Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

...

Harry felt the cold wind bite at his skin as he stepped off the flight, the stark contrast going from the Australian Summer to the cold of Heathrow Airport was almost crippling. It didn't matter that he had several layers on, the near frozen air attacked at his very core. Thankfully, a vast majority of those around him were suffering from similar symptoms so he didn't particularly feel isolated in that regard.

He wouldn't deny that he pretty much rushed to get into the warmth of the airport itself.

While the flight had landed mid morning, it wasn't until lunch had passed that Harry was actively leaving the terminal, having had to go through all of the due processes that came with travelling internationally. With his bag slung over his shoulder, much lighter than it looked due to the runes imprinted on it, Harry marched to where he had parked his motorcycle, his vehicle exactly where he had left it.

Looking around ti ensure that he was not being watched, Harry pulled out his wand from his bag and glided it over the motorcycle, checking for any unnecessary compulsions that may have been put on it while he was away. It was well protected against most minor things but it didn't hurt to be too careful given what was capable by a powerful witch or wizard. He was able to sense the tracking charms that Dumbledore had planted before he had left, having deliberately left them at the time if only to irk the old man. With him being an area so heavily saturated with Muggles, it wasn't as if Dumbledore could come and apparate him back to the castle. Too many possibilities of being seen. While Dumbledore wanted him to stay, to an unhealthy level at that, he wasn't going to risk the secrecy of the Magical World to do so.

The roar of the engine snapped him out of his thoughts of the Hogwarts Headmaster and onto the fact that he would have to deal with something he had not looked forward to for some time. That being the bane of traffic. As much as he wished that he could whisk himself and his vehicle out of the area they were in, again, there was the possibility of too many wandering eyes, not to mention security cameras and all sorts.

Still, the ride would give him time to acclimatize, if nothing else.

While he could have made his way to Hogwarts, it was already reaching the better part of early afternoon. While he wouldn't call himself jetlagged, he didn't want to risk the long drive when it would be well into the dark of night before he got near the castle. He'd been gone for a few weeks, another day wouldn't hurt.

Thankfully, he knew a place where he could spend a night. It wouldn't be the first time he had spent a night at The Leaky Cauldron, having done so when he had discovered he had been entered into the Triwizard Tournament in the first place. He'd even taken a gander at what Diagon Alley had had to offer but hadn't made any purchases at the time. Chances were that he wouldn't even bother stepping into it this time round.

Now he just had to remember what alias he had gone under when he had stayed there last time, in case any of the patrons or staff from last time recognized him. As he drove down the highway towards Charing Cross road, his greatest clue as to who he had previously been in was that it started with a L. Larry? Loki? Lachlan?

Harry was sure it would come to him, chances were that nobody would even take a second glance in his direction. Yeah, that was more than likely what was going to happen.

...

"Fancy seeing you again Liam."

Well, at least the barkeep remembered what his name was. "Just need a room for the night," said Harry.

"Gimme a moment," said the barkeep as he went about his business, Harry waited patiently, knowing that there really wasn't any need to rush. He would get his key, get some food, retreat to his room and go from there. Or at least that would have been the plan had he not seen a discarded issue of the Daily Prophet on a nearby table, the headline drawing his attention immediately.

'Fallout from Yule Ball Continues.'

"'Ere's your key."

"Thank you," murmured Harry before turning to face the worker. "You wouldn't happen to have any old copies of the Prophet laying about. I want to try and get up to date on what's been happening of late."

"How many days are you trying to get hold of?"

"Since Christmas Day."

"Gimme a moment," repeated the barkeep, as he reached into a nearby cupboard. "I don't have every day per say, but I keep a collection of one's with interesting headlines. 'Ere ya go."

"Much appreciated," said Harry as he took the offered papers. "I'll return them to you in the morning."

"Would you like us to bring some food to your room this evening?"

"That'd be great, just something hot and hearty."

"Consider it done."

"Other than that, please make sure I'm not disturbed outside of dinner service," said Harry as he pulled a galleon out of his pocket and slid it across the table. "If you can ensure that nobody interrupts me, there'll be twenty more of these for you when I check out in the morning."

"Of course," said the barkeep, keeping eye contact as they glided the coin across the bartop before putting it in their pocket.

Harry gave a curt nod as he made his way to his designated room, his bag swung over one shoulder and a handful of newspapers tucked beneath his arm. It was time to learn what had happened while he had been away.

...

Stepping out of the Floo, Dumbledore purveyed the surroundings. The Leaky Cauldron wasn't his typical meeting place but he had most definitely been here on more than one occasion. He wouldn't have even considered coming here this day had he not been immediately alerted that Harry's motorcycle had been on the move. While it would have been wishful thinking that Harry would have returned to Hogwarts of his own accord the moment he had returned to England, being able to come to an area and speak with him privately would also suit.

There was much that he needed to discuss with the boy.

"Greetings Tom," said Dumbledore as he walked up to the bar.

"What can I do for you today Dumbledore?" asked Tom.

"Would you be so kind as to tell me which room young Harry Potter is staying in?" requested Dumbledore. "I must speak with him urgently."

"Harry Potter?" repeated Tom. "Can't say I've had the pleasure of serving Mister Potter today."

"Come now Tom, surely you've seen the boy within the last hour."

"All I can say is that I'm sorry Dumbledore."

Albus pursed his lips together as he lowered his chin ever so slightly. There were two options here, both as likely as the other. The first was that Harry had parked his vehicle outside the Leaky Cauldron and had actively gone elsewhere. He could very well be roaming the streets at this very moment and would show up when he was ready to retire for the night. Alternatively, Tom could be lying to him.

Peering over the top of his glasses, Dumbledore skimmed upon the surfaces of Tom's memories. He wouldn't have to go deep, from what he could tell Harry's motorcycle had only been at the venue for the better part of half an hour so it wasn't as if he had to dive into the recesses of Tom's mind.

Except, what should have been nice and simple, turned out quite the opposite in fact. There was fragments missing, corrupted almost. It seemed as if his memories weren't quite what they should be but if he was to try and dive deeper, it would risk Tom knowing what it was he was doing.

"A shame," said Dumbledore. "I was certain that he would be at this establishment. If you do see him walk through your doors, please be so kind as to inform me."

"I will keep that in mind Dumbledore but Harry Potter has never stepped foot in here, don't know why he would do so now of all times. Doesn't he have a task for the Triwizard Tournament that he should be preparing for?"

"Indeed he does. Have a good day Tom."

"You too Dumbledore," said Tom as he went back to polishing glasses, fantasizing about the day Harry Potter would walk into his bar.

...

Candlelight illuminated Harry's room, a number of newspapers sprawled to one side while an empty plate and dirty cutlery sat on the nearby table. It would seem that while he had been away from Hogwarts, Rita had felt it open season to write article after article about the going ons at the school. There was a number of speculations about where he had fled and why he had done so. Frankly, the words about him meant little. The woman was begging for attention from the masses and he was the centre of gossip amongst many a socialite.

With him not at Hogwarts however, her articles had surrounded the Yule Ball and the fallout from what Iris and Fleur had done. As far as he knew, the two of them had gone platonically as friends. It was a ball, they had gone as friends. The two of them probably could have easily gotten dates for the event but they had chosen not to have teenage boys dangling off their arms. For Fleur that was probably the best case scenario.

That was not how Rita had described it.

She had cried foul, blamed the French Veela for enchanting the daughter of a Noble House and corrupting her to sick European ways. Following articles had quotes from other students who had felt offended and disgusted by their actions. Letters from concerned parents had been written into the Daily Prophet, blaming Dumbledore for allowing something this to have happened under his watch. Howlers had been sent to Hogwarts attacking both Iris and Fleur, screaming all manner of profanities at them, calling them disgraces to Wizardkind.

The most recent articles had gone on to say that while Fleur had taken most of this in her stride, Iris had not been seen for a number of days, actively missing classes as she holed herself up in the Beauxbatons carriage where she was safe from the outside world. Rita had gone on to say that she had tried to approach the French students lodgings but had been banished from the area with Madam Maxime had bullied her into leaving without so much as a tidbit of information regarding the safety and wellbeing of young Iris Potter.

Putting the last paper down, Harry turned his gaze to the warm glow of the open fire, embers dancing over burning coals. He couldn't actively find the words to describe what it was that he was feeling in that moment. There was anger that this reporter had gone out of her way to slander his sister but then tried to portray to the general public that she was trying to help her by checking on her mental health. Said issues would never had arisen if she hadn't fanned the flames of hatred in the first place.

So yes, anger was there and Rita was more than likely being praised by her editors at the Daily Prophet for selling as many scoops as she likely was. Going and threatening the Daily Prophet with legal action for slander against his family was an option but one that would be long and drawn out. Frankly, he wanted to get this over and done with as quickly as possible.

So, Harry considered fighting fire with fire. If there were publications out there actively attacking his sister, then he would use the system to attack the publication itself. Thankfully, it was a good thing he had an in with a young starry eyed journalist.

...

Iris held her knees close to her chest as the patter of rain danced on the window behind her. Another dreary day tucked away in isolation, wishing for everything to just stop. The harassment she was suffering was unbearable, on a completely different level to what she gone through during her second year when the Chamber of Secrets had been open.

While she had been called various names once it became known that she was a Parseltongue, most people had just given her a wide berth. Malfoy and his cronies had thrown insults at her but that was nothing that she hadn't suffered since the day she had walked into Hogwarts.

Being attacked by people she had never met, nor would likely ever meet, was so much more. Howlers screaming at her every morning, shouting over one another as she was verbally assaulted by adults who had read Rita's work. Some of the mail as well had been even more hazardous in nature, the contents inside capable of sending her to the Hospital Wing. Thankfully, Professor McGonagall had been able to sense the incoming danger and had taken action before anything had happened.

Yet, the attacks had continued, raining down on her one after the other. The boys in the school treated her no better, believing that by having gone with Fleur that Iris thought that none of them were worth her time. Even a number in her own House, while not verbally assaulting her, chose to separate themselves from her.

So she had sought refuge with Madam Maxime who had offered her sanctuary. Professor Dumbledore had tried to fight it, arguing that it was just how teenagers operated and that it would be best for everyone if Iris were to come to classes and begin reconnecting with her peers. Madam Maxime had refused, telling Dumbledore in no small manner that she would not allow Iris to step foot into the castle until either she was ready or whether she would suffer no more from the student body.

Iris hadn't known which would happen first, knowing full well that every day spent tucked away would only cause the animosity between her and the other students to grow and fester. She was grateful for the Beauxbaton students who had gone out of their way to treat her like a guest, even going so far as to teach her what she would likely learn during class if not something more difficult. After how long she had stayed, she was starting to feel as if she was becoming a burden for them as well and while that may not have been true, she couldn't shake the ever growing feeling tickling at the back of her mind. How long would it be until they became a target for housing her? If one of them were insulted would their retaliatory anger spread back to her? If they were to request her to leave, where could she go?

Iris desperately needed a sign, something to give her the smallest bit of hope.

The faint sound of an engine gave her just that.

It was so small at first that she thought she had imagined it. Yet it grew in volume, slowly but surely.

Iris fumbled and nearly fell as she tried to reach the nearby door as quickly as she could. Racing down the corridor, nearby doors opened but she paid them no mind as she clambered towards the entrance. The outside world was foreign to her as she ran outside, ignoring the rain falling onto her skin. Through the haze, she could make out a headlight coming towards Hogwarts entrance.

"Harry!" she screamed, knowing that the likelihood of him even hearing her were slim to none over the sound of the motorcycle.

Harry's path veered off however, changing his direction to drive towards where she was standing next to the carriage. Iris didn't believe that her voice had reached him but for just this moment, with the glow of his headlight coming towards her, she felt something akin to hope for what seemed like an eternity.

The motorcycle stopped a dozen feet from where she was standing, Harry stepping off the vehicle and removing his helmet. Iris was already on the move, sprinting towards him and wrapping his arms around him. She was thankful that the rain hid the tears that were streaming down her face but it did little to hide the cries escaping her mouth.

In a somewhat unexpected turn of events, Harry's arms wrapped around her, his warm embrace giving her comfort. "It's all good Iris, let it all out," he said softly.

And she did just that, her wails ringing out as the intensity of the rain increased.

...

Dumbledore stood in the open doorway, peering into the heavy rain as the two siblings embraced one another. He had been tracking Harry's motorcycle all day and was glad that the boy hadn't taken any detours on his way back to the castle. He had hoped however that Harry would have come straight to the doorstep so that he could discuss with him immediately and mitigate as much potential damage as he could.

After all, while the attacks on young Miss Potter had been large in number, she should have known better in the first place and had gone to the Yule Ball with one of the young gentlemen Hogwarts had to offer. If she had done that in the first place, none of this would have happened and had Harry spoken with him first, he would have told him so.

Now he would have to deal with a Triwizard Champion who was going to get heavily skewed and biased opinions from a victim who had brought all of the anger and hate onto herself. He needed to speak with Harry as soon as he stepped foot into Hogwarts, before he encountered any member fo the student body he believed had done young Miss Potter an injustice.

As the two of them walked into the Beauxbatons carriage however, he knew that he would have to be patient. Currently, Madam Maxime was more likely to hex him than allow him access to the carriage and he dare not evoke whatever wrath the Headmistress felt.

There would be an opportune moment.

All he had to do, was wait.

...

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