Chapter 21 - In memoriam
"We are gathered here today..."
To stuff yourselves with magical confectionery while mumbling about how it was all Dumbledore's fault?
To throw pitying stares at her and wish her condolences even though they had never met her?
To gawk at Harry's empty coffin while shrugging and mumbling words as if you'd known him?
Well, it wasn't actually empty, but it still felt like it. Everything that made Harry... Harry. His smile, his hair, his eyes, even his scar, it was all gone. All that remained was this molten mess of calcium, not a single scrap of her Harry even remotely recognizable. They could bury that if they wanted, it didn't make all that much of a difference to her. The only part of him that was unquestionably him was firmly in her own possession.
As Dumbledore droned on with empty platitudes and niceties, she let her gaze wander across the gathered ceremony. Dumbledore had really gone all-out on this one. It was exactly smack-dab in the middle of the small patch of land between the shore of the Black Lake, and the Forbidden Forest. In one direction, they could see the castle looming in the distance, the black flags even visible from all the way out here, and in the other sat the large tree that she used to climb.
Iris felt a strange impulse to do so again right now, to hide herself away in the tall branches and watch the spectacle from afar until it was all over. Never mind the fact she was pretty sure she was too big for that now. Well, she probably would manage, especially with the help of magic, but... Yeeah. That was no longer her.
In the center of the ceremony stood a tall white marble platform, upon which the wooden coffin rested, unopened. She was glad for that, at least. Before it, on a small wooden lectern, stood the headmaster, currently extolling tales of Harry's virtues and his love for his friends. Iris wasn't really listening, however. A bit more interesting was the fact that there were three of him. As soon as he had entered the stage, it was like the light had split, and now, three perfect copies of Dumbledore stood, back to back, one facing each side of the crowd, all moving and speaking in perfect sync as if they were one person. Which, she supposed, he was.
Between the pedestal and the castle stood a large assortment of chairs, assembled in a half-circle at some distance, upon which the students were seated. Almost everyone had shown up. And for the first time, they hadn't split and grouped up into houses. Everyone was just huddled together sullenly, their quarrels seemingly forgotten for the day. A large, pristine white cloth was draped over the seats, spanning from the podium all the way to the far corners, held aloft by floating tendrils of ivy crisscrossing below the fabric. The teachers were gathered in the front row, sat among the students, with only very few notable exceptions. Behind them, just a few meters down the grasslands towards the castle, a faint pretty shimmer stretched all across the grounds. The same shimmer that had always been there, enclosing the castle in its warm, protective safety. Except now, they were seated right outside the edge of it.
Towards the lake stood another set of chairs, these ones seemingly condensed into smaller groups, with the occasional tables holding drinks or snacks. Here she recognized almost nobody. People from all walks of life, dressed in all sorts of magical regalia, robes of all colors, shirts, pants, suits and even more eccentric formal attire. She supposed this was just witches and wizards from the general public who had come to gawk at the spectacle. Among the crowd she recognized one man with familiar flaming red hair, next to the heavyset woman with similar hair she had met at Kings Cross two years back. But other than that? Her eyes darted over the crowd, hoping to recognize anyone else, or more specifically, Lupin. And yet, there was not a trace to be found of her former history teacher. She had figured that if anything, he would show up for this, wouldn't he?
But apparently not.
Over to the forest, there was a third group. This one was mostly standing, at a bit of a distance. Huddled in groups around tables, some of them paying attention, some more pretending to, but most of them just immersed in their own hushed conversations. She recognized Umbridge among them, talking with some important-looking man in black robes and a bowler hat, standing in a group next to two other similarly clad men. She also recognized one of them as the man from Dumbledore's office—Malfoy's father. What was his name again? Most of them were clad in similar pristine black robes, the only exceptions being some of the witches present. A large number of them were almost identical, Umbridge among them. She supposed those were from the Ministry, then. And others, like Malfoy senior, had similar but yet different attire. Yet they were all huddled together in a group as if they belonged to the same clique. As much as the other groups were dotted with tears, this one was awash with frowns and blank masks.
Those were the people that were trying to discredit Dumbledore for wanting to announce that Voldemort was back? Iris clenched her fists involuntarily as she kept looking, but she knew there was no point. There was nothing to be done about it. Dumbledore had some sort of plan, and no matter what happened, unless she was very wrong, by the end of the day they would firmly have their frowns wiped off their faces, the error of their ways laid bare for all to see.
She'd just have to wait. Wait for Voldemort to make his move. Which sounded like a horrible plan if there ever was one. But that wasn't all she was doing. She still had her own plan. And it was still stuck at the same point as it had been this morning. But she still had hope. It could work. It should work. If he actually did show up... She'd just have to make sure that no matter where the attack came from, she'd get lost in the crowd, and escaped the teacher's eye trying to get everyone to safety or whatever, so she could get close enough to do what she had to.
Her gaze drifted back onto Dumbledore, who was still in the middle of a no doubt heart-wrenching speech. Listening had never been Iris' strong suit. Yeah, she guessed, unless it was interesting, or important... Well, this literally was Harry's funeral. It wouldn't get much more important than this, would it? Even if one third seemed to be just as unable to pay attention to Dumbledore droning on as she—
No, not droning. Humming.
What? Her gaze flicked back to find Dumbledore, both his hands rested on the podium beside him, his eyes closed and his head held high, as he began to hum a deep, long tone. Iris shifted awkwardly in her seat. What the hell was he doing?
Another tone followed, then another, as he started to hum a deep, slow, and sad melody. Nobody dared to utter even so much as a syllable as the wizened headmaster began to hum to himself, as if he were taking a stroll through the forest, except that the melody was the saddest thing she had ever heard. It resonated with something deep within her, and she found a sole tear escaping her eye as she looked on. Her ears perked up as she noticed Tracey, next to her, her eyes just as closed, a serene expression on her face, as the girl faintly started to hum along with the tune. More and more students joined in, and Iris found herself wondering if she was the odd one out. Was this some sort of folk-song that she wouldn't have heard of growing up with the Dursleys?
But the melody flowed so easily, so deep, sorrowful, heart-wrenching, like it was twisting the trees, the grass, even the clouds, to bring everything around her to a halt, and freed the stage for this song and this song alone. The song that went something like—
Mmmm... Mmmmmmmm...
Iris hummed along, as the melody repeated, almost as if by herself, and felt a strange feeling of tranquility settle over her. She followed along with the melody again, as did Tracey, as did Theo, and everyone else around her, but she was only vaguely aware of anything else happening at all. The melody reached the end, and it began to change. And Iris just hummed along, as if she had known the song her whole life, as did everyone else. After a few more verses, it suddenly split, and Iris found herself picking her own tune, every single student a different one. Yet they all somehow matched in perfect harmony on the first try. The voices merged, some of the first-year girls even seemed to sing, maybe Iris was as well, she couldn't even tell anymore.
Mmmmmm... mmmmmmm... Ooooaaaaaahhh...
What kind of Magic was this? That sudden thought brought a spark of clarity back to her mind. Was this Dumbledore's doing? She managed to open one eye to look at the headmaster who still hadn't moved from the spot, but he seemed just as unable or unwilling to stop the song as she herself was.
She knew she should feel some sort of panic at being forced to do something against her will, at being unable to stop it, but right now, in this moment, she only felt at peace. Peace, tranquility, and utter primal sadness.
Iris noticed that by the edge of the forest, a group of... were those centaurs? And over at the lake some strange blue creatures as well... she couldn't quite make it out over this distance, yet she still knew, just as sure as she knew what tune to sing, that they were all a part of this song. That they all would join, and none would stop, until it was finally over and done.
And in this moment Iris understood. It wasn't Dumbledore doing this. It was the song. The song wanted to be sung.
The voices struck a full harmonic chord, and the music formed into light, into pictures, and a face. A lazy, exasperated smile, behind a familiar set of glasses. As if he were standing right in front of her. Iris reached out a hand, and she felt the sound, the music flow through her fingers as they slipped through what was obviously not there, yet what she had hoped against foolish hope still might be.
The voices rose, then joined, and finally, it ended in a slow, quiet fading hum, as student after student blinked themselves back to reality. From the corner of her eyes, she noticed as the centaurs and merpeople slowly withdrew back where they had come from. Iris found herself just sitting there, empty, tranquil, no thoughts except her love, her aching for that very person she had just glimpsed through a miracle of Magic. Had it really been him? Had it just been a memory? But it had felt so... so real. Almost like it had felt through their bracelet, in a way...
"This was the Lament of the Grieving Mother. It is a song that was sung since ancient times to express our grief for those lost to us before their time, to lament the lost time we will never spend with them, the goals they will never achieve, and all the feelings in our hearts we have never found the words to express. Harry was taken from us, from life, from his chance to achieve his dreams. Dreams of a kind world, a brave world, of a family. He was a remarkable boy, with remarkable dreams. But what is even more remarkable are the things that he did achieve. He was a friend; a brother, first and foremost, in everything that he did, all the way to the end."
Dumbledore raised a hand and gestured to his side, where Professor McGonagall had taken the stage next to him, and promptly split into three again, each glaring more sternly than the other, each facing a different group of guests.
The woman stood there, as composed as ever, her hands gripping the podium in front of her as her eyes roamed the crowd as if looking for excuses to deduct house points.
"Mister Potter was no doubt one of the most testing students I've had the pleasure to teach ever since his own father," the deputy headmistress began with a frown. "Whenever there was any sort of trouble, anything that would happen, that would wake me up in the middle of the night, and cause our house to fall behind in the house cup once again, you can bet that it would be him that I'd see there. Mister Potter, Mister Weasley, and Miss Granger, the three together had an uncanny penchant of ending up in every kind of trouble I could imagine, and many that I could not. At times, it felt like he was out on a quest to follow in the footsteps of his father, to make a mockery of rules, teachers, and students alike."
Iris ground her teeth. So what? It wasn't like he did it to cause trouble! And it seemed the hushed whispers surrounding her agreed. Was she really just going to stand there and—
"However, every single time..." McGonagall continued, then paused, took a breath and blinked her eyes. "Every single time when I would finally get past my irritation with him and look into the source of the misbehavior, do you know what I would find?"
Slowly the whispers died back down, the entire student body once again hanging onto her every word.
"Reasons. Very good reasons. Courage. Bravery. Loyalty. Love. In short, everything that our house has ever stood for. When during their first year I found them out and about after curfew, outside on the ground even, I sent them right off to detention where they belonged. Yet, it turned out that the reason was that he was trying to both save an innocent creature from being captured and trapped, and also a friend from facing severe consequences brought about by the misguided goodness of his own heart."
Iris blinked. What the hell was she talking about? Harry had never told her anything about any creature? Hang on, could it be that Malfoy had actually been right about the dragon? Why the hell wouldn't he tell her?
"When I learned the three of them had entered the forbidden corridor in their first year, I was of half a mind to expel them right then and there. Yet in the end, I learned that if they hadn't, it would have forfeit the life of his very own sister. And as if fate has some cruel sense of humor, the same thing would repeat itself this year. Except this time, he only managed to save her... at the cost—"
She looked down for a moment, blinking rapidly, before producing a handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes, again and again. "...at the cost... of his own life. He was a true Gryffindor. He did his house proud, his family, his friends, his teachers. There will never be another Gryffindor like him. And that is why we will remember him. Because he did things that many others wouldn't. He didn't do what was easy, what was fun, or what was best, but what was right."
McGonagall gave another sharp nod, ducked her head and stepped to the side, making room for... Hagrid?
"Harry was—" Hagrid sniffed loudly, blinked, and began anew. "Harry was a... he was a..." he nodded rapidly, "a great kid."
"He'd always come round me humble place for tea 'n' biscuits. Every week. Sometimes Ron 'n Hermione would come 'long too, even Iris did once or twice. But Harry... Harry—" He broke off, snatched a gigantic handkerchief that looked more like a tablecloth out of the pockets of his coat, and loudly blew his nose. "Harry was always there. He was the only one who kept comin' back, who wanted ter be friends... even with a big fool like meself."
She really was an asshole, wasn't she? Hagrid, Lupin, Lily, Ron and Hermione, now even Neville and Susan, maybe Luna...
She'd just forget about them, move on with her life, just because they hadn't been all that... important? Because she had no use for them? But she'd still made an effort, right? Even with Hagrid... even with...
Filch.
Oh.
Merlin, just bury her along with Harry already. Her eyes surreptitiously flicked along the crowd but she couldn't make out the creepy caretaker anywhere. Just what had actually happened to him? Was it somehow her fault? No, it wasn't. The diary hadn't even been in her possession back then. So it really wasn't her problem, was it?
But he had still been... kind of nice to her? At least that one time... And he... could it be that the rumors were actually true? That he actually was a squib? That he had been...
Merlin, as if she didn't already feel horrible enough.
She wanted to think that it was because she hadn't had time, because they weren't all that good friends anyway, because they didn't want to be her friend anyway, because she would have just made things worse... but...
Even if all of that were true. That would still be excuses. The truth was that she hadn't even tried. And at least with Lily, maybe she really should have.
And with the others... well, she had no idea, because she didn't really know them very well. And whose fault was that?
"He was a..." a heart-wrenching sob escaped the bearded giant, and Professor McGonagall reached out a hand, and rested it on his back. "...a bloody hero, 's what he was. A hero if there ever was one."
Hagrid's speech was followed by Professor Flitwick, and then his Quidditch Captain Oliver Wood. Iris noticed some glances being directed her way and she started to feel increasingly awful. All these people honoring Harry, and yet here she was, not even doing him the courtesy of so much as saying a few words. Not like they hadn't asked, of course. But she had shot it down from the start. It was one thing to attend his funeral in the first place, but to actually speak there, to truly speak from the heart... she knew there was no way she could do that, not if she truly still believed that she could bring him back.
And yet here she was, the sister of the boy who lived, the renegade who had betrayed her family, went to Slytherin, fell to darkness, killed her brother, only to just sit there at his funeral, victoriously gloating in silence as all her evil schemes to usurp the Potter fortune had come to fruition. At least according to all the whispers surrounding her.
If only they knew how close their stupid rumors actually were to the truth.
God, could Voldemort just attack already? Iris glanced around the crowd, towards either edge, but all she could make out were people wearing those gray Auror robes, scattered all around the place to each side, looking just as uneasy as herself. But no sign of spells, explosions, fire, or any sort of Death Eater attack. No, it was the suspense that was killing her.
Iris wondered when Dumbledore would conclude his show in the actual reveal. From what she could tell, both his, as well as McGonagall's speech had set up enough pieces for him to tie it all together into finally revealing the reason for Harry's death as being Voldemort himself. But he had just laid them out, and now was allowing other people to speak first. Iris guessed she could appreciate him at least giving Harry the courtesy of having a somewhat proper ceremony before he twisted it for his necessary greater good or something. She glanced up towards the stage where instead of teachers, there now seemed to be one of the two men who had stood next to Malfoy senior making his way to the podium, and for the first time, the entire crowd—including the snobby one surrounding Malfoy—fell entirely quiet. It was the one that Umbridge— oh. Was that... the Minister of Magic?
She had kind of expected him to be taller.
"Thank you, headmaster," he nodded genially, before letting his gaze sweep over the crowd, as he took the stage, but unlike his predecessors, faced the side where all the other snobs were seated, yet his image split all the same, once more appearing to face all three groups equally.
"My fellow Witches, Wizards, Lords and Ladies, as well as our esteemed Hogwarts staff and students. It is with great sadness I stand before you on this dark day in wizarding history. A boy that we have all come to love, to cherish—one of the greatest heroes of our time—has tragically passed in a most unexpected and horrifyingly cruel twist of fate. The incident that took Harry Potter's life has shaken the Wizarding World to its core. It has reminded us that even in the greatest, most peaceful times, we can never allow complacency to take hold. That unguided, misinformed decisions can, even in the best of faith, have the most tragic of consequences."
Iris' gaze flicked across the crowd. McGonagall was wearing a deep frown, Umbridge a tiny, gleeful smile, and Dumbledore just the same serene, somber expression as he had the whole day.
"The ministry is, above all, committed to the safety and wellbeing of all of its citizens. And one of the most vital ingredients to a safe and stable society is freedom, protection, and most importantly, truth. It is the ministry's solemn quest to ensure that all our citizens learn the truth of what has happened, and are able to understand how it was possible that such a tragedy managed to claim the life of the greatest hero of his generation, within the heart of what is supposed to be the safest place in all of Magical Britain. Therefore, it is my solemn duty to start by dispelling any and all rumors that might have arisen in the wake of the almost nebulous publication of this tragedy."
Right. He was trying to pre-empt Dumbledore then. That was about to go well for all of an hour at most.
"Despite all the rumors, I regret to inform you that indeed, the claims of Mister Potter's demise are true. The ministry has verified beyond the shadow of a doubt that the remains found within here," he gestured vaguely at the wooden coffin, "are indeed of one Harry James Potter."
That had been the rumor? She hadn't even heard of that before. Or was he just saying that to establish credibility?
The minister paused, to allow some of the crowd—mostly the general public part—to calm back down from this latest statement. Iris scanned the crowd once again, and noticed one peculiar absence. Where the hell was Sirius? Wasn't he supposed to be here; to be part of the plan?
"Furthermore, it appears there is some... confusion about the exact circumstances of his death. Since the headmaster has so far refused to elaborate, I shall take this duty upon myself, and present you with the facts. The exact details behind how such a tragedy could have come to pass. Just like Headmaster Dumbledore, as did Professor McGonagall, as did all of you, we did not want to believe that the death of Harry Potter could have been something as meaningless as a mere accident. That there had to be more to it, that there had to be someone to blame. Yet, the immediate evidence quickly spoke differently. Despite what the headmaster may claim, despite rumors of dark wizards and secret evil forces at work, we decided that you would deserve nothing but the truth, the harsh, but obvious truth, even if it was that no matter how much we wish otherwise, Harry Potter's death was just a tragic accident. And we would not rest until we had determined what had happened beyond any shadow of a doubt; until we had proof."
A sole thought slowly crept into Iris' mind as the minister continued the setup of his ill-advised coverup. What if Voldemort wouldn't show up at all? What if he expected Dumbledore to plan this event around him showing up, and instead crossed his plans by just doing nothing? By just letting the ministry smash Dumbledore's credibility further with whatever trumped-up evidence they had undoubtedly cooked up?
"The ministry has spent every available resource to determine... the truth..."
The crowd had never fallen quiet as quickly as it had right now. The minister paused for a long moment, before his expression turned very serious.
"And we were wrong."
Iris' head snapped back towards the minister.
"Harry Potter's death was not a tragic accident."
It was what?
"No, my fellow citizens. The truth is far darker than we had ever feared. Our investigation has concluded that Harry Potter... was murdered;by none other than one Gilderoy Lockhart."
Iris could hear a cricket chirp somewhere on the other side of the lake.
"Yes. I know it sounds scandalous, almost blasphemous, especially in light of his own recent tragic demise. But the evidence does not lie. Harry Potter's wand has been found in the late Gilderoy Lockhart's possession, and it has been found to have cast several Obliviation and Confounding spells."
Crap. Was this good? Bad? Worse? Had they even fabricated evidence or had they just drawn the wrong conclusion?
"Said Confounding spells have been verified to have found their victims; one of them the niece of our very own Amelia Bones. According to the analysis, the charms were intended to fabricate a false alibi for Mister Lockhart; that both Ronald Weasley and Susan Bones had seen Harry Potter on the evening after Mister Lockhart had returned victoriously from his latest quest, when in fact, Harry Potter had never even left the Chamber of Secrets."
Well, so far, it was... basically the truth? But how would they spin that into...
"But, I hear you ask, what reason would Gilderoy Lockhart—the most fabled hero of his generation—have to try and attempt such a drastic thing as to murder one of the only other heroes of our society of equal notoriety? Was the fame not enough? Had he seen something he should not have? Or could it be that... he was trying to claim credit?"
The Minister paused dramatically, before somehow, his eyes came to rest on Iris, and she felt a strange foreboding feeling creep up her spine.
"The answer... is sitting right here among us."
Crap.
"Miss Potter, would you be so kind as to come forward?"
Double crap! What the hell was she supposed to do now?
She noticed shocked looks from everyone and anyone around suddenly pinning her in place, and even Dumbledore's expression showed a slight hint of concern. Just what exactly was this about? As the whispers rose, Iris resigned herself to her fate, sheepishly got to her feet and slowly made her way towards the podium. Was she supposed to walk up to the nearest one? Or the real one? What had his name been again anyway? Something with food, pudding? Nah, no way.
As soon as she crossed the threshold of the pedestal, the illusion shattered, and she could distinguish the real Minister from the two now spectral copies, all of them somehow smiling expectantly at her. He held out a welcoming hand, and shook hers with a firm grip when she approached.
"My condolences, Miss Potter. Today is as much for you as it is for anyone here. And I also would like to especially thank you for being brave enough to help us honor your brother's memory."
Iris had to heavily restrain herself from accidentally crushing his hand in her own. Taking a deep breath, she put on a small smile, and nodded.
"Thank you, Minister. I'm happy to help."
Her eyes caught Umbridge's in the crowd who was smiling, and even gave her an encouraging nod, which of course was anything but. Daphne had been right. She couldn't afford to draw too much attention her way.
The minister gave her another smile, then turned back to the crowd. "Some of you may no doubt be aware of the latest sensationalist hit-piece in the Quibbler concerning the departed Mister Lockhart."
Oh. Wait, Luna had actually published that? Already?
The crowd broke into whispers again, but the man held up his hands and smiled genially, until silence reigned once more. "Now, as with most of it's headlines, we would of course treat these claims with the appropriate amount of... skepticism. However," he paused, and held up a finger. "This time, the story was corroborated by an interview with none other than Miss Potter here, Harry Potter's very own sister."
Iris shifted on her feet under all of the staring from all sides at once.
"Miss Potter, would you be so kind as to answer a few questions on the contents of said article?"
"Uh... I actually haven't read the final article yet, so I'm not sure..."
"That's alright, we just need you to confirm your very own statements. Is it true you have found memory evidence of Gilderoy Lockart's previous deeds in truth being the work of others?"
"Well... yeah. He was actually—"
"And is it true that you were memory charmed in the wake of the incident where your brother was last seen?"
"I... yeah, that's what Professor Snape said."
"Thank you. As you see, the what and how seems to be very clear. But still leaves the question as to the why. Why would he go so far as to not just steal credit, but go out of his way to kill the Boy-Who-Lived?" he asked towards the crowd, before pausing, and then continuing in a lower voice, "And I think that you could help us with this very question in particular."
What was he on about— Oh. Wait, was he... Crap! Was this going where she thought this was going?
How should she respond to that?! Could she claim that Umbridge had tried to potion her with Veritaserum? Which while true, Umbridge would also know that she had never taken any in the first place?
The whole plan had been to make them aware of the existence of the prophecy, and have them hopefully look up the full thing in that place in the Department of Mysteries Daphne had mentioned. That way, if she ended up in trouble with the Ministry at some point, she could use the prophecy not only as a shield for Harry to prevent him from being dissected on the spot if she ever brought him back, but also to grant her—as an alternate subject of the prophecy—a bit of immunity as well as soon as Voldemort publicly returned, at least until she managed to bring Harry back. This, however, hadn't been part of the plan. Just what had she gotten herself into this time?
"Miss Potter. Do you know why I really asked you up here?"
Iris gathered herself, and fired up her Mindlight, trying to come up with a quick emergency plan. They would probably ask her to corroborate the existence and some of the wording of the prophecy. They'd likely ask her to confirm that it designated Harry as a hero of Fate, and then possibly spin that into a reason why Lockhart could have never surpassed him, and make that into his motive? But what could she do with that? If she corroborated their story, that made it even more unlikely for people to believe the truth if Voldemort didn't show up! What would Dumbledore think of her just telling the prophecy to others? What was it he had said? Words of prophecy are fated to be misinterpreted unless they are heard in full... Wait, so was this her fault? Had they made Lockhart into the villain because the incomplete prophecy was twisting fate around yet again? Was it even still active? Did that even still hold weight?
But also... could she use that somehow? Could she...
The best outcome here was Dumbledore's plan coming to fruition. But to do that, Voldemort would need to show himself. There was no way to turn this around with mere words. Maybe he was watching from a distance? Just to ensure everything went according to his plan? Could she...
Iris suddenly had to suppress a grin at the mad idea. Yes. There was a way to salvage this. And it couldn't happen to a more deserving bastard.
"It... It is about what I told Professor Umbridge, isn't it? She said she would look into it and inform the necessary authorities, so I suppose that would include yourself..."
Iris trailed off as she approached the Minister, and suddenly, her vision split, showing all three sides of the crowd, somehow all at once.
"Indeed, Miss Potter, indeed. Now, would you be so kind as to repeat to us the words that the headmaster has shared with you concerning the supposed fate of your brother?"
Iris gave a hesitant smile and nodded.
"Professor Dumbledore has told me that... before we were born, someone had made a prophecy. And it is true. I've seen it... heard it myself, the whole thing. It said that there would be one person, a single person who would hold power; power that could even vanquish the Dark Lord. One person who was fated to destroy him, who was strong enough to do what nobody else could. And that one of them would in the end... inevitably kill the other."
She paused, took a breath, seemingly gathering herself, and spent some extra time glancing down at the coffin for show.
"That prophecy... was not very specific. Originally, it could have applied to either Harry or myself. But in the end, when You-Know-Who attacked our home, he chose Harry. And that made him the subject of the prophecy. He was the one who would be the Dark Lord's foe, his equal, his downfall. And of course he did. Harry... Harry always came through, even back then already..."
Iris took a breath, and then turned towards the minister with an uncertain expression, before narrowing her eyes, seemingly in comprehension. "You're saying... that's why he did it? The... That bastard! You think that... that he couldn't allow a hero who was fated to be so much greater than him, who held power to even rival the Dark Lord—as ordained by Fate itself—to possibly grow to outshine him and take everything that should be rightfully his?" Iris spat, with all the venom she could muster.
"And that he decided to prove that he was stronger, that he was the true hero of Magical Britain, that he was even more powerful than the one who bested the worst Dark Lord in history as a child already. That he was obviously superior ... even compared to Harry."
She was laying it on really thick now, but at this point, it was either all or nothing. She turned her furious gaze at the minister, and growled.
"Tell me I'm wrong, Minister."
The man's smile could not have been brighter if he had tried, as if she had just perfectly played into his plans even better than he had imagined. Which, she supposed, she had. But she could only hope that her theory was correct.
"I couldn't have said it better myself, Miss Potter. Yes, indeed. No matter how much we tried to deny it, the investigation led us to exactly this conclusion. Gilderoy Lockhart, once thought to be the most valiant hero of our nation, has been revealed to be nothing but a fraud, and now, even a murderer. Years he spent stealing the achievements of others—wiping their memories as if it had been his own doing all along—yet in the end, when even Fate itself tried to stand in his way, he finally cracked, and committed this most atrocious of all his previous deeds."
The crowd was still sitting in silence. McGonagall was shooting her a betrayed expression, but Dumbledore... holy shit, the old man was onto her. His eyes were already flicking along the horizon, his fingers uneasily palming something inside his robes.
"Thank you for speaking up, Miss Potter. The country is in your debt. Not just for this, but for allowing such a tragedy to occur beneath our watch. If you ever need anything in the future, please be sure to let me know immediately."
That was a dismissal if there ever was one, so she just nodded and made her way back to her seat to face the wide-eyed expression of her friends.
"Rest assured that we will not let this stand. Harry Potter will get the justice he deserves. As Minister of Magic, I hereby declare the Order of Merlin Third Class granted to Gilderoy Lockhart as null and void, effective immediately. A public trial will follow, where a formal sentence will be passed onto the late Mister Lockhart, but I suspect it is a mere formality at this point. But for now, let us not dwell on such dark matters, instead, let us reminisce the rest of the day about all of the wonderful virtues of Mister Potter. Let us remember him for what he was, and not for what he has become, for that is nothing less than what he deserves. Thank you."
At first, hesitant clapping, mostly from the group of snobby gits, but soon, even the public joined in. Most of the students still seemed to have no idea what to think and just sat in confused whispers, either staring at the Minister, at Dumbledore, or Iris.
The Minister gave another nod, then made his way off the podium to be immediately replaced by another ministry stooge from the same group, who quickly began to drone on meaningless propaganda or whatever else was on the menu.
"What the hell was that?" hissed Tracey next to her. "You never told me anything about any prophecy!"
She hadn't, had she?
"A memorable day, certainly, with a memorable twist of events. But after all, Harry Potter was a memorable boy..."
"Dumbledore showed it to me, over the summer," Iris admitted in a whisper.
"And why the hell would you play into that?! Why would you use that, and show everyone, tell everyone that..."
"Because she's baiting him," whispered Theo, effectively cutting Tracey's rant in half.
Tracey blinked, then blinked again, before she grabbed onto her robes, pulled her face close and hissed, "are you insane?!"
"Hey, shh! I was just trying to make sure that he would show up!"
"...and even with all these remarkable deeds, that his life would in the end be cut short by this..."
"Yes! That's the problem! It's You-Frickin-Know-Who! What do you think he'd—"
"...the child prophesied to rival even the greatest Dark Lord in history... brought down by none other than Gilderoy Lockhart."
Iris slowly found her head turning by itself to face the podium once more, towards the ministry worker from Umbridge's group standing at the lectern, and she met his eyes.
"...the mere thought alone is... sickening."
The eyes... the eyes were red.
"Let me tell you... the truth—the reality you tried so desperately to deny. Harry Potter was the one destined to defeat the Dark Lord... The one... the only one... who had the power, maybe the courage, yes. But certainly, the only one who ever... stood a chance."
Every single person had fallen completely silent, and they were all staring, their eyes locked onto the lectern, onto the one man standing behind it.
"And he came close. He came very close, yes... For eleven years, nothing but a spirit remained. Once, twice even... he almost succeeded. But in the end... the dice have fallen. And he learned the one lesson—the most... important lesson all of you seem to have forgotten..."
The mirror effect split, then split again, four Voldemorts, then six, eight, ten... They grew taller and taller, until they were naught but a face, staring directly at her and everyone else from barely inches away. She could feel his breath on her face as he spoke in a cold, ethereal whisper.
"That only I... can live forever."