Note: A plot device used in this story (time travel appears to be fatal) was inspired by a story by 'Merlinsearlobe' in their story 'What Makes Us.' The rest of the story around that plot device and the pairing of RL/HG is completely different. I want to acknowledge the inspiration I found from wondering how their WiP would continue! As of this posting, 1/1/20, I haven't read past their implementation of that plot device. It's a good story, and I recommend you check it out.

Part I: The Wind's Daughter

Chapter One: The Roots

October 1977

Remus Lupin shouldered his school bag and tucked the last of his notes inside its open pocket. He picked up the two large books he'd been using and headed back to the reference section to put them away. The students were instructed to leave these books on the 'go back' shelf, but Remus knew from experience that the clerks at Hogwarts' library didn't get to the go backs more than twice a day. By putting the books back himself, he was helping a future classmate find them more easily. He hated having to look all around the library in hopes that the book he wanted was simply waiting to be put away.

On the way to Reference, Remus passed a few dimly lit study alcoves. Hardly any students used these, because the sun shone brightly through the ones on the other side of the library. This year, though, Remus had seen that the darkest of the five was occupied more often than not. He recognized the girl as the new seventh year Ravenclaw, but he couldn't remember her name. She was hunched over her book, her mass of black hair practically covering her face. The massive tome she was reading was illuminated by the light from her wand tip.

Usually, Remus wouldn't say anything to someone in a study alcove, because he'd learned from Sirius and James that some students found it hard to focus after engaging in any kind of social behavior. Hiding in a dark corner of the library probably multiplied that 'do not disturb' sentiment tenfold, but something inside him prompted Remus to greet her.

"Good evening," he said as he walked past. He didn't stop, but he did slow down, and he was rewarded by the surprised look as she sat up, her eyes wide. Remus's momentum carried him past her and out of sight before his own shock registered on his face.

He'd forgotten how disfigured she was.

Remus felt a surge of shame. He hoped that she hadn't seen the jolt of recognition on his face when he remembered what was unique about her. Transfer students, as rare as they were, were usually sorted before the first years, but Remus and the other seventh years had learned about the Ravenclaw transfer when they had class with Ravenclaw, three days after the Welcoming Feast. She'd been sitting in the very last row, which she couldn't have known was usually the place taken by the Marauders, in Transfiguration. Luckily for her, the back row in McGonagall's class had five seats, so Remus, Sirius, James, and Peter had just split up and sat on both sides of her. Remus could still remember the way the young woman had curled her body around herself when she realized there were four boisterous wizards surrounding her.

When they had class again, she'd moved to sit at the desk closest to the door, and from that point on, she'd bolted out of it as soon as the class was dismissed.

As Remus walked back past the girl again on his way out of the library, he made sure to look over at her and smile. He hoped that she'd seen him, but felt that being any more obvious than that would be insulting to her. She knew what she looked like, after all.

He didn't know why he was so drawn to her, but he figured it was probably because she reminded him of himself, during that first year at Hogwarts. He'd been so inwardly driven, practically terrified of his own shadow, before his friends -primarily James and Sirius- had taken the time to help him feel more comfortable. They'd included him even when he hadn't wanted to be included, and arguing with them about it just drew him out of his shell even more. Remus knew he was a better man because of this, and now he could see an opportunity to pay it forward. The scarred transfer student from Ravenclaw was older, though, and she would probably be a tougher nut to crack.

Remus winced as he climbed through the portrait hole to Gryffindor's Common Room. Step one would need to be learning her name. He felt ashamed to be calling her 'the scarred Ravenclaw Transfer student' even in his own mind.

oOoOoOo

The next time Remus had NEWT Transfiguration, he chose the seat nearest to the transfer student. It just so happened that they were told to pair up for the lesson, and Remus was careful to look her in her eyes when she turned toward him.

"Hello again," Remus said, trying to remind her that he'd greeted her in the library. As soon as he said this, though, he could feel the flush of embarrassment spreading across his face. What was he doing? Did he want bonus points for having spoken to her in the past?

"Hello," she said in a low voice.

Remus kept eye contact despite knowing his face was probably beet red. He probably looked uncomfortable, and he felt a bit relieved when she smiled at him, the deep scar that ran across her forehead, down through her nose, and right up to the edge of her lip making her smile a bit lopsided on that side. She had three scars that crossed her face, but the other two were closer together. They both must have barely missed her eye, the longer of the two starting just past the corner of her right eye, and the other just beneath it.

"Forgive me," Remus said. "I can't remember your name. I must have heard it at some point, I'm sorry."

"Oh," the girl said. "Of course."

Before she could answer him, though, Professor McGonagall came by to hand them the teapot they were to transfigure into a working trumpet. Remus could hear James and Sirius arguing about whether they were supposed to tip out all the water first.

"What? All over the floor?Honestly, Sirius," James was saying.

"Iraja," the transfer student said.

"Idajah?" Remus tried out. His ears flamed red again when she shook her head and said it again.

"Iraja," she corrected. "You don't have to do the soft 'd' on the R if you don't want to. And I think we keep the water in."

"Iraja," Remus said. He thought it was a very pretty name, even if he couldn't manage the soft 'd.' "I'm Remus. Would you like the first shot at transfiguring?"

He was sure he was imagining the split second of a fond look she shot him at hearing this. He needed some more time with her to interpret her expressions, maybe. The harsh lines her facial scars cut across her face obscured a lot of subtlety, he was sure.

When Iraja cast the specified spell, Remus felt a warmth in his stomach in hearing her confident tone. She clearly didn't have to speak in a quiet, low voice. Then, Remus's jaw dropped.

On Iraja's desk was an intact, shiny trumpet.

"Your turn to participate," Iraja said, amusement threaded through every word she spoke.

Remus looked over at her. She was resting her head on her right hand, her fingers covering some of the scars, and the black hair that usually obscured at least some of her face was pushed back. Iraja looked smug. She had a right to, too. Now, Remus was going to have to try to play the trumpet. He felt very neatly set up.

"I have no idea how to make this work, you know," he told her.

"Oh, I know," she murmured.

When Remus lifted the trumpet to his lips, the light that gleamed off of the metal seemed to call the attention of everyone in the room. He puffed out his cheeks in an attempt to mimic a trumpet player he'd seen once, but the sound it emitted was pathetic and embarrassing. He turned toward Iraja, and saw that she had retreated back into her shield of hair and uncomfortable body language, her legs crossed, hands clasped in front of her, up by her face.

"Well done, Mr. Lupin and Miss Perdita! Ten points to Gryffindor and Ravenclaw," Professor McGonagall announced. "You may leave early, if you wish," she said to the two of them as she came over to collect their trumpet.

"Thank you," Remus said. He turned toward where Iraja had been only to find her desk was already empty. While he had observed her for long enough to know she jumped at the chance to escape social situations, Remus was still disappointed that she hadn't stayed long enough for him to bid her a good day.

"Well, Mr. Lupin?" McGonagall said, her voice full of her trademark tartness. Remus realized he was standing beside his desk looking lost.

"Yes, Professor. Sorry, Professor," he said automatically before grabbing his bag and leaving the room.

oOoOoOo

It was two weeks and a full moon before Remus was able to pull Iraja back out of the bubble she'd drawn around herself. During the time before the full moon, Remus hardly saw her at all; she'd taken to moving seats in each class instead of taking the same one, something Remus felt was related to their teapot to trumpet lesson. While ordinarily he could understand a person feeling the need to hide, with Iraja her withdrawal felt like a personal slight, and despite himself, he felt hurt by it.

She'd relaxed around him, and he'd really been delighted by the person he'd gotten a glimpse of. For her to seem so shaken by the way she'd revealed herself that she was finding ways to systematically avoid him was painful. It was as if he'd gotten through to the real Iraja, Remus thought, and she was scared to let it happen again. He had to content himself with observing her surreptitiously, which is how he found out that she was always deeply engaged in every lesson, her body language open and interested. More than once he thought she might be sitting on her hand in order to avoid raising it when their professors asked questions!

Halfway through October their DADA professor, an oily man named Oliver Taedet, had them count off by fives to separate them into small groups. That was when Iraja's tendency to avoid him blew up in her face. She was a '3,' and so was Remus and James. The class only had seventeen students, and so the three of them made up the whole small group. Remus thought she might start hyperventilating when she saw what had happened.

"Don't worry, I don't bite," James said to her. Remus threw him a withering glare; the comment was, at its heart, a werewolf joke, and they both knew it.

"How comforting," Iraja said in her low, quiet voice. It almost sounded like sarcasm to Remus, but her face was a picture of studied calm.

A loud clapping sound echoed through the room, and everyone's attention was drawn to the front of the room where Professor Taedet was standing.

"You should be in groups of three or four," he said, glaring at Sirius, who had had the misfortune of being in a group with three Slytherin students. He was standing by himself, glaring at them. It was rotten luck.

"He can join us, sir?" James called out.

Remus thought he heard Iraja let out a gasp of dismay, but he was distracted by the way Sirius clambered over to their group and immediately slung an arm around both Remus and James's shoulders.

"Yes, four, that's fine, then," Professor Taedet said, dismissively. "The GOAL," he continued, shouting random words as was his habit, as if that would cause his students to pay closer attention, "-is to take turns casting the shield charm to PROTECT yourself. I don't want SIMULTANEOUS casting, mind you. The key is unpredictability. Hence the MULTIPLE attempts. SO: alphabetically, wands at the READY, and spend one minute EACH, repelling each other with PROTEGO. You may BEGIN."

"Well, I do BELIEVE that it will be Sirius BLACK who is first, in our group," James said pompously, mocking Taedet's odd vocal cadence.

"Disrespectful, Potter," Remus said out of the side of his mouth, raising his wand and pointing it at Sirius.

"Bring it on, gits," Sirius said, raising his own wand.

Remus tossed the first Tripping Jinx, which Sirius blocked easily, and James pretended to sneeze and cast a spell with a blue light within seconds, which was also repelled. Remus paused a few seconds to see if Iraja would cast, but she was looking at her feet. Sirius then blocked two red hexes in rapid succession from James, before suddenly he was on the floor, surrounded by a yellow light.

Sirius hiccupped, and a yellow bird flew out of his mouth and soared in an arc above their heads.

"Well DONE, Perdita. Ten points to Ravenclaw," Professor Taedet boomed.

Remus, Sirius, and James looked at Iraja in astonishment. She was still looking at her shoes. Remus was pretty sure her lips were turned up in a tiny smile, though.

"NEXT!" came a call from the front of the room.

Remus had hardly lifted his wand before a blue-lit spell came firing from Iraja. He barely got the Protego up in time.

"Nice!" he told her. Without looking, Remus aimed his wand beside him and cast his shield charm, feeling rather than hearing the spell block his best friends' hexes. He was quite proud when the professor called for the next person to stand at defense before any of his three opponents had gotten through to hex him.

Iraja crouched down, for her turn. It felt wrong to attack her, even more so when Professor Taedet came over as part of his rounds of the classroom.

"Come now, boys," he chided them. "Miss Perdita is playing on your weaknesses here. The best way to COUNTER, is…" Taedet looked at Remus and flicked his gaze toward the other two. Their professor was standing behind Iraja, and he indicated that they should all attack at once. Remus was hesitant, but then he saw her gripping her wand, her other hand pressed to the floor as leverage. Her head was a mass of hair, and Remus realized that she wasn't looking up.

Iraja wasn't expecting a directional attack at all.

At their professor's slight nod, they all cast at once, and within a split second, she had cast a shield that appeared over her head and stretched around her body. She repelled all four attacks with it. It was impressive, but Remus immediately understood what had happened. She'd cast a Totallus version of Protego, and Professor Taedet had somehow known she was capable of it. It looked like a stunt, something impulsive, but Remus wasn't so sure about that.

"Excellent, excellent!" praised Taedet. "Five more points to Ravenclaw, and another five to Gryffindor for teamwork!" He turned to Iraja and held out his hand to help her up, but she stood in a smooth movement and turned to nod her thanks. In a quiet voice, Taedet said, "I am sorry I can't award more for that, but we can't foster insecurities in the others, now can we?"

It was the end of class, and James spent so much time complaining about not getting his chance to show off that Remus didn't get a chance to talk to Iraja for any longer than a minute.

"That was brilliant," he told her with a grin, as they gathered their things.

"Just luck that I knew the spell, really," she said dismissively. She did look up at him and smile, though, her black curls falling away from her face due to their height difference. The sun was shining through the windows high above them, and with the light on her face, Remus saw that her eyes were a deep chocolate brown.

As he walked to his next class, Remus felt a pang of guilt. He hadn't noticed her eye color before, he thought to himself, because he'd been distracted by her scars.

He thought about her eyes before he fell asleep that night. He pictured her happy, at ease, pulling back her black mane of curls as she smiled at him for some reason or another, the light in the room causing her brown eyes to sparkle.

oOoOoOo

November 1977

November's trip to Hogsmeade was always a big one for the Marauders. For one thing, November was not as obvious a month to gather Christmas prank supplies, compared with December. For another, Sirius's birthday was in November, and while it had already passed, it was still his birthday week when they walked into Honeydukes on the fifth of November.

Remus, as he always did, made a beeline for the chocolate. James didn't know, but his mother Dorea always gave Remus a little sack of 'sweets money' every year at the Hogwarts Express. He'd protested the first year she did it, before his and James's third year at Hogwarts.

To his utter horror, on his fourth year, the sack was three times larger.

Dorea was a true Slytherin. She'd just stood there and watched Remus decide what to do. If he objected, would she hand him a sack three times larger again, next year? And if he recognized that pattern, as a Gryffindor, could he let her manipulate him, by choosing to reject her generous gift? He had been completely and utterly outmatched, and both he and James's mum had known it.

Now, standing in front of the different chocolate options, Remus found himself thinking of Iraja. He wondered if she would be offended if he brought her a chocolate bar, and decided on the spot that she couldn't hate chocolate with eyes that exact color. He bought a few pieces for himself, and when he went to find the others, he cast a stasis charm on Iraja's, so that it wouldn't melt with his body temperature. This turned out to be a mistake.

"Why do you suddenly care so much about that bar of chocolate?" Peter asked him loudly.

Remus turned to his short friend and decided to grab him in a bear hug. "Jealous?" he asked, spinning their bodies. It was much more unbalanced than when he used to do this, as both of them had grown- Remus up, Peter out.

"I'm always jealous of how you handle your food, Moony," Peter teased him. "Someday, I want a woman to look at me like that. Ravenous."

"It's not as sexy as you think, Wormtail," Sirius cut in. "I'll tell you: when a woman looks at you like that, you both better agree on what counts as 'rough.' If they're a Slytherin or a Ravenclaw, there's a chance of bruising."

"Here comes a comment about Lily," Peter whispered to Remus. Sure enough, he was right.

Remus and Peter traded looks as James waxed rhapsodic about how Lily used to hit him and leave bruises before they started to get along as Head Boy and Girl. By the evening, Sirius had conned Rosmerta out of a bottle of Firewhiskey, and Remus had to walk back solo to keep his Prefect identity plausible. James as Head Boy did not, but he was a special case, and Remus felt like Albus had known what he was getting when he chose James. That was far above Remus's perview in any case.

oOoOoOo

Remus had made an agreement with himself when Iraja had stopped sitting in predictable seats in Transfiguration. He'd decided to avoid walking past her nook in the library at all costs, because he could tell by how skittish she'd been in class that she was more willing to inconvenience herself in the long run than deal with social situations in the short run. His vow not to do this was sorely tested after Hogsmeade, however.

It was as if Iraja knew he wanted to speak with her. By the time he cornered her in the library the day before the full moon, Remus was past the point of being subtle. Her chocolate bar was burning a metaphorical hole in his pocket. He'd taken to carrying it with him everywhere after he'd miraculously gotten a seat next to her in Ancient Runes. He had searched his bag completely three times to no avail. His own chocolate had been gone by a week after Hogsmeade, and Sirius had gotten their Map confiscated during the revels after his birthday. Without it, Remus didn't dare sneak back and forth to Hogsmeade just for chocolate, and while Sirius was willing to do it, his price was too high, even if it was Dorea Potter's money paying for it.

So when Remus walked bodily into Iraja on his way into the library and her way out, he grabbed her hand and dragged her as gently as possible into one of the light-filled study nooks by the front door.

"You! I have something for you, and you've been avoiding me like I have Dragon Pox. You need to cut that out!" he said breathlessly.

"Goodness, Remus! Breathe," she told him. She brushed back a curl from in front of her face as it fell back down once, then twice, and by the third time she had a look of adorable fury on her face.

Though she was categorized in his mind very firmly as 'Friend,' he'd told himself Iraja was not in the same physical category as James, Sirius, or even Lily. None of his Gryffindor friends had much of a sense of personal space, but Remus knew instinctively that Iraja did, much more so than most other people. Her cuteness when angry was a distraction that led him to forget himself, though. He reached out and lifted the offending curl, sliding it into her other hair over her ear, and then burying it with another handful laid atop it.

Then, he realized what he had done. "Shit, Iraja, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"No, it's fine," she said, unexpectedly. "I was on the verge of burning it off, at that point. My temper is at an all-time high today, for some reason."

Remus brightened. "I have just the thing." He produced the bar of chocolate, casting Finite on the stasis spell.

"Remus Lupin, did you save your last chocolate bar for me?" Iraja said. Her voice was low and affectionate, and Remus was startled by how much it affected him.

"It wasn't the last when I bought it, but you have a way of slipping out side doors and hiding in rooms full of people, did you know that?" he told her, leaning forward to say it as if sharing a secret.

She leaned over, too. "You noticed that, did you?" Iraja took the candy bar from his hand, and he was disappointed that she hadn't touched him.

Must be the full moon, he thought to himself. He was never this affected by girls, not anymore. During fifth year, he'd had a tough time calming the reactions from his hormones, balancing them with the drives from his wolf, but that was a long time ago.

They looked at each other for a few seconds, and a different curl from the other side started to slowly slide down over the scarred side of her face. Remus felt the laughter start to bubble up inside him, and he could see her lips twitching, but they stayed still and waited until finally, gravity took hold and the long, heavy curl swung down and hung right in front of Iraja's face.

Both of them burst into laughter, earning them a shush from Pince.

"All right, that's it," Iraja said. She sat down and then hooked her thumbs along the edges of her mass of hair, gathering the straggling curls and pulling all her hair up and back, off of her neck. She held it there, a look of complete relief on her face.

Remus sat, too, and just enjoyed getting to see Iraja at (he assumed) her most normal. She looked like she'd accidentally forgotten the manufactured distance that she placed between herself and everyone else.

"That was wonderful," she said, after letting her hair drop back down. "I told myself the best way to keep to myself is to have so much hair that the threat of possible hairballs would keep everyone else away, but I forgot how much I cannot stand how heavy it is!"

Adrenaline surged through Remus's veins, and under the study table, he clutched onto the chair he was sitting on to help hide the tension. He had been right, she was setting up a sort of barrier between herself and others. He also knew that meant she would soon erect it, and if past was prologue, she'd flee from him for even longer than she had since the last time.

"I wish you didn't feel the need to do that with me," he said, choosing his words as carefully as his anxiety would let him. "We could, I don't know… have a special word or phrase you could say when you need me to back off?"

Iraja had gathered most of her hair over one shoulder and was carding through it with her fingers spread wide. She paused mid-stroke and looked at him, her brown eyes wide.

"Don't retreat again, please?" he asked her, as close to begging as he'd ever been with someone who wasn't a Marauder.

"Oh, don't go all puppy eyes on me," she finally said, reaching out and squeezing his hand. Her touch was energizing; not quite the 'punch to the gut' that James had always said about Lily's, but it was not nothing. His hand had been palm flat to the table, and he just knew that if he turned it over she'd move hers, so he just sat there and let the new things he was feeling wash over him.

"You've trained me very poorly, then. I've learned to use underhanded tactics to try to befriend you," Remus said, tracing the wood grain of the study table with the fingers of his free hand. He risked a look at her face, and saw how conflicted she was. She was looking at where they were still touching, and there was a mix of happiness, guilt, and confusion on her face. Part of this discernment was how close he was to the full moon day, as he always felt more attuned to hormones and body language during those few days before and after. Was he imagining the affection he sensed from her? "Have I succeeded, then?" he asked her.

Iraja snatched her hand away from him as if she'd only just now started to feel the fire he'd felt smoldering there. "Succeeded?" she prompted, looking defensive. She shrugged her shoulders, and her hair cascaded back down, partially covering the scarred part of her face.

She was retreating from him again.

Remus thought about the body language his friends had told him they'd used to help his werewolf self feel comfortable around their Animagus forms. He set both hands down on the table, palm up this time, directly where she could see them. Next, he ducked his head, angling it to the side a bit, subtly exposing his neck. Finally, he used gentle, clear, concise language to speak to her, hoping she would understand that his goal wasn't to insult her intelligence in the process.

"I want to be your friend, Iraja. I'm not going to push you, though. I can see that you have trust issues, and I respect them. I'm going to get up and walk away now. I'll see you in class."

Remus stood, and risked a glance at her. She was looking down at her lap. He opened his mouth to say something else, but stopped himself, and instead, he lifted up his bag back onto his shoulder. He tapped the table gently with his first two fingers as a kind of goodbye to her, and started walking away, only to feel her small hand grab his just as he moved past her. She pushed something into his hand, curled his fingers around it, and then let go.

Remus opened his fist to find that she'd placed a square of chocolate there.

"That's got to be the best peace offering I've ever seen! Thanks," he said over his shoulder in her direction. Then he popped it into his mouth and walked out of the library.

It wasn't until he'd walked into the common room that he remembered that he'd been going into the library, not leaving it, when he'd run into Iraja. Remus looked at the hand she'd put the chocolate into and saw there was a little melted smudge left. He licked the sweetness away and felt the same jolt of awareness as he had in the library. His new friend definitely had him all turned upside down.

oOoOoOo

"You were pretty restless last night, Moony," Sirius said when Remus had dragged himself up the last of the steps to their dorm room the day after the full moon.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" Remus asked him tiredly. "Just because I have dirt on you doesn't mean I won't give you detention for skipping." He fell sideways onto the bed, avoiding the wound on his other side. He'd never tell anyone about Sirius's Animagus form, of course, but he had to keep his friend in line somehow.

"You're knackered, Remus. I'm the one with dirt on you," Sirius said, coming over and helping Remus off with his shoes. "And it's Saturday."

Remus blinked at him. "It is?"

"Something is up with you, and I will find out what it is," Sirius declared. Remus closed his eyes, but he was shaken awake what felt like seconds later by Sirius, who handed him a scroll.

"You slept through the owl at the window," Padfoot said disapprovingly.

"Can't imagine why," Remus grumped, but he took the scroll and slid the ribbon off. "Sirius? This is private," he said, knowing his friend would get upset at him, but he was not willing to have Sirius reading over his shoulder once he saw who it was from. Luckily, Sirius nodded and said something about finding James and Peter outside and started for the door. Right before he shut it, though, Sirius called out to him.

"Strange thing- there was no owl this morning at breakfast. Almost like whoever it is waited till they knew you'd be more likely to be awake."

"Piss off, Padfoot," Remus said automatically.

"Oh, it's definitely from a girl." Sirius left, slamming the door as punishment for Remus, who winced at the sound. That was shorthand for an unfinished conversation.

Remus turned back to his letter. He wanted to read it and then hide it instead of saving it for after he slept, as tired as he was. Sirius wasn't beyond snooping when he had something to figure out.

Remus,

You might have noticed that I keep relaxing around you, despite myself. I think that means we're friends?

I have many reasons for keeping to myself, but I liked your suggestion. The name Iraja means 'the wind's daughter.' That can be our phrase.

I will do my best not to use it like a weapon, if you promise not to take it as a weapon used against you. It's our agreement, after all. The phrase is your suggestion with my implementation; that's teamwork.

There are some NEWT half-year's exams coming up in a few weeks. Would you like to study for them together? I know a secret about the dark study nooks. How about Wednesday?

Iraja

Remus smiled so wide his face hurt. He flattened out the parchment her letter had been written on, then conjured an equal size parchment. In a minute or so, he'd folded the second into a rudimentary envelope, which he tucked Iraja's letter into. Then he Accio'd his Ancient Runes textbook and stuck the envelope inside.

Sirius had a blind spot for looking for contraband in textbooks. He always had.

Secure that his letter from his new friend was safely hidden, Remus levitated the book back to his trunk and settled down to sleep off the night's activities. He'd reread the letter later. Probably multiple times.

End Notes:

This story arc will be complete at around 60,000 words, and is currently half-written with the entire story plotted out (unlike certain other WiPs I started posting impatiently). I have six full chapters written as of 1/1/20.

Title comes from a quote from Tennessee Williams' Glass Menagerie:
'Time is the longest distance between two places.'

I couldn't resist using the 'Dorea and Charlus' versions of James Potter's parents! #headcanon

Hermione's name in the past is quite odd, but story-wise, it fits with her determination to be unrecognizable and mostly avoided. 'Iraja' ('ee rah jah') means 'the wind's daughter,' and 'Perdita' is Hermione's mother in Shakespeare's A Winter's Tale. It also means 'lost.'