Dirty Doug
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Chapter 7: The Future Uncertain
🕑 Added 2025-10-12 22:31:26 +0000 UTC“Ares, are you all right?” Neville’s voice interrupted my thoughts with all the grace of a boulder thrown into a puddle.
I looked away from the window of the common room, blinking rapidly as I zoned back into the current conversation.
Hermione, Neville, and Iris were all looking at me with strange expressions, crossed between concern but with a questioning edge to the emotion.
We were positioned around a table we had been doing our History of Magic essays on a topic I still could barely be arsed to care about, witch burnings and their effect on magical and muggle relations.
“Fine,” I gave my friends my trained smirk, “I’m fine,” I reaffirmed, “Just thinking.”
The three shared a look before Neville shook himself, “We should finish this essay, it’s due in a couple of days,” he said his eyes flicking to me for a moment before he turned to look down at his parchment.
Somewhat reluctantly, Hermione nodded her head, her eyes flicking to me for a moment before she also turned back to her essay.
Iris, who was sitting with me in the loveseat, leaned slightly into my side but nevertheless seemed to focus back on her essay.
I looked down at my half-completed essay consideringly, but I wasn’t really thinking about finishing the assignment.
It was impossible to ignore, really, the fact that a part of me was deeply considering walking into the Forbidden Forest. Since the day we had gone to Hagrid’s hut the idea had hovered at the back of my mind.
A part of me felt that I had to.
That part of me was held at bay for now, if just barely, by common sense. I was an eleven-year-old wizard, and walking into the Forest to satisfy my curiosity was quite possibly one of the dumber things I could do.
But it wasn’t really curiosity. I had seen the figure above the Unicorn. The image wouldn’t leave my mind.
Yet going into the forest was perhaps one of the stupidest things I could potentially do.
My eyes returned to the window, staring at the dark mass of trees in the distance the leaves seeming to shift in the dark as wind whistled through them
-
My thoughts followed me along through the days of my classes. I focused as much as I could on the lessons, but I couldn’t find the material interesting enough to distract me from my thoughts.
Of course, there were other distractions to be had.
The Weasley Twins had found me, as they seemed to always manage to do when they wanted to, as I was walking to my usual practice classroom.
“Your Dark Highness!” George called out, waving his hand, and Fred waved in unison with his twin brother.
Despite myself, a grin stretched across my face as I looked at the pair, “What’s up?” I asked.
“We have something for you,” Fred grinned and offered a palm out to me, containing a small box.
“What is it?” I asked, bemused.
“The precursor to what we call the skiving snack box,” George grinned at me, prodding at something in my mind, though I didn’t know what it could be.
“What’s it do?” I asked.
Both the twins grinned, “Try one,” they coursed together.
I pulled out a square of what seemed to be Turkish delight, one side a bright orange and one side a dull green.
I opened my mouth and was hit with the overwhelming, distorted flavor of something I could only identify as sickness.
I looked at the pair, raising an eyebrow at the twins, “I think not,” I said, “I don’t particularly want to puke my guts out.”
The twins smiles if possible grew wider, “As expected of a Dark Lord,” Fred said.
“But that’s the point,” George grinned even brighter, “They’ll allow you to skip any classes you want!”
“Tempting,” I said dryly, “Though maybe you should think about selling them to the other students.”
“Eh,” George wiggled his hand, “We’re not totally sure if they’re completely safe for human consumption yet.”
I sighed giving the boys a pained look before looking down at the square again.
“You don’t have to eat it,” Fred admitted, “We just wanted to show you what we had done.”
The words were said plaintively but I wasn’t really fooled, the boys were just curious to test this on someone who wasn’t themselves.
Shrugging to myself I took a bite of the green side of the square before I spit it out in the next instant to the side.
“You cooked it a couple minutes too long,” I told the pair who were looking at me astonished.
“What?” Fred said.
I winked at them before I turned to walk away, smacking my mouth in thought, it had given me an idea for potions.
Yet the distraction was only temporary as my thoughts once again returned to the forest, something stirring again in my mind but on the edges, unable to be grabbed quite yet.
-
I stood uncertainly at the edge of the trees, fiddling with my wand as I looked through the massive trees of the forest. I had paced the outskirts of the trees several times in the last weeks, and this time was no different.
I knew I shouldn’t be doing this but my memories kept poking insistently at the back of my mind, that there was something out here that I needed to see.
It was well past curfew, and I had made my way free of the castle once again under disillusionment, but even now that I had made my distance from the relative safety of the castle, I still hesitated going into the forest.
Yet was there really another choice? If I found the dark figure, then I would have my answer, and no one else would get dragged into things.
The more I thought about it, the more I was sure that the troll must have been because of the dark figure, that unless the dark figure was dealt with, everyone at Hogwarts was in danger, which I supposed should have been enough motivation, but truly my worry was that if I didn’t do something that it would be Iris who would suffer.
The troll, the jinx of her broom, how many near misses would happen before they weren’t near misses
Still, as I regarded the trees, I decided that even if I still thought I should go in, I wouldn’t tonight; I would talk to Dumbledore tomorrow and see if I could convince the man to help me, he had seemed fairly willing to listen before.
I smacked my mouth without thought, and for the briefest of moments, something that I could only describe as unclean traversed my taste buds.
I froze, and my gut dropped.
I hesitantly took a stutter step toward the Forest, attempting to get the smallest bit closer, to taste the air just the faintest bit better.
There was something wrong in the Forest. Something unlike I had tasted at the edge in the last weeks.
I glanced back at the castle, attempting to consider my options, but even now the taste felt stronger.
With small steps, I walked past the tree line, submerging myself in the verdant foliage, very consciously aware that entering the forbidden forest was, well, forbidden.
Yet the taste poked and prodded at me in a way I couldn’t shake.
My wand had somehow found its way into my hand, and I conjured the Lumos charm, casting a brilliant white light over my surroundings, and walked further into the forest.
There was next to no underbrush in such an old-growth forest, so there was little to impede my path through the trees.
The pale light of my charm allowed my journey to continue relatively unimpeded for some time, my feet thudding against the soil of the forest floor.
Following the taste which grew stronger and stronger, I continued walking forward, ignoring the small unsettled feeling in my gut.
It was as I was brushing past some branches that the light of my wand caught the traces of a silvery substance. I turned frowning and got the full look of a fluid-like substance spread across a branch.
Now less than a meter away, I had to resist the urge to vomit; it was flavor that should be pure but had turned maggoty and rancid, poking at my tongue like needles.
I heaved for a moment, unexpectedly off to the side, coughing as my salivary glands overloaded.
I stood up after a minute and turned back to the darkened forest, taking a glance at the sky, watching as the half moon's light flitted through the trees.
Taking another breath, I turned back to the blood, tasting the air as best I could, searching for something, anything.
For a moment, I couldn’t taste anything before my tongue tingled slightly as it seemed to find a slightly thicker trail of something else, the pure flavor but untainted.
Pressing my wand firmly into my grip, I continued my path under the trees, shedding light as I went.
Step after step across the forest floor, the soft loamy soil grinding into my feet, the leaves shivering as I made my way across their dry, crackled surfaces.
Step after step, I walked deeper into the forest following my mouth for lack of any better option.
Even as I did so, my mind prickled memories poking at the back of my mind more resurgent than they had ever been before for some reason.
Under the branches of the trees, I walked for some time, a headache beginning to emerge in the back of my head pressing creases of white hot pain across my head.
Nevertheless, I gritted my teeth and continued forward. I was getting close to the faint pure presence of my feet whispering across the ground.
Yet it was strange, the presence seemed almost to be fading even as my headache increased.
My legs kicked into a higher pace, and I began to jog across the forest floor.
All I could hear was the sound of my own panting, exhaling breath as I continued through the trees. For some reason, I began to run faster, sprinting past the darkened trunks, the light of my wand casting strange shadows across my surroundings.
It was pushing even harder against my head now, a pressure of searing pain.
I ran out into a clearing to see a Unicorn, for that was all it could be, silky pale white hair covering an equine body with a long golden horn centered on its forehead, slumped to the ground, long gashes trailing over its flanks.
Yet the Unicorn was not what had my attention.
A tall, cloaked figure stood at the edge of the clearing, a small distance from the Unicorn.
Slowly, the figure turned to face me, and only a mouth was visible, torn in the rictus of a smile.
Instinctually, my memory spell flushed through my system.
And I remembered everything.
-
It was like a movie on fast forward, yet at the same time perfectly intelligible for all its speed. There had been a time when my surroundings had been nothing but story, I remembered that now fully, but in the faint, detached way one recalls any story.
Not in the way it was lived. Not in the way I had lived it.
At least now I knew why it was that I suspected Quirrel from the start. I now knew a lot of things.
Including the fact that it had been incredibly stupid to walk into the forest.
“Voldemort,” I breathed the name out, not even truly thinking of the words as they passed through my lips.
The cloaked figure stiffened before a dry chuckle rippled outward like a stone tossed in the water, “Clever boy, yet I must confess I did not expect to find you here. What has brought you to the Forest this night?” Quirrel’s voice echoed in the clearing.
My eyes unwillingly flicked to the body of the injured Unicorn before they returned to the man, but he seemed to have instantly caught it.
“Come to save this beast, hmmm?” the man hummed his tone seemingly entirely amused, not the man as he portrayed himself in class in the slightest.
“But how?” the man mused aloud.
Something poked and prodded at my mind, not a memory but a presence, and immediately I vanished everything from my head, not a single thought remaining, as I lowered my own eyes from the man’s face.
“Occlumency?” the man hummed with interest, “To think you would have learned such an art, I must confess myself curious to where you possibly could have come from.”
I froze, keeping my mind blank, but unwilling words slipped past my mouth, “Where did I come from?” I asked, confused.
“My Master told me he killed your mother,” the man said easily, “Wiped her family out to the last, yet here you stand. How was a child such as you missed?”
“How could I possibly know?” I responded, keeping my eyes away from his.
“I suppose it does not matter,” the man continued, as if I had not responded, “You are a boy with little importance in the grand scheme. A pureblood from a family that served me, except for your weakling of a father. I must confess killing you gives me no joy, except of course I am sure that by doing so I will shatter Iris Potter.”
My breath caught in my throat, and I stiffened.
“If you’re going to kill me, don’t you think you should have done so already?” I asked. I needed to distract him, anything to figure a way out of this situation I had found myself in.
The man clicked his tongue, a disgruntled sound, “We’ll get to that, but there is still something I wish to know. My master told me of a certain magic gifted to the McKinnons; I wish to know it.”
I blinked in surprise. That couldn’t be the reason he had done nothing yet?
“And why should I give it to you, if you’re to kill me anyway?” I asked.
A snap echoed out through the forest, and I felt a familiar magic flush through my mouth.
My heart dropped.
Into the clearing stepped Iris Potter, a familiar parchment clutched in her hands, her eyes wide, her breathing heavy, and her cheeks flushed as if she had been running.
“Ares,” she said quietly, looking at me, then Quirrel, wincing visibly as she clutched at her head, “What’s going on?”
Quirrel laughed a cold, high-pitched sound, “And you bring me the Girl-Who-Lived regardless!” he crowed.
My mind rapidly whirred, “Iris, get behind me,” I said, stepping forward, consciously stepping in front of her.
“Ares-“ Iris tried to speak but it was interrupted by a whispered laugh rang out through the clearing, though it did not come from Quirrel's mouth,
“Enough,” a voice whispered out, “Let me speak to them.”
Quirrel’s face visibly paled, but regardless, he turned around, letting his back face us and began to unwrap his turban.
As the wrapping fell away, the sickening flavor I had tasted on the trees surged throughout the clearing, and I had to resist the urge to vomit.
On the back of Quirrel’s head was a pale grey face, almost featureless except for slits for a nose and a mouth with no lips.
“Iris Potter,” the man whispered out, “To think we would meet like this.”
Iris looked horrified, but her features quickly regained strength as she glared at the man, or the thing at least that still somewhat resembled a man, “Voldemort,” she said quietly, seemingly knowing instinctively the face of her enemy.
The mouth slimmed even further in the facsimile of a smile, “I’m glad you’re here, Iris Potter, because now you will have the opportunity to see another die on your behalf, that is, unless you give me what I want.”
My face twisted in my grin almost reflexively, “Like you could kill me,” the words left my mouth before I even thought them.
Voldemort chuckled, a raspy but amused sound, “Brave, but foolish, I can make your death painful, boy, very painful. Bravado is meaningless. But still I am generous, the pair of you will get me the Philosophers Stone, or I will kill both of you.”
Not a chance in hell.
“Wow, that’s an incredible offer. Negotiating must be one of your strengths.” I remarked dryly, rolling my wand between my fingers, still frantically thinking.
“Crucio,” Voldemort said simply, and for the briefest of instances, I thought to dodge the beam of red light that flashed across the clearing before, in the same instant, I realized Iris was behind me.
I remained still.
The red light hit me, crackling over me, and it was like boiling lead had been poured through my veins.
I screamed.
-
Iris looked uncomprehendingly at the twisting and shaking form of Ares as he writhed on the ground; it looked worse than any beating that Vernon had ever administered to her.
Iris raised her wand, pointing at Voldemort, though she didn’t know what she could do. “Stop it!” she screamed. Her phoenix feather wand flashed bright white, and a shockwave echoed outward, only to be dismissed as Voldemort made a single gesture of his wand.
He looked at her, his lips twisted in cruel amusement, but Ares had stopped screaming now, simply twitching on the ground.
“You see what I can do,” Voldemort whispered, “It’s your choice whether he dies for you, am I not generous?”
Iris's wand was hot in her grip. She looked at Ares and then slowly lowered her wand. Her throat was thick, but she forced her next words out regardless, “What do I have to do?” she asked quietly.
Voldemort grinned, his thin lipless mouth twisting in a sadistic smile, “So reasonable, you must care for your friend a great deal, or perhaps,” Voldemort chuckled, “He’s more than that?”
Iris glared at Voldemort, ignoring his words entirely, “What do I have to do?” she repeated.
It didn’t matter what the man asked, she would do it. Ares was… precious to her in a way no one else was or in a way she thought anyone else could be.
“Good,” Voldemort sighed, relaxing, seemingly euphoric, “First you will-“
Violet flashed the clearing, illuminated brightly. Voldemort’s smile was frozen, and then his head tipped off his body, falling to the ground with a thud.
Iris blinked, turning to see Ares lying on his back, his wand clutched tightly in his hand. He gave her a strained smile, the cocky look natural on his face as it always was, though perhaps a touch more strained now, “Nice distraction.”
Iris’s eyes widened as she instantly ran to him, sinking to her knees next to him, “Ares!” she exclaimed.
But Ares' eyes were no longer focused on her, turning to look at Quirrel, and then his eyes widened.
Iris turned as well, and her heart seized as shadows distorted around the decapitated man’s body, darkness swirling upward in a black mist, slowly turning towards her and Ares.
“Iris, run!” Ares gasped out.
Iris shook her head, grabbed Ares’s arm, and desperately tried to pick him up; she wouldn’t let Voldemort have him.
The shadow flew forward, reaching out, headed not for her but Ares, and Iris’s heart seized.
She threw herself forward, interposing herself between the shadows and Ares.
A ghastly black hand reached out, connecting with her forehead, and she cried out as fiery hot pain burned through her body, and something hot pressed against her chest from inside her
A ghastly scream echoed through the clearing as the spirit blew back, vanishing through the tree line, vanishing from the clearing within seconds.
Iris took deep, panting breaths, rubbing her burning forehead as she looked down at Ares, who was looking at her in shock.
“Ares?” she murmured, gently running her hands over his chest, checking him over, and at the same time reaffirming to herself that the boy was still breathing.
“What was that?” Ares said quietly.
Iris shook her head mutely, continuing to run her hands over Ares’s chest, feeling the strained breaths that rippled through his body.
-
Iris looked at me with wide eyes, but it was the heavy taste of her magic that was most shocking to me. There was a strength that had emerged there that I could scarcely believe was real.
I took a deep breath, shaking my head. The blood protections, which I now knew were very much a thing, had kicked in there, which was good because I was pretty sure I was about to be possessed.
I glanced uncertainly at the injured Unicorn before the sound of hooves had me turning to the side as what I realized was a centaur stormed into the clearing, turning to look at me and Iris as he spun about.
“I thought Mars was bright tonight,” the centaur remarked softly as he looked at us.
I looked at the centaur, my head positively swimming as memories surged back and forth across my mind with little rhyme or reason, along with the lingering tendrils of pain that coursed through my body.
“Excuse me?” I said all the words I could, as my head seemed to want to split open.
The centaur shook himself, “Forgive me, my name is Firenze. Until recently, things have been rather unclear. I can now see why.”
“Unclear?” Iris echoed.
“The heart of the scorpion has been glowing oddly since last year's summer,” Firenze sighed, stomping away to look at the shallowly bleeding Unicorn.
I ignored his words for the moment, frowning at the downed Unicorn, “Will the Unicorn be all right?”
Firenze glanced up, but he did not look surprised at my question. “She will recover thanks to the pair of you, yet it is strange,” he looked directly at me, “You were not supposed to be here.”
I frowned at the centaur trying to corral my mind for the moment, “I don’t understand.”
Firenze shrugged his broad, powerful shoulders, “The tapestry of fate is woven at birth, unchanging, yet I did not foresee you standing here in this forest. There was only supposed to be a girl with a lightning bolt scar facing her enemy as intended.”
Given the bursting in my head, I did know at least this time what the centaur meant, or at least sort of.
“You mean Iris was meant to face Voldemort in the forest alone?”
“Yes,” Firenze nodded.
Iris stiffened next to me, looking at Firenze in surprise.
I could not say the same. It was just like Harry Potter did, just like Harry Potter would face Quirrell over the Philosophers Stone at the end of the year, and there would be an incident with a Basilisk in the second year, and then-
The memories were clear in my head now, the whole other life surging and jolting within me, the life that I had forgotten yet at times had remembered only to be forgotten again. Even when I had focused on Quirrel at the beginning of the year, my mind had swiftly forgotten the reason why.
Except that wasn’t entirely correct, I hadn’t chosen to forget; it was the life I had been made to forget.
By my mother.
My headache surged back full force, and Firenze seemed to notice, “You have questions,” the centaur remarked.
I nodded my head, rubbing it, “I- who-am I?”
Iris was looking at me strangely at those words, but I had to ask the question. Firenze seemed to know something.
Firenze smiled softly at me, “Whoever you choose to be, your mother saw to that.”
I nodded slowly, contemplating the memories in my head more. The plot of what had been Harry Potter had returned to me, but the other memories of my prior life felt more hazy, more indistinct, as if disuse had made them impossible to remember.
Firenze looked at me with a sad smile, “Protection has its price,” he said softly before shrugging his broad shoulders again and looking back to the sky, “The heavens have shifted,” he remarked, “With new knowledge there is change, I did not expect this.”
I laughed, a dry chuckle which turned into a coughing wheeze, “Welcome to being human.”
Firenze chuckled a deep booming sound, “It is a strange feeling, not common for centaurs,” he dipped his head, “But the point is taken.”
He then looked at me with a considering look in his eyes, “You have been given the gift of knowledge, and as with all who have been given such, it will be your decision what you do with it.”
I nodded, somewhat numbly.
Firenze nodded once before he looked away again for something only he could see before he turned back to us, “Your journey out of the Forest will be unimpeded, but I would go quickly, both of your absences have been noticed.”
I nodded once, still caught off guard by the way Firenze talked, but at the same time not. Centaurs saw the future; my mere presence would be causing chaos just by the sheer fact of what my Mother had done.
A waved wand and the muttering of incantation above my head, the last memories I had before everything I was had been swept away.
Until now.
Only to now be returned after constant use of the remeberall’s magic, the entirety of my memories unfrozen.
Iris helped me to my feet, and we turned and began our journey out of the forest in silence, even as memories flooded my mind, one in particular coming to the forefront.
I was a small, babbling child and had been so for some time, curled into the side of my mother. The Fidelius charm she was reading about was a complicated spell, I reflected. Not something that many wizards or witches had heard about.
Of course, before I had come here, I hadn’t been a witch or wizard.
It wouldn’t even be something I would consider if the book my mother was reading hadn’t been set aside in an easily accessible place within a crawling child’s reach.
Of course, because I knew what it was, I was concerned why my mother was researching it at the time. I hadn’t realized the gravity of the situation.
From the time I had come into existence, I knew my mother to be a woman of few words; a seriousness was seemingly constantly cloaked about her. Even as she held me on her hip, her eyes did not move from the book she was reading.
As always, the air around her tasted like strawberries, a comforting, familiar flavor that almost made me doze off to sleep.
Yet I didn’t want to sleep because I knew that my father would be coming home soon.
I noted that my Mother’s wand was pointed at my forehead, oddly enough; her eyes were shiny, filled with tears that had not yet fallen.
“Antares, please remember, your father and mother love you.”
-
I shook my head, trying to shake my way free of the memory, unnaturally clear compared to what I had been able to remember before.
A modified fidelius charm, what an odd concept. I shook my head again, drifting with Iris invisibly through the castle corridors, her cloak covering the pair of us.
The facts, as I now understood them, were relatively simple.
My Mother had modified the fidelius charm to hide me as a whole person. In the process, I had forgotten everything I had known beforehand. It wouldn’t have really been a problem if reincarnation weren’t on the table.
So much was now clear as to why I was the way I was, how no one had known about me in this world.
I suppose it did likely answer the question of whether my father knew I existed; he had indeed once known so, but I thought it likely that the modified fidelius had likely erased his memory of me, also potentially explaining why the man would go after Peter Pettigrew instead of going to check on his own son.
The only question is if he would remember me now. I imagined he likely would, as more people became aware of my existence, the less the charm would hold.
Either way, it was likely to be a bit of a shock.
An unconscious grin stretched my lips for lack of a better expression, though it was probably more of a grimace than a grin, and I shook my head even as more memories floated through my mind. I would have to use my occlumency to order my mind as best I could.
Even as I cleared my mind, organizing yet more information. I did so with an unexpected ease.
Which made sense, really, with the way my mind was now fully whole once again, it was amazing that I had accomplished as much with my Occlumency as I had.
We continued walking down the second floor, my eyes trailing to the bathroom where I knew there was an entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.
It was easy now to remember all the details I had found myself scrounging for previously.
Yet at the same time, the change was still there. I was more Antares than I had been before my memories had been suppressed, “Ego death,” I mumbled to myself softly, an unfriendly term, but I had no other way to describe it.
And it was something my own mother had done to me.
Childish frustration swelled inside me, and I shoved the strawberry away from my tongue before I accidentally destroyed anything. I didn’t need more examples of how dangerous that magic was.
I needed to come to terms with this new information. Who the hell even was I?
“Ares?” Iris whispered, and I turned to see her looking at me in concern, her left hand gripping my arm tightly.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“What were you doing in the Forest?” she asked.
I blinked, realizing that now was the time for explanation. I glanced at the bathroom door before I pulled her gently inside.
“That’s a long story,” I sighed.
I shrugged off the cloak, leaving her draped such that she was a floating head, and walked up to the sink.
“Ares, I’m Ares,” I mumbled to myself quietly as I stood looking at the mirror at the familiar yet unfamiliar guise in the mirror, noting now there was something strange in my gaze that I hadn’t seen before, some strange spark. I tasted the air and felt my stomach turn as I tasted the smallest difference of the magic in the sink, something that reminded me of snakes themselves.
I could only assume that with the appropriate parseltongue, that would be dealt with; I had walked to the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets seemingly unconsciously.
I ran my hands over my wand, trying to think things over; my head still hurt quite a bit, so I let myself slump to the floor next to the sink, finally realizing I just needed some time to think.
My soul just had a little extra; it didn’t have to mean anything.
Something like relief settled in my gut as I had that realization; I really was overthinking things. This was a good thing because now there wouldn’t be this confusing swirl of memories within me.
I would be able to focus finally without my thoughts breaking against each other.
On the other hand, how much my memories could actually still serve me was another question entirely, not just with differences already inherent in this world, but the changes I had already caused without any thought.
“Ares?” Iris said again, resting her head on my shoulder as she nestled herself in next to me, “Are you okay?”
I realized that I was shaking, though I thought it was likely from exposure to the cruciatus curse more than anything, “Fine,” I grinned at the girl, “I really dragged us into it, didn’t I?” I tried to joke for lack of anything better to say.
Iris’s unimpressed expression was all the answer I needed.
I shook my head, my smile falling away, “How did you know I was in the forest?” I asked.
“The map,” Iris shrugged, though it was a somewhat shaky motion, not nearly as blasé as she intended it, “I’ve seen you walk out to the grounds multiple times, and when I saw you disappear, entering the forest, I knew I had to do something.”
“You shouldn’t-“
Iris fixed me with an emerald glare, “I should have let you wander into an expressly forbidden part of the Hogwarts grounds by yourself?” she asked, her voice soft but at the same time sickeningly sweet.
I winced, looking away, “I didn’t want anybody to be in danger because of me,” I said quietly.
Iris scowled at me, “You prat! You could have died!” she screamed out suddenly, “Voldemort tortured you and you’re sitting here as if that doesn’t even matter!”
She was shaking against me, and I slowly reached my arms out, drawing her into my chest, feeling hot, wet tears beginning to soak the front of my shirt.
“I’m sorry,” I said, knowing the words were weak, practically useless, but I had nothing better to say.
A long silence stretched between us as Iris continued to cry into my chest.
“Don’t leave me behind again,” Iris whispered softly against me.
“I-“ I hesitated, unsure if I could make that promise.
“Don’t!” Iris said harshly into my pectoral, “You have to promise me you’ll take me with you!”
“I can’t let you get hurt, Iris,” I said softly.
A soft growl emerged from the girl, vibrating against my chest, “How do you think I’d feel if you died tonight?” She looked up at me fiercely, her eyes a perfect emerald green glistening from her tears.
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I looked away, the weak childish part of me feeling as if I had truly let her down.
We remained in silence for several minutes, though Iris remained nestled into me.
Finally, as I pulled myself together, I spoke my next words, “We need to talk to Professor Dumbledore,” I sighed.
Iris stiffened, likely upset that I hadn’t given her a guarantee, but I wasn’t going to lie to her. It made sense logically, even discounting my feelings; it was better that I potentially die than Iris. She was the chosen one, the Girl-Who-Lived, for the sake of the rest of the people within the world; nothing could happen to her.
I ignored the fact that I knew I was lying to myself about my reasons.
I struggled to my feet on shaky legs, Iris rising with me to support my shaking body, tucking herself under my right arm, demonstrating a surprising amount of strength.
“Are you sure?” she asked, and I noted her typical distrust of adults bleeding into her voice.
“Yeah,” I nodded my head in a single motion, wincing as my nerves tingled unpleasantly in my neck, “He needs to know about Voldemort.”
Iris brought the cloak around us again, and we began walking towards Dumbledore’s office, led by me, as I had actually been there.
We arrived in relatively short order in front of the Gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore’s office, shrugging off the cloak a little ways away.
As we came to a stop in front of the Gargoyle, I felt a spike of magic flash across the Gargoyle, traveling backward up the stairs.
My lips turned up somewhat as I remembered the password Dumbledore had used when he first brought me here, “Sherbert Lemon,” I said.
The Gargoyle leaped to the side and we began our journey up the stairs, plodding across the stone steps until we arrived at an already open door leading into Dumbledore’s eclectic office, where he sat behind his desk, seemingly in a night robe, a literal one, midnight blue with twinkling stars dotted across its expanse.
He looked at us and his blue eyes scanned over us rapidly before he spoke, “Ms. Potter, Mr. Black, has something occurred?”
I shrugged, shifting uneasily against Iris, who helped me into one of the plush chairs in front of the desk, remaining to hover about me as I settled against the cushions, unable to contain my winces.
I glanced at Iris, who looked back at me with a raised eyebrow.
“We encountered Voldemort,” I said aloud, turning to Dumbledore.
Dumbledore’s eyes widened, “Tell me everything,” he said quietly.
-
Explaining yet another strange circumstance involving dark wizards was easier this time, if for no other reason, Iris was able to take over the story upon her arrival in the forest, though I noted she did not mention the Marauder's Map.
Dumbledore listened with his usual calm expression to the entire story, asking only a couple of times for clarification.
As we mentioned, leaving the forest and coming to his office, he finally nodded, seemingly in thought.
“Do you mind if I examine you, Mr. Black?” he asked.
I shrugged, unable to contain my wince as I did so, “If you like, professor.”
Dumbledore reached into his robes and pulled out an elegant wand, which I realized was likely the Elder wand now, a cool, subtle flavor almost exactly like the cloak trailing across my tongue, not noticeable unless you were looking for it.
He waved his wand over me, and I felt a small tingle across my body as Dumbledore nodded to himself, “You’ve been exposed to the cruciatus curse, Mr. Black. I am terribly sorry.”
He even sounded like it as he looked at me solemnly.
I shrugged, “Better me than Iris.”
Iris stiffened next to me, her scowl boring into the side of my head.
Yet there was a flash of something in Dumbledore’s eyes, the same satisfaction I had glimpsed before, as if my words were exactly what he wanted to hear.
“It is admirable to protect one’s friends,” Dumbledore said softly, “Though perhaps some concern for yourself would not go amiss.”
Strangely enough, the last sentence seemed tacked on, and I noted Dumbledore’s eyes flick to Iris for the briefest of instances.
Iris didn’t seem to notice prodding me rather harshly in the chest, “You heard the headmaster,” she scowled at me.
“Mmm,” I hummed, nodding my head once, not really acknowledging her words but not ignoring them either, “Headmaster?” I said.
Dumbledore looked at me with open curiosity on his face, “Yes, Mr. Black?”
“What will you do about the Philosopher’s Stone now?” I asked the first burning question that was bothering me.
Dumbledore shrugged, “That will be up to the Flamel’s. The immediate danger is passed, so they may decide to take it into their care again. Perhaps Nicholas has come up with a better way to hide the stone in the meantime.”
I nodded, not really caring one way or the other, right now focusing on a more immediate question to confirm my newly recovered knowledge, “How was it exactly that Iris was able to force Voldemort’s spirit away?” I asked.
Dumbledore nodded his head, giving me a warm look, “That is a good question, Mr. Black, and it relates to our prior conversation.”
The man had given me clues, but I wasn’t sure if I would have figured out the answer without my other knowledge.
“There’s some kind of protection she has, something she’s had since the night Voldemort attempted to kill her.”
Iris stiffened, looking at me strangely.
Dumbledore nodded, “Love,” he looked at Iris, “Your mother died for you, Ms. Potter, and that kind of love leaves its mark.”
Iris’s hand drifted up to her forehead, going for the scar, but Dumbledore shook his head.
“It’s not a physical thing; it is simply the love of a Mother who sacrificed her life to save her daughter, it is magic at its deepest and most impenetrable.”
Dumbledore was looking at Iris now, but at the same time, it was like he was saying those words to me, poking me along, as if there was something he wished for me to understand.
“That protection,” I said slowly, “It’s not related to her living at the Dursleys, is it?”
Iris froze entirely as Dumbledore nodded, “It is, a separate protection built on Lily’s sacrifice,” he turned to Iris, “Your Aunt Petunia shares your mother's blood, and though she took you reluctantly, bitterly even, it meant you were safe within the walls of her home from Voldemort and his followers.”
Iris’s eyes widened as she looked at Dumbledore, “So that’s why-“ she mumbled.
Dumbledore nodded, “For the past ten years, there would have been nowhere safer for you.” He said simply
I noticed Iris flinch, and her eyes gained a pained look mixed with the smallest amounts of frustration and helplessness.
There was something about the way Dumbledore spoke, though. It was in the past tense, “The way you say that,” I said slowly, “You said that like it was in the past tense.”
Dumbledore smiled softly, “I did, you took an unforgivable curse tonight for Iris, didn’t you, Ares?” he peered over his glasses at me, his smile widening as he looked at me, the strange satisfaction reemerging.
It was strange how the man had just used my name, and not just my first name, but my nickname.
Iris looked between us, her mouth opening and closing before she finally asked, “An unforgivable curse?” she whispered out.
Dumbledore nodded, “There are three of them, the killing curse, the imperius curse, and the cruciatus curse, and they are dark not just because of what they do, but from the similar magic they invoke. Mr. Black was just exposed to the torture curse.”
“So I got hit by the torture curse,” I said, confused, “I don’t understand why that matters.”
Dumbledore smiled softly, “You made a choice tonight, Ares, when you took that curse for Iris.”
He turned to Iris, “You also made a choice tonight when you interposed yourself between Voldemort and Ares.”
“What does that mean?” Iris asked cocking her head to the side.
“The protection your mother left has changed,” Dumbledore said, “I believe it has now latched onto Ares' magic.”
Iris paled, “It’s not going to hurt him, is it?” she asked quickly.
Dumbledore shook his head, “On the contrary, you now share a bond I have not seen before. Ares will be fine, and you will be safer with him than anywhere else; your magic and your mother's have touched him.”
Iris froze, looking at me, then back at Dumbledore, then back at me, “That means-“ she hesitated before finishing, “Then I’ll be living with Ares instead?” There was something desperate in her tone, unbelieving yet at the same time desperately hopeful.
“The blood protections from living with the Dursleys, from what I can tell, have been entirely subverted,” Dumbledore said, “Your mother's protection is now connected to what happened in the forest.”
I looked at the man, contemplating every one of my previous interactions with him, his words, the subtle expressions, the looks, it was almost as if this was exactly what Dumbledore wanted to happen, as if he had planned these entire circumstances.
But that couldn’t be right?
Could it?
I had never interpreted the Dumbledore I had in my memories like that; he had plans, he manipulated, but to position everything like this was frankly outlandish.
Still, it bothered me.
“Ares?” Iris whispered, and I turned to her, realizing I had gotten lost in my thoughts. She was looking at me, her eyes wide, a low current of desperation running through them.
My trained smile came to my face, but for the first time, it didn’t feel forced, a natural curling of my lips, “I suppose you’ll just have to tolerate my existence, eh?”
Iris slammed into me, toppling me backward in my chair, causing us to fall to the ground in a tangle.
For the second time that night, I could feel Iris’s tears soaking into my shirt, but this time I felt far better about these ones. Gently, I wrapped my arms around Iris’s back, taking note of Dumbledore’s gentle smile.
Even with my new knowledge I had no idea if I could trust the man, on the other hand he seemed to be on my side for now.
I would figure it out another time.
Comments
Laandra
He was living in an muggle orphanage. I don't think he has access to any black properties by himself but the plan is that he lives with Sirious after he is released.
Dranzer
Well that was certainly eventful in the best way possible though it does open up some questions about what happens for the rest of the first year since Voldemort has at least temporarily been dealt with. On a somewhat serious somewhat joking note should we the readers be taking the love protection shifting it's anchor to Ares as Lily Potter approving of him for her daughter? Also on a completely serious note something I didn't think to really think about before this chapter but where exactly does Ares live I can't remember if any of the prior chapters have said and I just didn't think it relevant at the time but now in light of certain things that information now seems pretty relevant.
