trick? Yet another fake memory? She really should know better than to get her hopes up like this.
But still. She had to be sure. She had to... she had to go and check. Somehow.
She knew. She knew she wouldn't find anything. That she was just deluding herself. But she didn't care anymore. She had to do something. Doing nothing meant giving up on Harry.
Mind made up, she reached for her night stand, and pulled out Dudley's old laptop. The worn device had seen its fair share of use, although mainly not by its owner. Both Harry and Iris would sometimes 'borrow' the laptop whenever Dudley wasn't around, and after their last birthday, she had more or less requisitioned the thing completely. Not that she could use it at Hogwarts, but it had made their summer just a little more bearable. But that was last summer.
Popping open the search engine once more, she began to look up the route to King's Cross. So far, Vernon had taken them there by car, and never mind the fact she didn't have the route memorized, she needed to take an entirely different route now, anyway.
Unlike the Leaky Cauldron, this one was rather easy to find. She hit navigate to burn the public transport route into her mind up to wherever would match up with the closest place she could get to the Tube from the outskirts of London. It would be a lot easier if she could just take the laptop with her, but technology seemed to be especially volatile in the presence of polarized magic; she had no idea what would happen if she tried to take a battery-powered device to the shadow realm.
Her path set, she closed the laptop, and got up, once again moving with purpose. Inch by inch she began to peel off the still damp clothing, and for the lack of anything else to wear that wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb where she was trying to go, she put on her Hogwarts robes. Finally, she pocketed her wand, pulled her hood over her face, and stepped forward.
Usually, she would focus on her hatred for either her relatives, the Dark Lord, or more recently, herself. But right now, there was no need to focus at all. Instead of a conscious effort to draw the shadows forth from where they slumbered, she just... let them go. Stopped holding them back.
In essence, she cut out her light. And the shadows did the rest. From all the corners, all the edges, every single fold of her sheets, even the tiniest speck of shadow grew more pronounced, darker, more vivid. Eagerly they gathered, flowing and licking together in a single spot—the darkest corner of the room. An electric shiver permeated the air, as the shadows grew beyond the point even the most dubious of books on polarized magic considered safe, and finally, once the space was fully saturated, folded inwards.
Walls, space and depth lost their meaning as the shadows overwhelmed the barrier between realms, and what was once a window, became a gateway. It was impossible to tell where the shadow ended and the void began, yet it was still clear that at the center, there was no more room, no more space, merely a path, a rift into realms where unspeakable horrors resided. Yet the girl felt no unease or fear at this prospect. For she did not fear the monster that lurked in the dark—nor did it fear her.
She was that monster. She had just refused to see it.
Iris took a step forward into the shadows, and beyond. She felt herself slip, up and down, as the walls, the floors, and the concept of solidity lost all their meaning. Even the last specks of light were drowned out by pure blackness, and one moment later, she was elsewhere.
If she had to describe the shadow realm with one word, it would be inverted.
A mirror image of the real world, made up almost entirely of darkness, except in the places where there were supposed to be shadows. Every single shadow in the real world was represented here—as a rift of sorts. A gap in the darkness, through which she could peer out into the light. A place that was not made for humans to inhabit.
So when she had entered here, she had become... something else. In here, all she could see was a vague creature made entirely of blackness. She could not speak, or touch anything, but she could move—in fact, rapidly so—as long as there was very little light. Yet she did still cast a shadow of her own. But in here, that shadow was just like the others, yet another window into the real world. And out there... well...
Iris made her way over to the window, pushed against it and felt herself slip through to the other side. It was still a strange sensation every time. As it was still dark outside, there was no need to slip through the sewers this time. She made her way onto the road, braced herself, and took a step. Rifts were blurring past her, the streetlights flickering in her wake as she went. During the day, she could only move quickly along or through shadows that were already there, but now, it felt like the entire world was one single shadow, was hers to explore, open and vast. Yet she had no idea how to get to Hogwarts, at least directly. But, she figured, if she could make it to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, she could just follow the rail all the way to Hogsmeade if necessary.
Down the road, through the neighboring town and underneath the bypass road, just like the last three times, except now that she was at the surface instead of in the sewers, things went much faster. All too soon she found herself at the familiar entrance to the outmost stop of the Underground. At this time of day, the escalator stood almost empty. She guessed now that it was nighttime, she could have also taken the route above ground instead, but the car route had seemed a lot more complicated, so it was just as well.
Neon lights lit up along the tunnel as she brushed past, every single step taking her almost half the length to yet another station. She didn't even have to take a turn this time, the line led her all the way to King's Cross directly. Of course here, despite the hour, there was still a bustling mass of people traversing the station. She quickly slipped past, causing only a few confused shouts as some people were literally jumping at shadows.
Up the stairs, under the pass, and through... There. Platform nine, platform ten. So then... somewhere here... Iris slipped towards what was supposed to be the barricade, even if she could only see a faint rift showing the reflection of the track next to it. Pushing herself against it had absolutely no effect. And unlike with most closed doors in the shadow realm, she also couldn't make out anything beyond it, well, apart from platform ten.
Maybe it was somehow protected? Similar to how she couldn't slip into the Gryffindor common room? Iris craned her neck, but she could only make out images of rails everywhere, but nothing that looked even remotely similar to the Hogwarts Express, and she had a strong suspicion that she wouldn't find it either, unless she took the intended entrance somehow. It seemed that some rules of Magic still trumped something as incomprehensible and other as the shadow realm.
So instead, she made her way back down the stairs, along the tunnel, until she found a small room that was mostly covered in darkness. To her, that made it look like she was standing in the middle of a dizzying mirror maze, a sort of tesseract where each wall as well as the floor and ceiling were a window into the room from the respective wall. The room was filled with electric appliances, tubes and pipes, and the whirring noise of some sort of ventilation machinery. Oh, well. Hopefully she wouldn't cause too much of a mess.
Iris pulled the shadows together, dragging them inwards, all into one single corner, where the reflection grew vivid, more colorful, gaining edges and details she hadn't realized had been missing, until at last, it stopped and started to shiver. With one silent breath, she took a step forward, and her whole world dissolved into tingles. A blinding flash of white light as her body passed from this realm to the next, and reshaped accordingly. Flooded with reawakened emotions, she struggled to rein in her thoughts, summoning her Mindlight swiftly to stave off the looming panic attack. Not that it made her thoughts any less rampant.
Iris vaguely noticed a burst of sparks from the metallic box at the end of the room, and the neon light fixture at the ceiling gave a defeated snap and came crashing down, causing her to have to take a step back to avoid being hit by the shrapnel.
Shaking herself off, she once again attempted to refocus her thoughts onto the task at hand. She had to find a way to get to the platform. Trying the door, which was expectedly locked tight, she instead produced her wand, and carefully lit it up in the familiar Yellow glow of the Control aspect.
Alohomora.
A yellow flash, and the lock clicked open, and luckily, she had even managed to prevent the spell from unlocking the hinges as well this time. She pulled her hood deep into her face, and stepped out, through the tunnel, and up onto the platform. So far, she couldn't make out anything or anyone remotely magical. Which was good, she guessed. But also, since there were a lot less people here in general, she was sticking out like a sore thumb in her green-trimmed Hogwarts robes. Better get onto the platform quickly, then.
This proved easier said than done. Unlike the first two times she had been here, this time, the barrier between platform nine and ten simply wouldn't budge. No matter what she tried, pushing, running, hitting, or even knocking, it stubbornly refused to become anything other than, well, a wall. But she definitely had the right place. It was exactly the same spot the Weasleys had shown them, and more importantly, the wall was still very distinctly... pretty. Perhaps it was just locked when the track wasn't in use?
Now there was an idea. As with any and all things locked—from Professor Vector's office door to Dumbledore's gargoyle staircase and even Dudley's laptop—the one stop shop solution was the very spell she had just cast. She had yet to encounter anything resembling a door that she hadn't been able to overcome with the use of a pure Control aspect.
Iris brought the Yellow light back, jabbed her wand, twisted clockwise, and thought Alohomora!
A flash of yellow, some amount of sparks, and then it was over as quickly as it had started. Had that been it? Iris hesitantly approached the wall and pushed a hand against it. Nope. Apparently, it wouldn't be that easy.
But as with most obstacles she had faced, if she couldn't outsmart them, there was a good chance she could just power through them by throwing a blinding amount of light at the issue and hoping for the best. Iris was perfectly aware that it was exactly this kind of thinking that had led to her current situation, yet right now, she couldn't care less. Harry came first, everything else second.
Beginning to draw up light once more, she forced it brighter and brighter. Her obsidian wand grew warm and started vibrating in her hand, as the crystal at its top turned into a pocket-sized star, the Yellow light far beyond anything that would have gone unnoticed, as Muggles began staring from platform nine, ten, eleven, more and more at the magical display that went quickly past pretty and into worrying. She could feel the heat on her face, on her arm, and especially on her hand. Tiny wisps of yellow lights began circling and converging around her wand, trailing faintly glowing lines through the air as they went.
Finally, once she couldn't make it go any brighter if she tried, she jabbed her wand forward, feeling a heavy resistance to her motion, and then, as if she was turning a large rusty iron key, she twisted forty-five degrees clockwise.
"Alohomora!"
A blinding bolt of Yellow light shot with an echoing crack and slammed into the brick wall, causing the gaps between the bricks to begin glowing yellow, spreading from the point of impact, as the wall began to shake and shiver. A deep humming sound reverberated through the platform, and all of a sudden, there was a sound of shattering glass, as the yellow flashed for one final time, and the brick wall began to crumble; not like a wall, but more like a window.
Slowly the dust started to settle, accompanied by confused and panicked shouts all around her, and finally revealed the opening of a large arched tunnel in the brick wall for all to see. Deciding not to stick around until anyone could show up and catch her in the act, Iris pulled her hood down a little lower, and dashed through the newly opened tunnel.
The dust compacted the further she traveled until it turned into solid darkness, before she finally emerged on the other side through the familiar brick wall inside the archway on Platform Nine and Three Quarters and came to a halt. Iris felt a sudden shiver run down her spine, turned to her left, and found herself face to face with the tip of a gnarly dark wand. A wand held by another hooded figure, standing in the corner behind her. Iris froze in place, and the blood in her veins turned to ice as her gaze slowly drifted up only to be entrapped by the face, or rather, the white mask concealing it. She had only ever seen these in Professor Lupin's class, but never in person before.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" crooned a male voice from beneath the Death Eater mask, dripping with sadistic amusement, as he began to stroll from the corner until he was standing right in front of her. "Bit far from home, are we?"
Think! She had to think! Whoever this was, he was out and open in Death Eater regalia in the middle of Platform Nine and Three Quarters. And given the fact he was taunting her, he had probably not seen what exactly she had done to get in here. And just from that fact, her mind immediately produced three even more damning conclusions. He could not allow her to get away, and possibly alert someone. He would have no qualms about killing her right then and there. And perhaps worst of all, he almost definitely was not alone.
"Drop it, girlie," the masked figure sneered, "before you hurt yourself."
Shit, shit, shit! Not good! Iris' wand was still clutched at her side, uselessly aiming at the ground, while his was pointed straight at her face. Before she would even manage to half-way raise it, he would have long since blown her head off. Which he still would, if she didn't drop it. Every single fiber of her being was shivering, screaming in terror, demanding her to fold, to drop the obsidian wand and beg to be spared, so that maybe, just maybe she could live to find a way out of this. The Aurors would probably be on their way, if only for the light show she had put on outside. Maybe she could stall for time long enough for them to find her?
But that cold hard voice of reason disagreed. She knew that the moment she let go of her wand she was as good as dead. He couldn't risk her getting a spell off, before he could cast his curse, and possibly alert someone. Hence his demand to drop her wand, instead of just taking her head off right then and there. But that still left her completely stuck in place. Attack was out. Escape was out. So the only option left was to do what she did best.
"Move aside," she whispered her demand.
As quickly as she could, hopefully before the man would be able to fully register her shock, she schooled her features into a disinterested frown.
"Huh, he... hehe HA! AHAHAHAHHA!" the figure broke into chuckles, then uproarious laughter.
Iris suppressed a wince as bright orange sparks shot from the tip of the wand in tiny bursts as he laughed. The glistening hot was burning her skin, though at least, he hadn't cast any spells yet. But the gnarly wand was still right in her face, almost boring into her cheek. She fought against every instinct to shrink back from the man, run and hide from what was most definitely one of the infamous followers of the Wizarding World's boogeyman. Instead she stood her ground, refusing to move so much as an inch, even as he stepped close; so very close that she could feel his breath on her face. She had to keep it together, keep her back straight, and let not even an ounce of uncertainty show; and bury any hints of worry at her failing bluff. Instead, her mask of disinterest morphed into one of disgust.
"Now," Iris hissed, doubling down. "I won't repeat myself again."
"Just who do you think you are, girlie? You're pretty, I'll give you that, but you'll be even prettier once you..."
He slowly trailed off, as he noticed the shadows. It was a desperate attempt, she knew, but it was her only card left to play. From all the edges, all the corners, the folds of his robes, the very ground she stood upon. All the shadows slowly grew darker, deeper.
"What are you doing? Stop that! One more move and it's your last," he hissed, jabbing his wand painfully into her cheek.
If he had fully been thinking clearly, he would have struck her down right then and there, but he seemed hesitant at her demeanor. Iris stood her ground, not moving an inch, as the shadows slowly, ever so slowly, kept growing. All while she was fighting a losing battle against her instincts which screamed at her to do pretty much anything except for exactly that.
Her housemates would have already long since folded at this point, but this was an adult; a Death Eater at that! What the hell had she been thinking trying to scare him off? Her bluff really was just that, it wasn't like she could cast any spells like this without raising her wand or her hand—or producing her orb—much less within the blink of an eye before he could take her head off. And while it did get him to hesitate, it hadn't changed anything about her situation. The wand was still right there, its tip glimmering in a faint orange glow. And she was still fucking dead, if she didn't manage to think of anything right now. Just what on earth could she say to make him— Suddenly, a memory flashed through her mind. Of a face, as ugly as could be, sticking out the back of her Defense professor's head.
What would that do? Would she cause some sort of Damage? It was the aspect of Destruction, after all... But then again, she didn't want to use it for any of its magical properties. For the first time, all she wanted was the color. And also, right now, she didn't really care. It was the only thing she could think of.
"I said stop! Look at me!" he demanded, a faint hint of unease entering his voice, but yet his wand remained, the shaky burning hot tip boring into her skin.
Iris focused, and slowly began to draw the faintest shimmer of Red into her eyes. She forced it brighter and brighter, until she could barely still see without blinding herself. Finally, she raised her head to meet his gaze from underneath the hood of her robes, and morphed her lips into a cruel smirk.
The man staggered and fell to his knees. "M-My Lord?! I... I had no idea! Forgive—"
Before he could disabuse himself of his misconception, Iris drew all the gathered shadows into her wand, combined it with the bright Blue of the Force aspect, jabbed and shouted, "Depulso!"
The sizzling bolt of polarized Force smashed straight through the man's hastily cast shield and slammed him back against the outside of the Hogwarts Express. The metal chassis groaned as the polarized curse pinned him in place with a constant force, the pressure rendering him unable to move or even breathe. This, of course, quickly drew the attention of all the other occupants of Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Iris frantically turned, trying to make a break for it and cut her losses while she still could. But instead, she smacked face first into the barrier, which had closed up behind her yet again. No matter how hard she pushed, she could not get back through to platform nine.
With her adrenaline running high, and dangers approaching from all sides, she finally found that elusive sensation again, and her surroundings began gradually shifting into the red, as she took a peek out of the archway. She noticed two masked figures to her right begin coming towards her, wands lazily drawn. Another one to her left who looked distinctly female in shape was beginning the motions of a spell, causing her wand to begin to spark and quickly spew a bright orange flame, which started to coil around her in a terrifying display of magic and control she had never seen before. She had known. She had known that the Dark Lord had returned over half a year ago now, but until now, it hadn't really... happened? She had only known because of Harry's dreams. This was the first time she was seeing it with her own eyes. And if she did nothing, it would quickly become the last sight she'd ever see.
Iris turned towards the closest two to her left, and quickly swiped her wand through the familiar pattern.
Lapsus. Pulsare!
Susan's one-two combo lashed out, the friction-reduction jinx engulfing both of them, yet before the follow-up shockwave of air could land, the woman had aborted her flame spell to meet her with a shout of "Pulsare!"
The two circular blasts of air collided in the center of the platform, rattling the windows of the Hogwarts Express as the spells canceled each other out, and left their wands firmly in their hands.
"Auror!" yelled the female voice, and in an instant, their entire behavior changed.
The other two of the wizards on the platform began raining down a volley of spells, that forced Iris to dive back into the arch. Iris shook herself and carefully peered out of the arch, to notice the first two, who were now doing something entirely different. The woman was pointing a red glowing wand at her, and a large red circle slowly materialized around it, that caused the air to start to shiver, and a cold feeling began to creep up her spine. Her partner was frozen in place, feet firmly planted, his wand clutched in front of him with both hands, which seemed to slowly begin projecting a brightly glowing round shield in front of both of them, comprised of wildly spinning colors that looked almost solid. Finally, she noticed the two standing atop the train, one of which was casting a shield like that as well, while the other swung up his wand high into the air and shouted "Tenebris!"
His wand echoed out a call, and the shadows answered. She had never seen it being used like this, but she instantly understood what the point was. He was going to cast a polarized spell. And not just any spell. He was going to cast an Unforgiveable. Thanks to the shield, there was no way she could stop him before he could gather the necessary amount of darkness. Well, that was, if she didn't manage to do the same first.
With grim determination, Iris reached out and pulled at the shadows.
But for the first time, they didn't respond.
What? What was going on? It wasn't all that bright here, there should be no issues summoning the shadows like this, and lately, it had become almost effortless. Yet somehow, the very horrors that had accompanied her all this time now refused to heed her call. She could feel them. The Shadows where there, as was the Light. But somehow, her control had been cut off. Iris began flaring her Mindlight, forcing her brain through analyzing the situation.
Her old Defense professor had told her something about this, when he had gone on one of his tangents while teaching her about polarized magic during their detentions in first year. Apparently there was a channeled spell that could bind the creation of polarized magic in the first place... Her eyes snapped down the platform onto the other two Death Eaters who were doing much of the same as the ones on the train, except with no noticeable effect save for a brightly glowing red ring, and a shiver in the air.
Her mind kept whirling around, desperately looking for an out, but to her currently magic-infused brain, the situation seemed clear as day. This was it. They had her in checkmate. They could have just tried overwhelming force, and likely would have succeeded, but instead, they had a strategy. A defensive strategy that had locked her in here and left her unable to do anything but hide or shield until the time ran out, until they would strike their literal killing blow; a spell that couldn't be blocked or dodged. She had to get out of here! But she couldn't even enter the shadows as long as this spell was active. Nor could she cast a polarized Depulso to break their shields. And she very much doubted that her regular Depulso would be able to get through either of the massive channeled shields the two wizards were holding, they looked nothing like a regular Protego. She couldn't go back the way she came, and if she tried for another Alohomora, by the time she'd manage to get the spell off, they might have already cast the curse, and even if she'd just make it, she had no idea how much distance would be enough to avoid the Killing Curse. Just getting a wall in between herself and the caster had absolutely no effect after all. It was more of a ritual, than a spell. And the ritual had already begun.
Iris had to do something, and fast. The mass of shadows atop the train had already grown deep, about half of what was required to cast the Imperius, unless she'd be lucky enough that they went for the Killing Curse instead, in which case, she'd have a little more time.
There was a flash of blue, and Iris stumbled, slipped and fell. Scrambling, she tried to get back to her feet, only to realize that the ground—while still looking exactly like the solid stone it was supposed to be—had apparently lost all friction. Iris rolled to the side, desperately spinning in place, trying to get as far out of the line of fire as possible. If only she could cast the Finite spell. But that would never be an option with her broken magic.
Explosions rocked the ground as the two remaining Death Eaters kept bombarding her hiding spot with spells of all colors, and a blistering wave of heat washed over her face, almost burning her skin. She was so fucking dead.
There had to be some spell, any spell she could cast, that could turn the tables, or at least allow her to get out of this! So much of her power relied on her ability to control the shadows, it wasn't even funny. There... there had been one spell. She had never cast it herself, but thanks to Myrtle, she knew about it, enough that she could maybe pull it off. But it would take a massive amount of light. And she had no idea what would happen if she couldn't control it. But at this point, she didn't have a choice. Iris scrambled to shaky feet as the friction-reduction jinx finally started to wear off. She brought her wand up, held it high above her head, and began to release Orange light. Brighter and brighter, the air grew hot and cold at the same time, as the pure elemental aspect started to engulf the entire archway in a blinding light, and her wand was somehow freezing cold as well as burning hot at the same time. She began the motions of the familiar raw elemental pattern, swipe twist swish, twist swish flick, repeating it over and over, constantly inscribing the air in its circular ferocity. More and more light, she drew it tighter, into a ball, as the air began to shiver and tiny wisps of orange started circling around her wand, around her entire body. She had no idea if there was anything else to it, she had never read about this spell, she had just copied what she had seen, what she remembered—except a lot longer. Her hair began standing on end from static electricity, and finally, when she couldn't hold back any longer, she performed the final jab and cried "TEMPEST!"
And as if magic had answered her prayer, it took. In an instant, all of her gathered pure elemental aspect was given purpose. The temperature on the platform was plunged by several degrees in a single heartbeat, the entire building turned from dark and clear to foggy, and like an explosion, the entire platform was engulfed by a wall of pure hurricane. Thunder cracked, water poured, and lightning flashed as the storm raged inside the building, more ferocious and merciless than any real weather phenomenon could ever hope to match. She had but a single second to appreciate the magic she had wrought before she was swept up by the storm and found herself flung back hard against the corner of the archway.
From the ground she could make out the two wizards on top of the train, desperately clinging to the metal frame, until the wizard who had been summoning the shadows lost his grip and was flung off into the distance, his silhouette quickly lost in the rainstorm. She tried to get to her feet, yet the ferocious winds tore her right back to the ground. With a desperate plea, Iris tried to command the spell, to force it to spare her while attacking the others, yet this was a spell of raw elements, with not even a sliver of Control aspect contained within. The spell wouldn't budge until it had run its course. Instead, Iris slowly began to gather more Force aspect. She had to try. Maybe, just maybe she could either get through the shield, or maybe hit one of the wizards attacking her directly. At last, with a final thunderclap, the spell shattered; and as if it had never happened, a semblance of normalcy returned, as the final raindrops came down to the ground. Iris didn't waste a second and jumped from her hiding spot, wand still aglow, whirled towards the group to her left and shouted "Depulso," intent on taking out the witch binding her shadows.
The bright blue spell bridged the gap, closed in on the witch still pointing her wand at Iris, but just before it could hit her, the shield from the wizard next to her shifted to cover his partner once more, and the spell hit the colorful shield with a resounding gong, as it shattered apart in a circular shockwave. The shield held.
Iris eyes darted across the platform, trying to assess the damage. As she turned, she only barely noticed a flash of red, and threw herself to the ground once more, only avoiding the angrily sizzling spell by an inch. A bright flash and a deafening blast sent crumbling pieces of clay and debris across her face, and something tore painfully through her cheek.
She wasn't quite sure if she had seen correctly, but it had looked like all the others except for the one wizard on the train had managed to hold their positions, and had resumed their attack, except with the wizard on the train now being the one pinning her down while the two on the right were instead summoning the shadows. The problem with that was that he was in a much better position to be able to hit her, even when she was hiding inside the archway.
Iris noticed a bright purple spell bursting from his wand atop the train, and with an angry sizzling noise, barreling right at her. It was close. Too close to dodge.
Reiecto!
Out of options, she produced a reflective shield comprised of a mix of Destruction and Control, desperately hoping to at least match one of the seven possible aspects of the spell. The way the spell sizzled in the air, she wasn't sure if a regular Protego would have managed to stop it at all. Not that she could even cast that spell in the first place.
The spell met her orange glowing hexagonal shield, and Iris couldn't believe her luck as the spell split, reflecting a bright red bolt back while a sizzling violet continued past the shield and smacked into her thigh.
A sharp jab of burning pain lanced through her lower body, and she found herself stumbling to the ground yet again. Gritting her teeth, she tried to blink through the pain. What the hell had that been? So far, none of the spells had anywhere near this much of an effect if they were missing an aspect. Iris only barely managed to avoid another red spell by nudging it just far enough that it missed her face by an inch, causing it to instead smack into the wall behind her in a shower of dust and clay. Finally on her feet again, Iris desperately began gathering more blue light on the tip of her wand, hoping to maybe get a lucky shot in before they could cast the Unforgiveable.
There was a flash of green to her right. Iris barely noticed a pair of figures emerge from the fireplace right next to her, and she whirled to face them, her wand still aglow. A man in grey robes with short brown hair, and a nondescript face, next to another man wearing a dark green suit and a tie that didn't quite match with the rest of his outfit. with a face that was just as unremarkable.
The first man swung his wand at her, but froze just in time for her to be able to get off another Depulso. Her spell burst forth, but it didn't even manage to get half-way before the man swirled his wand and caused a very familiar circular blue shield to materialize, which upon impact, simply reflected the spell. However, the return spell that Iris had expected never came. He had reflected the spell at an angle, in fact, right at the final Death Eater on the roof of the Hogwarts Express, who was taken off-guard and knocked off the train as well.
"Unspeakables! Withdraw!" shouted the witch who had been casting the spell that had been suppressing her shadows, and as one, the remaining four Death-Eaters gripped something inside their robes with their off-hand, and in a sudden blur, vanished into nothingness.
The oddly dressed man in Muggle regalia turned to the other man in grey robes and gave him a look, and with a nod, they both began to approach Iris, their wands still held aloft.
"Reveal yourself!"
Iris quirked an eyebrow. It wasn't like she was hiding, but— oh. He meant her face.
Well, that was a bad idea and a half. Iris gripped her wand tighter, still aimed towards the man. He had instantly reflected her mono-aspect spell, so she wouldn't be taking him by surprise like that. But, Iris realized, the Death eater who had been suppressing her shadows was gone. If it came down to it, she could cast a polarized spell. Or maybe just escape through the shadows. Although Lupin had told her that letting anyone else see that little trick was a very bad idea. She had no idea what an Unspeakable was, but she was pretty sure that the only reason they hadn't attacked her, even when she had attacked them, was that she was wearing her Hogwarts uniform.
She nervously rolled her wand in her fingers, causing the crystals at the tip and within the handle to glimmer in their iridescence. The man in the grey robes stiffened.
"Iris?" he whispered.
Her breath caught in her throat. This was bad. Depending on who they were, and what they would think she did, she'd be in massive trouble. She had blatantly broken the Statute in front of a crapton of Muggles. She might have to... The man lowered his wand, then suddenly moved it up high, all the way to his face. His features shimmered, and his face changed. Well, it didn't really change, it was more like... her mind finally managed to register its features properly. And the face was very familiar.
"Professor?"
"Iris! Godric's Heart!" he said. "What are you doing here?"
Iris stood, slowly lowering her wand, as she stared into the shocked expression of her History professor.
"I... well..." Iris began, desperately racking her brain for words.
Lupin approached her, and began to look her over. "Are you alright?"
Only now had she realized that she was still shaking. The adrenaline hadn't quite worn off, and her vision was only slowly shifting back out of the red. In the end, she only managed a nod.
"Why are you out here? And how did you get in here? Did... did they take you here? Or did you..." His worried eyes darted over to the man standing next to him, who raised his wand to his own head, which quickly resolved into a visage she had never seen before, but a hair color that she very much had.
She met Lupin's eyes once more and opened her mouth, trying to come up with an excuse, something she could say, yet after some painfully long seconds of her thoroughly jumbled mind drawing a blank over and over, she gave up and went with the truth instead. "I was... trying to get to Hogwarts..."
His eyebrows raised in confusion, but just a fraction of a second later, his eyes widened in comprehension, and a pained expression crossed his face for a moment.
"Merlin's beard, you're Iris Potter!" the second man exclaimed. "Arthur Weasley. My son's been talking about you all summer."
Iris stared helplessly at the enthusiastic man who was in all likelihood Ron's father, and was now somehow shaking her hand, completely at a loss as to what he'd be doing here together with her History professor.
Lupin exchanged a look with the other man, and then replied, "I assume you know about the Order?"
The Order of the Phoenix, the group of people Dumbledore had put together to oppose the Dark Lord again. Slowly, she nodded.
"Well, you see, Professor Dumbledore thought it better for You-Know-Who to think it's the Unspeakables who are after him, rather than revealing that he knows about his return."
So they weren't Unspeakables after all? She'd only heard of those before, she had no idea how they would look like anyway, other than, well, that you wouldn't know what they looked like, obviously.
"You really shouldn't have come out here alone. You know what is happening, Merlin, now you've lived it," Lupin said, as he pinned her under a stare.
She knew that... now... Well, she had known before, but... yeah. But still. That didn't matter. She had to get to Hogwarts.
Apparently, her expression had betrayed her, as Lupin approached and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Iris. I know this must be hard for you. But you have to believe me that we are doing everything that we can to find him. Professor McGonagall stayed over the summer to keep searching the castle, and the whole Order is on the lookout in case..." he trailed off, one sentence too late. She had gotten the gist of his implication. But at least, his words had finally managed to jolt her thoughts into some sort of coherence, enough to guide them back on track towards her path.
"I have to," Iris said, leaving no room for argument. "I have to check for myself."
Lupin was staring at her wearily, until he finally sighed. "And I suppose nothing I say is going to convince you to return home instead?"
Iris gave him a look. "I'm going. You know I can. You can't stop me."
Lupin threw yet another worried glance at what was apparently Ron's dad, then hesitantly turned back to her. When Hermione had gotten trapped in the shadow realm during her first year, Lupin had been there, he had likely seen them get her back out. Back then, he had told her that he'd inform anyone who needed to know, and that they shouldn't tell anyone else about the shadows. She'd have guessed that if anything, that'd include the Order. But judging from his looks whenever the subject of her shadows came up, maybe he hadn't.
Finally, he sighed. "I can, at least, offer you a safer alternative."
Iris quirked an eyebrow, as he turned, stepped back up to the fireplace, reached into his robes and threw something inside, and in an instant, the empty fireplace roared in the bright green fiery glow she knew to be Floo powder.
He stood in front of it, and firmly said, "Hogwarts castle."
The fire blazed a bit brighter, then turned red. He raised his arm, stuck his wand into the flames, turned it clockwise, and after a second, they turned green again. Finally, he stepped to the side, gesturing an inviting hand towards the open fireplace. "After you."
Iris warily stared at the green flames. She had only seen it used before; she had never used Floo powder herself so far. "Do I... need to do anything?"
"Just watch your elbows, and remember to get out once you see the castle," Lupin helpfully explained, which all things considered, wasn't really very helpful at all.
But she guessed she'd figure it out as she went. In the end, this seemed a lot safer, and even quicker than somehow trying to find her path all the way to Scotland through the shadow realm. As she stood before the flames, their warmth licking across her skin, she couldn't help but eerily be reminded of her first defense lesson. Iris took one final breath, steeled herself, and stepped into the flames. She just hoped that this wasn't one of those things that wouldn't work right because of her broken magic.
A second later she found that in fact, this time, she was not burning at the stake. However just a second later, she wasn't much better off. Iris was whisked off her feet by the flames and flung through a long tunnel of fire, smoke, chimneys and soot. On and on she was dragged, spinning up and down, in all directions for what felt like hours, wanting to throw up, yet finding herself unable to. In retrospect, she really should have tried with the shadow realm.
What felt like an eternity later, she found herself tossed head first out of a chimney grate and tumbled to the ground in a mess of arms, legs, hair, and soot.
The fireplace flashed green once more, and Professor Lupin entered behind her in a distinctly more composed manner. Looking around, she found herself in a familiar room. It was the main office of the headmaster. So much for avoiding talking to him. From down one of the open doors, she could hear voices. One man was arguing loudly, almost shouting, while Dumbledore was being mostly silent, only occasionally responding. She threw a look at Lupin who had suddenly become a lot paler than he usually was.
"...Nothing! Absolutely nothing until the letter. Instead, they'd get punished! It's a miracle none of them have turned Obscurial!"
Iris slowly made her way closer, and peeked into the open doorway into what looked like a smaller office containing a cozy desk, a cabinet holding what looked like a Pensieve, and an unending wall filled with books of all colors. A tall man with black hair was shouting at the headmaster, who currently looked every bit his age.
"They had to sleep in a cupboard, Dumbledore! A cupboard!"
Iris froze in her tracks as the words registered, just at the same time as she recognized the man. He was the same man who she had seen at their house earlier. He... he knew? How?
"A... what?" Lupin whispered next to her, standing in the middle of the doorway, his voice having lost all color. Iris shrank back, wanting to be anywhere else right now.
"Remus," the man growled, as he spotted Lupin standing in the doorway. "Did you know? Did you know what those disgusting Muggles did? What Dumbledore did to them?"
"Sirius, I..." he said, but couldn't manage any further words. "I had no idea..."
"You had no idea..." the man, who was apparently their godfather Sirius, echoed with a snarl. "Has it never occurred to you to... check up on them? Never once have you thought to try and go see them?"
She hadn't imagined Lupin's face could have gone any paler at this point, yet he somehow managed it. Iris had been mostly apprehensive about the black-haired wizard who had been shouting accusations at the man who she had come to respect, come to like as a sort of surrogate uncle, but the words still hit close to home. Why exactly hadn't he?
"I was in Azkaban! What's your excuse?!" Sirius roared, as he stepped up to point an accusing finger at Lupin.
Iris wasn't sure if he had even noticed that she was there yet, or if he just didn't care. On the one hand, her insides clenched at the sight of Lupin, who had shared all his memories of their parents, had helped her with her magic, who was now being shouted at and accused by this man she had never seen before. But on the other hand... The words Sirius was saying kept making sense in the worst way possible. Word by word, they began shattering this image she had built of her History professor, and that was only exacerbated by the fact that Lupin didn't even seem to be making an effort to refute them.
At some point, Lupin had entered the room, and the two men were now facing off in the center, with Dumbledore silently sitting in his chair wearily, while Iris was still hiding behind the doorframe.
"Sirius... I... I'm so sorry. I'll do anything that I can to—"
"Your apologies are wasted on me, Remus," Sirius said, causing Lupin to sag.
"You want to do what's best for them?" Sirius snapped, then stepped up to Lupin and drove one finger into his chest. "Why don't you just do what you do best and stay out of their lives."
What? No! There was no way he'd agree to that! She'd made him promise! He had promised he'd keep teaching them!
"You've done enough. Which is absolutely nothing."
The two men stared at each other as the tension kept building, neither of them making a move. Finally, Iris gathered herself, and made to step around the corner, intent on giving both of them a piece of her mind. Before she could however, Lupin whirled, and stepped away from her, towards the far end of the room, and before she knew what was happening, he had tossed a handful of Floo powder into the second fireplace behind Dumbledore's desk.
Finally, the headmaster made to speak up. "Remus, I—"
"The Leaky Cauldron," spoke a wavering voice, and with a bright rush of green flames, he was gone.
A/N: Welcome to Shadow of the Rainbow, the second book in the Rainbow series.
SPOILER WARNING — Please read this to avoid spoilers!
If you just stumbled upon this fic and this first chapter managed to catch your interest, you are probably wondering how Iris ended up in this situation. In this case, you'll be happy to know that there's already an entire finished book one out there, which follows Iris all the way from her first Hogwarts letter to this very moment. I've done my best to keep this chapter mostly spoiler free for the first book, to allow it to serve as a sort of teaser that is more in line with the description and the main themes of the rest of this second book—basically, the whole reason you clicked on this fic in the first place. If this story has piqued your interest, I'd highly recommend you read the first book, Colors of the Rainbow—if you haven't already—and then return to continue from here.
If you're very much not a fan of the Potter twins trope, or generally more happy stories focused on magical exploration, friendships and eleven-year-old protagonists, then you're free to skip book one and continue reading this one right away. This story is very different from the first book in those respects. Most of the plot will be explained along the way, although you'd probably miss some pieces of the greater puzzle, not all of which I might get to revisit in this one.
If you're itching to skip right into the action, go right ahead. Be warned however that there will be MAJOR SPOILERS for the first book the moment you hit "Next Chapter" here.
But if you are curious just how exactly things managed to get this messed up, check my profile to find part 1 of the series.
And as always, any sort of criticism to help me improve is very welcome, but I'm also just happy to hear if you enjoyed it of course :)