Chapter 5: A Dot Called Fluffy

“I really don’t know if you should have given me your sweater,” Iris said softly as she lay curled up on the common room couch.

Despite her words, the girl had shrunken entirely within the red yarn, seemingly soaking in its warmth as well as the fires, not to mention the fact that since I had given her my sweater, she had seemingly not taken it off.

“Iris, you’re keeping that sweater,” I said, shortly looking up from my book I was reading next to her. It was now December 23rd, the first day we were out of classes, and the students had just departed to return home. Iris had come down dressed in supposedly casual clothes, baggy, ill-fitted things obviously meant for a boy, as well as my sweater, which I had given her several weeks ago, as I found her shivering at the Castle doors.

I closed my book, “Right, so what are we doing the first day of our break?” I asked, I had my own plans, but they had already been set well into motion, judging by the dent in my newly acquired money pouch courtesy of an owl to Gringotts and a sent needle for another blood draw authorization that had to be done without the key.

Iris looked at me, confused, “We’re not going to be studying?” she asked.

Something terrible clenched in my heart as I looked at the girl in horror, “What did Hermione do to you?”

Iris flushed, looking away, “I just- What else are we supposed to do at a school?”

“Ahh, my dear apprentice,” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the Marauders' Map, “Such wonders I have to show you.”

“A spare bit of parchment?” Iris questioned.

I grinned and tapped my finger against the parchment, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

And at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider’s web from the point that my finger had touched. They joined each other, they crisscrossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words, that proclaimed:

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs

Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers

are proud to present

The Marauder’s Map

The inky trails that outlined Hogwarts spread rapidly across the map, and I pressed the map into Iris’s hands.

Her eyes rapidly flickered across the parchment, tracing the pathways in awe, her fingers brushing over the lines.

“This is the Marauders Map,” I proclaimed grandly, “It shows the entirety of Hogwarts and the students within.”

Iris’s eyes widened further as she looked at some of the dots of students walking about, “How did you get this?” she asked.

I shrugged my shoulders, “I purchased it from the Weasley Twins,” I grinned at her, “But now it’s ours.”

“Ours?” Iris questioned.

I hadn’t meant to say that, or at least in that specific way. The map had been created by both our fathers, so in a very real way, this map was an heirloom for both of us, and it was those thoughts in particular that made me want to share the map with Iris.

I was unsure of bringing my father up, though; he had not been vindicated yet, and it was our parents' relationship that had caused so many complications in the first place.

Not to mention the question of how exactly I was supposed to explain how I knew the names on the map correlated to our fathers.

So, like a coward, I diverted, “It’s the first part of my Christmas gifts to you,” I said with a smile.

“Gifts? You’re getting me presents?” Iris asked, her emerald eyes wide as she looked at me, seemingly befuddled.

“Of course!” I exclaimed cocking my head in confusion at her, before I pointed at the pile of carefully wrapped packages in front of the couch, “Those are the Christmas Eve Eve gifts.”

Iris’s eyes widened, and she was already shaking her head, “Those are mine! I couldn’t possibly take anything from you!” she exclaimed.

“But it’s Christmas?” I exclaimed, making my expression somewhat downcast, “I wanted to give you stuff, you know, I’ve just never had friends to do that with.”

I noticed Iris visibly wince as she looked away, her teeth nibbling slightly on her lip.

It was underhanded to the extreme to do things this way. I was aware that guilting Iris into accepting my gifts was perhaps not the way I should have done things, but I hadn’t had another idea.

She had barely accepted my sweater.

I folded the map and tapped it again, “Mischief Managed,” I muttered before turning back to Iris, who still seemed stuck in what she was going to do.

“If you don’t want them, you can just say so,” I said, my face perfectly neutral, not wanting to force too much on her.

Iris looked between me and the pile of presents, looking torn before she replied softly, “I mean, if you really want to give them to me,” she said softly.

I gave her my trademark smirk, “Well then, open them!”

“What?” Iris cocked her head at me, before her eyes widened, “Wait, you said they were Christmas Eve Eve gifts, so you’re getting me more gifts for Christmas?”

I looked innocently at the girl, “Well, that is how Christmas works, right?”

Iris frowned at me, “There’s no such thing as Christmas Eve Eve gifts!”

“It’s a wizarding tradition!” I said with a broad smile.

Iris looked at me with eyes that said she didn’t believe me in the slightest before her gaze once again turned to the gifts, “Well-“ she hedged, “It would be rude not to open them since you already bought them.”

She got up from the couch and grabbed the first carefully wrapped package that gleamed with a bright silver paper. She ripped open the parchment, revealing three pleated skirts, one deep red, one black, and one navy blue.” She turned toward me, raising an eyebrow at me. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Why’d you get me these?” she asked.

“Didn’t you tell Hermione that you liked her skirt?” I asked wondering if I had made a mistake.

Iris nodded slowly, “I suppose I did, so you asked her then?”

I shook my head, “No, I just noticed that your eyes would occasionally linger on her skirts as well as some of the other girls' clothes in Gryffindor. I kind of just created a catalogue of what you seemed to like. I’m sorry, do you dislike them?”

Iris’s cheeks pinked slightly as she looked away, “No, I’ve actually always wanted to wear skirts like these.”

She reached for another package and opened it to reveal several blouses, all of different colors.

Iris moved onto the next package, revealing several pairs of jeans, and then to the next package that revealed a thick black peacoat.

Package after package was opened, revealing a full wardrobe of high-quality clothes, including two pairs of shoes along with many pairs of socks, minus, of course, undergarments for a very obvious reason.

Iris had moved mechanically through each package, carefully opening it, then setting it to the side.

She opened the last package, a well-crafted dark red jacket, which she kept holding in her hands as she stared into space.

She was positioned so she was facing away from me, and I shifted slightly, feeling uncomfortable.

Her hands trembled slightly, and her back shook.

I slipped off the couch and gently dropped down next to her, allowing me to see her face.

Quiet tears streamed down her face, and her torso shook as silent shudders rocked her body.

My stomach twisted as I realized I may have made a mistake, “I’m sorry, Iris, I didn’t want to make you cry,” I said softly.

Iris shook her head mutely, clutching the jacket to her chest and her emerald eyes focused on my own, “Thank you,” she whispered, and those words were the ones that seemed to break the dam as she truly began to sob.

Hesitantly, I reached out, placing a hand on her back and rubbing soothing circles through my sweater.

Iris turned and slammed into my torso, pressing her face against my shirt, and I could feel hot, wet tears beginning to seep through the fabric.

I didn’t know what to say; I hadn’t expected this to cause Iris to cry.

These were just clothes.

I wrapped my other arm around Iris, gently pressing her against me. There were words I was sure I should be saying, but my mouth felt useless right now.

So I settled on the basics, I would hold Iris as long as she needed me to.

-

We made our way through the hallways of Hogwarts. Iris dressed quite nicely in a black pleated skirt, thick black stockings, and a white blouse, which was covered by my red sweater, ruining the look somewhat.

Despite the fact that Iris looked rather adorable in my oversized sweater as we walked, I kept my thoughts to myself.

Her eyes were still rather red-rimmed from crying, making her emerald eyes an even more vibrant color than usual.

Still, she had wanted to use the map, so here we were walking the hallways of Hogwarts, examining various secret passages.

We stopped in front of the portrait of a pear, which the map helpfully directed me to tickle.

I ran my fingers across it, and the portrait opened to a massive kitchen.

Within many small, somewhat disproportionate creatures, rapidly moved about, cooking at a rapid pace.

House Elves

I stepped in and made a half wave, “Hello?” I called out.

Several turned spotting us before moving in a massive huddle as they swarmed around us, “Tis students!” one cried out.

“What’s is they doing down here?” one cried out.

“Is Youse be needing something?” another exclaimed.

“Uh,” I glanced at Iris, who seemed completely frozen, before I turned back to the tidal wave of elves.

“I was just showing my friend around; we didn’t mean to bother anyone.”

“You’se no being a bother,” an elf cried out, “We’s be happy to feed you’se!”

“He is being the one not liking the taste of magic,” another one said to the elf who cried out, “We is having to make it by hand.”

“More work!” another elf cried out happily.

Within minutes, we were seated at an out-of-the-way table and classic English afternoon tea was laid out before us with clotted cream, jam, and biscuits along with a steaming kettle of tea.

Iris and I looked at each other before I shrugged my shoulder, took a shortbread, and began to heap on the cream and jam.

“Who are these guys?” Iris asked, looking around in confusion.

“House Elves, they have a sorta symbiotic relationship with wizards,” I shrugged my shoulders before sighing, “Though it’s often the wizards that turn it parasitic I guess?” I couldn’t help but finish the sentence in a questioning manner.

“What do you mean?” Iris asked.

I sighed, considering how to say my next words, “House Elves feed off ambient magic; they don’t really generate magic of their own. Wizards generate magic; therefore, House Elves like congregating in magical areas. Wizards, well, they take advantage and sometimes don’t treat House Elves particularly well.”

Iris gave me a long look, “You’ve overly simplified things, haven’t you?”

I reluctantly nodded, “It’s a lot and I don’t know a lot of it myself, wasn’t raised in the wizarding world, remember?”

“I guess we could ask Neville,” Iris hypothesized.

I shrugged, “If you want.”

Honestly, as bad as it sounded, the House Elves weren’t something generally on top of my mind. I simply didn’t know enough one way or another on what opinion I should have.

I needed more information before I formed one, so I reserved judgment.

-

I was waiting in the common room, holding a piece of parchment against my wand. Slowly, I dragged the taste of strawberries across the parchment, slicing a narrow line through the paper.

The line was jagged, not at all straight, but it was progress, especially considering that I hadn’t obliterated anything behind it. I had been fairly confident I wouldn’t, but one could never be too sure.

My wand was the best focus for the work; despite the poor results I had achieved so far, I knew that, but it didn’t make the limited progress less frustrating.

Iris came stumbling down the steps of the girls' dorms as per usual, yawning sleepily, before her eyes locked upon me and another pile of presents positioned in front of the couch.

“You were serious…” she sighed, though the words did not sound as dissatisfied as the direct meaning might have indicated.

A small grin flickered across my face, “You really thought I was joking?” I asked.

Iris shrugged, looking away a bit, “It’s just a lot, you know-“ she trailed off.

“It’s something I want to give to you,” I said quietly, “I’m giving gifts to Hermione and Neville as well.”

Iris turned her head back to me, raising an elegant black eyebrow, “To the same extent?” she asked.

I winced slightly, conceding the point, falling back instantly on another planned response, “At the orphanage I was raised at, we were never really able to do big Christmases, I just thought it would be great to do one with you, ya know?”

Iris blinked, seemingly taking in my words for a moment before she sighed and nodded her head the slightest amount, “If you say so, I just feel a little bad for you giving me so much.”

“You don’t know what I’ve even gotten you yet,” I pointed out with a small amount of amusement.

-

I woke with the strangest sensation of being watched.

I hadn’t bothered to shut the canopy around my bed due to being the only one in the Gryffindor tower, but now I was certain I was not the only one in the tower because something was on my bed next to me.

A distinct shape and weight of a human was next to me, and a distinctly familiar taste in my mouth alerted me to who it was.

Now the question was why?

I didn’t open my eyes and listened to the slow, drawn-out breathing next to me; from the sound of the breathing, she was entirely asleep.

Momentarily, I considered my options. I didn’t think that she had purposely fallen asleep in my bed, and she definitely hadn’t been there before I had fallen asleep.

I made a calculated shift of my torso and groaned softly as if I was stirring awake.

Iris startled, shifting next to me. I felt her sit up rapidly before falling out of bed onto the floor with a thud.

Rapid footsteps echoed across the common room as Iris fled from the room.

I opened my eyes, staring at the red canopy, contemplating what exactly had just happened.

I sighed and sat up, stretching my limbs out with a yawn. This wasn’t something I would worry about right now; I would just file it away in case it came up in the future.

I got ready for the day, showering and dressing, combing my slowly lengthening black hair behind my ears.

Dressing in a loose white shirt and jeans, I walked down into the common room where Iris was settled in front of a massive pile of presents. Her emerald eyes were wide as she sat on the couch. She spun as I came down the stairs, “Ares!” she cried out.

“Yeah?” I asked.

“We got presents!” she grinned at me, her cheeks flushing in delight, happier than I had ever seen her look.

“We did!” I grinned.

We worked our way through the pile of presents, and I enjoyed Iris’s glowing expression as she opened several boxes of Honeydukes chocolate from Neville, a broom polishing kit from Hermione, along with a book called ‘Quidditch Through the Ages.’

I had also received presents from Neville and Hermione, with Neville giving me a book on Pureblood Traditions and Customs, which I thought was a rather strange choice, and Hermione had given me a book on advanced charms.

The fact that both of my friends had chosen to give me books was amusing, though I did wonder why Neville had chosen this specific book to give me.

I had also received one more gift that left me feeling rather odd, in a serpent green box that I opened was a handsome eagle feather quill from… Lyra Malfoy. It was odd just now realizing I had finally learned Malfoy’s first name and doubly odd that she had sent me a gift.

There was no note attached, simply her name.

It was rather odd.

Iris’s expression was luminous; it was hard to get tired of the sheer joy she was showing for each gift, even for smaller presents. She seemed so genuinely overjoyed and grateful to receive them. Now, if only I could ignore the voice in the back of my head that asked why she would be so grateful, why it was exactly that these things were so unexpected.

There were finally two containers left, a strangely wrapped package with the most garish red paper I had ever seen, and a small green box.

It was the taste of the strangely wrapped package that bothered me the most; it was a cool, subtle flavor that seemed almost as if it wasn’t there at all. Just barely noticeable.

Of course, the flavor of the box was much more powerful, but of course, I had wanted it to be that way, so it wasn’t surprising.

Iris looked between the two before she turned, raising an eyebrow at me, “Which is yours?” she asked.

“The box,” I shrugged.

Iris nodded before she turned back to the strangely wrapped package, ripping open the packaging to reveal a strangely shimmering cloth, which she unfolded in front of her.

As the cloth unfolded, her body disappeared, leaving her a floating head.

“An invisibility cloak,” I said aloud, wondering why the cloak poked at my memory so.

Iris nodded slowly, looking awed, before she reached down and picked up the note in the packaging of the cloak, opening it.

“Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is now time that it was returned to you. Use it well,” she said quietly, before she looked up at me. “There’s no name,” she said softly.

I shrugged my shoulders, giving Iris my small slanted grin, “Who do you think gave it to you?” I asked.

Iris shrugged helplessly, “I have no idea,” she turned back to the green box that remained, and, leaving the cloak draped over her shoulders, she picked up the box.

She opened it and blinked in surprise, looking down, and unconsciously, my breath caught in my chest.

“You got me earrings?” Iris asked, looking up at me, her face unreadable.

“Uh, yeah, they're enchanted and stuff,” I shrugged awkwardly.

She reached within and pulled out two small golden studs, each with a small amethyst embedded in the metal, the stones closer to a violet shade rather than the purple of regular amethyst.

“I’ve never had my ears pierced,” Iris said softly.

“Oh yeah, that’s part of the magic,” I said, still feeling a little awkward, “They self-pierce, but they won’t leave holes when they’re removed.”

Iris nodded and then hesitated for a brief moment before she looked at me, “Will you put them on for me?” she asked softly.

I nodded and walked over to kneel in front of her, gingerly taking the earrings from her hands. I reached up, taking her right earlobe, and gently placed the amethyst earring against her ear. There was a small glow, and the earring was attached.

I repeated the same process for the left earlobe, watching as the earring sealed itself again before locking eyes with Iris, our faces inches apart.

Her emerald eyes were locked onto my face in a way that was somewhat unsettling, as if she was peering underneath my skin to reveal whatever truth I was keeping hidden.

Iris gently tugged at one of her ear lobes, an odd expression on her face as she seemed to be contemplating something.

“You’ve done so much for me,” she said quietly.

“I mean,” I struggled with myself for a moment, “You’re my friend, right?”

Iris’s emerald eyes locked onto me, her gaze searching for something only she knew how to find.

“Yeah,” Iris nodded, a small jerk of her head as she continued looking at me, “We’re friends.”

She leaned forward, resting her face against my chest for a long moment, deep breaths gusting from her mouth.

I let her lean into me for several long minutes, a little unsure despite myself, “You want breakfast?” I asked quietly.

A snort ripped through Iris’s body as she broke into peals of laughter.

“What?” I asked confused, “I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

Iris pulled her head back and shook it, covering her mouth in a poor attempt to prevent further laughter from emerging, “No,” she shook her head, “It’s not that, it’s just Hermione was right, you can act like such a boy,” she broke into another fit of giggles.

I was even more confused now, “But I am a boy?” I said I was unable to keep the questioning tone out of my words.

Iris shook her head, then leaned forward, brushing her lips gently against my cheek in a soft, warm, wet smear before she pulled back, “Let’s go get breakfast,” she said with a small smile, standing up and beginning to walk to the common room door.

I blinked once, then again as I tried to figure out what all that was about.

“Come on, Ares!” Iris called out, standing by the common room portrait, looking at me with a rare mirth in her eyes.

I had the strangest feeling I had missed something.

-

Christmas breakfast with the professors and the few remaining students was rather enjoyable, positioned as we were at one singular table, as the rest of the Great Hall’s tables had been set off to the side.

I found myself somewhat relaxed in the festive atmosphere, as Professor Quirrell was notably not present

The professors were positioned around the table talking quietly with each other, though Snape seemed to be rather sullenly chewing on a sausage. It was an interesting experience to eat with them, but I didn’t hate it.

Well, I had also chosen a seat a decent distance from McGonagall, so that probably helped as well.

Dumbledore was in fine form, amusingly telling a story that had occurred in one of his apprenticeships under someone named Nicholas Flamel, a person who I’d been informed was rather famous for his alchemical achievements.

“Nicholas had tried to tell me that there was no way that Dragon’s Blood could be used in this particular alchemic recipe, but I, of course, was sure I knew far better and believed I was about to discover a thirteenth use for it, but-“

I let a smile slip across my face as I listened to the man idly taking note of those sparkling blue orbs behind his glasses.

He had said he had a talent like mine, and I could only wonder if it was his eyes that had given him part of his ability to learn the magic he did.

The story was enjoyable enough by itself, partially because Professor McGonnagal seemed scandalized by how loose and relaxed the Headmaster was behaving, her eyebrows drawn together and her lips pursed.

The enjoyable breakfast came to an end, and Iris and I stood up to begin heading back to our common room.

“Mr. Black,” Dumbledore had seemingly managed to appear next to us, and he was looking at me with a small smile on his face, “If I might steal a moment of your time from Ms. Potter.”

I blinked, taken aback by his phrasing.

Iris’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she nodded, “I’ll wait for you outside the Great Hall, Ares,” she said hurriedly before practically fleeing across the length of the Great Hall.

I tasted something thick in the air as I turned back to Dumbledore, “Professor?” I asked.

Dumbledore gave me a gentle smile, “I wanted to inform you of some news regarding your father.”

My stomach dropped, and at the same time, my heart lifted. I nodded my head shakily.

“Your Father’s trial has been set for early June,” Dumbledore informed me calmly.

“What?” I exclaimed sharply, “Why would it take so long?”

Dumbledore frowned, looking down at me with somewhat saddened blue eyes, “For two reasons, the Ministry wants to finish interrogating Peter Pettigrew and have the full story ready for the public, and your Father needs some time to recuperate.”

“Recuperate?” I questioned, “I don’t understand why it would take so long and how would he recuperate in Azkaban of all places?”

Dumbledore’s frown deepened, “Azkaban takes its toll on any who spends a length of time in its walls. Your Father has been removed to Saint Mungo's under guard so he can gain his strength back, but it is taking some time. He is at the very least no longer surrounded by Dementors day and night.”

I locked eyes with Dumbledore’s blues, trying to get a read on the man, “I still don’t understand why that would take months.”

Dumbledore gave him a long look before gently resting a hand on my shoulder, “You are correct. The Minister of Magic made a personal decision to delay the trial to what he considered a more opportune time. There will be damage done to the Ministry’s reputation by this event, and Minister Fudge hopes to contain it.”

Strawberries violently rolled across my tongue, and I had to tightly leash my magic within myself.

“He’s been in prison for over eleven years, and you’re telling me the minister is waiting for a time he feels is best for him?” I asked softly.

Dumbledore’s calm blue gaze remained locked to my grey eyes, “I’m sorry, Antares, this is not how I wish this would be handled.”

I looked at Dumbledore for a long moment, considering what exactly I was supposed to say in response.

There was a small victory in that my Father was no longer actively in Azkaban. That justice that had been waiting for eleven years would be delayed, though…

“Thank you, Headmaster, I know you’ve done what you could,” I said the words softly, not sure if I meant them, but not wanting to lose my current ally from an unbecoming fit of childish anger and frustration, very much like how I would treat Professor McGonnagal.

Dumbledore looked down at me, and his face seemed to droop a sympathetic frown on his face, “If there’s anything more I can do, I will,” he said.

His words poked at the back of my head, and I looked up at him. With my Father’s situation out of the way, there was still something else I needed to say: “Iris isn’t being treated well at her home. Why hasn’t anything been done?”

Dumbledore blinked, the first sign that something I said had fazed him, “You’ve managed to discover more than I would expect. Did Ms. Potter tell you this?”

I didn’t like how he had phrased that, not at all.

I shook my head, “She didn’t have to; it’s obvious if you look, if you see how she acts, she’s not being treated well. Why is nothing being done?” I asked again.

Dumbledore’s eyes glinted slightly, but he remained impassive, “And if I assured you that this was what had to be done for Iris’s safety?”

It was interesting, Dumbledore almost seemed to be treating me as an equal with those words, as if he were negotiating with a peer, why he would treat me that way, I had no idea.

“I couldn’t take your word for it,” I admitted, “I can’t think of any reason that Iris should have to live with her family, isn’t it obvious how they’ve treated her? Safety isn’t a good enough reason for her to suffer.”

Strangely enough, something like satisfaction flashed through Dumbledore’s eyes as if I had said the exact words he hoped I’d say.

“Mr. Black, do you think if I had another option, I wouldn’t pick it?” Dumbledore asked mildly; his tone didn’t seem threatening. Strangely enough, it sounded like an honest question.

Slowly, reluctantly, I shook my head, “I can’t accept the way things are Professor,” I said quietly, looking the man resolutely in the eyes.

This time, I was sure it was satisfaction that crossed Dumbledore’s features as if they were exactly the words he’d hoped I’d say.

“Nor should you,” Dumbledore said softly, “Acceptance is the domain of the old; it is youth that challenges how things are.”

There was something that the headmaster was telling me by those words, but as I was now, I couldn’t parse them.

“Now you’ve kept Ms. Potter waiting long enough, don’t you think?” Dumbledore asked.

I nodded somewhat reluctantly. I needed time to rethink and regroup.

-

I was being shaken awake, and I had no idea why.

My eyes flicked open to see a wide-eyed Iris above me, “Ares! There’s something you need to see!” she cried out.

Adrenaline flushed through my system, and I shot up, stumbling out of bed, only dressed in my pajamas.

“What! Is something wrong?” I asked my wand, snapping up from my bedside table to land in my palm with a flush of strawberries.

Iris shook her head, seized my wrist, and began to pull.

Down the stairs of the boys' dorm, we went as Iris pulled the cloak on over us before she dragged me out of the Gryffindor common room.

“Where are we going?” I asked Iris as the girl practically dragged me behind her.

Iris didn’t respond, continuing to drag me down the halls.

The empty halls of Hogwarts were a little disconcerting without the majority of the student population, and now was the dead of night as Iris pulled me.

We passed by the library and then up a couple of stairs to an out-of-the-way corridor, which Iris proceeded to pull me in through a door before she closed it behind us.

We were in an empty room, except for a massive mirror at the far end with magic that tasted like… well, it was a comforting flavor, like a magic personalized to be what you needed most.

I didn’t have much time to think before Iris pulled me to stand in front of the mirror, “Do you see them?” she exclaimed.

There I stood in the mirror, smiling softly, a sardonic eyebrow raised at myself.

My cloudy grey eyes looked relaxed as I regarded something off to the side of the mirror for a moment before I turned back to myself, giving myself a somewhat knowing wink.

It was all a rather strange image, somewhat entrancing and somewhat disconcerting.

“I see myself,” I said, confused, something poking at the back of my brain as I said the words, there was something about what I was saying that was poking at my memories.

Iris turned to look at me, seemingly confused, “You don’t see my parents?” she asked.

Parents.

My eyes flicked up to the writing above the mirror, “I show not your face but your heart’s desire,” I said softly, the memory coming to my mind without a push.

“What?” Iris was looking at me, confused.

“The writing above the mirror is mirrored writing,” I relayed to the girl, “This is an enchanted object, enchanted, I presume, to show you what you want most.”

Iris’s face dropped slightly before she turned back to the mirror, “So that’s why you don’t see my parents,” she mumbled softly.

I grimaced, my heart dropping, and slowly I reached out, drawing Iris into a hug. She nestled into my chest, her face still turned slightly to see the mirror, her emerald eyes glistening.

Then she shifted her head to look at me, with a somewhat confused expression on her face, “How do you only see yourself?” she asked.

Admittedly, I was befuddled by that as well. I looked back at the mirror and saw that I was still standing there, the same sardonic expression on my face, the eyebrow raised now taking on a challenging tint, as if I had to solve the puzzle myself.

The image had changed slightly now that Iris had stepped into view of the mirror the image had changed. Now, also within the mirror, Iris had emerged smiling gently with a carefree look as she leaned against my side, as the Iris in the real world did now, her black hair draped down her back, and her scar but a pale, silvery, faded mark.

As I caught her eyes, she shrugged at me in a somewhat helpless what can you do motion, her eyes trailing away to look at her real world self, her face drooping slightly as she bit her lip uncertainly, then she looked back to me and smiled again.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like the image in the mirror, but the whole thing was rather confusing. If it was showing me my heart's desire, how had it changed when Iris had emerged?

What exactly did it mean that I wasn’t seeing anything really in the mirror?

Well, I suppose it wasn’t that I was seeing nothing, I was smiling, and Iris in the image was definitely different.

Ah, now I understood, or at least I thought I did. In the mirror, I smiled at myself in a way I didn’t have the courage to return as I was now. In the mirror, Iris was unburdened by the burdens of her life as it was now.

Internal happiness, that’s what I wanted. For the mask, I portrayed to others to be my true self. Or at least that’s what I thought I was seeing. It felt true at the very least.

Yet at the same time, the image didn’t hold that much power over me; it was entrancing to be sure, but the taste in my mouth had an almost artificial flavor to it.

I understood such a thing could not be gifted to someone; I had to earn my happiness, or else the flavor and emotion would always be artificial, something the mirror itself seemed to know.

Iris smiled brilliantly at me and turned to press a gentle kiss onto my cheek, and uncomfortably, I felt my cheeks redden.

That… I couldn’t explain; it probably didn’t mean anything.

Blurry figures moved in the background of the mirror, walking towards the version of me within, and the mirror version of myself turned as they did so, but not before giving me another challenging smile.

I turned back to Iris, who seemed entranced by the mirror again. I stepped to the side out of view of the mirror as Iris kept looking within.

“Iris?” I asked, “Are you okay?”

Iris blinked, turning back to me, giving me a somewhat hesitant expression, biting her lip nervously, “It’s nothing, Ares, I had just hoped…” she trailed off, but I understood.

“I know, I’m sorry, Iris,” I said, knowing the words were useless, but they were the only ones I had right now.

-

Iris was rather down over the next several days, slightly more tired as well. I thought she could potentially be going back to the mirror, but I was unsure of how to engage on the topic.

It wasn’t for me to decide that for her, even though I didn’t think it was necessarily good to dwell on an unreality, though I supposed that was easy for me, the vision I had seen in the mirror had confused me more than anything.

Which, of course, didn’t stop me from considering the boy I had seen in the mirror. I thought my interpretation was correct, but the Mirror Erised was a strange device; how the magic functioned was just as curious as what it had shown me.

How could an artifact truly know what someone desired? How could it know what I desired? Until I had seen myself in the mirror and realized what it was showing me, I hadn’t even spent the time conceptualizing such a thing.

The teacher's desk I flicked my wand at was obliterated into a cloud of splinters, and I scowled in frustration.

Why did the strawberry magic require such focus? It was as if I had to narrow the world down only to a singular intention to use the magic.

It made casting while distracted a slightly dangerous thing to do.

Yet I had to get the magic under control, as time passed and I kept using my memory spell, a dark figure had appeared in my mind, reaching out toward Iris, who the figure was I didn’t know.

I wasn’t getting attached, I wasn’t.

But the idea of something terrible happening to Iris turned my stomach and made me almost irrationally angry.

I sighed and began my walk back to the common room. I had chosen some time early in the morning to disappear so I could practice, so Iris shouldn’t have noticed my absence yet.

I entered the common room, noting that she wasn’t down yet, and settled back on the couch with a book I had left in the common room.

I had checked it out from the library on important magical discoveries through magical history. It was as much to have something to do as it was to learn more. I was beginning to realize I needed a hobby to keep myself occupied in the absence of classes.

Iris sleepily made her way down the stairs and settled on the couch next to me, drooping somewhat as she tried to keep herself awake.

“All right there?” I asked Iris.

Iris shrugged her shoulders, leaning to the side to collide with my shoulder, “Sleepy,” she mumbled.

I could only wonder why it was exactly that she was sleepy, wondering if she was still walking the corridors at night to the room where the mirror was.

Iris pulled the map out of her back pocket, “I saw something weird on the map,” she said to me.

I raised an eyebrow at her as she unfolded the parchment and tapped it with her wand, “I solemnly swear I’m up to no good,” she said softly.

The map's lines spiraled outward, and Iris folded the map in such a way that the third-floor corridor was shown; there was a dot emblazoned on the paper.

Fluffy.

I blinked, looking at Iris, confused, “Who would be named Fluffy?” I asked something beginning to poke at the back of my mind.

Iris shrugged her shoulders, “It seems like an Animal name, but animals don’t typically show up on the map besides Ms. Norris.”

I flushed the remembrall magic through my system, the poky prickly sensation flooding through my head.

A massive three-headed dog flashed through my mind, and a trapdoor above-

“The philosopher’s stone?” I mumbled out.

Iris cocked her head, “What?” she asked.

I shook my head, “It’s nothing, it’s just, do you remember that Gringotts break-in near the beginning of the year?”

I had only heard about it in passing and had mostly ignored it, but the memory magic had flushed new thoughts through my system.

Iris nodded, “Uh, yeah, Hermione and I talked about it. Hagrid actually took me to that vault when he took me to Diagon Alley.”

And that clicked the picture into place; the figure was attempting to get the philosopher’s stone, something created by Dumbledore’s mentor Nicholas Flamel, the man he had talked about at Christmas Dinner, and someone I had researched later. It was a stone that granted eternal life along with the ability to perform a variety of alchemical reactions, I had read.

But who and why? I had no idea.

Well, there was the obvious that eternal life must sound good to many people, but there had to be something beyond it.

More than that, why exactly was it being stored in the school?

Of course, maybe I was jumping too far ahead of myself, who knew if these memories were true. Many of them had been true so far, yet there were some differences.

Yet…

“You wouldn’t happen to want to go adventuring down the forbidden third floor corridor?” I asked Iris.

Iris gave me a nonplussed look as if she was questioning my general intelligence, “You mean the corridor that Headmaster Dumbledore told us to specifically avoid unless we wished to have a most painful death at the opening feast.”

I did indeed remember him saying something along those lines.

I nodded my head, “The very same.”

It wasn’t a good idea, it really wasn’t, yet I felt that if I could confirm whether the dog was there, that this ‘Fluffy’ was indeed what I thought it was, I would be one step closer to dealing with the shadowy figure haunting my memories.

-

We slipped through the corridors that night, completely invisible underneath the cloak, following the map as we made our way to the dot named ‘Fluffy.’

The stony corridors were only lit by the distant torches that were interspersed throughout the stony hallways, not fully lit as they were in the daytime, and no windows to provide light from the outside.

The more I thought about this idea, the more I realized that it really wasn’t a good one, but the further we walked, the more committed I felt.

The corridors were dark, lit only by the torches inset in the walls, as we made our way across the castle's stone.

We walked in silence in part so we weren’t discovered, but I found that nerves had also seized my gut.

We walked the third-floor corridor, stopping in front of each door to check within until we reached the end of the third-floor corridor, and I tasted the air, getting the strongest sensation of dog that I could conceive.

I tried the door, noting it was locked, I pointed at the lock, “Alohomora’ I mumbled, and I heard the door unlock.

I glanced at Iris, who seemed completely unbothered, more interested than anything as she looked at the door.

I couldn’t tell if it was because her survival instincts weren’t there or her curiosity was overriding everything entirely.

Well, there was nothing else for it.

I reached out and gently pushed the door open.

The door opened the faintest crack, and within there was the dog I could taste. Three massive black furred heads and an even more massive body, underneath one of its paws was a trapdoor.

It was snoring slightly, though it shifted as the door swung open.

I nodded to myself as I felt Iris freeze in shock next to me.

Calmly, I reached out to the door and closed it again.

“Colloportus,” I said before turning to Iris.

“Behold,” I said dryly, “Fluffy.”

Iris blinked before nodding her head, “Most painful death, huh?” she said softly.

I shook my head as we turned and began to walk down the corridor, “That’s got to be some kind of sick joke to name something like that Fluffy.”

Iris snorted in amusement, and I looked at her in surprise as she shook her head. She looked at me with a raised eyebrow, “You haven’t met Hagrid, have you?”

“Uh,” I realized that while I had seen the gameskeeper at meals, I had never spoken with him, “No?”

Iris patted me sympathetically on the shoulder, “He’s exactly the kind of man who would do something like name that dog Fluffy,” she paused as if considering something, “Actually, I would bet galleons to knuts that he’s the one who takes care of that dog.”

I hummed at her words, considering them. She was likely right, and I would trust her judgment on this, of course, with such an obstacle in the way, protecting the stone; it seemed all but certain that nothing would be getting past the dog.

I tried to convince myself of that fact. I really did. I had taken down a troll, sure, but I wasn’t confident about dealing with something like that dog, and the troll was something that was supposed to be difficult for adult wizards.

Yet I could not shake the feeling that this was not the end of things.

There was still the shadowy figure in my memories and I didn’t think a dog would be enough to stop him.