Chapter 4: Why you should never trust your teachers

Defense Against the Dark Arts for all the time that I spent in the class, had yielded little reward.

Professor Quirrell would stutter through his lessons so badly at times that he was almost unintelligible, regardless of the beast or spell we were learning about; all of them seemed to frighten the professor equally.

Yet far from boring, I found myself unable to relax during the class, unable to tear my eyes away from the man’s turban.

Nothing out of the ordinary had occurred these last months, nothing tasted wrong about the man, yet I could not shake the memory that something was deeply wrong with this professor.

Even reinforcing my memory, with my spell, all I got was the faint hint of something dark that was related to him.

Yet I didn’t know if it was something dark that the man would do, or something bad that would happen to the man himself.

The man had just evidently escaped being killed by a Troll, so maybe that was it?

Yet hadn’t I managed to deal with the troll well enough? Surely an adult wizard, especially a professor of DADA, would be able to handle such a thing by themselves?

Speaking of Trolls…

Malfoy, on the far side of the classroom, was trying to corral her followers, Crab and Goyle, into focusing on the lesson to little effect.

I almost felt bad; she would prod them awake as they fell asleep, but within minutes, they would fall back into their stupor.

I wondered why she was trying so hard.

Iris shifted next to me, seemingly uncomfortable, and my eyes flicked to her, meeting her own emerald eyes for a moment before she hastily looked away, refocusing on the front of the room.

She idly rubbed her forehead as she gazed at Professor Quirrel, a small grimace forming on her delicate features, and I consciously bit my tongue.

Things were… awkward between us over these past few days. It was probably a minor miracle that she was sitting next to me in the first place; she had routinely seized the seat next to me in just about every class, leaving Neville to sit with Hermione, though usually that was fairly close, even though in this particular class, the only seats available were rather far apart, though perhaps that was just because of Hermionie’s propensity for sitting in the front.

I would notice Iris’s eyes flicking to me occasionally. She was still more reserved than she had been before. There was no trust; even though she was trying, but I could tell her heart wasn’t where her mind was at.

I didn’t blame her, not really.

Her parents were such a large part of her, even though she had never known them; they were incredibly important to the person I knew in my memories, and the same seemed to be true of this girl.

We were opposites in that way.

I had written off my family for the longest time; I hadn’t thought of them when I was in the orphanage, and now, even though I knew my father was innocent, I didn’t feel much because of it.

It was nice that an innocent man would go free, yet the man hadn’t raised me; what was I supposed to feel about him?

I sighed, running the taste of strawberry over my finger, narrowing it to the fine edge I had achieved against the troll.

I wanted to cast that spell again, yet I needed to find an actual place to do so. I had gored through the chest of a troll along with its head with that magic, so it wasn’t something to use lightly.

Which, in retrospect, now that I wasn’t panicking, was totally badass.

How had I done that?

The gentle taste of strawberries flooded my mouth, and I sighed, pushing the flavor away. The flavor had been more insistent since my use against Pettigrew and the troll.

Almost as if the magic wanted to be used again, but that didn’t make sense. I had never heard of magic desiring to be used.

Well, except for the little I had learned of dark magic in dusty library corners, yet I didn’t think the strawberries were dark magic.

The end-of-class bell sounded, and we all began to put our materials away in a cacophony of the banging of books and chairs.

I shouldered my bag, and Iris tucked in close to my side, almost shadowing my movements. I began my walk through the mass of students, watching as they parted before me, the anxious glances and fearful looks glancing off my smirk as they were shot my way.

Neville peeled out of the crowd of students and gave me a shaky smile as he arrived at my side, “Hey Antares,” he said lowly.

He was followed by Hermione, who glanced at me before her eyes somewhat guiltily flitted away.

This was getting kind of annoying, I noted idly to myself, if things didn’t improve soon, I would have to figure out how to get both the girls to relax.

I suppose I could simply wait until my Father had his trial, but that didn’t feel right. Not only would that likely make the girls feel guiltier about everything when they found out my father was innocent, but there would be an uncertainty in me where I wouldn’t be able to trust whether friendship with them was because of their desire for a relationship or their guilt over their treatment of me.

Maybe a little unfair, they had said they were going to apologize after the incident with the troll, but that was also after the incident with the troll.

“Don’t let ‘em get to you, Antares,” Neville muttered, nudging me in the side.

I glanced at the other boy, surprised, “What’re you talking about?” I asked.

Neville shrank slightly under my gaze before he seemed to firm himself up, “The other students, ya know?” he finished somewhat weakly.

I gave the other boy my practiced smirk and ruffled his hair, grinning in real amusement as he tried to get out from under my hand, “This kind of stuff isn’t that big of a deal, don’t worry about it, Nev.”

Neville managed to escape my hand and sighed in relief as he tried to smooth his hair down again.

“Will you stop doing that!?” Neville exclaimed, though the words were far from heated, an almost obligatory protest.

“I can,” I replied easily, “Would you like me to?”

Neville blinked, looking at me, confused as he cocked his head to the side. He seemed to think it over for a moment before he looked away, “It’s fine, I mean, I don’t really mind it that much. Why do you do it, though?”

“I dunno,” I shrugged, “It’s just fun to mess with you, I guess.”

Untrue, the real reason was something far too personal, the simple fact of the matter was that the boy was my first friend, more than that, teaching him and looking after him… Well, I suppose it was a sort of brotherly feeling.

Not that I would be bringing it up to the boy for a while, I wouldn’t put my emotions and feelings onto the other boy, just because I was lonely didn’t make it right to expect so much from one person.

Neville sighed, and he looked away so I couldn’t see his face, “Well, I suppose it’s not that bad.”

I looked at the boy cocking a head, wondering why he had turned away, before I shrugged the thought to the back of my mind.

Hermione shook her head, sighing, “Boys,” she said in a commiserating tone to Iris.

Iris was staring at me somewhat unblinking; more specifically, I noted my hand.

“Iris?” Hermione questioned.

Iris startled, looking about before seeming to come back to the conversation, “Yeah, boys, huh?” she said, nodding her head solemnly, her eyes still focused on my hand.

Hermione shot me a questioning look, and I shrugged my shoulders at the girl. I had an idea what was on Iris’s mind, but that was for her to tell me when she was ready.

Plus, there was something pleasant to think about.

Namely, Lunch.

-

I took a bite of my sandwich and had to consciously attempt to keep my mouth from watering too much as I bit into bacon for the first time at Hogwarts that actually tasted like bacon.

How had such a thing been accomplished?

I had my theories. The food that appeared near me at the table were now free from the cloying mint flavor that had been present before. I suspected that Dumbledore had asked the House Elves not to use their magic in making my food.

I was admittedly grateful to the man for doing so, while concerned at the same time that Dumbledore had so easily determined my issue from my consumption of the lemon drops he had offered me.

The man was intelligent, and had a vast array of knowledge.

So it led to my natural question as to why he let things continue as they did with Iris’s home life if he could identify my own issues with food so easily.

Was it simple cruelty? A lack of care?

I suspected that such answers would be difficult to find, and even more so, they were not nearly as important as addressing the current situation of Iris’s home life.

If my Father were freed, then he should have the ability to take in Iris, but unfortunately, after spending some time using the new memory recall spell I had made, I had uncovered some potential roadblocks.

Namely, I had recalled something about there being blood wards that were specifically empowered because of Iris’s Aunt.

If what was true previously was still true, Iris had to stay with her Aunt because it was her aunt who gave Iris her protection.

And yet… I wasn’t so comfortable justifying Iris’s treatment as necessary for her safety, yet on the other hand perhaps one of the greatest wizards alive seemed to think it was necessary.

Which led to two different but equally uncomfortable possible conclusions.

Either Dumbledore was purposely letting Iris suffer while there was an alternative, which meant the old man could not be trusted, or there was truly no other option, and Iris had to live with the Dursleys.

This sandwich I was eating told me that Dumbledore wasn’t necessarily a fan of children suffering for little reason, so…

I sighed to myself, my next bite of my sandwich a little more morose.

I really needed to choose better times to think about things, you’d think I could give myself at least ten minutes to enjoy a sandwich in a way I hadn’t been able to do in months.

-

What I had been expecting for several days happened after an unremarkable transfiguration class.

“Mr. Black,” Professor McGonagall said sternly, walking up to my desk, her expression and body stiff, “If I might have a word?”

Despite her authority over me, it seemed like a genuine question, though; regardless, I didn’t have much of a choice.

Iris’s hand ghosted over the back of my robes, and she looked at me with an oddly nervous expression, her eyes flicking between Professor McGonagall and me, almost as if to wordlessly ask if she should stay, as if she was nervous about leaving me with a potentially dangerous adult.

“Of course, Professor,” I said softly before turning to Iris, “I’ll see you at the common room, okay,” I said.

Iris did not look happy with my words, her lips narrowing and her emerald eyes flashing her magic thickening the air momentarily before she wordlessly nodded, shouldering her bag and walking out of the classroom.

I turned back to Professor McGonagall, a loose smirk on my face as I faced her down.

Professor McGonagall seemed at a loss for what to say for a moment, a stark contrast from her usual self. Finally, she spoke, “Professor Dumbledore has told me of your adventure the other night before your encounter with the troll.”

I nodded my head, unwilling to give away any words that could be used against me, “I see,” I said quietly.

McGonagall’s eyes locked with mine, and it almost seemed as if she was trying to peer inside of me. Finally, she spoke, “I have done you a disservice, Mr. Black, on multiple fronts.”

I didn’t know what to say to those words, so I said nothing in response. It didn’t seem as if Professor McGonagall was looking for anything from me, yet as she continued, “I told myself I would treat you as any other student, yet at every turn, I did the opposite. I told Ms. Potter to be careful around you. At the time, I told myself I was doing so for both of your benefits. Given the relationship between your Fathers, I thought it best to head off any potential conflict, to keep her safe from the likely fallout that would occur between the two of you.”

Something oily shifted in my stomach, and strawberries flooded my tongue, both sensations I ignored. “You’re saying you were protecting both of us?” I asked to clarify her words, though I didn’t believe them much.

Professor McGonagall visibly hesitated before she spoke again, her voice firm, “I was,” she said.

I kept my face a blank mask using the occlumency I had learned to suppress any other emotion that wanted to flare up.

Only now that she knew she was wrong was Professor McGonagall apologizing; it hadn’t mattered when I was just the orphaned son of someone she thought to be a mass murderer, that was enough to convict me.

Only now that she thought my Father was innocent was she changing her attitude and action, only now was I pure enough to actually be treated like a student rather than a particularly volatile potion waiting to go off.

And even now, she was coaching her words as if she had done the objectively correct thing at the time. That by telling Iris she was protecting both of us instead of attempting to sabotage whatever friendship we could otherwise have.

The anger was a heady, potent emotion inside me, yet it wasn’t the emotion I could act on. The fact of the matter was that whatever I thought of McGonagall, making an enemy of her was definitely the worst option I could take.

If she were going to offer an olive branch, I would accept it for no other reason than it would make my life easier. I didn’t need her to go and talk to Iris again and convince her to never interact with me.

“I understand, Professor,” I said, the words like ash on my tongue.

Professor McGonagall nodded stiffly, “Good,” she said, “You’re dismissed, then Mr. Black.”

I nodded my head and turned, walking out of the Transfiguration classroom. No sooner had I stepped outside the door than a small hand had seized my robes, and I was inches away from Iris’s face as she stood on her tiptoes, examining me.

I didn’t move a muscle as her eyes trailed over me, seemingly looking for something only she knew to see.

After several long moments of this, she resettled fully onto her feet and released a deep, gusting breath, “You’re alright,” she murmured.

I raised an eyebrow at the girl, “Of course,” I said with my trademark grin, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Iris frowned, looking away, “It’s nothing, I just wanted to make sure,” she said softly.

Uneasiness prickled in my gut again as I looked at the girl. She didn’t trust any adult figures, did she?

It wasn’t as if I could blame her.

“Hey,” I murmured softly, stepping in next to her, bending down slightly so I could look her directly in the eyes, “You alright?” I asked the words, feeling useless on my tongue.

Iris merely nodded her head, and then, uncharacteristically, she seized my right hand with her left, squeezing down on my fingers tightly.

There were words that I considered saying in that moment, questions that I wanted to ask, yet it didn’t feel like the right time, so I chose to remain silent, walking alongside Iris as we headed for the Great Hall.

-

The fervor of the first Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor was beginning to overtake the school, something that I was aware of mostly because Iris was directly involved as the Seeker.

I had tapped into my memory spell and had discovered an impression of something going wrong during the game, putting Iris in danger, specifically something going wrong with her broom.

Discovering as such had led to me being a little more on edge than usual. I was unsure how to handle it; there wasn’t anything I could really do directly until the game started to deal with things, which made me feel uncomfortably on edge.

Such feelings had led me to an out of the way classroom to unleash my frustrations, though not before obtaining the repairing charm a thankfully much less advanced charm than the invisibility spell I had learned.

Of course, there was not much in the way of targets in the room except the furniture still stored within.

I flicked my wand, summoning the taste of sharpened strawberries to my tongue with unsettling ease.

Violet light flashed, and the desk in front of me fell apart into two separate halves.

I blinked in surprise, not having expected to accomplish the spell again so easily, then I frowned. It was almost unfortunate how easy this magic was for me. I needed to get a handle on this spell. I hadn’t considered it at the time, but I very easily could have severely injured Iris or Hermione with it.

Which would have been unacceptable.

My hand tightened on my wand unconsciously, and a small tingle of electricity trickled through the veins of my arm, a strangely comforting sensation, one I remembered feeling when I picked my wand up for the first time.

I sighed, relaxing my body as I leaned against an unbroken desk. I had examined Iris’s broom with my sense of taste, but I had made little progress, and I had no idea how to make progress.

I didn’t know the first thing about broom maintenance or spell work; there was no way for me to tell what exactly could be wrong with it.

What was I supposed to do about that?

There was also the chance that what would happen would be something from outside the broom, a potential external factor.

I sighed and flicked my wand again at another one of the desks; this time, the spell was less controlled.

The desk exploded, sending shrapnel flying, and I winced frantically, backstepping away.

“Damn,” I shook my head, sighing to myself.

Well, I did need more practice with the repairing charm.

-

The day of the Quidditch match dawned, and I woke with an unsettled feeling in my stomach. I shook the feeling away and roused Neville as usual, though he woke reluctantly this Saturday morning, not used to having to wake so early on the weekend.

We showered and dressed in casual clothes, Neville wearing well-fitted trousers and a blue sweater which were obviously made of high-quality materials. I had put on a deep red sweater over a collared white shirt and blue jeans that were slightly worn, along with my own trainers that were well broken in for the purpose of running.

We headed down to the common room, where I saw a pale Iris sitting down on the couch in seemingly casual wear of a baggy t-shirt and jeans that seemed very much not made for her body.

These weren’t clothes she wore often, but I supposed, given she would be changing into her Quidditch uniform later, it made sense, though the fact of these clothes obviously not being meant for her… well, it marked another checkmark in my belief about her home treatment.

What to do about it, though?

It wasn’t good enough for me to say it was none of my business; if you could be honest with anyone, it was yourself. I wasn’t content leaving Iris’s situation the way it was, extremely meddlesome of me perhaps, but my conscience could not rest easy.

Now was not the time for such discussions, though.

“Hey, Iris,” I grinned at the girl walking up to her, whose eyes flicked up instantly on my approach, her green eyes nervously flitting over me, other things evidently on her mind, her face paler than usual.

“Hey, Ares,” she whispered softly.

I consciously restrained the frown of concern that wanted to stretch over my face. I had learned already that Iris was very sensitive to the moods and emotions of those around her, and I didn’t want to upset her.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

Iris nodded her head mutely, and I considered for a moment the merits of prying further before dismissing the thought.

I needed to find a way to make the girl feel better, not strain her already about her current nerves.

“Let’s get some food, huh?” I asked, giving Iris my trademark smirk, “If you’re going to kick some butt today, you've got to have the energy to do so.”

Iris nodded loosely, “We still need to wait for Hermione,” she said quietly.

I glanced at the girl's stairs, “Yeah,” I said, “Is she going to be ready soon?”

Iris shrugged, “She was awake when I left.”

Several minutes passed as we stood waiting. I was a little confused. I had figured she would be down within a couple of minutes,

Finally, in a burst of motion, Hermione exited the girls' stairs in a blur, waving happily at us, “Sorry I’m late,” she said, her curls drooping from how wet they were, dressed in particularly nice Muggle clothing with a sweater over a blouse and practically new jeans.

I noted how Iris’s eyes trailed over Hermione’s clothes and then flicked to her own, and I noted that she seemed to shrink slightly.

“We still have time,” I shrugged my shoulders, shifting my deep red sweater around my shoulders.

I shepherded my group down to the Great Hall and faced my next challenge of attempting to make sure that Iris ate enough to keep her fueled.

“Please, Iris,” I said, “You’ll need the energy for the match.”

“’m not hungry,” Iris gave me an upset look, her lips quirked in a deep frown, her emerald eyes brighter than usual.

I decided to back off for now. If Iris felt she was fine, it wasn’t for me to push her. “Okay, but if you do feel hungry for anything on the table, we’ll grab it for you.”

Iris blinked, seemingly surprised by something, before she nodded her head once, looking down at the table, seemingly in thought.

It was in short order that Oliver Wood came barreling down the table and bundled Iris off to the locker rooms, so as a group we collectively decided to head to the stands with the other students heading that way.

As we walked out onto the Quidditch Pitch and I looked into the pale blue morning sky, I flinched as I had the impression of Iris desperately attempting to stay on her broom in the sky above.

I sighed, shaking my head, throwing the thought away for now.

It could just be nerves.

We settled in among the other Gryffindor students, and I found myself wrapping my fingers around my wand for the comforting spark through my veins.

The air buzzed with excitement as the crowd began to get into a fervor. I noted that there weren’t just students around me, but there were, in fact, adults who weren’t professors.

I supposed it made sense; it seemed like Quidditch was a fairly big deal, so I couldn’t be surprised, yet it made me twitchy.

Any one of these people could be involved in what was about to happen to Iris, any one of them could be my enemy.

I shook myself from these thoughts; they weren’t the slightest bit important, not really.

I would just have to take things as they came.

The Quidditch pitch reached fever pitch, the roar of the crowd becoming deafening as the students from the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams walked out onto the pitch.

Madam Hooch stood between them as the two team captains stepped forward and shook hands before they returned to the side of their teams.

A sharp whistle echoed throughout the stadium signaling the start of the match, and Lee Jordan’s voice echoed out through the stadium, “And they’re off, Katie goes for the-“

I tuned out the commentary almost immediately, my eyes focusing on Iris as she shot through the sky, and idly, I bit my lip in thought.

Was I overthinking things?

The players shot across the field, blurring past each other as the Quaffle passed rapidly between the players till the ball shot through the Slytherin hoop with the sound of a gong.

The game passed rapidly as the balls blurred through the air and the players shot around, dodging bludgers and passing the Quaffle back and forth.

My eyes focused on Iris, who had drifted high into the sky for the purpose I could only assume of spotting the Snitch.

“What’s she doing?” Hermione asked, her head tilted up to strain to see Iris against the sunlight.

“Searching for the Snitch, I think,” said Neville.

Idly, I smacked my mouth, pushing out the flavors surrounding me.

Iris’s broom suddenly jerked to the side, and my eyes locked onto her.

The broom jerked again, this time to the right, spinning with her as she desperately clung to the broom.

The crowd became louder as they seemed to notice what was happening to Iris.

“What’s going-“

“It’s like she’s lost control of her broom-“

“-some kind of prank?”

Hermione looked like she was about to have a fit, her eyes wide as she glanced at the sky, “Something’s gone wrong with her broom!” Hermione exclaimed.

That much was evident, but I was too far away to tell what had gone wrong with the magic on it.

Still, it matched what happened in my memories.

I flushed my memory spell through my system and, after several long moments, got the vague impression of needing to distract the professor's box.

It wasn’t much to go on, but it seemed all that the spell was willing to reveal from my memories.

I growled in frustration, frantically attempting to think of a strategy. I needed to get there, but the crowd was swarming and compressing me, and despite my deep-seated wish, I couldn’t just start sending people flying.

“Where’d Hermione go?” Neville asked, looking about, and I blinked, turning to him.

I then turned about as I verified that indeed Hermione was now gone.

My eyes flicked to the professor's box as I heard cries erupt from the stands as adults turned into a tumultuous mass.

Iris heaved herself back onto the broom and shot through the sky again, causing an eruption of cheers through the crowd as she shot after a golden spec.

Some minutes later, I saw Hermione return with a bright red flush across her face and shady eyes flicking back and forth as if she was checking whether anyone had noticed her absence.

Our eyes met for the briefest of moments, and I saw her flush a bright red. Consciously, I looked away back to the Quidditch match.

Now I remembered, Hermione had done that before, so it seemed the girl in this world was just as willing to set other people’s clothing on fire, or at least that’s what I thought she had done.

A little bit nerve-racking, admittedly, but I was also the one who had gored a hole through the head of a troll, so who was I to talk.

“Nice work,” I said lowly.

Hermione stiffened a bit before she shrugged her shoulders a bit, “It was all I could think of,” she admitted softly.

I raised an amused eyebrow at the girl who looked away from my gaze, her cheeks faintly reddened.

Iris and the Slytherin seeker were battling back and forth across the pitch as they each aimed to take the snitch from the air.

The Syltherin seeker was significantly bigger than Iris, but she managed to slip around him every time he tried to knock her off her broom.

Iris’s Nimbus, though, was seemingly unbeatable; it had been given to her by McGonagall and now was allowing her to accelerate far faster than the other seeker.

She blurred through the air, streaming towards the ground as the Slytherin seeker desperately tried to keep up, before, at the last second, she pulled up frantically, waving something in her grasp.

I released a deep breath of relief, and I relaxed as cheers erupted around the stadium. It was over.

-

It had been an oddly helpless feeling I had felt in the stands; it was a feeling I didn’t like very much.

The celebration that night in the Gryffindor common room had been loud and explosive, with the Weasley Twins having managed to get food from the kitchens. It looked rather delicious, but I had to avoid it for the obvious reasons.

Iris was the hero of the hour, so regardless, I found myself on the sidelines enjoying the rambunctiousness of my fellow housemates.

Hermione had buried her nose in a book, but was sitting next to me, seemingly still wanting to show her support, though she seemed more interested in what she was reading.

Which was unfortunate because I had questions.

“How’d you know to do that?” I asked lowly.

Hermione looked up, shooting me a harsh look, “Not in the common room,” she hissed.

I shrugged my shoulders, “It’s fine, isn’t it? No one’s paying attention to us.”

Hermione looked around seemingly confirming my words before she sighed and seemed to relax slightly, “It was something I read about jinx’s,” she admitted, “You have to maintain eye contact and you have to be a powerful wizard, I figured the stand with the most adult wizards was the best option so I set Professor Quirrel’s robes on fire.”

I blinked, looking at the girl, astonished despite myself, “You figured something like that out so quickly,” I said slowly.

And it was Professor Quirrell at that, the man I was most suspicious of.

Hermione flushed, looking away, “It seemed like the best option, Professor Quirrell was positioned near the center, and his moving seemed like it would disrupt the most amount of people possible.”

“Brilliant,” I nodded my head, though a part of me was frustrated I hadn’t thought to do the same thing myself. Now that it had occurred, I remember it being a solution that Hermione had figured out before.

“So somebody was jinxing Iris’s broom,” I sighed, “And we don’t really know who, besides that it was most likely someone in that box.”

“Well-“ Hermione hesitated, her brow furrowing as she looked down, “I did see something.”

I raised an eyebrow at the suddenly reluctant girl, “What?”

“Professor Snape’s eyes were locked onto Iris, and he was muttering something under his breath,” Hermione said quietly, “But I mean, he’s a Professor, isn’t he? Why would he do something like that?”

I contemplated the thought, turning it over in my head before I dismissed it almost immediately, “No, I don’t think it’s Professor Snape, I’m more suspicious of Professor Quirrell, honestly,” I admitted, wondering what Hermione’s response would be.

Hermione blinked, looking at me, confused, “Professor Quirrell?” She hesitated for a moment, seeming to war with herself, “But I mean Professor Quirrell, he’s not exactly the professor I’d say was capable of such a thing.”

“Because he seems barely capable of teaching his own class, right?” I asked.

Hermione hesitantly nodded as if she were committing a grave sin by doubting a professor's ability to teach.

I sighed, shaking my head, “It’s just a feeling, I don’t have any proof, or else I’d go to one of the professors,” I admitted.

Hermione nodded slowly, “I see,” she said softly, brushing a strand of curly brown hair behind her head thoughtfully.

“I had a question,” she ventured eventually.

“Hmmm?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at the girl.

“When you,” Hermione hesitated before she continued, carefully picking her way through her words, “Saved us from the troll, you used a spell I had never seen before.”

I raised an eyebrow at Hermione before I grinned in amusement, “Something you want to learn?” I asked with a chuckle.

Hermione blanched, shaking her head, “No!” she exclaimed before hesitating, “Well, a little bit,” she admitted, “I was just curious because, well, I wanted to know how you knew that magic.”

I shrugged my shoulders, “It’s actually just kind of something that I’ve come up with, I didn’t really learn it from anywhere.”

“So you don’t know what kind of magic you’re using?” Hermione asked.

I gave Hermione a sheepish smile, “Uh, yeah, no idea, glad I can though,” I shrugged.

Hermione gave me a shrewd look, raising an eyebrow at me, “You know more than that, don’t you?” she said quietly.

I sighed, shaking my head, “Nothing helpful really, it’s just a magic I’ve been able to use for the longest time, not much more than that, I don’t think it’s anything all that special.”

Hermione gave me a long look before she shrugged, seemingly shaking the entire conversation away, “I guess I can’t complain, you saved our lives.”

“Please stop mentioning that,” I sighed, shaking my head, “I did what anyone else would do.”

“No, you didn’t,” Hermione shook her head, frowning at me, before she sighed and looked away, “But we don’t need to have this argument again.”

“Ah,” I looked down, feeling a little bad, “I wasn’t trying to start another argument,” I said softly.

Hermione gave me a long look, raising an eyebrow at me, “You’re a strange boy, Ares,” she said simply as if that was the whole of what she thought of me.

I didn’t know whether to be offended or proud of the statement, so I merely shrugged my shoulders at her, “Iris already said that.”

Hermione’s lips twitched upward faintly as she smiled at me before shaking her head bemusedly, “Then I ‘ll find a better descriptor perhaps, hmmm?”

I chuckled, shaking my head, but didn’t say anything in response; it was almost like a friendly conversation.

Almost.

-

Two months rolled past as we entered the beginning of December with little fanfare.

Interactions between Iris, Hermione, and me were still strained, but seemingly less so as time began to smooth things over. It wasn’t normal, but everyone was trying, Iris more so than anyone else. The girl still seemed to be attaching herself to my side whenever the opportunity arose.

There had been a conversation between the four of us about the circumstances regarding the broom incident, but we had been left at a loss for what had occurred, or more accurately, reaching a stalemate in our discussion.

We agreed that a professor or visiting adult had likely been involved, yes, but there was little to truly point in one direction or the other besides my own suspicions of Quirrell, which were not shared by the others.

It was understandable that there was little evidence to go on, and neither Neville nor Hermione seemed to think anything much of my suspicions.

Instead, we had looked at the other teachers despite Hermione’s protest that it simply couldn’t be one.

Neville, oddly enough, suspected Snape, pointing toward the fact that Iris had noted aloud in a discussion Snape’s not-so-thinly veiled distaste of the students in his class, as an example of a teacher who wasn’t particularly keen on their students or their safety.

This didn’t make sense to me from the simple fact that Snape just didn’t have a motive. He largely ignored Iris during class for the most part.

It was interesting, I thought Professor Snape masked his feelings fairly well, but this wasn’t the first time I had noted that Iris was particularly sensitive to the emotions and feelings of those around her, particularly adults.

Either way, I understood her point. Often throughout potions classes with Professor Snape, he would ask questions well outside the reading range for first-year students, testing and prodding at any student in his path, seemingly attempting to find a weakness in stark contrast to his almost complete avoidance of Iris.

If I didn’t know better, I would almost say he seemed afraid of her, the way he would not so subtly avoid her in every class.

I had pointed out to Iris, though, regarding treatment by teachers, Professor Snape's somewhat rough treatment of people was not really out of the ordinary as far as professors; Professor McGonagall’s treatment of me wasn’t much better.

Well, her former treatment of me.

During the previous time before the Halloween incident, when Iris had avoided me, Professor McGonagall had relaxed the faintest amount and had been content, seemingly to ignore my existence for the most part in class.

Ever since Iris had reseated herself next to me, Professor McGonagall had made it a point seemingly to drift by us every now and then to check in on our progress during the lesson. I wasn’t exactly sure what her intentions were, but our conversation still lingered at the back of my head.

She had made it very clear she didn’t feel like she owed me an apology and that she felt her actions justified, yet at the same time, she didn’t exactly treat me normally either. There was almost a constant tension between us.

Yet admittedly, I didn’t have the patience to attempt to resolve her issues; she was an adult, and she could figure out how she felt without my input.

It was after one of our long, unproductive conversations that I managed to convince our group to go for a walk outside.

We strolled along the frozen lake for a while, chatting idly among ourselves until the topic of winter break emerged.

“I’m going home,” Neville shrugged his shoulders, “Gran said I should,” he said as if that resolved the entire topic.

Hermione sighed, seemingly gloomy, “My parents want me to come home as well, not that I really mind, I just think I’ll miss being able to do magic.”

“You can still study at home,” Neville said bracingly, “Imagine how much farther ahead you’ll be able to get!”

Hermione seemed to perk up at those words, a bright smile crossing her face before she turned to look at Iris and me.

“How about you two?” she asked.

I kept my gaze from flicking to Iris’s face as I waited for her to respond. “I’m staying,” Iris said quietly.

A long moment passed as we waited for her to elaborate, but no elaboration came.

I shrugged my shoulders, “Same, not much point going home for me.”

Hermione and Neville visibly winced, and I realized I had been too blunt again. Iris, on the other hand, seemed to noticeably perk up slightly for some strange reason.

Neville spoke up, “So I guess it’ll be just you two at Hogwarts, huh?”

I glanced at Iris, who had turned her face away from us for the moment, before I turned back to Hermione and Neville, “I guess so,” I shrugged my shoulders before I let my trademark grin slide onto my face,  “We’ll try to make sure the castle remains standing, but no promises.”

Hermione huffed indignantly, “Ares! You can’t possibly be threatening to destroy the school while we’re gone!?”

I placed a hand mock across my heart, pretending to be wounded, “Hermione, how could you insinuate such a thing?! Have you been listening to the Weasley Twins?”

Hermione frowned at me, looking slightly confused, “The Weasley Twins?” she asked.

Neville grimaced, looking at me in surprise, “Wait, so what they’re saying is true! That you commandeered a magical artifact from them to your own nefarious ends, swearing them to deepest secrecy?”

I gave the boy a dry look, “That’s some secrecy, huh?” I said.

Neville flushed slightly, looking embarrassed, “It’s not like they’ve been saying it out loud in the common room, I just heard them muttering about it in the common room, and they immediately clammed up when I asked them.”

Well, if my gold hadn’t bought at least that much loyalty from the twins, I would have been surprised.

Though I trust the twins even among themselves to turn the whole thing into a joke.

“Your dark majesty!” came a shout, and I turned to see the red-headed twins themselves making their way across the snow, waving excitedly at me.

I sighed, but despite myself, a small smile twisted my lips as the twins came to a stop in front of me before they bowed deeply in unison.

“Your most loyal followers are here to serve,” Fred said, his voice mock deep and his arms spread out wide.

I snorted, “If you were my most loyal followers, would you really keep calling me stuff like that? What if I were trying to keep my evilness from the eyes of the other students?”

George shook his head sorrowfully, “Your most pitch black eminence, such a thing is impossible, your nobility emanates from the very ground you step on.”

“Your servility does you credit,” I dipped my head at George, “So what is it that you two want?”

Fred shifted slightly, glancing at my friends before back at me, “If we could have a private audience, your eminence?” he asked.

I blinked, surprised, before I shrugged my shoulders, “Uh, sure thing,” I glanced back at my friends, “I’ll catch up, yeah?”

Neville shrugged and nodded before he turned to walk away, followed by Hermione, who sent me a curious look.

Iris didn’t shift for a long moment, looking between me and the twins, before locking eyes with me, “I’ll meet you at the front courtyard,” she said quietly before she turned and walked away, following Hermione and Neville.

I watched them go for some distance before Fred spoke up from behind me, seemingly musing aloud, “She’s rather attached to you, isn’t she?” he said.

I turned to look at the boy, surprised, before I really considered his words, “I don’t know,” I admitted, “There was a while at the beginning of the year that I was pretty sure she hated me.”

George grinned at me, “A little dramatic, don’t you think, mate?”

I raised an eyebrow at the boy, “You do know why my dad is in jail, right?”

Fred shook his head, “Ah, that just makes your relationship that much more daring, that much more previous, truly the two of you are fated to be star-crossed lovers.”

I groaned, shaking my head at the boy, “And the pair of you are fated to be gigantic pains in my ass.”

“Cheeky first year, isn’t he, Fred?” George said.

“That he is, but such things are to be expected from future Dark Lords,” Fred nodded in agreement.

“Can you two just ask me what you need to?” I asked in amusement.

Both their faces became more serious. George spoke first, “We were actually wondering whether you wanted some of your Galleons back, you gave us quite a lot.”

I shook my head, “The map was more than worth it, you helped me in a way I don’t know how to repay.”

Fred and George glanced at each other before they looked back at me, “We’re more than even,” Fred said simply, “You’ve allowed us to pursue our dreams in a way we didn’t think possible.”

I sighed and shook my head, “We’re just even then, alright?”

Fred and George looked mutinous, but I looked at them firmly. I couldn’t tell them now, but someday, when my Father had been given a trial and he was a free man, I would be able to truly thank them.

“You don’t understand what you did for us,” Fred sighed.

I shook my head, “I gave you the funding for that joke shop that you want to run after school, right?”

Both of them looked surprised, glancing at each other before they looked back at me, “How do you know that?” they said in unison.

I grinned at the pair, truly smiling for the first time in a long time, “It’s obvious to anyone with ears and eyes, you guys are constantly working on your inventions, you basically ignore your classes in favor of them. I’m happy that I was able to help.”

Both boys looked at me for a long moment before they stepped forward in unison and wrapped their arms around me.

I froze at the unexpected motion, they’re arms were tight as they pressed me to their chests, it was somewhat uncomfortable, but at the same time, the emotion behind it was so clear.

They held me for a long moment before they stepped back together, and I could see that their brown eyes were watery.

“Thank Ares,” Fred said.

George nodded his head, “Yeah, thanks.”

I grinned at the pair and nodded at them, “Sure thing.”

I turned and walked away, heading back toward the castle. As I tread across the snow, I thought to myself.

There weren’t any thoughts in particular, but there was a certain lightness that came from the interaction with the twins.

Before I knew it, I had arrived back at the castle doors to be greeted by a slightly shivering Iris who was standing a little ways outside them.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” I said as I came up to her, frowning at how cold she looked.

Iris gave me a long look before she shook her head, her black hair cascading away from her face. “I’m not even going to respond to that,” she said before turning back to walk into the castle.

I sighed, and despite myself, a small grin stretched across my face as I followed her in.