Lily's Horcrux

Writer's Block: I WON, I WON, NEER, NEER, NEER! (Is eaten by Norbert)

Me: Uuugh. Maybe I should have just skipped to fifth year.

Iris: (clicks tongue) And leave your readers confused, have to write an excessive amount of backstory, and miss out on several story opportunities? Where's the fun in that?

Me: It'll be more fun if it wasn't attracting that thing. (scowls at the place where Writer's Block was)

Iris: Oh, relax. He never lasts long.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter 7: First Impressions

"Okay, let's stick the entrance to our platform in the middle of the wall. I'm sure the muggleborns won't find that really confusing." Iris Potter crossed her arms and stared up at the wall between platforms nine and ten. "How many non magic raised people do you want to bet get lost here?"

"Most of them?" Hermione Granger suggested, reaching up and touching the wall experimentally. Her hand slid right through it. "Yup, still feels uncanny. Ugh." She shifted the massive bookbag slung over her shoulder, as if the weight meant nothing. Given her enhanced strength, it really didn't. "I guess you can't train the muggle out of the muggleborn."

"Nah. More like 'it takes a long time to train the skeptic out of the muggleborn'," Tracey Davis responded teasingly. Hermione shot her a dirty look but didn't argue; she'd had a tendency to question legends and stories of the wizard world during her initial entrance to it, it was only really when she saw Iris's mother come back from the dead that she conceded that anything could be possible. That, and once you've seen enough of this world nothing could surprise you anymore.

Turning into a wolf every other night could do that to you.

Not that Hermione's transformations were tricky. Wolfsbane blunted the savagery, and Iris, Bellatrix, Regulus and Lily Evans-Potter would transform and spend the night with her. A gothic muggle writer would kill to put the scene in the book; a wolf girl, running through the woods with a hawk and a raven flying overhead, a slender lynx and a sleek crimson red fox keeping pace at her either side. After her first two transformations, she stopped fearing the full moon and actually started looking forward to it. Her parents still couldn't approach her while she was transformed, but it was as close to ideal as someone in her less-than-stellar situation could be. Especially for a muggleborn; without the Potter family's official 'protection' she'd probably have been forcibly moved to an orphanage in order to 'preserve the statue of secrecy'.

As if muggles were incapable of giving their children liquid medicine at certain points of the day. Bloody politicians.

Politicans were the one thing Iris truly hated in the world. Useless, whiny, obstructive, self interested imbeciles. But they could also be fun, depending on the day. Why?

Because no matter what you did to them, you didn't feel bad afterwards!

"Why is it Nine and Three Quarters anyway? Shouldn't it be Nine and a Half?" Iris wondered.

"I think you're splitting hairs, Iris." Hermione deadpanned.

"What do you suppose Trixie meant by 'going downtown' after we've gotten to school?" Tracey wondered aloud. She used Bellatrix's nickname after much insistence from the older woman's end; Hermione still hadn't been convinced to do so. Perhaps it simply didn't fit into her usual syntax.

Iris shrugged. "Auntie didn't mention it, so I think it's kinda personal. She's got papa Regulus looking after her, so I wouldn't worry."

Hermione snorted. "More like she's looking after him." Regulus was the family's sanity check, time master and mission control. He was not a fighter, preferring to leave the dirty work to Bellatrix, Sirius and Lily. Oddly for a boy, especially one raised as a 'preferred' heir to a house (though that didn't last when Walburga found out about his feelings for a mudblood) to be comfortable as a non combatant (at least, in serious situations – Regulus was perfectly capable of extracting himself from trouble), but Regulus was hardly typical. He was Sirius Black's little brother, after all.

"Point," The redhead acknowledged. "But that's probably better than sending Padfoot."

The girls all giggled, remembering the various times Sirius had been pulled back to the house since he had left without the proper glamour charms. "Where do the latest Black Watch papers put him, anyway?" Tracey asked.

Iris burst out laughing. Her two friends put their hands on their hips and waited for her to compose herself. "Australia," She managed after a second. Hermione cracked a smile while Tracey let her snickers overwhelm her after a second of thought.

"Oh Merlin."

"Told you. They're all idiots."

It was helpful that the Ministry didn't know about Sirius's 'Padfoot' form. Animagus forms were fun. Hermione couldn't transform in the daytime (a more innocent wolf form could be used when the moon was waning) and Tracey had to wait a while longer before attempting the transformation, to let her magic develop more – Bellatrix had more or less promised that she'd start learning her animagus transformation on her fifteenth birthday. Alys had more or less insisted on the wait, 'strictly for her own peace of mind'. Tracey had been a bit put out on waiting for five years, but she accepted her mother and 'auntie's' judgment.

Yes, Tracey was officially, partially orphaned. What the courts had not bothered to look deeply at, murder took care of quite neatly!

It's not murder, it's community service, Bellatrix kept insisting whenever Regulus exasperated over it.

The 'accidents' Lily and her sworn blood sister had arranged for Kaius and Fredrick Davis were amusing – especially since, apparently, the Prophet accepted them at face value. I mean really? No one's wondering how someone could drown on two inches of butterbeer? Or accidentally eat enough lard to burst their stomach? (Lily had come up with that one when Tracey let slip something about Alyson. Bellatrix was happy to help with the execution.) Oh, and you're not going to ask why Alys Davis was the most cheerful widow you'd ever meet?

No? We're just going to blindly believe what was written in the paper sponsored by the government? Okay then, good little sheep, you just go back to grazing.

"C'mon, it's the first day. Let's all go through together. Hand in hand. For luck!" Iris chirped, grabbing her friend's hands.

"You don't believe in luck," Tracey pointed out.

"It's the principle of the thing." Iris responded, pouting slightly. "Indulge me, Trace!"

Hermione nodded. Tracey shrugged and smiled and the three of them walked through the dividing wall with their luggage trundling along behind them. Various size charms had ensured that everything could fit in one suitcase...and a whole lot more in Iris's case, but that was for later.

The scarlet train was an old steam engine, and Iris beamed approvingly when she saw it – she was a sucker for the steam punk genre. Hermione looked around with awe; despite various trips to Diagon Alley it was still a marvel to set foot in the fully magical world and she had only seen this in pictures. Tracey was scanning the crowds, looking for anyone she might recognize.

There were a number of kids from her former social circles scattered all over the place – she spotted Daphne hugging her sisters Astoria and Crescent goodbye, Pansy Parkinson leaving her mother's side and walking towards the Malfoy parents with all the grim determination of a convict approaching the executioner's axe, Zacharias Smith hoisting his trunk onto the train before disappearing into it, Maya Pritchard trying to distangle her little brother Graham from her so she could board as well, a flock of Weasleys lead on by a pair of twins who looked like they were having fun with a large spider, and – a flash of snow white hair -

"Bloody hell."

"What?" Hermione asked, startled.

"Lilian Moon is going to school," Tracey said in hushed awe. Hermione stiffened at the mention of that family; an ingrained instinct thanks to the night she was bitten. "The Moons haven't broken their self imposed isolation for seven generations."

Iris clicked her tongue. "It's a year for surprises, isn't it?" She smiled. "Inward and onward we go!"

**~Ron's POV~**

Ron Weasley, despite being on the train to go to his very first year of Hogwarts, was feeling pretty melancholy. How could someone from a family of seven, standing in a crowd of his fellow schoolmates and first years, feel so alone?

Maybe it was inadequacy. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George – they'd already gone and done everything under the sun both at home and at school. His parents had made that abundantly clear, however inadvertently. And if there was nothing special about him, why would anyone want to be friends with him? Especially someone who, for all he owned, had only hand me downs – Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand...

He sat down in a compartment and stared at the old thing, frowning at the unicorn hair sticking out of it. Yup, if he ended up with friends during this year, it was probably going to be out of pity.

Scabbers squeaked, demanding to be let out of his pocket. He lifted the fat brown rat and scowled at it, wishing not for the first time that his parents had just a little more money. Scabbers was fat, lazy and useless; he wish that he'd been able to have his own owl, at least.

"Ello. This compartment full?"

Ron tilted his head up...and felt them go wide as dinner plates.

She was leaning against the side of the door, red hair falling around her face like a messy halo...but that was all of her face that he could see. The rest of her face was covered with a Guy Fawkes mask – Bill had told him that story once, a few days after the disaster at the House of Lords. She also wasn't wearing her school robes, but muggle clothes – blue jeans and a black jacket over a crimson red shirt. Her wand – a slim holly stick, clearly a fresh purchase – was in a holster of sorts at her hip. Wasn't that a sort of muggle thing?

She wasn't alone either – there were two other girls with her, though they didn't have masks. The girl on her left had busy brown hair, brown eyes and a serious face. A library bag slung over one shoulder, and she was already in her school robes. The girl on her right was a pretty girl with raven black hair and eyes blue as sapphires. She was also in her school uniform, however she was clearly wearing muggle clothes like her leader's beneath it. Despite being an eleven year old boy, Ron gawked at the three girls, unable to formulate a thought.

"Ello?" The girl repeated. "These seats aren't being held, are they?"

Ron's mouth worked silently a few times before he managed, "N-No. You can sit...if you want..." part of him almost wanted to tell her to go away; the expressionless mask was eerie to look at, seemingly at odds with the friendly voice coming out of it.

"Thanks!" The masked girl chirped, striding in and drawing her wand. She waved it over her trunk once, and it floated up to sit on the rails overhead. Ron stared in amazement; the brunette simply stepped up on the couch and easily slid her bag up next to it while the redhead delicately stepped past him to put her trunk next to his.

"You just did magic," Ron said in awe. "I mean – you can always do that?"

"Of course," The masked girl responded, dropping down on the couch and swinging one leg over the other. Ron had a sense that she was grinning at him beneath her mask – grinning with sharp, calculating eyes like a bird of prey. "What's your name? Are you a Weasley? You kinda look like a Weasley. Its the hair and freckles."

"I...uh..." He nodded once, twice. "Yeah. I'm Ron Weasley."

"I'm Iris." The masked girl said. "This is Hermione-" she gestured to the brunette "-and Tracey." The redhead nodded.

"Is that your wand?" Hermione asked, frowning at it. "I don't think that's safe. If the hair's exposed, it won't channel your magic properly."

Ron felt his ears turn red. "It's all I've got," he muttered, defensive and a little aggravated that she'd already noticed. "My family...well...we've gotta cut corners in places. We use hand me downs. Like this one."

"Hmm." The masked girl tilted her head upwards, towards the ceiling. She became weirdly still; like she'd been carved in stone, listening to something. Hermione and Tracey exchanged uncertain looks, which weirded Ron out more. He opened his mouth to ask something when suddenly Iris was suddenly animated again. "May I see it, Ron?"

"H-Huh?"

"Just for a second. Don't worry. It can't get any worse." She offered her hand.

For a second, Ron considered finding an excuse to leave the compartment – maybe hide out near the bathroom until the train reached Hogwarts. He was getting a weird vibe from these girls, and that mask creeped him out. But a look at his shabby wand rebelled against that. She can't make it much worse without breaking it. He told himself. Hell if she does break it I can ask for a replacement. He liked that thought, and he handed the wand.

Iris delicately balanced the old wand on her knees and drew her own wand along it. She was muttering something – something Ron couldn't understand. It didn't sound like English. Then his wand shuddered, glowed gold for several seconds, then grew in length – the colour of the wood darkened, the hair tip disappeared. Then the glow vanished and Iris handed it over to him with a smile. "There. That's better."

Ron held it in his hand with awe. His wand looked brand new. "H-How'd you do that?"

"You'd be amazed what you learn when you have the biggest library in London to stick your nose in," Iris responded easily. Tracey looked mildly disapproving, but Hermione just smiled. Ron felt hot in his chest and he smiled at them.

"T-Thank you."

Iris leaned back against her couch. For a moment there was silence, not wholly uncomfortable but still something Ron had never experienced before. Eventually he asked, "H-Hey Iris...why are you wearing that mask?"

She tilted her head. "You'll find out. It's nice to have a real conversation with someone other than Hermione and Tracey."

Ron wondered what she meant by that...he had a feeling there was someone else named Iris that should be in his year (hadn't his older brothers been talking about this?) but it was getting away from him. This girl was creepy, and her friends were strangely quiet...but there was an energy crackling around her, that was drawing him towards it like a moth to a bug lamp.

Iris turned her head towards the door, and then waved a hand to close it just as Ron turned his head to ask Tracey a question. It slammed shut just as Draco Malfoy and two of his cronies were walking by.

**~Much Later~**

Iris was amused by the stares she was getting. She was still wearing her mask and her muggle clothes and everyone in her year was staring at her. Make everyone uncomfortable just by showing up? Check. She suggested that Ron, Hermione and Tracey hang back a bit, just for the sorting – Ron looked confused but nodded in assent; meanwhile Hermione and Tracey just smiled. They had wanted to support her openly, but Iris had declined saying it was too obvious.

"Welcome to Hogwarts..." Professor Minerva McGonagall did a visible double take when her eyes fell on Iris in the crowd. "...school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'm Professor McGonagall, deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration teacher. When you walk through these doors..."

Iris tuned out the rest of the speech – mama had told her what to expect – and looked around the hall. Seeing the ghosts for the first time was a treat; Hermione jumped when the Fat Friar and his companion passed through her on their way to the feast. Tracey was grinning in the candlelight, trying to take all the details of this old school in.

Once done with the speech, McGonagall lead the curious first years into the hallway, where all the older students were waiting. Iris heard a rumble of conversation as she walked in; friends chatting with each other, the soft drum of magic under her feet...nothing had changed in this building for hundreds of years. Nothing.

Not until today.

"Abbot, Hannah."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"I'll kill Fred," Ron muttered somewhere behind her. "He was going on about wrestling a troll." Iris snickered and looked around the room until she caught sight of Ron's older twin brothers at the Gryffindor table. Where did she want to be sorted?

"Davis, Tracey."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Iris smiled a bit under her mask as Tracey's slack jawed surprise at the hat's pronouncement. You saved Hermione from a lifetime of subjugation, defying your evil father to do so, and you don't consider yourself brave? Oh Trace. The redhead slowly got up and trotted in the direction of the table; Lavander Brown immediately scooted over to provide room for her. Ron looked surprised too; Hermione's eyes sparked as she watched.

"Granger, Hermione."

She walked up to the hat with little concern, though at a slower pace than she might have if this had been her first proper introduction to the wizard world.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Iris nodded at Hermione as she trotted towards her new house. She was aware that more and more people were looking at her as the other students were squared away; her lip twitched in amusement and put a companionable hand on Ron's shoulder just before her name was read.

"Potter, Iris!"

A huge wave of muttering came up as she walked towards the seat; Iris felt every eye in the great hall on her and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Sheep.

"Do you not have your robes, Miss Potter?" McGonagall asked as she sat down on the chair.

Iris shrugged slightly. "I do. They're really uncomfortable and I can't stop tripping on them."

"Please, at least loose the mask."

Iris pouted for a moment before taking the ornate mask off. Another round of muttering, people leaning forward so they could see her scar. Cretins. They didn't know where it came from and certainly didn't understand what it signified. Not really.

The hat sat on her head for the longest time. Three times it opened its mouth, then said nothing. This went on for over five minutes, all while Iris tapped out the beat of an Elvis song against the floor. Eventually it called out -

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Iris smirked as the house of red and gold cheered, unaware of her long conversation with the hat, while Fred and George shouted "We've Got Potter!" They might not have been so enthusiastic if they had known. Now it was just a matter of waiting for Ron, and figuring out where she should start.

There were so many things to break here...

End Chapter

Deciding which house to put Iris in was hard; I didn't want to put her in Slytherin because that seemed to be the easy answer in all 'darker' stories, Ravenclaw didn't really suit an anarchist, and I'm planning to use Hufflepuff for another fem!Harry WIP in the future. (I refer you to my penname) so I went with Gryffindor. Sorry if you were hoping for one of the others. Don't worry; she'll hardly be a typical one. If anything, certain people will be cursing Gryffindor 'boldness' soon enough.

Read and Review please!