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"Got any more of that magic slime?"

Iris looked up from her transfiguration essay. Harry was standing across the table from where she was sat in a corner of the near-empty Gryffindor Common Room, cradling his right hand. Iris could see blood dripping between his fingers and her eyes widened, quickly beckoning her brother closer. He walked around the circular table and took a seat at the chair beside her while Iris bent down to her book bag. She pulled out a bowl and a jar of mucus-looking liquid.

When Iris had visited the Shielded house the week prior, she had asked Lucas and Jason, the healers, for anything that could help Harry's hand after his detentions with Umbridge. They gave her a solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles. It didn't heal the words carved into his hand entirely, but it helped ease his pain at least.

Iris poured the essence of murtlap into the shallow bowl and then took Harry's hand gently. She unwound her Gryffindor scarf from her neck and used it to carefully wipe the blood from the back of the open wound. Harry grimaced, his arm clenching. Iris muttered an apology, her eyes growing tearful as she read the words: 'I must not tell lies.'

She wiped most of the blood off and Harry placed his bleeding, aching hand into the bowl. Immediately a look of relief washed over him. Crookshanks and Buttercup curled around the twins' legs, purring loudly. Hermione's orange cat then leapt into Harry's lap and settled down to wait for her owner to return. Iris reached down to grab her own cat, pulling the ball of fluff into her arms.

"Thanks," Harry said gratefully, scratching behind Crookshanks's ears with his left hand.

Iris's hazel eyes searched his face, "It's my job," she told him sincerely, "I'll always take care of you." She tried to blink the wetness from her eyes as she then said, "I'm sorry— that you have to go through all of this. It's my fault... you're defending Cedric," she choked on his name, "I should be the one to do that."

Harry's expression had dropped even further, his sad eyes watching Iris closely.

"We were both there," he said.

Iris shook her head, looking away and wiping under her eyes quickly. She turned back, giving Harry a sad attempt at a reassuring smile, her hazel eyes glittering with unshed tears in the firelight.

"You've always been better at protecting us. You actually stand up for yourself and others," Harry went to protest but Iris continued before he could, "I'm the quiet one, I..." she paused in thought and gestured at the few stacks of textbooks on the table, "...read. And even that doesn't mean anything anymore... I'm failing almost all my classes."

Iris looked down dejectedly, petting Buttercup softly. Her grades had massively tanked since they had returned to school, dropping her from her usual spot at the top of the class alongside Hermione. Iris just couldn't find the will to care about her schoolwork anymore— not when there were much more important things happening in her life.

Nothing had felt the same to Iris since Cedric died. Every time she walked down the halls she saw him. Every waking moment she had, her thoughts were occupied by him, or the Order, the Shielded, or Voldemort. She had no room for homework. Even as she worked on her essay for Transfiguration, Iris knew it was likely the worst thing she had ever written.

The only class she really tried in was DADA, not that it was difficult to begin with, but only because she wanted to avoid Umbridge's detention at all costs, whereas she knew the other Professors would be more forgiving of her academic descent.

"Iris if I was half as brave, or as kind or smart as you we'd all be a lot better off. I would gladly take on a hundred more detentions with that toad if it was for defending you or him," Harry said strongly, wincing as he flexed his hand in the bowl slightly.

"Thanks," Iris said sincerely, doe-eyed.

All throughout their lives growing up, Harry had been the one who would stand up for Iris and fight back at the muggle children who bullied her. She remembered one day in school when they were maybe seven or so, a girl in their class had made fun of her hair. Iris had done it herself by pulling it up into two pigtails. It was a frizzy, curly mess that greatly embodied the signature Potter hair passed on by her father. Aunt Petunia never particularly cared to engage in usual young girl things with Iris, leaving her to do her own hair besides Petunia cutting fringe for Iris as early as possible to hide the 'hideously abnormal scar' that remained on the side of her forehead since the night their parents died.

Iris had hidden during their lunchtime until Harry found her crying in the school washroom, pigtails pulled out with a pair of scissors in hand. She had been ready to chop all of her locks off in a fury, but Harry took the scissors and gave her a hug before gently redoing her two hair bunches. After lunch, Harry walked right up to the mean girl and told her off as strongly as a seven-year-old could. He got sent to a timeout by the teacher, but after that, the bully's hair slowly began gaining volume and frizzing with humidity until she looked like a young, redheaded Albert Einstein.

In later years, of course, Iris knew it was accidental magic that had caused that, but at the time she wholeheartedly believed that it was simply karma and that maybe someone was looking out for her. Harry was her hero and her best friend.

Sure, she was the "smarter" twin, and she had one of the biggest hearts around, but none of that meant anything to her when she questioned her very own ability to function and protect the people she cared about at every moment.

The second task in the Triwizard Tournament was the only one where they were assigned a friend to save, and it was the only one Iris failed. That was just strike one to her self-confidence, but then losing Cedric right before her eyes was like getting hit by a train. Strike three would come in due time, Iris was well aware. The day when Harry had to fulfil the prophecy and either kill Voldemort or be killed, all the while Iris stepped aside and let it happen, was bound to be the final nail in her coffin.

The more time passed since that June night in the graveyard, the more Iris began to overthink everything she did. She could physically feel herself losing steam, self-doubt creeping in around her. Paired alongside the nightmares reliving that night that left her flushed and shaking for hours after she woke up, Iris' walls were showing fatigue before their inevitable crumble.

"I don't say it enough, but you're the best person I've ever known," Iris told Harry, "I love you... and I'm proud of you."

The corners of Harry's mouth pulled up, "I love you too, Iris."

They sat together in silence for the next few minutes as the rest of the students cleared out of the Common Room, Buttercup and Crookshanks snoozing on either of their laps while Harry's hand soaked. Soon enough, Hermione and Ron returned to the Common Room from their Prefect patrolling duties. They made their way over to the table where the Potter twins sat, grimacing at the sight of the back of Harry's hand.

Hermione sat beside Iris, peering over at her work-in-progress essay and frowning as she noticed the unusual lack in quality.

"I still reckon you should complain about this," said Ron in a low voice.

"No," said Harry flatly.

"McGonagall would go nuts if she knew—"

"Yeah, she probably would," said Harry. "And how long d'you reckon it'd take Umbridge to pass another Decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?"

Iris' eyebrows pulled together. Ron opened his mouth to retort but nothing came out and after a moment he closed it again in a defeated sort of way.

"She's an awful woman," said Hermione in a small voice, looking up from Iris' parchment. "Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when we were walking back... we've got to do something about her."

"I suggested poison," said Ron grimly.

"No... I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we're not learning how to defend ourselves, we're not learning what we need to pass our OWLS, she's taking over the entire school— what's Dumbledore playing at?" said Hermione.

Harry murmured, "I wish I knew..."

The Wizard's Wireless Radio on the side table beside the sofa then crackled to life.

The fuzzy announcer's voice echoed through, "At the witching hour, here are the latest headlines... Cornelius Fudge today denied rumours that the mysterious disappearance of several Ministry workers is related to last year's appearance of the Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup..."

Ron started to say something but Hermione immediately shushed him. Ron just sighed, shaking his head as she hurried over to grab the radio, turning up the volume. Hermione brought it over to their corner table as the announcer continued:

"...With increased incidents of Goblin unrest as well as rumblings among the Giants, the Minister sought to quell the qualms of the wizard world:"

The crackling voice then switched over to the familiar one of Minister Fudge, "We wish to assure the public that Security has been and will remain the Ministry's top priority. Furthermore, we have convincing evidence these disappearances are the work of notorious mass murderer Sirius Black. Make no mistake: we will hunt him down and find him wherever he hides..."

"Oh please," Iris groaned.

At the same time, another voice spoke in the room, making the quartet of friends jump, "Come and get me, Fudgey..."

Sirius' head appeared in the fire's dancing flames. As his face eerily burned and reformed the four Gryffindors rushed to kneel on the hearthrug. Harry removed his hand from the essence of murtlap, drying it on Iris' now bloodstained scarf before joining them.

"Sirius! What are you doing here?" Iris asked worriedly.

"This was the only way I could come up with of checking in on you all without resorting to a code— and codes are breakable," Sirius answered, "But my darling goddaughter was the only one of you in here and I was starting to think you'd go to bed before everyone else had disappeared," he said. "I've been checking every hour."

"You've been popping into the fire every hour?" Harry said, half laughing.

"Just for a few seconds to check if the coast was clear yet..." he admitted, "So what are Umbridge's lessons like?" Sirius questioned. "Is she training you all to kill half-breeds?"

"No," said Iris.

 Harry continued, "She's not letting us use magic at all!"

"All we do is read the stupid textbook," said Ron.

"Ah, well, that figures," said Sirius. "Our information from inside the Ministry is that Fudge doesn't want you trained in combat."

Iris rolled her eyes at that. Fudge got on her every nerve.

"Trained in combat?" repeated Harry incredulously. "What does he think we're doing here, forming some sort of wizard army?"

"That's exactly what he thinks you're doing," said Sirius, "or rather, that's exactly what he's afraid Dumbledore's doing — forming his own private army, with which he will be able to take on the Ministry of Magic. He's getting more paranoid by the minute...

The gravity of it all sank in.

Sirius then hesitated before saying: "The others wouldn't want me telling you this... but things aren't going at all well with the Order. Fudge is blocking the truth at every turn..." he trailed off, "When's your next Hogsmeade weekend anyway? I was thinking, I got around the Hogwarts grounds all of your third and fourth years without suspicion. I thought I could—"

"NO!" said Iris and Hermione together, very loudly.

"Sirius, didn't you see the Daily Prophet this morning?" said Hermione anxiously, "They know you're in London!"

"Oh that," said Sirius, grinning, "they're always guessing where I am, they haven't really got a clue—"

"Yeah, but we think this time they have," said Iris. "All the death eaters have to know by now that you're an animagus, and no doubt Lucius Malfoy told his son to be on the lookout since he's a little death eater wannabe— so don't come up here, whatever you do, if Malfoy or anyone else recognizes you—"

"All right, all right, I've got the point," said Sirius. He looked most displeased. "Just an idea, thought you might like to get together—"

"Of course I would, I'm just looking out for your safety! I just don't want you chucked back in Azkaban or killed!" said Iris.

There was a pause in which Sirius looked out of the fire at Iris, a crease between his sunken eyes.

"You're less like your father than I thought," he said finally, a definite coolness in his voice. "The risk would've been what made it fun for James."

"Sirius—"

"Well, I'd better get going, I can hear Kreacher coming down the stairs," said Sirius, but Iris was sure he was lying. "I'll write to tell you a time I can make it back into the fire, then, shall I? If you can stand to risk it?"

There was a tiny pop, and the place where Sirius's head had been was flickering flame once more. Iris was left staring into the warm glow, a look of hurt and disappointment quickly spreading across her face.

The other three exchanged awkward looks behind her and Harry placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Hermione spoke up quietly, "We've got to be able to defend ourselves. And if Umbridge refuses to teach us how..." Iris turned her head to see the girl staring right at her, "We need someone who will."

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i don't have an a/n today other than I LOVE BABY HARRY & IRIS, but ily all and hope you're having a bangin day/night :)