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Everyone but Iris and Harry spent the rest of the morning sleeping. Harry went up to the bedroom he had shared with Ron over the summer, but while Ron crawled into bed and was asleep within minutes, Harry sat fully clothed, hunched against the cold metal bars of the bedstead, keeping himself deliberately uncomfortable, determined not to fall into a doze, terrified that he might become the serpent again in his sleep and awake to find that he had attacked Ron, or else slithered through the house after one of the others...

Iris knew all this because she sat awake in the next room, forcing herself not to doze off even though she so badly wanted to sleep. She remained in a medatative state for the rest of the morning, trying to keep herself alert and her mind focused on Harry just in case he fell asleep. She would not let it happen again, and until Harry could be taught to do it himself, Iris would keep Voldemort out for him— it was her most critical job now.

Later, when everyone else woke up, Iris trudged downstairs to join them, completely exhausted. Their trunks arrived from Hogwarts while they were eating lunch so that they could dress as Muggles for the trip to St. Mungo's. Everybody except Iris and Harry was riotously happy and talkative as they changed out of their robes into jeans and sweatshirts, and they greeted Tonks and Mad-Eye, who had turned up to escort them across London, gleefully laughing at the bowler hat Mad-Eye was wearing at an angle to conceal his magical eye and assuring him, truthfully, that Tonks, whose hair was short and bright pink again, would attract far less attention on the underground.

"I think congratulations are in order," Iris said quietly, smirking as she and Harry sat side by side on a train rattling toward the heart of the city.

Harry looked at her in confusion.

She gave her brother a look, "We didn't really get to talk about what happened yesterday after the D.A. meeting..."

His face flushed almost immediately when he realised what Iris was referring to. Harry's mouth opened like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure what.

"It's about time, really... I mean, you've been pining after Cho for over a year now—"

"I get it," Harry said, looking mildly embarrassed, though he did seem pleased.

When he didn't say anything else Iris rolled her eyes lightly, "Well?"

He looked at her dumbly, "What?"

"How was it?" Iris asked slowly.

His cheek seemed to glow an even brighter red as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, "Wet...?" At Iris' squinted expression, he clarified, "Well, she was sort of crying..."

The brunette girl stared at her twin for a few seconds, "Oh..." she sat back in her seat, looking ahead with a furrowed brow, "Okay, um..."

Harry cringed. Iris pursed her lips in thought, "Well y'know she cries a lot these days actually. And didn't she just break up with that guy she took to the Yule Ball... what's his name— Johnny? Or Jared...? Whatever, anyway, she's probably just feeling guilty about moving on so fast," Iris reasoned, "Oh, and she's conflicted because Umbridge is threatening to have her Mum sacked from her job at the Ministry, and she's afraid of failing her O.W.L.s because she's so busy worrying about everything else."

Harry stared at Iris, confounded, "She was the one who started it," said Harry. "I wouldn't've— she just sort of came at me— and next thing she's crying all over me— I didn't know what to do—"

"You just had to be nice to her," said Iris, before quickly following with, "You were, weren't you?"

"Well," said Harry, an unpleasant heat creeping up his face, "I sort of — patted her on the back a bit."

"You..." Iris looked astonished. "Huh..." she said blankly, "Well, I guess it could have been worse— Are you going to see her again?"

"I'll have to, won't I?" said Harry. "We've got D.A. meetings, haven't we?"

"You know what I mean," said Iris with an annoyed look.

He didn't answer. Iris watched as his face morphed between confusion, fear, and contemplation.

Fortunately for him, they got out at the next stop, a station in the very heart of London, and in the bustle of leaving the train, Harry was able to allow Fred and George to get between himself and Iris, who rolled her eyes at his evasion. They all followed Tonks up the escalator, Moody clunking along at the back of the group, his bowler tilted low and one gnarled hand stuck in between the buttons of his coat, clutching his wand.

"Not far from here," grunted Moody as they stepped out into the wintry air on a broad store-lined street packed with Christmas shoppers. He pushed Harry a little ahead of him and stumped along just behind; Iris knew the eye was rolling in all directions under the tilted hat. "Wasn't easy to find a good location for a hospital. Nowhere in Diagon Alley was big enough and we couldn't have it underground like the Ministry— unhealthy. In the end, they managed to get hold of a building up here. Theory was sick wizards could come and go and just blend in with the crowd..."

Iris was following up the group in the back and noticed how Mad-Eye seized Harry's shoulder to prevent them from being separated by a gaggle of shoppers plainly intent on nothing but making it into a nearby shop full of electrical gadgets.

"Here we go," said Moody a moment later.

They had arrived outside a large, old-fashioned, red-brick department store called Purge and Dowse Ltd. The place had a shabby, miserable air; the window displays consisted of a few chipped dummies with their wigs askew, standing at random and modelling fashions at least ten years out of date. Large signs on all the dusty doors read closed for refurbishment. Iris distinctly heard a large woman laden with plastic shopping bags say to her friend as they passed, "It's never open, that place..."

"Right," said Tonks, beckoning them forward to a window displaying nothing but a particularly ugly female dummy whose false eyelashes were hanging off and who was modelling a green nylon pinafore dress. "Everybody ready?"

They nodded, clustering around her; Moody gave Harry another shove between the shoulder blades to urge him forward and Tonks leaned close to the glass, looking up at the very ugly dummy and said, her breath steaming up the glass, "Wotcher... We're here to see Arthur Weasley."

The next second Iris' mouth opened in shock as the dummy gave a tiny nod, beckoned its jointed finger, and Tonks seized Ginny and Mrs Weasley by the elbows, stepping right through the glass and vanishing.

Fred, George, and Ron stepped after them; Iris glanced around at the jostling crowd; not one of them seemed to have a glance to spare for window displays as ugly as Purge and Dowse Ltd.'s, nor did any of them seem to have noticed that six people had just melted into thin air in front of them.

"C'mon," Iris said, grabbing Harry's hand and together they stepped forward through what felt like a sheet of cool water, emerging quite warm and dry on the other side.

Moody came in right behind them. There was no sign of the ugly dummy or the space where she had stood. They had arrived in what seemed to be a crowded reception area where rows of witches and wizards sat upon rickety wooden chairs, some looking perfectly normal and perusing out-of-date copies of Witch Weekly, others sporting gruesome disfigurements such as elephant trunks or extra hands sticking out of their chests. The room was scarcely less quiet than the street outside, for many of the patients were making very peculiar noises. A sweaty-faced witch in the centre of the front row, who was fanning herself vigorously with a copy of the Daily Prophet, kept letting off a high-pitched whistle as steam came pouring out of her mouth, and a grubby-looking warlock in the corner clanged like a bell every time he moved, and with each clang, his head vibrated horribly, so that he had to seize himself by the ears and hold it steady.

Witches and wizards in lime-green robes were walking up and down the rows, asking questions and making notes on clipboards like Umbridge's. Iris noticed the emblem embroidered on their chests: a wand and bone, crossed.

"Are they doctors?" Harry asked Ron quietly.

"Doctors?" said Ron, looking startled. "Those Muggle nutters that cut people up?" Iris' looked at him funny as he continued, "Nah, they're Healers."

Iris remembered with a pit in her stomach a time when she had considered becoming a Healer after graduation. She wanted more than almost anything to help people, maybe to save lives, but now she would be lucky to even save herself.

"Over here!" called Mrs Weasley over the renewed clanging of the warlock in the corner, and they followed her through the double doors and along the narrow corridor beyond, which was lined with more portraits of famous Healers and lit by crystal bubbles full of candles that floated up on the ceiling, looking like giant soapsuds. As they moved past it, Iris read the floor guide:

ARTIFACT ACCIDENTS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ground Floor (Cauldron explosion, wand backfiring, broom crashes, etc.)

CREATURE-INDUCED INJURIES. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . First Floor (Bites, stings, burns, embedded spines, etc.)

MAGICAL BUGS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Second Floor (Contagious maladies, e.g., dragon pox, vanishing sickness, scrofungulus)

POTION AND PLANT POISONING. . . . . . . . . . . . .Third Floor (Rashes, regurgitation, uncontrollable giggling, etc.)

SPELL DAMAGE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Fourth Floor (Unliftable jinxes, hexes, and incorrectly applied charms, etc.)

VISITORS' TEAROOM AND HOSPITAL SHOP. . . . .Fifth Floor

If you are unsure where to go, incapable, of normal speech, or unable to remember why you are here, our Welcome Witch will be pleased to help.

More witches and wizards in lime-green robes walked in and out of the doors they passed; a foul-smelling yellow gas wafted into the passageway as they passed one door, and every now and then they heard distant wailing. They climbed a flight of stairs and entered the "Creature-Induced Injuries" corridor, where the second door on the right bore the words "DANGEROUS" DAI LLEWELLYN WARD: SERIOUS BITES.

"We'll wait outside, Molly," Tonks said. "Arthur won't want too many visitors at once... It ought to be just the family first."

Mad-Eye growled his approval of this idea and set himself with his back against the corridor wall, his magical eye spinning in all directions. The Potter twins drew back too, but Mrs Weasley reached out a hand and pushed them through the door, saying, "Don't be silly, you two, Arthur wants to thank you..."

The ward was small and rather dingy as the only window was narrow and set high in the wall facing the door. Most of the light came from more shining crystal bubbles clustered in the middle of the ceiling. The walls were of panelled oak and there was a portrait of a rather vicious-looking wizard on the wall.

There were only three patients. Mr Weasley was occupying the bed at the far end of the ward beside the tiny window. Iris let out a relieved sigh when she saw that he was propped up on several pillows and reading the Daily Prophet by the solitary ray of sunlight falling onto his bed. He looked around as they walked toward him and, seeing whom it was, beamed.

"Hello!" he called, throwing the Prophet aside. "Bill just left, Molly, had to get back to work, but he says he'll drop in on you later..." "How are you, Arthur?" asked Mrs Weasley, bending down to kiss his cheek and looking anxiously into his face. "You're still looking a bit peaky..."

"I feel absolutely fine," said Mr Weasley brightly, holding out his good arm to give Ginny a hug. "If they could only take the bandages off, I'd be fit to go home."

"Why can't they take them off, Dad?" asked Fred.

"Well, I start bleeding like mad every time they try," said Mr Weasley cheerfully, reaching across for his wand, which lay on his bedside cabinet, and waving it so that seven extra chairs appeared at his bedside to seat them all. "It seems there was some rather unusual kind of poison in that snake's fangs that keeps wounds open... They're sure they'll find an antidote, though, they say they've had much worse cases than mine, and in the meantime, I just have to keep taking a Blood-Replenishing Potion every hour.

"So, you going to tell us what happened, Dad?" asked Fred, pulling his chair closer to the bed.

"Well, you already know, don't you?" said Mr Weasley, with a significant smile at Harry. "It's very simple— I'd had a very long day, dozed off, got sneaked up on, and bitten."

"Is it in the Prophet, you being attacked?" asked Fred, indicating the newspaper Mr Weasley had cast aside.

Iris fiddled with her fingers, getting a bad feeling from what she assumed was only the start of the Weasley children's questions.

"No, of course not," said Mr Weasley, with a slightly bitter smile, "the Ministry wouldn't want everyone to know a dirty great serpent got—"

Iris looked up sharply.

"Arthur!" said Mrs Weasley warningly.

"— got — er — me," Mr Weasley said hastily, though Iris knew quite well that was not what he had meant to say.

"So where were you when it happened, Dad?" asked George.

Iris was very tense. She knew the Weasley twins would be relentless toward finding out anything they could about the Order. Iris was sure it was only a matter of time before they jumped her for information too.

"That's my business," said Mr Weasley, though with a small smile. He snatched up the Daily Prophet, shook it open again and said, "I was just reading about Willy Widdershins's arrest when you arrived. You know Willy turned out to be behind those regurgitating toilets last summer? One of his jinxes backfired, the toilet exploded, and they found him lying unconscious in the wreckage covered from head to foot in—"

"When you say you were 'on duty,'" Fred interrupted in a low voice, "what were you doing?"

Iris swallowed heavily, trying not to glare at Fred. She knew he was desperate for answers but this was neither the time nor the place to get them— not that they would be given in the first place.

"You heard your father," whispered Mrs Weasley, "we are not discussing this here! Go on about Willy Widdershins, Arthur—"

"Well, don't ask me how, but he actually got off on the toilet charge," said Mr Weasley grimly. "I can only suppose gold changed hands—"

"You were guarding it, weren't you?" said George quietly. "The weapon? The thing You-Know-Who's after?"

"George, be quiet!" snapped Mrs Weasley.

"Anyway," said Mr Weasley in a raised voice, "this time Willy's been caught selling biting doorknobs to Muggles, and I don't think he'll be able to worm his way out of it because according to this article, two Muggles have lost fingers and are now in St. Mungo's for emergency bone regrowth and memory modification. Just think of it, Muggles in St. Mungo's! I wonder which ward they're in?"

And he looked eagerly around as though hoping to see a signpost.

"Didn't you say You-Know-Who's got a snake, Harry?" asked Fred, looking at his father for a reaction. "A massive one? You saw it the night he returned, didn't you?"

"That's enough," said Mrs Weasley crossly. Iris sunk in her chair, her hands covering her face tiredly. "Mad-Eye and Tonks are outside, Arthur, they want to come and see you. And you lot can wait outside," she added to her children and Harry. "You can come and say goodbye afterwards. Go on..."

As they trooped back into the corridor, Mrs Weasley held Iris back for a moment, asking, "Do you want to stay, dear? We all need to discuss... some things."

'Some things' being Harry, of course.

"I'd rather not," Iris said uncomfortably, "I actually rather tired still. I think I'm just going to go up to the tearoom for a moment— you can come get me when you're all ready to go."

"Well alright then..." Mrs Weasley agreed, looking at Iris in concern.

Iris left as Mad-Eye and Tonks went in and closed the door of the ward behind them. Fred raised his eyebrows. "Fine," he said coolly, rummaging in his pockets, "be like that. Don't tell us anything."

George then turned to Iris, a lightbulb seemingly going off in his head, "Iris—"

"I can't," Iris didn't let him finish, "So don't even try it, George." She wouldn't be telling them any of the Order's secrets, especially not out in the open public. "I'm going upstairs to the tearoom, find me later," she said decisively, before turning on her heel and quickly exiting the ward.

She walked along the corridor through a set of double doors and found a rickety staircase lined with more portraits of brutal-looking Healers. Iris began walking up the flights to the fifth floor, but as she stepped onto the landing of the fourth, she came to an abrupt halt, staring at the small window set into the double doors that marked the start of a corridor signposted SPELL DAMAGE.

Standing on the other side of the door was none other than Neville Longbottom. She had seen him just hours ago in Harry's dorm before they had left, but as he made eye contact with her through the little window, the boy looked like he wished they were complete strangers.

Neville hesitantly pushed the door open and Iris walked forward to greet him.

"Hi Neville," she said as happily as she could muster in her exhaustion.

"Iris... Is— is Harry okay?" he asked worriedly.

It dawned on her that the last time he had seen Harry was when he was screaming and thrashing in the middle of the night. "Oh, yeah he's fine, I'm actually here for Mr Weasley... he's okay too," she added hastily after the boy looked even more concerned.

Neville stood there awkwardly for a few seconds before finally deciding to speak, "I— um, I'm—"

"I know," Iris cut him off softly. Her eyes flickered over to the sign beside the door that read: 'Fourth Floor: SPELL DAMAGE (Unliftable jinxes, hexes, and incorrectly applied charms, etc.)' When Neville's cheeks started to grow pink she looked down, "Sorry... I never mean to pry, I can't help it sometimes..." Iris shook her head slightly, internally cursing herself for this entire conversation, "I've known for a while."

Neville said quietly, "I'm quite proud to be their son... But I'm not sure I'm ready for everyone to know just yet."

"I get it," she said understandingly.

The two teens stood in silence for a moment, Neville's face beet-red before he offered while stumbling over his words, "Do— Would you... would you want to come in with me?" He was blushing furiously, refusing to look Iris in the eye, "No one's ever met my parents before..."

"Yeah, of course," Iris told him sincerely, touched that he would want her to meet his parents.

Neville led her into the Janus Thickey ward silently. Iris looked around; this ward bore unmistakable signs of being a permanent home to its residents. They had many more personal effects around their beds than in Mr Weasley's ward; the wall around one patient's headboard, for instance, was papered with pictures of family and friends, all beaming toothily and waving at the new arrivals.

A sallow-skinned, mournful-looking wizard lay in the bed opposite, staring at the ceiling; he was mumbling to himself and seemed quite unaware of anything around him. Two beds along was a woman whose entire head was covered in fur; Iris remembered something similar happening to Hermione during their second year, although fortunately the damage, in her case, had not been permanent. At the far end of the ward flowery curtains had been drawn around two beds to give the occupants some privacy.

As they approached the beds, Neville looked increasingly more awkward. Finally, they reached the curtain and the boy beside her hesitated for a moment and took a breath before pulling it back and allowing Iris inside. Neville's father didn't move from where he sat on the edge of his bed, staring out their small window solemnly. His mother, however, turned toward the two of them curiously, already standing in her nightdress. She no longer had the plump, happy-looking face Iris had seen in old photographs of the original Order of the Phoenix. Her face was thin and worn now, her eyes seemed overlarge, and her hair, which had turned white, was wispy and dead-looking. She did not seem to want to speak, or perhaps she was not able to, but she timidly walked toward Neville only to stand in front of him and gazed at his face owlishly.

"Hi mum," Neville said patiently.

She then turned her head to Iris, staring inquisitively as if she knew this was someone new.

"Hello," Iris said quietly.

She wondered if the woman could recognise her as her parent's daughter. Iris supposed that they had to have been somewhat close, being in the Order at the same time and both Lily and Alice having their babies within two days of each other, unsure of who would be the bearer of the cursed child.

Alice Longbottom then reached out carefully and poked a finger into Iris' cheek, smiling sweetly. Iris stared into her soft brown eyes unsurely. She reached up and gently took Alice's hand in hers, lowering it but not looking away. As she stared into the woman's eyes like she was staring through her very soul, Iris experienced perhaps one of the strangest sensations she ever had. A chill went down her spine and a strange vision of a younger-looking Alice laughing happily played in her head.

"Hey Neville," Iris said distractedly, "Catch me if I pass out."

She heard him make a confused sound and then there was only silence.

On November first, 1981, Alice Longbottom had been tortured for a total of five hours, forty-nine minutes, and thirteen seconds. The Death Eaters had started with Frank, and when he wouldn't give up information on Voldemort's location, his body and mind eventually gave out. They had gone for Alice next. She strained under the Cruciatus curse for long enough to break her mind too.

It was the scariest thing Iris had ever seen. When she was younger, Iris tried to teach herself control by imagining everyone's minds as houses. Though she had the key to all of their front doors, she attempted to remind herself to knock first. Most people's houses reflected their traumas and memories in one way or another by the form they took. The doors to Harry's thoughts were represented by a small white wooden one all too familiar to Iris: the cupboard under the Dursley's stairs. Ron's were the same as the Burrow, Sirius' were Azkaban cell doors, and Remus' were from the Shrieking Shack.

Alice, though, had a situation Iris had never encountered before. The front garden was full of junk; furniture, toys, magical objects, etc. The sky was overcast and the grass was dead. The house itself was quite odd. The exterior was made of roughly five different styles and eras, all vastly different and the front door was a giant padlocked vault-looking design.

Iris walked up the short path and knocked politely on the vault door. It opened upon her command, inviting the young witch further inside Alice's mind. Iris stopped short once she was past the door, her eyebrows furrowing at the state of the interior. Half of the walls were lined with funhouse mirrors, distorting Iris' figure in the reflection, and the other half was covered in old peeling wallpaper from the seventies and neon signs of smiley faces and other expressions. Every inch of the house that she could see was covered in cobwebs and dust, and lighting the entire room were sparkling disco balls that hung from the ceiling.

She ran her hand over a large crack in the wall and a red glow emitted from her palm, stitching it back together easily. Iris let her hand fall down the wall, the red shock rippling outward and healing the surrounding area.

Suddenly Iris heard a melodic laugh from where the corridor stretched into darkness, and she realised she wasn't alone. She walked in the same direction, now in search of the source. Iris let her hand trail across the corridor wall as she walked, collecting dust on her fingertips, but when Iris glanced behind herself she froze in shock.

The hallway looked completely normal. The flowery wallpaper had been restored and looked good-as-new, and where the funhouse mirrors were previously were now actual wooden doors.

Iris looked at her hand in surprise and glee. She stuck both of her arms out to the side and started running down the corridor letting them drag across the walls and untangle the confusion in Alice's mind. It was making her very tired, and she already hadn't slept the previous night, but Iris pushed on with determination. Iris soon realised that it was a maze, twisting and turning but she could still hear the joyful laughing coming from deep within.

It felt like much later when Iris turned a corner and finally, and out of breath, stumbled to a halt. In front of Iris, with her back facing her was another girl. She had mousy brown hair and was slightly taller than Iris. When the girl turned around with a warm grin on her face Iris stepped back harshly, blanching.

"Hello! What are you doing here?" Alice Longbottom asked.

She was young and beautiful, no longer looking on the brink of death, and she smiled as if nothing could have ever been wrong, making full eye contact with Iris. The room they were in was the first normal-looking one Iris had come across within the woman's head that she hadn't fixed herself. It matched the rest of her mind and Iris realised with a start that she had found the centre of Alice's mind— and she had found Alice.

Overcome with elation, Iris quickly approached the other witch and grabbed her arm gently.

"Come on!" she said, pulling Alice with her out of the room.

It wasn't without struggle though.

"We're going to see Neville— I can't believe this, he's going to be so excited to talk to you—" but Alice pulled her arm from Iris with a cheerful grin, like she thought Iris was making a joke with her.

"Oh don't be silly! Neville's just a baby, he can't talk yet!" she laughed.

Iris stared at her for a second, then said, "Mrs Longbottom—"

"Alice," she corrected Iris, smiling at her like they were the best of friends.

"Okay, Alice," Iris adjusted, "Neville needs to see you right now."

"Oh but I only just left him with Augusta, and I'm having so much fun here," Alice said, reluctant to leave.

Iris understood why. She had spent the last fourteen years trapped inside her own body unable to freely communicate or organise thoughts. Iris smiled and stuck her hand out for Alice to take. The woman's cheerful facade deflated slightly and she started to look confused, but she took Iris' hand willingly.

When their hands connected, Iris concentrated and used most of her remaining strength to clear off the last cobwebs from Alice's mind, untangling her life strings. There was only so much Iris could do; some of the damage would be permanent, but at least Alice could have herself back.

Iris' eyes closed as she strained to pull Neville's mother from the depths of her own mind, and she could feel blood trickling down from her nose. It was like pulling a bag of bricks. She focused everything she had into it and with a final tug in her gut, Iris opened her eyes, gasping, to see the Janus Thickey ward once again.

Iris had tears rolling down her face, blood flowing just above her upper lip. And though she couldn't see it, her eyes glowed a faint red, burning with power.

Standing just in front of her was Alice Longbottom. Abruptly, the woman's eyes flew open in shock, her cheeks already wet with tears that had been falling and her mouth open in disbelief. She blinked rapidly as she scanned her surroundings in wonder.

"Neville?" Alice spoke for the first time in fourteen years.

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hah soooo...