Constellations of Change

A Week Before Halloween, Disused Classroom, 5th floor, Hogwarts.

Tonks and Penny sat working through their Ancient Runes essays in a small classroom that was once used for teaching Enchanting. Like Alchemy, Enchanting was a rather specialized branch of magic, combining elements of Charms, Ancient Runes, Astronomy, Potioneering, and Arithmancy, and had been offered as an elective only at the NEWT level. Largely it was only a course taken by those who planned to go into magical item crafting, or pursue their mastery in an associated subject following Hogwarts. The small demand, coupled with the difficulty in hiring qualified masters in the field led to the course being discontinued after the last teacher left their post during the 19th century, in the midst of a scandal over some self-insulting quill’s he’d sold.

It was one of several such empty classrooms in the castle. Some had fallen into disuse for similar reasons to the Enchanting classroom, some due to other factors, such as changes in the British standards of education. For instance, the current Defense Against the Dark Arts course combined elements of several older disciplines, such as a dedicated Dueling class, a course dedicated to combating dark beasts, and curse-breaking. 

Hogwarts was a rather empty castle in general, compared to centuries past. Due in part to the precipitous drop in the Wizarding population of Great Britain and Ireland following Grindelwald’s war, and later the terror of Voldemort, Hogwarts student population was near an all time low. This was due not only to the time it took the population to recover following the deaths from the war on the continent, but also due to the large number of magicals who had fled Britain during Voldemort’s campaign of terror, and never returned. The numbers of witches and wizards was beginning to show steady recovery, but it was a slow process due in part to Magicals tendency to have children at a slower rate than muggles.

Still, while the less than overflowing corridors of the castle may be a cause for dismay for the portraits of past headmasters, it was a boon to those looking to hang out with members of other houses. Unlike the library, there was no need to keep quiet, and it wasn’t subject to the sometimes brutal Scottish weather like the grounds. Which was what led to Penny and Nymphadora making this particular old classroom their usual spot when they wanted to study, or just spend some time together. They’d been friends since before attending Hogwarts (their mothers had done their Healers’ residencies together,) and that hadn’t stopped after getting sorted into different houses. 

They’d sometimes be joined by Tonks’ Hufflepuff junior, Cedric Diggory, or their other friend Katie Bell in Gryffindor. However, since those two were a year below them and not currently drowning in Runes homework, the older two girls were alone, apart from Penny’s cat Biscuits, who was lounging in a sunbeam by the window.

“You know what I’ve noticed?” Penny pondered aloud.

Tonks didn’t even look up from her essay, which was unfortunately due tomorrow, as she replied, “that Professor Babbling hates us and is trying to destroy us with the ever increasing amount of essays we have to do?”

Penny gestured to her with her hawk feather quill, “I mean, sure also that. But I was more thinking that I think this has been the longest I’ve ever seen you go without changing your hair color.”

Tonks looked up and scrunched her nose, shifting it to be more puglike momentarily as she did so, before returning it to a button-like shape. It was true, while she’d been regularly changing her facial features, her height and her proportions like usual, she’d been rocking dark red hair almost exclusively since term started. She’d changed the style round, gone from tight curls to gentle waves, to ramrod straight but the color had remained consistent.

“So what?” Tonks asked a little defensively.

“Nothing, nothing,” Penelope replied teasingly, “I just think it’s cute how much you care about your sister.”

“Shut up,” Tonks moaned, burying her head behind her text book. After a moment she peeked out back over it and in a small voice added, “I’m just really glad she’s here, you know?”

Penelope's smile went from teasing to gentle as she reached over and gave her friend’s arm a squeeze. She knew Tonks likely hadn’t even thought to do it intentionally, but keeping the red hair had likely been an unconscious declaration of her sisterhood with Iris, since, without focus,  a Metamorphagus’s features were heavily shaped by their emotions.

Tonks smiled back and shifted once again, though she kept the red hair. For a Metamorphagus there was no such thing as their ‘real’ face, with their form being in flux form the day they were born. Changing appearance was as natural to Tonks as changing expressions was to your average person. That being said, she did have a face she thought of as her face, the look that felt the most like herself. It had wild wavy red hair, high cheekbones, small ears, deep grey eyes, curvy proportions and a height that was a little on the short side. It was essentially a blend of Andromeda and Iris’s features with the eye color of her father.

Now, she didn’t want to look that way all the time, or even most of the time. It just wasn’t in her nature to fixate on a form unless she was going through some emotional turmoil, but it was one of her favorite looks, particularly when she was feeling sentimental. Ironically she’d tried once, when she was six, to make a ‘real’ face by blending Ted and Andromeda’s features, but it had never felt right until she added her sister into the mixture. 

“Gah, now you made me go and get all sappy,” Tonks griped as she turned back to her essay.

Penelope just rolled her eyes, “Sweetie, I’ve known you most of your life. Trust me when I tell you, you’ve always been sappy.”

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Halloween Night, Third Floor Girl’s Lavatory

KARUNCH! The sound of splintering wood filled the air as the large wooden door to the girl’s lavatory was smashed through. It split into two pieces, one flying into the room, while the other hung limply from the partially ripped out hinges. In the destroyed entryway stood a massive mountain troll, who proceeded to lumber into the room.

At the sound of the door breaking, Hermione and Iris scrambled out of the stall, the brunette tripping on her robe and tumbling back to the floor. Iris went to help her up, but that was when she caught sight of the troll sniffing the air.

“Morganna’s Tits!” Iris cursed, as she quickly drew her wand, mind racing to figure out how to deal with a Troll. Only a few months into term, they hadn’t been taught a lot of practical magic yet, and certainly nothing for dealing with an XXXX Beast. She wildly considered trying to transfigure the wooden club into a needle, but then again, giving the creature a giant metal spear probably wouldn’t reduce the danger, even if she could manage a transfiguration that large.

Luckily for Iris, she was an eager learner and had experimented with a charm from the Standard Book of Spells before they’d gotten there in the Charms curriculum. Unluckily, that spell was Lumos. Still, Mountain Trolls were nocturnal, and somewhat light sensitive, so she worked with what she had. 

“LUMOS!” A ball of blue light shone at the tip of her silver-white wand, outshining the surrounding torches. The troll did react to the sudden beam of light, blocking its eyes with one arm while stepping back slightly.

It seemed Hermione was similarly inclined to read ahead, as she frantically pulled out her wand and cried “SPONGIFY!” She directed the Softening Charm, which they’d be covering in the spring, at the feet of the troll, softening the tiles of the floor below him. It caused his backward step to turn into a stumble, making him lurch backwards into the far wall, smashing through a stall with his swinging club as he did so. 

“HRAUNG!” it cried, pushing itself off the wall, and pulling its club from the wreckage of the stall. It kept one hand over its eyes, while aggressively stomping towards them. It swung its club blindly in large arcs, while the two first years desperately backed away into the corner of the bathroom, sheltering partially behind a sink. Iris kept her light lit, but all that was doing was keeping it from aiming. Hermione attempted an additional Spongify, but was too inexperienced with the spell or too frantic to manage to trip the troll again. 

Things were looking grim for them, when, with a cry of “STUPEFY!”  a jet of red light impacted the troll from behind. The troll whirled around to confront its attacker, slamming its club on the ground again in anger. No longer facing the light, it used the hand that was previously protecting its eyes to grab its club in a two handed grip, ready to smash the three new interlopers. 

Nymphadora Tonks’s stomach dropped as she saw her stunner have no effect beyond making the beast angrier. However, more importantly, she saw her tiny, fragile, precious, baby sister curled up in the corner, fighting for her life; suffice to say, her fear was swallowed up in an inferno of righteous fury. She took a page from her sister’s book and aimed for the eyes, “CONJUNCTUM!”

Her Conjunctivitis Curse hit true, the purple beam slamming into the troll’s newly opened eyes. They instantly swelled close as the troll growled in agony. To her left, Penny hastily transfigured the troll’s great oaken club, making thorns erupt along the wood, forcing the troll to drop it in pain. Meanwhile, Cedric charged into the room, diving to the side of the troll in a somersault to put himself in between the troll and the two first years. The third year didn’t know exactly what he’d do if the troll turned back towards them, but he was going to attempt to protect them nonetheless. 

The Troll thrashed around the bathroom, further smashing up the stalls and breaking the nearest sink as it pawed at its ruined eyes. Seizing her opportunity, Iris darted out from behind Cedric, and moved her wand in a swish and flick motion. Chanting, “Wingardium Leviosa” she levitated the now dropped club over the raging troll’s head. 

Seeing what her sister was doing, Tonks quickly wove her wand in a twisting motion. “Incarcerus,” thick black cords sprung from her wand and rapidly wrapped themselves around the troll’s ankles. No sooner were they tied than they began to fray and break under the massive force of the troll trying to break free, but it kept him still for the moment it took Iris to move the club into position.

THUNK! Iris released the magic and the heavy club dropped like a rock on the troll’s head. The troll stumbled backwards, purple blood trickling down from where one of the thorns had pierce its thick hide. It swayed on its feet for a moment, before finally collapsing to the ground with an almighty WHUMP.

The creature hadn’t been felled for more than a second, before Tonks was dashing across the wrecked bathroom to sweep Iris up into a protective hug. ‘I swear by Hecate, I’m never letting her out of my sight again.’ She rapidly checked over Iris for injuries, but luckily, other than a few bumps and scrapes, her little sister was fine.

Nymphadora had been looking for Iris all afternoon, along with Susan. They knew the redhead was going to be having a rough day and wanted to be there to help her, but they’d had no luck in tracking her down. By the time of the feast, Tonks was beyond stressed, especially when she looked over to the Ravenclaw table to see Penelope shaking her head glumly; Iris was nowhere to be found. 

She’d already been considering leaving the feast early to go looking again for her sister, when Quirrell had run in and made his panic causing pronouncement. After that Nym had basically flown out of her seat, not paying any heed to the prefect calling her back, and almost not noticing her friends Penny and Cedric hot on her heels. (Susan similarly tried to follow, but was caught by a prefect before she could get away from the other Hufflepuffs.)

In the chaos the trio had managed to break away from the mob of students, and high tailed it. Tonks didn’t really have much of a plan beyond rushing about and calling Iris’s name, hoping to find her before the troll got out of the dungeons. It was an incredible bit of luck that they were close enough to hear the sounds of Iris and Hermione’s struggle with the troll, and rush to save them.

“Everyone alright?” Cedric asked shakily. He hadn’t really thought before rushing to follow Tonks, knowing his Hufflepuff senior had been looking for her little sister before the feast. He had known from his dad’s work with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures that troll’s were nasty business, but facing one in person was something else entirely.

Meanwhile, Penny was helping Hermione to her feet and whispering a few soft words of comfort to her. Intending to follow in her mother’s footsteps as a healer, she had already developed an excellent bedside manner. Shakily, she and Tonks ushered Hermione and Iris out of the bathroom, only to meet nearly every professor rushing in from the hallway.

Nymphadora looked back at the utterly wrecked bathroom, then turned to the faculty and sheepishly said, “uh, Professors. We’ve had a bit of an incident,”

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Next Week

In the end, they’d all managed to escape without too horrid of punishments, though Hermione still bemoaned the five points she’d lost for Gryffindor. Professor McGonogal had told off her and Iris both quite sharply for missing the feast, but largely went soft on them in light of the ordeal they’d gone through. 

It felt odd to say, in the wake of nearly getting crushed by a troll, but the past week had easily been the best of Hermione’s time at Hogwarts. Actually, come to think of it, it may have been her best week ever.  

Iris had been true to her word, seeking the muggleborn girl out the following day to invite her to join them for a study session after class. Susan, Iris, Daphne and Tracey typically met in one of the disused classrooms to practice, study, read and in general spend time together after classes finished for the day. On that Monday, Hermione found herself trailing after Susan following their Herbology lesson, and nervously sitting with the other girls. 

She could admit to being intimidated by Tracey and particularly Daphne at first. While people didn’t necessarily talk about it in polite conversation, Hermione was smart enough to notice that none of the other incoming muggleborn students had been sorted into Slytherin. She was worried one of Iris’ best friends would dismiss her for her blood status, but luckily that hadn’t proven to be the case. There had been a bit of awkwardness at first, but once she and the blonde got into an exhilarating conversation on potioneering, the ice quickly melted. (For her part, Daphne had been a bit skeptical of the random Gryffindor Iris dragged along to their study session, but after realizing Hermione was as avid a budding scholar as her, she quickly warmed to the muggleborn.)

Her relationship with her fellow Gryffindors had also warmed somewhat since the troll attack. Lavender in particular seemed to have decided to take Hermione under her wing, the other witch having been quite cross with Weasley after his insults towards Hermione. She didn’t have as much in common with Lav, who, while not dumb by any means, was less academically inclined than Hermione discovered Iris and Daphne were. (Much to the chagrin of Tracey and Susan, who sometimes wanted to do something other than spend all their free time in the library.)

It was a bit frustrating that most of her new friends were in different houses, as it made spending time together a bit more irksome. None of them were allowed to invite the others into their common rooms, which would have been an ideal spot, so instead they made do with empty classrooms, went to the library, or found a spot on the grounds if the weather was nice. 

Which was what they were doing today, the five girls sitting on a bank not far from where Malfoy had confronted Iris near the start of term. (The blonde boy had largely steered clear of the Potter heiress after that, likely in part because Daphne’s reporting of how poorly his attempt to rile Iris had gone led to some ridicule from senior Slytherins.)

“I swear, Parkinson has absolutely no pride, the way she just automatically parrots whatever dross leaks out of Malfoy’s mouth,” Daphne complained about her fellow Slytherins. She and Malfoy were easily the two fresh Slytherins from the most powerful families, and so naturally may have come to fight for dominance within the Snake’s Den, even if Daphne hadn’t found the boy repugnant. There was a growing divide between Malfoy’s faction, consisting of himself, Crabbe, Nott, Pansy, Milicent and Goyle, and Daphne’s, consisting of herself, Tracey, Sophie Roper, Aoife Byrne and Stephen Cornfoot. Blaise was neutral, largely because he was too arrogant to get along with either group. 

“Her father is up to his eyeballs in debt to Malfoy’s,” Tracey opined, looking up momentarily from her History of Magic essay, “you shouldn’t be surprised.” Fowler Parkinson liked to describe himself as a serial entrepreneur, but very few of his businesses seemed to take off. His latest scheme, involving breeding a herd of Pegasi, had failed when the paddock he made failed to account for the fact the horses could fly. “Who was Minister when Azkaban was established as Britain’s primary prison?” Tracey asked.

“Damocles Rowe,” Susan answered absently while she worked through her own essay for the same course. The redhead turned to look at Daphne, “why do you care what Parkinson says anyway? Everyone knows she’s daft.”

“Because unfortunately I share a dorm with her, and I was up half the night hearing her prattle on to Millicent about how brilliant Malfoy is. So now I’m both tired and annoyed,” Daphne explained with a groan.

“Could be worse,” Susan replied, “Sally-Anne snores.”

Hermione snorted despite herself, and soon all five girls were giggling. She was suddenly grateful for Lavender, Fay and Parvati’s relatively unobtrusive sleeping habits. Maybe she should look into getting some noise dampening curtains for her friends for Christmas; she felt giddy again at the fact that she actually had friends to get Christmas presents for.

Eventually the sun began to dip towards the horizon and they knew dinner would soon be served, so they packed up their books for the day.

However, as the quintet were making their way back towards the castle for dinner, Iris made a show of looking in her bag. “Oh no, I think I left that book on Firecrab breeding up in my dorm, I need to go return it so it’s not too late!” Before her friends could respond, she dashed off in the direction of the tower, before ducking around a corner.

—--

Iris had taken to carrying her cloak with her at all times, folded neatly at the bottom of her school bag. If she’d had it with her when the troll attacked, she could have hidden herself and Hermione from the roving monster. That’s why it was easy enough to fish it out and don it, after she split off from her friends and began traipsing down towards the Forbidden Forest. 

She knew, she knew, it was dangerous for her to go near the forest. She was sure if her parents or sister knew she was rushing into a den of dangerous magical creatures, so soon after escaping one, they’d be furious with her. They’d also probably wrap her up in protective charms until she came of age.

It was just, the Forest was right there, beckoning her to go investigate. ‘It’s not like I’m going in deep or anything, I’ll just poke around the outskirts’ Iris rationalized herself. Besides, her cloak had always kept her unnoticed by magical fauna in the past. Sure, what was in the Forbidden Forest was much more dangerous than the Doxies and Porlucks in the glens near her home, but she figured the principle still held true. 

She’d actually snuck down to the outskirts of the forest a handful of times since term began, though never deep enough to really see anything. Without her cloak, she’d thought it would be too dangerous, but maybe with it she would be safe to go a little further. When she reached the end of the winding lane to Hagrid’s Hut, she darted off to the side around fifty feet away and stepped into the forest.

Before going too deeply, she stopped where she’d stopped before, pulled the cloak of her head, and let out a low rhythmic hiss. She repeated it a few times until five curious serpents slithered up out of the grass to greet her. Four of them were pale green grass snakes, but the smallest was a silvery grey adder.

“<Good evening, Irissssss>” the adder hissed at her in Parseltongue.

Iris grinned and hissed back, “<Good evening to you, Terry>” She’d named this little quintet of snakes Terry, John, Graham, Michael and Eric. The names were more for her benefit than anything as the snakes themselves had no use of them.

This was the other reason she’d been sneaking down to the outskirts of the forbidden wood, apart from hoping to potentially spy a unicorn, bowtruckle or centaur. She’d wanted a place to use her Parselmouth abilities without causing a panic. The thing was, Iris liked being a Parselmouth; she liked conversing with the snakes in the garden and finding out about their days, and what they’d seen and done. It just felt natural for her to use her gift, not unlike how her sister described being a Metamorphagus felt. Their gifts were an intrinsic part of them, and shouldn’t have to be shut away.

Unfortunately for her, wizarding Britain had a strong phobia of Parselmouths, at least in the modern era. Part of it likely stemmed from the relative rarity of the ability in this part of the world, perhaps linked to the small number of non magical snake species that inhabited the isles. Coupled with the generally negative association with the trait most of Europe had due to the infamy of Herpo the Foul, it wouldn’t have been unlikely for British witches and wizards to find the talent unsettling. However, what catalyzed it into nearly a taboo was the fact that the only known British Parselmouth in the last century had been Voldemort.

Even though the trait was shared by well respected witches and wizards through history, even a founder himself, the association with Voldemort had overridden it in the minds of the populace. Which led to Iris being more secretive than she’d have liked with speaking the serpent’s tongue. 

“<Anything interesting tonight, boysssss?>”

Eric shook his head, while Michael chimed in, “<Graham caught a big rat, very tasty looking. Wouldn’t share the pissssser>”

Graham flashed his fangs at Michael, “<Catch your own dinner, you ssssssssilly ninny>!”

“<Ladssssss, Ladssssss, don’t bicker in front of the lady,>” John chided.

“<I ssssaw sssomething,>” Terry began, quieting the others. “A ssstrange two foot in the forest. Not the big two foot, different.>” She’d quickly realized that big two foot meant Hagrid.

“<What was ssstrange about him?> Iris asked. Her Parselmouth abilities imbued the mundane snakes she talked to with more intelligence than they normally would have, enabling them to use language at all, as well as influencing them to do as she said. (Already intelligent serpents could speak the language without a Parselmouth’s influence, and magical serpents in general could be communicated with but not influenced easily like common snakes.) It was largely a temporary effect that would fade over time, unless reinforced like she’d done with her familiar Sebastian, but then again his increased intelligence was also a result of her familiar bond.

“<Two foot wassss, hunting four footsssss>,” Terry explained. Iris scrunched her brow. Was a wizard attacking the unicorns of the Forbidden Forest, or worse, the centaurs? She asked Terry to describe what he looked like, which was easier said than done considering the adder’s limited understanding of humans. Eventually she worked out that it had been a hooded man, wearing a dark cloak, and that he’d been attacking unicorns, because Terry had described him harvesting their blood.

A little shaken, Iris bid her snake friends farewell, and elected not to venture deeper into the forest alone, in light of what she had learned. While she trusted her cloak to keep her hidden, she didn’t want to risk running into a poacher if at all possible. She stepped back onto the grass of Hogwarts field and stowed away her cloak, before meandering back up to the castle for dinner. 

‘I suppose I should tell someone about the poacher, but how to do it?’ Iris mused. ‘I can hardly go up to Professor Flitwick and tell him the snakes told me there’s a mysterious man in the woods draining unicorn blood. Who would do something so horrid to a unicorn, anyway? Maybe I can leave an anonymous note at Hagrid’s hut?’

“Iris Dorea Potter!”

Iris was startled out of wondering about the hooded man, by a very angry looking Susan Bones waiting for her on the steps of the castle. The other redhead had her hands on her hips and was staring down at the shorter Iris. 

“Uh, were you waiting for me, Sue?” Iris asked, a little confused.

Susan marched up to her and gave her a light flick on the arm, before pulling her into a hug. “Of course I was, because I have a best friend stupid enough to go walking down to the Forbidden Forest at night.”

Iris stepped back, her eyes wide. “How did you know I went to the forest,” she whisper-shouted at Susan, wary of any passerby hearing where she’d been. Susan grabbed her hand and pulled her off to the side away from the steps.

“Because I know my best friend, duh,” Susan explained. “There’s approximately a zero percent chance you wouldn’t finish a book well before it was due, and you’d have no reason to keep it unless you were needing to constantly reference it. Also, you just walked back from the path to the forest, not the library, which kinda confirms it.” 

Iris looked down at her feet, a little sheepish. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to ditch you or anything, honestly Susan. It’s just-”

“-it’s just you have an inexhaustible need to investigate, and the Forest is like one big temptation for your curiosity,” Susan finished with a small smirk before letting her expression grow sincere. “I just… I worry Iris, you’re important to me and I don’t want you to get eaten by an Erkling when I’m not there to help. I know I’m probably being overprotective after the troll, but I’m your friend. I want to be at your side when troubles brewing, yeah? So, take me with you next time?” Susan asked softly.

Iris got a bit teary despite herself, touched by her best friend’s concern, and suddenly very guilty over making her worry. “Yeah, of course Sue. I just, I felt bad about asking you to break the rules. I didn’t want to get you in any trouble.”

“I’m not my aunt, or Hermione for that matter; you know I’m not rules obsessed, Irey, I just don’t want to see you get hurt. Besides, if you did get expelled, I’d have to learn French anyway and that seems like it’d be a pain, “ Susan declared, forcing a smile on her face despite the fact that both girls were tearing up.

“Why would me being expelled, make you have to learn French?”

“Cause then you’d have to go to Beauxbatons and I’d have to follow you, dummy,” Susan said. 

She was promptly tackled into a hug by an Iris shaped bullet. 

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The Village of Tadcaster, Yorkshire - November

A dusty shaft of sunlight poked its way into the otherwise dark interior of the Shrieking Shack. Remus groaned and rolled away, trying to go back to sleep. The Wolf had retreated, but left his body with the aches and pains of its midnight revelry. He likely would have slept most of the day away, if not for the sound of the other Marauders bickering around him.

"Only you could end up getting engaged to a pure blood heiress AFTER getting disowned, Pads," James teased. "I guess we finally found what it takes to get Sirius Black not to rebel, a love of redheads." The fact that Amelia Bones had gotten engaged to the disowned Black heir would have been front page news, if the war wasn’t overshadowing everything else.

Sirius flicked a torn pillow at James’s head with his wand. “You, mate, should be the last one to lecture anyone on redheads. I’m pretty sure you’d challenge Dumbledore to a duel if Evans asked you to.”

“We get it, you two have girls,” Peter muttered, “no need to rub it in our faces.”

Remus had never understood his friend’s trials and tribulations with their romances. He cared deeply for his friends but had never felt the urge to pursue anything more than friendship, despite the assurance of his elders that he would as he grew older. Even now, at seventeen, he just didn’t get his classmates' preoccupation with dating. 

It was the spring of their seventh year, one of the last full moons they’d spend together in the shack. It filled Remus with a kind of sadness; even though his affliction was terrible, his time spent here with his friends was one of his fondest memories. In a strange way, he was going to miss these nights with the Marauders.

Still at the moment, what he wanted most was to catch a few more minutes of sleep. So he rolled over, and tried to drown out the sound of Sirius and James arguing. Unfortunately it was not to be, because he felt one of them tapping the floorboard next to him incessantly. 

“C’mon, it’s time to get up Moony,”

Tap, tap, tap. Remus was awoken from his dream by something rapping on his window. He blearily looked over to find, to his surprise, a rather wet horned owl, looking to get out of the drizzle. Truthfully he was just thankful the dingy little flat he’d managed to find didn’t leak; he hadn’t always been so lucky. He was currently in a little village up the coast from York, having been hired on by a Muggle shepard to do odd jobs around the paddock. He wasn’t sure how long the job would last. Mr. McPhearson was pretty steamed when he’d missed three days of work last month, and another full moon was coming in two weeks.

It wasn’t like he could explain his furry little problem to muggle employers, and it was even more of a problem when looking for work in the magical world. At least all a muggle boss would do was fire him, if a wizard noticed the pattern of his ‘sickness’ the result could be far worse. He was lucky, after a fashion, that it wasn’t publicly known he was a werewolf, but interacting with fellow witches and wizards risked blowing the secret.

That distance from the wizarding world was what made getting the owl, which was now shaking the water from its feathers as it proffered a leg to him, somewhat unusual. Between losing many of his closest friends in the war, and not really being able to afford a Prophet subscription, Remus didn’t exactly get much post.

“What have you got for me, little lady?” Remus asked as he unhooked the scrolled letter from the owl’s messenger tube. He unfurled the rolled letter and couldn’t help the smile that came to his face. Iris had written him, telling him all about her first term at Hogwarts with particular focus given to the handful of interesting creatures she’d managed to encounter.

Remus absently summoned a stale biscuit from his kitchenette, to placate Jester with as he read through the letter. He was, to put it mildly, concerned that a troll had apparently been able to get loose within the castle, but wasn’t surprised that James’s daughter found herself in the thick of it. 

It was mostly a heartwarming letter, and Remus could admit he was touched the girl had thought to write to him. He chuckled with surprise to discover the girl had been sorted into Ravenclaw and gave a low whistle of wonder when she mentioned she had become close with the Greengrass heiress. Between her and Susan Bones, Iris was rubbing elbows with the heirs to some very important families. 

However there was something that gave him pause; at the end of the letter, Iris asked him if he knew of anything that fed on the blood of a unicorn. It was phrased as a hypothetical, but Remus had enough experience dealing with Sirius and James’ ability to talk around an issue, to worry. 

‘Then again, maybe you're just being paranoid in your old age,’ Remus reflected wryly. As a first year, it wasn’t like Iris would be going into the Forbidden Forest, which would be the only place she might encounter a unicorn or its mystery predator. The girl was probably just doing some independent research, taking more after her mother than her father in this case.

He wrote back, describing the terrible half life drinking unicorn blood would cause, and why it was a prohibited substance. Only those with no other options would seek it as far as he knew, though it wasn’t exactly his area of expertise. He vaguely recalled a few dark creatures that might feed on unicorns, and therefore their blood, but without access to a magical library to research, he couldn’t tell her much.

Finishing his letter with an anecdote about how he and her father first discovered the Hogwarts kitchen in their first year, he rolled it up and gave it to the ready Jester, before sending the owl off into the drizzling sky. 

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Hogwarts Grounds - November

“Remind me how Hermione got out of coming to this?” Iris asked forlornly as she and Daphne trailed the far more enthusiastic Tracey and Susan down to the Quidditch pitch.

“Because, dear Iris, our friend Hermione was smart enough to lie,” Daphne replied despairingly. Sure, it was possible Hermione hadn’t finished her Herbology essay and needed to skip the match to finish it, but Daphne and Iris strongly suspected their Gryffindor friend was taking advantage of an empty common room to do some personal reading.

Both girls would have loved to join her, but had found themselves cajoled by the Quidditch loving Susan and Tracey not to miss the first match of the year.  Iris didn’t hate Quidditch per se, but she found the sport a bit boring after she’d gotten over the wonder of seeing broom flight. ‘Really, it’s not even the most interesting sport that uses broomsticks,’ she thought, ‘racing’s much better and at least you have some idea of how long it will take.’  Due to the rules regarding the Snitch, Quidditch matches could take anywhere from 12 seconds to 12 weeks, though those extremes were uncommon.

The Hogwarts Quidditch Cup consisted of six matches throughout the year, so that each house played the other three once. The victor would then be decided based on their combined scores across the three games each house played. The opening Iris and Daphne were reluctantly attending would be between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Due to Hermione not attending, the girl’s would be sitting by the Slytherin section.

It wasn’t terribly surprising that Tracey was a lifelong Quidditch fan, her mother Leona Davis was a Beater for the Tutshill Tornados. A fact Tracey was proud to announce to anyone and everyone. Trace had basically grown up on the Quidditch pitch, and learned to fly before she turned seven. She was beyond excited for the game, and, even if they grumbled about it, Daphne and Iris were more than willing to go along for their friend.

Susan needed no such persuading and was nearly as excited as Tracey, if that was possible. The only thing suppressing the Bones girl’s exuberance being that Hufflepuff wouldn’t be playing yet.  “Tonks reckons Gryffindor has the edge; apparently Wood’s been training them half to death in prep for the match,” Susan suggested to Tracey.

The Slytherin scoffed, “Puh-leez. I’ll give you Wood’s a good Keeper, but the whole rest of the Gryffs’ team are third year and under. Of course he had to train like mad, they’re all novices.”

Susan held up a placating hand, “Slytherin’s got more experience as a squad, sure, but that could go against them. Wood’s a new captain, and it’s a mostly new team, could have a whole new playbook from last year.” Neither girl had been there for the previous Quidditch season, but had avidly followed the rumors flying amongst their seniors. 

Tracey made a dismissive hand gesture, “the lions’ll need a new book to even stand half a chance. If you compare our beaters-”

It was at this point Iris largely tuned out the Quidditch talk as the quartet entered the stadium and went to find seats. The stands were broadly split between those supporting Slytherin, those supporting Gryffindor and two ‘unaligned’ sections to act as buffers. Sitting on the edge of the Slytherin section, they sat purposely on the opposite side from where Malfoy and his cronies had gathered. Tracey and Susan took the front row, while Daphne and Iris grabbed the seats behind them. As she sat down, Iris slipped a slim volume called, From Roonspoors to Basilisks, a Survey of Magical Serpents by Shah Kapoor. 

“Please tell me you didn’t bring a book, Irey,” Susan asked incredulously as she turned around to see her best friend flipping open her book.

“Yes, Iris, how could you?” Daphne added in a deadpan voice while pulling her own book, Decoding the Founders, out. 

Iris shot her friend a somewhat guilty look, “the match hasn’t even started yet.” Susan sighed in fond exasperation and turned back to debating the merits of the Wronski feint with Tracey, who wasn’t even surprised to see Daphne also reading, well used to the blonde’s lack of interest in the finer points of Quidditch.

Eventually, as the crowd grew and the start of the game neared, Iris and Daphne were both forced to abandon their books amidst the growing noise and clamor around them. The other non- Malfoy aligned Slytherin first years made a point of sitting somewhat near to Daphne, though none of them tried to enter the conversation. 

Soon enough the game began and Iris found herself being drawn in somewhat despite herself; Tracey and Susan’s excitement was infectious as they whooped and hollered for every pass of the Quaffle. Iris spotted her sister on the opposite side of the stands, with the Gryffindor supporters, which wasn’t particularly surprising given that her friend Katie was playing. Iit was hard to make out at a distance, but Iris let out a loud snort when she realized her sister had given herself an approximation of a lion’s head for the game, mane and all.

The match went on for sometime as neither of the new Seekers, Cormac Mclaggen and Terence Higgs, were particularly adept. Eventually they reached a point where the score was 110-30 in favor of Gryffindor. While the Chaser trio of Bell, Johnson and Spinett were new, only Katie having been on the previous year’s team, they worked well together and were making consistent goals. However, they weren’t the root cause of the point disparity; that came down to the incredible display by Gryffindor’s Keeper and captain, Oliver Wood, who even Tracey could admit was the best player on the pitch.

Finally, long after Daphne and Iris would have liked to go, the match came to an end when Terence managed to snag the Snitch after a brief chase with Mclaggen. It was Slytherin’s win, but the score of 180-120 (Katie had made a last minute goal) was far closer than they would have liked. 

The quartet walked with much of the rest of the student body back up to the castle for the evening feast, Tracey and Susan excitedly recounting the entire game they’d just watched along the way. Iris couldn’t help but smile; even if Quidditch wasn’t her favorite thing, she loved spending time with her friends. 

Unbeknownst to her, there was someone in the castle who’d have been quite pleased if she’d shown more interest in the sport. If she were flying for her House team, it’d be terribly easy to kill her and make it look like an accident.

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Woods near Megaron Hall, Pembrokeshire, Wales - Winter Holidays

“FULGURIO”

In a glen on the edge of the woods, a small witch was repeating the same incantation again and again. It was a cold, blustery day, with nearly a foot of snow blanketing the ground around her, and a clear track of her path to her current training ground, winding its way back to Megaron Hall.

Iris pouted as her incantation yet again only managed to produce a few blue sparks. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised, the Lightning Calling Charm was rather advanced, not something typically learnt by first years. She wasn’t actually sure if it was on the Hogwarts curriculum at all; she’d found the incantation in a book called Warding the Weather, tucked away within the Hogwarts library. While most of the book dealt with banishing or altering inclement weather, there was a small section dedicated to conjuring it and that was where she had found this particular charm. (It was likely an oversight by Madame Prince that a book with a spell for hurling lightning bolts wasn’t in the restricted section, even if it technically was just a very particular sort of Atmospheric Charm).

Iris had hated feeling so powerless against the troll that had menaced her and Hermione back on Halloween, and frankly she’d been terrified when Nym’s stunner failed to have any effect. Sure, they’d managed to take it down in the end, but it was a near run thing. It had prompted a steady research of how best to defend yourself against magically resistant creatures. The younger Tonks sister had an abiding fascination with magical fauna, and was all too aware that Trolls weren’t the only creatures capable of shrugging off your average hex.

The major thread of advice she’d found, beyond the common recommendation to stay as far away from creatures like dragons and manticores as possible, was to use magic indirectly. Instead of directly targeting the creature with jinxes and hexes like you would a wizard opponent in a duel, you should instead conjure mundane things to attack with. If your knockback jinx was being absorbed into a Snallygaster’s hide, conjure a boulder to drop on top of it instead. 

Which brought her eventually to Fulgurio. She’d thought to go looking for a spell that created lightning for a rather sad reason. She had an enduring memory of Dudley shoving her finger into a socket a few months before her mother had rescued her. Even minor electrocution had hurt like hell, despite leaving a rather small mark on her hand, leading her to reason it might be an effective way of dealing with thick skinned creatures.

It was a simple incantation, and the movement should be a basic underhanded swoop, but her results had been less than successful. She consulted the book again, glad to have been able to check it out over the winter holidays. She watched as the diagram of a bespectacled wizard went through the underhanded semi circular motion. Perhaps she wasn’t making a big enough arc? Or maybe her incantation speed was out of sync?

She took a deep breath and adjusted the spell again, making a slower, larger motion with her wand and beginning the incantation earlier in the motion instead of at its end point; “FUL-.” The change was obvious, crackling blue electricity gathered around the tip of her wand as she went through the fluid motion, like spider webs wrapping around a stick. “-GUR-” She timed the final syllable to match perfectly with the end of her motion, “-IO!” With a final flick, the gathered electricity sprung from her wand, flinging itself across the field in an arcing bolt of lightning. The bolt slammed into the far tree she was using as a target, blasting clear a chunk of its bark. 

Iris felt an immediate burst of elation, followed by a wave of exhaustion. The spell had taken a lot out of her and she plopped down onto the dewy grass in tiredness. Apparently Fulgurio took quite a bit of her magic. Wizarding school started at her age because her core was finally developed enough for wandwork, but her magical reserves were naturally quite small compared to an adult witch or wizard. It was also the case that one tended to become more efficient with how much magic it took to cast a spell the more one practiced with it. 

Despite the nominal rule that magic should not be done outside of Hogwarts by underage wizards, Iris had no fear of getting a letter from the ministry. Really, she thought it was a bit unfair that she and most of her friends could practice magic over the holidays, while Hermione and many other Muggleborn could not.

The dirty secret about the Trace was that it was a barely functional mess. Created by the British Ministry in 1812, it was touted at the time as the new gold standard in enforcing the Statute of Secrecy. However, even from early days, it was clear the system didn't really work as advertised.

It began with the fact that the stated goal, remotely monitoring and tracing underage magic throughout the whole of the isles, was a gargantuan task. There simply wasn't known magic capable of monitoring every instance of magic and its source over that kind of area. Then, even if you somehow were able to somehow detect each instance of magic, you'd be hard pressed to discern Wizard magic from that used by mystical flora and fauna, including the other magical races such as Merpeople and Goblins. 

So, they'd had to try and find work arounds to accomplish the creation of the Trace, which has been a major part of Minister Stump's campaign pledges. (In his posthumously published memoirs, Minister Stump personally bemoaned the Trace project as a quagmire and used it as the quintessential example of why one shouldn't promise something before you knew if it was feasible.) If a nationwide monitoring charm was unworkable, another tactic would have to be found.

The second plan had been to attach the Trace to the wands of underage wizards. This plan seemed to have merit initially, as it would allow the ministry to know with clarity that an underage wizard's wand was being used, however it came with two drawbacks, one major and one fatal. The first was that this Trace could easily be overcome by simply using another's wand, which, while often not as effective as using one's own, would completely circumvent the system. However, the catastrophic problem this approach encountered was the simple fact that it was exceedingly difficult to lay additional enchantments on a wand in active use.

Due to their nature as channels for a person's magic, any external charm tended to wear away rather quickly. (More powerful enchantments, really curses, could be laid on a wand but at that point they began to interfere with the wands ability to function properly, defeating the purpose) This was the reason wands weren't charmed to be unbreakable despite the obvious advantages. Instead, they were typically treated with a hardening potion, which made them more resilient but by no means impossible to snap with sufficient force.

Finally they arrived upon the solution of laying a charm on the underage wizards themselves. This had its own problems; like the wands they wielded, young magicals hummed with magic that burned off foreign charms after a time. Again, a more powerful charm or curse could last longer, but would be damaging to the young witch or wizard, interfering with their magic or their health. In so, the charm needed to be reapplied every two to three months.

This wasn't an impossible task, considering it could be automatically applied when boarding the Hogwarts Express, and the ministry only really needed to use the Trace over holidays, but there were other issues. The detection it gave was anything but precise, only noting if magic had happened in a wide vicinity, not who or what caused it. This made the Trace functionally useless in wizarding households, areas of congregation like Diagon Alley, or even just areas particularly rich in magical creatures. Even in muggle neighborhoods, if you had one witch neighbor up the street, that could render the detection useless.

Still, they had created something that could be called a Trace, and that was good enough for Stump. They kept the exact workings a secret, and called it mission accomplished. Of course, among the older families, knowledge of the holes in the spell quickly spread, but no one really put up much of a fuss. It didn't help that many Blood purists were happy to have a two tiered system that created harsher conditions for muggleborns.

Which was what led to today, where unless you happened to live very far from any other registered witch or wizard, the Trace largely did nothing. Even then, all it took was a passing wizard casting a spell in your vicinity to falsely set it off. The system was so clogged with false positives, that it typically only saw use when a juvenile was already under surveillance or as secondary information for the Magical Reversal Squad. Convictions for Underage Wizardry usually needed ample other evidence, preferably a casting of Priori Incanto, to actually go through.

Unfortunately for Hermione, she was one of those Muggleborns who lived so far from other magicals that the Trace would identify her. Then again, even if the Trace was more propaganda than anything else, Hermione wasn’t the sort to break the rules anyway, so Iris tried to not feel too guilty about getting ahead over the hols.

“Y’know some people actually wait by the fireplace when they know they have company coming,” came a voice from above her.

Iris craned her head back to see the bemused smile of Susan Bones looking down at her. Like Iris, the taller red head was out of her uniform for the holidays, wearing a thick white woolen coat with black buttons, over the knee fleece socks, one in red, the other in green, and matching blue earmuffs and gloves. 

“S’not my fault you're early, you said you’d come sometime after noon,” Iris replied a little sleepily.

Susan gave her a deadpan stare, “Iris, it’s half past one.”

Iris let out a little groan, but rose to her feet, brushing the snow of her clothes as she did so. She wore a black cable knit sweater and a pair of dull red muggle chino trousers. She scooped up her own gloves and knit wool cap from where she’d discarded them as she practiced. “I’m so sorry, Sue, I completely lost track of time.”

Susan gave her a hug, “It’s fine Irey,” the Bones girl was well accustomed to her friend’s tendency to become lost in her studies. “Let’s get inside though; I’m wearing a dress under this coat, and it’s ruddy cold out here.”

Iris hastily agreed, feeling the chill herself now that she'd stopped the exertion of practicing the charm. She was glad Susan was here, because she wasn’t particularly looking forward to what was happening later in the afternoon. Neville Longbottom would apparently be joining them for dinner. Iris didn’t hate the Longbottom boy by any means, because she didn’t really know him at all. She really only had two friends in Gryffindor, Hermione and Lavender, and she wasn't even that close with the latter. There was Nym’s friend Katie too, but Iris didn’t know the half-greek witch nearly as well as she did Penny. In any event all three of them had said Neville was a nice enough, if timid boy and that was really all the information she could find on him ahead of the holidays. 

Her mum had explained the whole situation to her, and given her the option to opt out, but she’d agreed to go along with it even if she found it weird that Mrs. Longbottom was essentially arranging a belated playdate for them. Thankfully Susan had agreed to come along, and hopefully help keep things from being too awkward.

The two girls cheerfully chatted as they dashed up the lane back to Megaron Hall, darting in the door by the back garden. Instantly they felt a rush of warmth as they closed the door behind them; despite being built out of an old keep, Goblin stonesmiths had helped during the remodel to make sure heat flowed freely from the central hearth during the winter. Susan doffed her coat to reveal a simple blue cotton dress and put her coat on the rack by the door.

“Did you find her, Susan?” Andromeda called from down the hall. Iris’s mother was currently in her Brewing room, monitoring a bubbling pot of Bitterroot Balm as the solution reduced. There had been an outbreak of Spattergroit and St. Mungoes had contracted her to help supplement their supply. Bitterroot Balm wouldn’t cure the contagious disease, but was able to soothe the symptoms.

“She found me, mum,” Iris called back, with a bit of fond exasperation. The two friends darted up a flight of stairs and headed for Iris’s room. It had come a long way from the guest room she’d been put in the night of her rescue from the Dursleys. The ceiling had been painted to look like a blue sky, enchanted to have moving clouds drift across it. The walls were a forest green and the whole room had an earthy feeling. Opposite the door there was a bay window, to the left lay her bed and on the right her bookshelves and desk. Her bedside table had a photograph of a younger her and Nymphadora smiling and waving at them, while on a nearby shelf there was another photograph with the full family.

Near the large bay window was a massive glass terrarium where her familiar Sebastian lived, positioned so he could bask in the sun if he wanted, or slither back into the shade. She had two personal bookshelves, filled with her ever growing collection. The room had two doors, the one to the hall they had just come in, and another leading to her closet. That was where she headed to now, while Susan flopped down on her goose down comforter.

Iris ran her hand through her hair as she looked through her wardrobe, “any suggestions?”

“Something traditional,” Susan opined. “Oh and green, it brings out your eyes.”

In the end Iris selected a green collared dress, and her own pair of tall white socks, not dissimilar from what Susan was wearing. Her reason for changing was to not be wearing any muggle clothing when Neville arrived; she thought it was rather silly, but apparently Mrs. Longbottom was quite old fashioned and she didn’t want to give a bad impression. If they’d been meeting outside of the house, she’d have worn her pointed hat.

Satisfied, she and Susan went looking for Nym and soon enticed the older girl to join them in a game of exploding snap while they waited for the arrival of Neville. 

—--

That Night, Megaron Hall

“Welcome to our home, Mr. Longbottom,” Tonks said with a slight bow as the slightly rotund boy stumbled out of the fireplace. 

“Uh, Neville’s fine,” he mumbled as his imposing grandmother followed behind him in a flash of green light. Ted repeated the greeting which Augusta primly thanked him for. After that, the Longbottoms were led into the dining room, and a somewhat awkward dinner began. It wasn’t awful; both Andromeda and Ted were skilled at keeping a conversation going, and Augusta was all too happy to go on at length (rant) about anything that got her nose out of whack, so at least there weren’t uncomfortable silences.

Eventually, dinner came to a close and the adults left to have drinks in the drawing room while the younger folk stepped into the library.

“Sorry about all this,” Neville began nervously, once they were out of earshot. “Nan’s really intense about getting her way, and I guess since our dad’s were friends, she wants us to be too.” That wasn’t exactly how Andromeda had explained it to Iris, but she gave Neville a comforting smile nonetheless. 

“It’s really no trouble Neville, it was nice to have you for dinner.” Iris didn’t think there was a world in which she and Neville suddenly became best friends, just because their grandparents got on, but it never hurt to be kind. 

The four talked for a while, mostly about school and how their classes were going. It seemed Neville was having trouble in nearly every class except for Herbology, which put a bit of a damper on things. Iris and Susan were particularly surprised to hear how consistently nasty Professor Snape was to the poor Longbottom, not so much because he was mean, he had a reputation for that, but because he was apparently quite verbose.

In most of their potions classes, they’d be lucky if Snape said five words. He really just tended to assign potions on the chalkboard, and collect the results at the end. It was annoying because he wasn’t really teaching, forcing the students to study independently to learn why potion ingredients acted in the way they did, but he wasn’t exactly spewing put downs like it seemed he was in Neville’s class.

In any event, it somewhat deepened Iris’s preexisting irritation with the man. The way Snape ‘taught’ you could easily go through the whole term without learning any of the underlying principles of potioneering, just reproducing a handful of potions from a recipe by rote. He didn’t cover elemental essences, the proper assessment of components, stirring dynamics or anything you’d expect a Potions teacher to actually teach. Once any of her fellow students were faced with a situation where they had to tailor a potion to a particular recipient, substitute an ingredient or, by Merlin, try to devise their own elixirs, they’d be in the air without a broom. 

It didn’t really hurt Iris much, since she’d realized she basically had learned the whole first year curriculum shadowing her mother throughout her childhood, but it was the principle of the thing. ‘The majority of students don’t have an awesome Potions Master, who also gives the best hugs, at home to teach them.’ Iris fumed to herself as Neville talked about how he and Weasly had accidentally exploded a cauldron while trying to make Bat’s Ear Brew. 

“Ugh, sounds like he’s the worst, sorry Neville,” Susan said after he finished his last tale. “Maybe you could ask your Gran to talk to Dumbledore, let him know Snape’s being unnecessarily vindictive?”

Tonks snorted, “I hate to break it to you guys, but Snape’s been like that for years, particularly with Gryffindors. Besides, if Dumbles won’t sack Binns or Trelawney, there’s no way he’d sack Snape no matter how much people complain.”

All three first years looked disappointed at her statement, so Tonks quickly pivoted. “Hey, Penny lent me her Gobstone set last week, anyone for a game?”

An hour later, when Augusta collected Neville for the trip home, they had to get Andromeda to extricate the Gobstone Neville had, somewhat miraculously, managed to get stuck up his nose.

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Christmas Day, Megaron Hall

Yule morning dawned early in the Tonks household, as both sisters arose at the crack of dawn and quickly had their parents, clad in pajamas and robes, stumbling down to the den. Despite how tired she was, Andromeda couldn’t deny how incredibly happy she was to see her daughters so excited. Having both girls gone to Hogwarts for much of the year had been a hard adjustment for her, and she was just delighting in her children being back in the house for the holidays. 

A small hoard of presents were crowded around the foot of the lumbering pine Ted had levitated into the house, shimmering under the fairy baubles they’d charmed onto the tree. Iris couldn’t help but compare the magical lights, frozen dewdrops, and nevermelting frost on their tree to the old artificial tree the Dursleys had used, but which had never held a present for her. She misted up a little and gave her mother a tight hug, once again reminded of how grateful she was to have been saved and brought home that fateful day.

The family took it in turns to open presents, both the ones they’d gotten from each other and the ones sent by friends. Ted received a 2nd edition copy of The Treatise of Maladora Grymm, an influential text calling for the founding of what would become the ICC. Ted, a history enthusiast, was delighted by the gift and had to be stopped from cracking it open then and there by a chiding Andromeda.

Andromeda herself got a beautiful silver-green mokeskin purse, with additional stabilizing enchantments to let her carry bottles, or ingredients more safely. The gift had been Nym and Iris’s idea, though of course Ted had actually secured it, and the mother engulfed her daughters in a tight hug for their thoughtfulness.

Nymphadora and Iris both received a collection of gifts from their friends. Nymphadora got a new fur lined cloak from Penny, some Honeydukes sweets from Cedric, and a broom cleaning kit from Katie. Iris had a larger haul than she’d ever had before, considering her friend group had massively expanded from being pretty much just Susan before she started Hogwarts. The youngest of the Tonks family received a pair of dragonhide boots from Susan, excellent for exploring, a large bottle of Sleakeazy’s Hair Potion from Tracey (She wondered if her friend knew it was invented by her great-grandfather), a biography of Rowena Ravenclaw from Daphne, and a selection of muggle sweets from Hermione.

The sisters had also gotten gifts for each other. Tonks, who knew how proud Iris was of her Ash and Serpent Horn wand, had purchased a home wand polishing kit from Ollivanders for her sister. Iris, in turn, had gotten her mother to take her to Gringotts so she could access the Potter vaults in search of something for Nym. (Iris could mainly access her trust vault’s funds until she came of age, but with her guardian’s permission she could take a limited amount from the main vault, under the watchful eyes of the goblins.) She’d found a beautiful silver necklace with an emerald pendant that was enchanted to grow ice cold if someone laid a tracking charm on the wearer. It was technically a Potter family heirloom, but there was no one she'd rather see have it than her sister. Knowing her ambition to become an Auror, Iris wanted to do whatever she could to keep her sister safe. Needless to say, both sisters were well pleased with the gifts they’d gotten from the other.

However, easily the best present either of them received, had come from their parents. Both of them had mutually bemoaned in their letters about how annoyingly difficult it was to communicate with one another despite living in the same castle. They basically had to try and catch each other in the Great Hall, or else go searching the whole castle if they wanted to spend time together. In light of that, Ted had sourced an enchanted pair of chalkboard slates for his daughters. They looked like simple slates one might have used in a muggle classroom, save their midnight blue color and the lime green chalk they came with. They were linked so that anything written on one, would appear on the other. It wasn’t perfect for talking, since you’d need to erase the other person’s message to write your own if it was of any length, but it was excellent for short messages like scheduling meet-ups or checking in before bedtime. 

After the gift exchange, the family enjoyed a few traditional yule activities, bursting some Christmas crackers and making increasingly complicated snow sculptures in the yard. Iris had particularly enjoyed that since, even though she wasn’t very skilled with the transfiguration required yet, it was the first year she had a wand of her own to participate. That evening the family would take the floo to the Bones manor for a Christmas dinner with Amelia and Susan, before retiring to the Hall. All in all, a most satisfactory Christmas. 

—--

December 28th, Greengrass Manor

In the main sitting room of the large manor sat a mustachioed man, clad in fine burgundy robes. Samson Greengrass was a dignified looking man with chestnut brown hair, a strong jaw and icy blue eyes. When standing he was an imperious 6 '3. However, at the moment he sat in a comfortable armchair, enjoying the morning tea his house elf, Mimsy, had prepared for him. He was deep in thought as he awaited the arrival of the guests who would be coming that day.

Samson Greengrass had been rather surprised when the first letter he received from his daughter after she began at Hogwarts informed him she had become friendly with Iris Potter and the Bones heiress.  He wasn’t opposed necessarily, both girl’s came from well regarded noble families after all, but he was surprised. He’d never interacted much with the elder Potters or Boneses, having been several years ahead of them at Hogwarts, but his father had done some fruitful business with Fleamont Potter and his son Charlus back in the day. And of course the whole wizarding community owed the Potters a debt for whatever they’d done to vanquish You Know Who.

He’d never bought into the extremist blood purity rhetoric that was so trendy during his school days, and consequently he wasn’t one of those members of the Wizengamot now trying to shove the fact that they’d held those opinions under the rug. Sure, he didn’t much care for muggles, but he found the prejudice against muggleborns to be foolish. They were magical brethren and should be helped to assimilate into magical society as quickly as possible.

In his opinion, the people who clung to blood purity often did so because it was all they had to cling to. Goyle in particular came to mind, a brute of a man constantly at odds with the DMLE, who only avoided habitual jail stints via Malfoy’s old boy’s network. (Even then, Samson figured it was only a matter of time before he ended up in a cell, given the fact that Amelia Bones was far less willing to take bribes and look the other way than her predecessor.)

The Greengrass family was occasionally called the great neutral, but Samson detested that term for what it implied. He was not neutral towards He Who Must Not Be Named, the man was a criminal and a monster plain and simple. Yes, he took great pride in being a member of a Great and Noble House, and yes, Samson had dealings with certain families that were rumored to be dark, but that was hardly avoidable. Lucius was the landlord for a quarter of the businesses on Diagon Alley for Merlin’s sake.

That didn’t mean he liked it, but it was just the reality of things. Both in business and the Wizengamot he thought it was better to avoid antagonizing anyone unless you had to, because you never knew what the future held. That hadn’t stopped him from forming a personal enmity of sorts with Lucius Malfoy, the French upstart. The two nobles hated each other, but they’d lose too many Galleons if they completely cut off doing business with ventures the other was invested in, leaving them in a vague sort of cold war.

So no, Samson Greengrass was not part of Lucius’s faction, which some termed dark. Apparently that was all it took, coupled with a lack of desire to kiss the ground Albus Dumbledore walked on, to be declared the most prominent neutral in the Wizengamot, but here they were. 

“Darling, if you keep grimacing, you’re going to get frown lines.”

Samson looked over to see his wife teasing him from the doorway. Delilah Greengrass wore a flowing blood red gown that hugged her impressive figure, while her platinum blonde hair cascaded in waves down her back. A gold and ruby necklace along with matching earrings helped to frame her elegantly made up face. It was evident she’d dressed up for the occasion, and Delilah was never one to do things by half measures.

“Aren’t we a little dressed up to be receiving Daphne’s school friends?” Samson asked with a raised eyebrow.

Delilah waved him off as she took a seat on the couch opposite him, “aren’t you the one who’s always saying a Greengrass is Never Second Best? Besides, these are the first friend’s Daphne’s brought home since Tracey and I want to make a good impression.”

In truth, Samson thought his wife would have to struggle to look anything short of stunning. He knew he was a lucky man when Delilah Slughorn had agreed to wed him. 

“You really needn’t be nervous dear. From what Daphne’s told us, they seem like wonderful girls.”

Samson shook himself out of his musings and nodded in agreement. He had a bad tendency to brood if left to his own devices. He should stop worrying about his troubles in the Wizengamot, and focus on making sure Daphne and her friends had fun. Susan and Iris would be arriving shortly for lunch, and he too wanted to make a good impression.

Daphne soon arrived, wearing one of her nicest dresses and clearly anxious for her friends to arrive, as she kept fidgeting and smoothing her violet skirt. Samson smiled at how similar mother and daughter were as green flames erupted, heralding their guest’s arrival.

—-------

Later

A few hours into the girls’ visit Delilah was happy that things were going well. The trio of girls were currently out on the manor grounds, playing with the enchanted croquet set, while she loosely supervised. Despite her words to Samson, she too had been a bit worried about how it would go. Her darling Daphne had a cool exterior like her father, but could be a bit shy when it came to making friends. Indeed she was surprised how easily her eldest was getting on with Iris and Susan, despite only knowing them for a short while.

Due in part to their family’s prominence in the magical community, Daphne had many acquaintances but few friends among other wizarding children. The only one she’d really bonded with was her best friend Tracey, the daughter of Delilah’s own best friend Leona Davis. (Tracey would have come along that day as well, but she had accompanied her mother to Bulgaria where the Tornadoes were playing a series of exhibition matches.)

So she was quite happy to see Daphne had made some new friends at Hogwarts. Susan reminded her so much of her mother, Charlotte Bones, who had of course perished shortly after the girl was born. Susan had the same kind eyes, even if her protective streak was more reminiscent of her famous aunt, Amelia.

She hadn’t known what to expect of Iris Potter, the girl who lived, but kept finding herself pleasantly surprised. The comparisons to her mother Lily, who Delilah had known somewhat through her uncle Horace and Potions club, were obvious, but she also reminded Delilah of Andromeda Black, who apparently was the girl’s adoptive mother. Andromeda had been Delilah’s senior in Slytherin, and the blonde regretted they had lost touch, though it looked like Iris and Daphne’s friendship would be the perfect excuse to reconnect.

Actually, after talking with her some, Delilah found herself quite charmed by young miss Potter, who looked at her like she was some kind of celebrity. All it took was mentioning she was the senior Dragonologist at the Welsh Reserve for Iris’s bright green eyes to shine like stars. It had also been the trigger for the girl to excitedly ask her dozens of questions about her work, while Daphne and Susan both rolled their eyes.

Delilah was rather proud of her career, obviously, but it was rare to find a young witch who was so interested in the profession. Sure it was exciting, but most witches and wizards their age wanted to be Quidditch players, or the next Celestina Warbeck. Iris might be the only witch Daphne could have brought home who found Delilah more impressive than her friend Leona.

Before she’d known it, Iris had extracted a promise from her to let her visit the reserve, under strict supervision of course, and Daphne had basically dragged her friend out of the room so they could go play.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Hogwarts Library, Spring Term, Saturday

It was a few weeks into the new term, and Iris and Daphne were currently in the library, pouring over some research materials. Binns had assigned a ten inch essay on Merlin, and the girls were quickly discovering that despite being the perhaps the most famous wizard to ever live, precious little solid information was available. Oh, there were absolute mountains of parchment written about Arthur’s famous advisor, but parsing historical facts from legend was tricky business. 

In all honesty the girls were probably going a bit overboard for their essays. Binns wasn’t the hardest grader, and likely would have been fine with the information available in A History of Magic, but both of them took a certain amount of pride in their work. This was not a sentiment shared by Tracey and Susan, who had decided there was no need to start their essays so soon into the weekend. The pair was instead back in the Great Hall, enjoying a game of Wizard’s chess while Hermione, who had, incredibly, already finished her essay the previous evening, watched on.

“So according to this text, the evidence that Merlin was actually in Slytherin is fairly circumstantial,” Iris noted.

Daphne looked at the book, then dismissed it, “that’s written by Tatlock, he thinks any witch or wizard of even moderate intelligence must have been in Ravenclaw.”

“Well to be fair, most of us are,” Iris declared, sticking a tongue out at her friend.

Daphne raised an eyebrow, “You do realize you’re insulting your parents, your birth parents, your best friends, and your sister with that statement?”

Iris rolled her eyes dramatically, “I said most, Daph, people I like are obviously the exceptions.” Both girls giggled at that before preemptively stifling their laughter before Madam Prince arrived to scold them. They would have returned to their essays, if not for an unexpected figure lumbering into that section of the library. Rubeus Hagrid was trying to step between the shelves without bumping them, a large book held in his right hand.

Iris wanted to like Hagrid, and, to be fair, there was a lot to like about him. He was jolly, eager to help, and most importantly to Iris, a surprising expert on a whole host of magical creatures. He seemed to share her own fascination for mystical wildlife, even if his methods strayed from the orthodox. He also happened to be one of the first people she’d met aside from her parents, Amelia and Remus who was happy to share with her stories of her birth parents. With all that in mind, it wouldn’t have been surprising if she was down at his cabin every weekend.

However there were a few key factors that complicated her feelings towards the gentle giant, resulting in her only having visited him twice after the initial invitation. Firstly, for a man who apparently failed to graduate Hogwarts, he was incredibly devoted to his old house. This manifested in two ways, constantly stating his disbelief over the fact Iris hadn’t been sorted into Gryffindor, and being rather awkward when she’d brought Daphne along for a visit.

She understood Gryffindor and Slytherin were rivals and all, but that was no reason to be cold to Daphne, who had become one of Iris’s best friends alongside Susan. In Iris’s opinion, Daphne was brilliant, and she tended to take a dim view of people who disagreed. He wasn’t out and out rude, but he was noticeably less enthusiastic about having a Slytherin sitting at his table.

The other element that made talking with Hagrid uncomfortable for Iris, was the man’s need to sing the praises of Professor Dumbledore at least once in every conversation. It had been especially awkward when she discovered Hagrid had actually been the man who delivered her from her birth parents’ ruined house to Dumbledore, to then be given to the Dursleys. She realized the bushy bearded groundskeeper didn’t know what he was delivering her to, but it was still an unpleasant revelation. 

However that awkwardness was overridden by her curiosity at seeing the groundskeeper in the library for the first time, looking rather harried. “Afternoon Mr. Hagrid, what are you checking out today?”

Hagrid jumped slightly at her voice, causing the nearby shelf to rattle slightly as he turned around. “Cor blimey. Don’t sneak up on a bloke like that,” as he turned around, Iris got a good view of the title of the book he was holding, From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper’s Guide. 

A broad smile overtook Iris’s features, “you’re researching dragons!?”

“Shh, keep yeh voice done will yeh,” Hagrid said hurriedly. Unfortunately for him, once Iris’s curiosity was piqued, it was hard to quash.

“If you are reading up on dragons, Mr. Hagrid, perhaps I could point you in the right direction?” Daphne offered, “My mother’s a dragonologist and I’ve done some reading on the subject myself.” Despite the awkwardness of their previous meeting, Daphne had never failed to be anything but polite to the groundskeeper. 

“Oh, yeah?” Hagrid asked thoughtfully. “Mebbe, uh, mebbe I could use some help…”

—-----

A half an hour later, Iris and Daphne found themselves sitting gobsmacked in Hagrid’s hut, staring at the gleaming black egg sitting in the hearth. 

“Hagrid, how on earth did you get that?” Daphne asked in amazement. She was well aware how tightly controlled dragon breeding was.

“Won it,” Hagrid cheerfully replied. “Las’ night. I was down in the village havin’ a few drinks an’ got into a game o’ cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it ter be honest.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to take care of a dragon after it hatches?” Iris asked tentatively. As much as she sympathized with Hagrid’s enthusiasm for the creatures, his hut was no place for keeping a massive fire breathing reptile.

“Nah, can’t be any more trouble than Fluffy, you jus’ gotta know how to handle them,” Hagrid blithely replied.

“Who’s Fluffy?” Daphne asked.

“Fluffy’s the three headed pup, I’m taking care of for Dumbledore. She looks scary, but play a bit o’ music and she’s a sleepin’ babe-” Hagrid suddenly stopped his own ramble, “er, forget I said that.”

“Oh gods, that’s what’s in the room on the third floor! Dumbledore’s keeping a cerberus in the castle, that’s so cool!” Iris exclaimed. Between that and the dragon egg, it was a very exciting day for the magizoology loving girl.

“Dangerous, more like it,” Daphne opined. 

“Gah, yeh can’t tell anyone I told yeh aboot Fluffy,” Hagrid requested frantically, extracting a promise to keep quiet about it from both girls. Apparently the Cerberus was being used as a guard dog for something, but Hagrid was mum on the subject, and Iris was far more interested in the dog itself and the dragon egg anyway.

For the next hour, both Daphne and Iris tried to convince Hagrid that trying to keep and raise a Norwegian Ridgeback himself was incredibly dangerous, not to mention illegal. At least with the cerberus it seemed like he was keeping it under the Headmaster’s direction, and cerberi were less dangerous creatures anyway. 

Unfortunately it was for naught, as Hagrid was all too confident of his ability to handle it. To be fair, he was quite accomplished at taking care of dangerous creatures, particularly for someone who wasn’t allowed a wand, but a dragon would be on a whole different level from feeding the Black Lake Kelpie. Daphne in particular, perhaps because Iris sympathized too much with the idea of hatching your own dragon, stressed how quickly dragons grew, knowing the beast would be bigger than the hut a month after hatching.

Eventually they left back for the castle, unsuccessful in their pleas. Daphne also had to dissuade her friend from going to take a look at the giant three headed dog on their way back. ‘Honestly, she’s nearly as bad as Hagrid,’ Daphne thought as she dragged Iris back to the Great Hall to meet with Susan, Tracey and Hermione. 

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Midnight, Hagrid’s Hut, A Week Later

In the end, Daphne had been proven quite correct about how quickly the dragon, who had been named Norbert’s, growth would get out of hand and by the end of the week they’d managed to get Hagrid to agree to let them have Mrs. Greengrass come and collect it.

Iris and Daphne, accompanied by Nym, Susan, Tracey and Hermione, had been there for the hatching and Iris, at least, had been thrilled to witness the event. Given how protective dragon’s were of their clutches, witnessing a hatching up close was an incredibly rare opportunity and the little baby Ridgeback was absolutely adorable. (In her opinion at least, Hermione and Susan both found the scaley snapping creature more grotesque than beautiful, but to each their own,)

As Hagrid had tried to imprint on the creature, talking to it gently as he fed it the chicken blood and brandy mixture, Iris had briefly considered trying to speak with the dragon in parseltongue. Whether or not dragon’s qualified as serpents for her gift wasn’t something that was well documented, at least as far as the books she’d been able to find were concerned, perhaps because of the rare nature of the talent. She’d have at least given it a try, but she didn’t want to let on that she was a Parselmouth in front of everyone. Susan and Nym knew of course, and while she was getting close enough with Daphne, Tracey and Hermione to trust them with it, she wasn’t keen to let Hagrid know about her power. 

The first night had gone well enough, but raising Norbert quickly while still fulfilling his groundskeeper duties, quickly got beyond Hagrid’s abilities. By the third day, Daphne had drafted the letter to her mother explaining the situation, and by the sixth they’d sent it.

Which was what led to Iris, Daphne and Tracey waiting with Hagrid as he gave a tearful goodbye to the ferocious beast, now the size of a small horse. He’d managed to coax it into a large crate, filled with rats and brandy, only getting bitten a handful of times in the progress. It was quite lucky that he seemed remarkably resistant to the Ridgeback’s venom.

“It’ll be alright, Hagrid,” Tracey consoled him. “Daph’s mum will make sure he’s well taken care of.”

“Ah, know, but he’s gonna mis his mommy,” Hagid sobbed.

“That’s as may be, but I think you’ll find it’s best to leave these things to the professionals,” a voice from above them declared as Delilah Greengrass landed her broom in the clearing behind the hut. 

She was dressed far differently from the last time Iris had seen her. Gone was the lovely flowing dress, replaced with Delilah's work clothes which were essentially fitted dragon leather armor, from head to toe. Her long blonde hair was in a tight french braid, and all jewelry had been removed to avoid triggering a dragon's hoarding instinct. 

She wore enchanted metal gauntlets, with an inner layer of dragonhide for head protection so she was prepared to handle the young dragon without getting bitten. The impressive looking woman immediately walked over to give her daughter a hug and a kiss on the forehead, before turning to look at what she was dealing with.

When Daphne had taken the Hogwarts Express at the end of the Winter Holiday, Delilah hadn’t expected to see her daughter again until summer arrived, and she certainly hadn’t expected to receive a letter asking for urgent help with an infant Norwegian Ridgeback. She was practically flying before she even got on her broom to race off for Hogwarts.

It was certainly an unusual situation, but not one she couldn’t handle. Luckily they’d been able to persuade the groundskeeper to get help before the wyrmling could grow any bigger; if they’d waited any longer she’d likely have needed to enlist some help to manage the transport. The bearded groundskeeper explained how he’d been caring for Norbert and, well, it wasn’t terrible for an amateur. Delilah understood, and obviously shared, the man’s enthusiasm for the fire breathing beasts, but found his decision to try caring for it himself on the grounds of a school full of children, incredibly foolish.

“Yer not gonna repor’ me are yeh?” Hagrid asked between sobs.

Delilah let out a long sigh, “Not this time, Mister Hagrid, but please try to be less reckless in the future. That castle is full of children after all.” She finished the last statement with a hard stare that cowed the towering man somewhat. As much as she liked her scaly charges, if Hagrid had let the dragon hurt her daughter, Delilah would have destroyed the man.

With a flick of her wand, she conjured a collection of ropes that attached to the four corners of the crate, before tying themselves to her broomstick on the other end.

“Isn’t that going to be too heavy, Mrs. Greengrass?” Hermione nervously asked. The muggleborn was rather intimidated by her first impression of the Greengrass matriarch.

Delilah offered her a kind smile, “Nothing a few Feather-Weight charms can’t solve.” She’d likely have to reapply the charms half way in her flight from Scotland to Wales, but it shouldn’t be an issue. The charm, which drastically reduced the weight of whatever it was cast upon, was one of the ones they commonly used when needing to transport juvenile dragons.

Technically, she had a legal responsibility to alert the Ministry about something like this, but she was willing to bend the rules a bit. Delilah didn't think very highly of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, parchment pushers or exterminators, the lot of them. She dealt with that part of the Ministry fairly regularly, and knew a few members of the department who would blow this up into a massive incident if it landed on her desk.

Instead, with a quick goodbye to her daughter and her friends, Delilah was quickly back in the evening air, a magically lightened baby dragon hanging in the crate below her. Even with the lightening charms, it was a bit of an awkward flight, but she’d manage it.

Delilah wouldn’t be able to keep the little Norwegian Ridgeback at her reserve long term. The Welsh National Reserve had populations primarily native to the Isles, Irish Long-Fangs, Welsh Greens, Cornish Shimmerscales, Lesser English Prowlers, and Greater English Prowlers for that matter, and of course the massive Welsh Scorcher, with it’s trademark blue-hot breath. Adding another breed, especially one that ranged as far as the Ridgeback, would upset the ecosystem of the reserve. Besides, Delilah thought it would just be cruel to not put it with a colony of other Ridgebacks, where she could socialize and eventually mate. Crossbreeding certain dragon breeds was possible, but almost universally required wizard intervention.

So it looked like she’d be owling Gustav, a colleague at the Norwegian Reserve. Hopefully if she spoke directly with him, they could avoid having to get the Department of International Cooperation Involved, given they’d likely have questions about how this Ridgeback ended up in Scotland in the first place.

Still she could breathe a little easier as she spirited the dragon away from Hogwarts and her daughter. Between Norbert and the rogue troll earlier in the year, Hogwarts had been far more dangerous during Daphne’s first year than she was comfortable with. Luckily Daphne hadn’t been in too much personal danger from the troll, and with the Ridgeback away, nothing too dangerous should be left on the grounds.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Third Floor Corridor, Night Before the Closing Feast

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the safest idea to be sneaking into the explicitly forbidden corridor, but Iris couldn’t resist temptation any longer. She was just going to take a peek, just a little peek, at the Cerberus and then she’d go straight up to the Ravenclaw common room. She wouldn’t even go into the room, just open the door a little. She hadn’t been able to get Fluffy out of her mind since Hagrid had inadvertently let slip the creature’s presence in the castle. 

Besides, exams had just finished and they only had a few nights left in the castle before going home for the summer. Her window of opportunity to see the creature was quickly closing, as there was every possibility it would be moved before they returned for the fall term. She’d studied like mad at the end of term, spurred on by a competitive Hermione and Daphne, and just wanted to now sate her curiosity as a little reward for herself.

She’d decided tonight would be the night after noticing Dumbledore wasn’t at the head table during dinner, indicating he was likely out of the castle. She reasoned that Fluffy was being used as a guard dog for something Dumbledore was keeping in the castle, and also guessed he wouldn’t be coming by to check up on it if he was off the grounds. That made it the perfect time for her to don her cloak, and slink off down to the third floor corridor.

She waited until just before curfew, when the halls of the school were beginning to empty, to set off from Ravenclaw Tower, slipping into a lavatory momentarily to don her cloak out of sight from any curious portraits. A few flights of stairs later, and she was standing before the imposing locked door of the forbidden room. She’d had a close dodge with Peeves on the way, but other than that it was smooth sailing.

“Alohomora” Iris whispered, making the heavy padlock fall open. Luckily, since Hagrid needed to access the room regularly, there were no complex locking charms blocking her way. As quietly as she could she eased the door open so she could peer in, dim torchlight streaming in through the crack in the door.

Across the room from her sat the massive snoring form of Fluffy, a cerberus, just as Hagrid had described. The three heads were, adorably in Iris’s opinion, leaning atop one another like giant puppies as the three headed beast’s massive chest rose and fell in rhythmic sleep. ‘She’s Magnificent,’ Iris wondered as she wished it was safe enough to approach the creature. As remarkable as she found the dog, she’d read enough about cerberi to know that was a very bad idea. She was overly curious, not suicidal.

‘Actually, come to think of Cerberus biology, something’s gone wrong,’ Iris noted as she observed the animal. According to what she’d read, a Cerberus would always have at least one head awake and alert while the other two slept. It was part of what made them the ultimate guard dog, provided you didn’t get your arm bitten off while putting it in place. For all three heads to be sleeping was quite unusual, but a likely cause seemed apparent. 

Across the room a large harp was playing itself, plucking out a quiet melodic tune. It was soft enough she hadn’t heard it before opening the door, and evidently had lullabied all three heads to sleep. Hagrid had mentioned that Fluffy got drowsy with music, but she hadn’t realized it was quite so extreme of a reaction. What’s more, the sleeping Fluffy had rolled to the side, revealing a trap door.

Iris froze. Had someone charmed the harp, so they could bypass Fluffy and get at whatever she was protecting? It seemed probable, but she wasn’t sure what she should do about it. Reporting it would mean admitting she’d been in the chamber herself, which she’d rather avoid if possible.  Then again, stopping the theft of something so important as to require a Cerberus to guard it was more important than avoiding losing house points; afterall, Slytherin was going to win the house cup anyway. Still, she didn’t really want to confront the thief herself. Despite her practice over the winter holidays with the Lightning Calling Charm, she didn’t think she was anywhere close to ready to duel an adult wizard. 

‘But I can’t just do nothing!’ She fumed internally. She could go for help, but whoever the intruder was, it looked like they were in the middle of their theft; in the time it would take to get a teacher, they could finish and leave. She nervously fingered the soft fabric of her cloak and came to a decision. Pulling her enchanted chalk slate from her bag, she penned a hurried message to Nym, telling her what she’d discovered and asking her to inform Professor Flitwick, while she snuck down after the thief.

With her cloak, she should be able to go completely unnoticed by the robber, and hopefully get a good look at their face. She might not be able to stop them, but she could identify them. Then, if Flitwick failed to arrive in time to capture the intruder, she could at least let him know who had been after whatever it was Dumbledore was hiding down there.

Decision made, she stowed her slate back in the bag, drew her wand, and began to creep her way into the room as quietly as humanly possible. There was a tense moment when one of Fluffy’s head’s snorted in its sleep, but despite the rapid pounding of her heart in her chest, she made it to the trapdoor and pulled it open. For a moment she thought back to her promise to Susan to bring her along when she was going into danger, but there just wasn’t time to go get her friend, and besides, her plan to hide under her cloak the whole way would work much easier with one than with two.

Where she had expected to find stairs descending, there was instead a drop into darkness. She poked her wand out from under the Invisibility Cloak, and pointed it down into the chasm as she muttered “Lumos.” She fed as much magic into the charm as she dared, worried of light spilling back into the chamber and waking Fluffy. 

Down at the bottom of the pit, she saw a recoiling plant she recognized as Devil’s Snare from her Herbology lessons. Not exactly a cushioning charm, but it would have to do. With a glance back towards the slumbering Fluffy, and the door to the chamber she’d left ajar, she took the leap down into the shaft.

She landed on the Devil’s Snare, which largely absorbed the impact, and immediately recast her Wand Lighting Charm to drive the tendrils back while keeping herself as relaxed as she could to avoid drawing the plant in. Ideally she’d use a brighter light or fire, but she didn’t want to draw attention to herself if the thief was near. Luckily she was able to get out of the Snare before it caught hold, pulling her cloak closer as she doused her wand light. 

There was only one stone passage leading away from the landing, sloping down further into the catacombs of the castle. Provided there weren’t space warping spells in play, she thought the drop would have taken her down at least to the ground floor, and this inclined passage likely would descend into the dungeons. She hesitantly crept down the passage, being careful not to slip on the slick mossy stone work around her, following the dim light emanating from down the hallway.

Eventually she came to a large oval room, with a high arched ceiling. It was brilliantly lit, by floating orbs of many colored lights and flitting about the room like birds were dozens if not hundreds of winged keys. She crossed the room and attempted an Unlocking Charm on the far door, but as she suspected the finely made silver lock was enchanted against it. Looking around the room, she saw several broomsticks to one side and grasped that she was meant to catch the correct key for the lock.

That was frustrating. Iris could fly, but she was by no means a master Quidditch player, and the keys were probably made to avoid any attempts to capture them. She took a deep breath; she needed to be smart about this. Walking over to the broomsticks, she lay as flat as she could atop one, so that her cloak would drape over it and make both her and the broom invisible.

Inching the broom up slowly, she observed the keys, looking for one that looked like it would fit the ornate silver lock. Luckily, as she hoped, the key’s didn’t respond to her presence while under the cloak and she was able to get quite close to them. They buzzed about, but they didn’t actively flee, and before long she was able to find one that looked likely, with a crumpled wing that indicated it may have already been used that night. Flying as close as she dared, she darted her hand out of the cloak at the last minute to snatch the key, before quickly descending as the keys behind her went into a frenzy, unable to find who had taken one of their number.

The key blessedly turned, and she quickly closed the door behind her as she found herself in yet another odd chamber. It was made to look like a massive chessboard, complete with gargantuan chess pieces that towered over her small height. Was she meant to play? She wasn’t terrible at chess, but she also didn’t want to get caught up more than she had to, so she tried to walk past.

Surprisingly, it worked; she half expected the white pieces to halt her movement, but apparently the Invisibility Cloak kept them from realizing she was there and she slipped between all four rows of chess pieces to reach the far door, quickly passing into yet another winding passage. She hurried along as quickly as she could while keeping quiet, and after a few minutes arrived at another heavy door.

Heaving it open, she was assaulted with a familiar smell of rotten cheese and toxic toadstools, troll. Lying unconscious on the ground was one even more massive than she’d encountered back on Halloween. “Thank Morganna I don’t have to deal with that,” she muttered as she made her way swiftly to the next door, which opened into a small chamber with a table in the midst of it.

As soon as she closed the door behind her, purple flames erupted around the door she’d come through, while black flames engulfed the arch that was the only other exit. Evidently the enchantments in this room activated off the door closing, rather than sight, and she wouldn’t be as lucky as she’d been with the chessmen. 

Before her was a table with a row of bottles, accompanied by a note. A quick glance at the note revealed a rhyming riddle that indicated three of the bottles were some sort of poison, two were wine, one was to negate the purple flames and the last to pass through the black flames. It wasn’t much trouble to work out the smallest bottle held the potion to go forward. Afterall, she’d been solving riddles all year just to get into her common room. However, she didn’t exactly trust the riddle.

It seemed like too easy of a place to put a deadly trap; if the riddle was nonsense, you could have your thief confidently swigging down poison. All of the previous hazards could have been meant to trick you into thinking the protections were playing fair. After all, a broomstick had been provided, and presumably the chess pieces would have adhered to the rules.

Luckily for her, one of the only charms Andromeda had insisted on her daughter’s knowing before going to Hogwarts was the Poison Identification Charm. While unlikely, she didn’t want even an outside chance of her children getting poisoned or potioned if she could avoid it. So, Iris gave a brief chant of “Venunum Revelio” as she waved her wand over each bottle in turn, confirming that the riddle hadn’t lied about which bottles held poison.

She took the smallest swallow of the small bottle’s liquid, and felt a pleasant chill as she strode through the burning archway, all the time wrapped in her invisibility cloak. What she saw when she arrived in the final chamber baffled her. At the center of the bowl shaped room was a large floor length mirror, and standing before it was Professor Quirrell.

Iris hadn’t really thought much of her DADA professor; he wasn’t quite as bad as Binns, but he was likely the second worst. Even if Snape didn’t really teach, they at least got some practice brewing in Potions. In Defense Against the Dark Arts, they’d be lucky to reach the end of his lecture let alone get to practical applications with the way the man dithered and stammered. She’d felt bad at getting annoyed with the man for his stuttering issue, but really felt he should maybe take a sabbatical and work with a mind healer to overcome it, since, according to older students, it, along with his other odd behaviors, were new following his return from his journeys abroad. 

Now though, the stutter was nowhere to be heard as he muttered to himself, pacing in front of the mirror. Intermittently he’d wave his wand over, but didn’t seem pleased with the results. Iris crept just a few steps from the doorway before freezing. She hadn’t expected a teacher to be the thief, thinking somewhere in the back of her mind it might be the hooded figure Terry had seen in the Forbidden Forest. Confronting him seemed like a bad plan, so she resolved to wait hiding under her cloak and just observe the man, until a professor came to apprehend him or he left. A quick glance in the mirror showed her that the cloak was still working fine after her trip through the flames, so she settled in to wait. 

—-----

A half an hour passed, with Quirrell becoming increasingly frantic in his attempts to do something to the mirror. Iris still couldn’t figure out what his goal was. He seemed to be trying to get something out of the mirror, but she hadn’t the foggiest what it was, or how it had been hidden in a mirror. She’d like to have left, but considering the chill in her bones had gone, she thought the fire negating potion must have worn off, and she didn’t want to risk making noise looking around for another exit.

Her leg was actually beginning to cramp from standing deathly still, when, like a hero from a fairytale, her sister burst through the flames of the doorway, brandishing her wand.

That night, Tonks had been enjoying a last meal of the term with her friends down in the kitchens. (While largely unknown to most of the students at Hogwarts, the location of the Hogwarts kitchens were something of an open secret to most older Hufflepuffs, perhaps because their dorm was so near.) There would be a formal feast the next day to close term, but they’d be forced to sit by houses for it, so this was her last real chance to grab a meal with Penelope and Katie before they left for the summer holiday. If Tonks was feeling particularly glum about not seeing the cute Gryffindor third year for a whole two months, well that was for her to know and Penelope to tease her about later.

Tonks had been about to bid her friends good night and head back to the Hufflepuff dormitories when she checked her slate and got Iris’s message. Instantly filled with panic, and getting flashbacks to the night of the troll, she launched into action. They asked Cedric to go find a professor, while she, Penny and Katie rushed after Iris to try and stop her before she tried to SNEAK PAST A BLOODY CERBERUS. Tonks and Penny tried to persuade the younger girl to stay behind, but bloody Gryffindor courage and stubbornness won out.

Unfortunately, when they arrived, it appeared that Iris had already gone through the trapdoor, and, more importantly, the beast called Fluffy was awake. Thinking fast, Penelope had charmed the fallen harp to begin playing again, and the trio quickly passed the first guardian.

From there they followed Iris’s path through the trials, though in a noticeably more action filled way. Without the cloak, they’d had to be much more straightforward in their approach, relying on Katie’s flying ability to snag the key, and Penelope’s chess skills to pass McGonogal’s test. Even then, they’d had to sacrifice one of themselves to win the game, with Katie making the necessary move before the other two could argue. Finally they’d made it to the potion room, but there was only enough left of the small potion for one of them to continue on, so Penny went back to tend to Katie, while Nymphadora charged through the black flames to save her sister.

Which was what led to Nymphadora Tonks barrelling into the mirror chamber and drawing her wand on Quirrell. Unfortunately for her, as her arrival was a good deal more noticeable than her sister’s, Quirrell instantly whipped around, and with uncharacteristic skill, nonverbally shot a Disarming Charm that sent her fir wand flying.

“Ah, Miss Tonks. Honestly I was expecting your sister, not you,” Quirrell drawled with a much more confident voice than he’d used all year.

Tonks’s eyes darted around wildly, looking for Iris. Had her sister not come down after all? They’d been looking as they went through the trials, and she hadn’t been in any of those chambers as far as they could tell, but then again, Iris’s cloak made detecting her very difficult.

“Surprised to see me? No one ever suspects p-poor s-sniveling Quirrell of being able to do anything,” her teacher sneered.

Tonks, who was rather confused to find the DADA professor down here, holding her at wand point, responded hesitantly, “look, Professor, I don’t know what’s going-”

Quirrell cut her off, “No lies. I know you know I’m here for the stone, though I’m unsure what tipped you off.”

Tonks’s expression hardened, though she didn’t know what stone he was talking about. “So, I’m guessing the troll at Halloween was you too?” She felt hatred for the turban wearing man coil in her chest as she realized he’d endangered her sister not once but twice.

“Yes, I’ve quite the talent with Trolls,” Quirrell said proudly. “Now do be quiet Miss Tonks, I must focus on this infuriating mirror.” Quirrell stared deeply into the mirror. “Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this. I can see the stone. I’m presenting it to my master…. But where is it?”

Tonks took a glance in the mirror, and was confused to see herself running out of the room with Iris in the reflection, despite standing still. Evidently this was no normal mirror, but she still didn’t see what that had to do with the stone Quirrell was going on a bout. She decided to try and play for time.

“Y'know, I would’ve figured Snape if one of the Professor’s turned out to be a baddie,” she said, trying to distract him from the mirror.

“Oh, Severus’s slate is by no means clean but in this case he was merely and obstacle to-” 

Whatever Quirrell was going to say about Snape would remain unknown because at that instant Iris suddenly appeared to Nym’s left, throwing off her cloak and crying “FULGURIO!”

Blue lightning shot from Iris’s wand and slammed into Quirrell, sending him sprawling and twitching on the ground; Nymphadora didn’t hesitate, diving wildly for where her wand had fallen. She snagged it, and managed to scramble back to her feet as Quirrell himself was beginning to rise. “Petrificus Totalus!”

Tonks’s curse hit home, as Quirrell’s arms snapped to his side and he fell back to the ground like a stiff board. Not taking any chances, Tonks quickly added, “Accio Wand” and made Quirrell’s wand fly into her other hand. Both sisters held their wands on him, breathing heavily as adrenaline still roared in their ears.

“You okay, Irey?” Tonk’s asked, one eye scanning her sister for injuries.

“I’m fine Nym,” Iris replied. She was a bit shaken up by discovering one of her Professors was apparently a criminal, but she was uninjured and mostly okay.

“How sentimental,” a high voice spoke, seemingly coming from Quirrell despite his mouth being sealed by the spell. “How childish.”

It was at that point Quirrell’s body began to spasm, fighting the paralysis. Only, it wasn’t like Quirrell himself was struggling, but like some external force was jerking his body like a doll. He was yanked up to his knees, and the sisters could hear Quirrell’s body straining as whatever force was animating him warred with the Body Bind Curse. 

“Master, please,” Quirrelll whimpered as his head shook, the turban coming loose as he did so. With a sickening snap, both of his arms bent at unnatural angles as they forcibly removed themselves from where the magic had pinned them to his sides. “Stupefy!” Tonks’s red jet of light ended Quirrell’s pained noises, as he mercifully fell unconscious, but the body continued to spasm and twist until the body bind was broken. He turned around, revealing on the other side of his head a second face, the visage of the spirit that was forcibly taking hold of his body, Lord Voldemort.

“Iris Potter,” Voldemort droned as he laid eyes on the redhead for the first time since that fateful night. “Do you see what you have reduced me to? Mere shadow and vapor, forced to share the body of another, there are-” 

The Dark Lord did not get to finish his monologue, as both Tonks girls overcame their stupor at seeing Quirrell grotesquely break the Body-Bind, and went on the attack.

“CONJUNCTUM!”

“INCARCEROUS!”

“LOCOMOTOR WIBBLY!”

“FULGURIO!”

“SLUGULUS ERUCTO!”

Tonks’s three spells, and Iris’s two smashed into the possessed body of Quirrell in quick succession, sending him flying backwards as he was simultaneously electrocuted, tied with rope, blinded, had his legs go to jelly, and began vomiting slugs. Unfortunately for poor unconscious Quirrell, he was the one stuck vomiting, though Tonks had hid Voldemort’s eyes with the Conjunctivitis curse. 

Despite this, Voldemort was still moving, cursing as he seemed to be trying to forcibly dislocate Quirrell’s bones so he could slither out of the binding Iris had conjured. The two sisters were prepared to launch another volley of spells, even Iris who was nearing exhaustion, when two things happened at once, an eruption of flame and ash at the far side of the room that temporarily blinded them, and the death of Quirnius Quirrell.

Voldemort had already been frustrated throughout the night, stopped at the last minute from seizing his prize by that blasted Mirror. He knew the stone was in there, but had been unable to get it out. If he’d been in his own body and able to work magic directly, he knew he could have unraveled its enchantments, but working through Quirrell was like trying to paint without a brush. 

He considered destroying the mirror, but worried that might damage the stone inside, as it was by no means indestructible. Quirrell was no help, just repeating again and again how he could see the stone and not get it. 

Then things had gone from bad to worse when Quirrell had allowed himself to be bested by two school children. Iris Potter was apparently destined to always be a thorn in his side, as the prophecy had indicated. Despite his ability to manipulate Quirrell’s body to counteract some curses, it wasn’t enough.

With the arrival of Dumbledore, it was time to go so he could succeed another day. It was a simple matter to terminate his host; Quirrell’s body had become inextricably linked with him over the long possession, and without Voldemort it collapsed like a house of cards, the half-life curse of the unicorn’s blood coming home to roost. As the ghostly wraith flew from him, slipping between the sisters and through the arch, Quirrell crumpled. His body began to wither and decay almost immediately, turning him into a wizened husk that fell to the ground with a dull thud. 

Iris and Tonks watched in horror as their DADA professor mummified before their eyes, while Dumbledore, arriving in a burst of phoenix fire, rushed after the shadow that flew out of him. Tonks turned to her sister, “Iris?”

“Yeah Nym?” Iris replied shakily.

“If you wanted a dog so badly I’m pretty sure mum and dad would have gotten you one.”

Iris let out a snort of laughter despite the horror of the night, and when Dumbledore returned to the chamber he found both Tonks sisters leaning on each other and laughing hysterically.

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Closing Feast, Grand Hall

“And finally, for having the wisdom to seek aid in a time of crisis, I award 30 points to Mister Cedric Diggory!”

As the banners shifted from gold and silver to yellow and black, the Hufflepuff table erupted in celebration.

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Excerpts from Finding Your Familiar, by Leland Stoat

One of the most important decisions a young witch or wizard can make is selecting the proper familiar. After all, while the wand may choose the wizard, it is us who pick our animal companions. 

There are of course the Hogwarts Three, the Toad, the Owl and the Cat, which are allowed for first years to bring with them to school, and indeed these are three most common familiars in Britain today. (For more information on this policy and why other familiars are banned for novice students, please see chapter 3.)

Each has its advantages. The owl can obviously double as a personal mail owl, and has the gift of flight to survey the world from above. The cat is a versatile companion, capable of hunting vermin like rats or gnomes that might infest a wizard’s domain, and of course the toad is the most compact, able to accompany their master nearly anywhere, as well as being helpful in the brewing of some potions.

However, many creatures have been found to make useful familiars. From seahorses, to sparrows, wizarding kind has bonded with a great number of animals. Of course, they do tend to follow certain trends for a successful bond. A familiar should be a small creature, certainly smaller than the wizard or witch in question. This both cuts down on accidental maulings during training the animal, and breaches in the Statute of Secrecy when you walk down the street with a tiger on your leash……

…….All familiars benefit from the familiar bond, which increases the intelligence and reasoning of the creature, as well as extending its lifespan somewhat beyond what a mundane creature would live. (A warning to parents of young wizards, this extension is not extreme, so do be prepared to comfort your little ones when that sad day arrives.)

A familiar is so much more than a pet, yet from another point of view that is all they are. The familiar bond is something that forms naturally between a magical and a creature they care personally for, rather than some intentional ritual. In light of that, how you treat and care for your prospective familiar will have a great impact on your bond…..

…..Bonding with magical creatures is possible, though rare as in general a creature that isn’t reliant on the wizard won’t feel the need to form the bond. Intelligent or long lived creatures also benefit less, as the bond doesn’t give them much in return; remember that a familiar bond is a partnerships, where both parties should get something….