(A/N): I'm Sorry! I know that this chapter is very, very late.

There are two reasons for that.

My digital classes are now extended to roughly twelve hours, instead of the four hours they were. So that cut into my writing time… a LOT.

This chapter just wasn't coming out the way I wanted it to. I mean, holy shit. I've rewritten every part of this chapter at least twice, and im still not entirely happy with it. This chapter was much harder to write than it should have been.

On a better note, my classes have reduced by five hours until the 12th of July, so I'm going to writing like a madman to get a backlog built up. I'm already well into chapter seven. This chapter should have been out last Friday, but I added about 1800 words at the last moment. So, 8,800 words not counting ANs! Pretty good for me!

(A/N): Its… honestly scary how many people predicted Harry's reaction. Am I predictable, or is it too cliché or something?

samics: I have to agree. The plot really is unclear. I'm not happy about that either. However, I have stated that this story will be me trying out multiple things, and seeing what works. However, explanations are on the way! You will get a hint as to why no one followed up on Harry, as well as a bunch of other stuff. As to why not much was explained, Harry is going to be the one to explain it, and he hasn't had a believable chance to yet. The other way I see would be flashbacks and info dumps, which in my opinion aren't really natural or fluid ways to explain stuff.

SilverGoldo: First: Yes, he is inconsistent. Even though he has experience being polite and dismissive, you have to remember, this is something deeply personal for him, a defining moment of his life. Also, he's a teenager. Hormones.

Second: Its not a day dream, more like a vision of what could have been if things had been different. On another note, im considering doing a bunch of bonus scenes (or omakes, I suppose) at the end of a few chapters, showing what might have happened if Lily and James hadn't given him away.

Disclaimer: Harry potter belongs to JK Rowling. I do not own Harry potter. I'm just playing in her playground.

'Thoughts'

"Speech"

"Foreign Language"

Spells

&Parseltongue&

Chapter 6: Confrontations & Truths

Potter, Harry.

Harry's eyes narrowed as he stared at Dumbledore, his brain trying to process what he had just heard.

He didn't.

He spotted the slight triumphant glint in Dumbledore's twinkling eyes as their eyes met.

He did.

That fucking meddlesome bastard.

Suddenly, a thought struck him. His lips split in a vicious smirk.

'That's how you want to play it huh, old man? Well, two can play at that game.'

He didn't move.

A minute passed.

Two.

Whispers had begun, breaking out all across the Great Hall. All eyes were on the raven haired teen.

Harry stood his ground.

Dumbledore coughed once, the whispers quietening down almost instantly, "Mr. Potter?"

Harry didn't reply. He merely arched an eyebrow at the Headmaster.

Inside, he was cackling madly, and Isis, Ghost and Trickshot were cackling with him.

Maybe the silent treatment had gone on long enough?

Nah.

Let the old coot squirm a bit.

"Mr Potter, I must insist you sit for the sorting", Dumbledore said, his tone taking on that of a disappointed grandfather.

Harry's smirk dropped. He looked around for a moment in mock confusion, before pointing to himself, brows furrowed, "Wait, are you talking to me Headmaster?"

Dumbledore's eyes widened imperceptibly, before he continued in his previous tone, "I assumed that that was obvious my boy."

"You must be confused then old man. I distinctly seem to remember my last name being Peverell. I probably would have remembered if I changed it at some point, don't you think?"

The whispers were back.

Professor McGonagall seemed to snap out of her shock. She spoke, her tone becoming stern, "Young man, you should treat the Headmaster with the respect he deserves. Please take a seat for your sorting!"

Harry smirked at that, "Apologies Professor, but there's a few things wrong with that statement. One, professor Dumbledore has not earned any respect from me. That does not mean he isn't worthy of respect. It just means that I lost any I had for him due to… personal reasons, let's say."

"Two, if he wanted me to treat him with respect, he should have accorded me the respect that I deserve, if not for my position as Lord of the Ancient and Noble house of Peverell, then for my achievements and abilities as an International Ambassador, some of which he has clearly stated himself."

"Three, he addressed me with a tone of familiarity, with the use of the words 'my boy', a tone of familiarity that I have not given him permission to use. As he has used a tone implying a familiarity between us, I simply decided to reciprocate in kind. Nothing I have said has been untruthful anyway. You can't exactly call the headmaster young can you?"

"Finally, as to me taking a seat to be sorted… My name hasn't been called. The headmaster insists on using the wrong name, and I refuse to acknowledge said name by taking a seat. After all, it is not my name."

The look on McGonagall's face was priceless.

The stern looking witch's mouth opened and closed a few times, before she sat back down, not having said a word.

Harry allowed himself a minute smirk, before turning back to the headmaster. The powerful old wizard sighed, "Very well. Ambassador Peverell, would you take a seat for the sorting?"

Harry bowed his head, "of course, headmaster."

He then walked up to the stool. 'A stool? Really? The best they can do is a stool?'

'Does it have to be a stool?' Trickshot asked in a teasing tone.

Harry grinned, 'No. No it does not.'

His hand twitched, wand sliding into his grip, before he gave it an almost negligent wave.

The stool promptly turned into a comfortable leather recliner.

Barely holding back his laughter, he dropped into the recliner, putting the hat on his head.

-HP:GoT-

"Potter, Harry."

Iris's mouth dropped open at the name.

Potter, Harry.

She saw the resemblance now. The way he quirked that eyebrow, that lopsided grin, the slightly messy raven hair that seemed to glint blue in the light. The way he stood, confident, poised, reminiscent of some of the older portraits she had seen of her ancestors.

But what confirmed it for her beyond a doubt were his eyes. Those vivid emerald irises, nearly identical to her own.

Potter, Harry.

Dumbledore was saying something now, buts she couldn't hear it. The feeling of loss that had been with her every since she had bound herself to the family magic was more intense than it had ever been. She could feel it, feel it stretching out to the raven haired teen who stood in front of the great hall.

He was what she had lost.

Her eyes flickered over to her mother. Lily Potter sat in her chair at the Head table, her face pale, her eyes wide, brimming with emotion as she gazed at Peverell.

Not Peverell. Potter. Harry Potter.

Her mother's face was like an open book to Iris. She saw shock, pain, and… was that guilt?

It was.

Her own eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Her mother knew. She knew who this Harry Potter was. And that guilt… she had done something.

Iris just didn't know what.

Peverell – Potter goddamn it, Harry Potter! – was speaking. She listened as he explained why Dumbledore didn't have his respect. As he denied the name.

She didn't care what he said. Her mother's face had told her all she had needed to know.

Ambassador Peverell was Harry Potter.

She stifled a laugh as the ever-stern professor McGonagall sat down, doing a rather good imitation of a fish. The rest of the hall sat in stunned silence as they processed his words. His calm, collected logic explaining his actions.

Common sense was a quality that most British magicals seemed to lack.

Her jaw dropped once again though, when the raven-haired teen decided to turn the stool on which the sorting hat sat into a recliner. A fucking recliner. In the Great Hall.

That had to be the best pranks she'd ever seen.

And then he sat down on it, as if nothing was out of the ordinary, with the sorting hat on his head.

He either didn't give a fuck, or had balls of steel. Probably both, to be honest

Her gaze flickered over to Tanya, sitting in the chair just beside her. The ebony haired girl seemed to be trying to stifle her giggles at the sight of the shell-shocked population of the great hall.

Iris's mind flashed back to the train ride. How Peverell – Harry Potter. Harry Potter! – had been quiet and withdrawn. How the only times he'd truly talked or smiled was with the Black Heiress sitting next to her.

'Tanya knows him. Probably has for a long time if their friendliness was any indication.'

A thought popped up in her mind at this point. 'Why didn't she ever talk about him?'

She forced her attention back onto the teen in the leather armchair, the sorting hat on his head, awaiting the hat's judgement with bated breath. This was probably the most interesting sorting since hers that Hogwarts had ever seen.

That said a lot about how interesting the sorting ceremony was, didn't it?

One minute stretched into two.

Two into five.

Five into ten.

Iris was getting hungry at this point. Why did he have to be a goddamn hatstall? And why the hell was he taking over ten minutes to be sorted?

She knew for a fact that the previous record of six minutes had been well and truly broken. She should know. She had set it.

It was a full fifteen minutes after Peverell had put the hat on his head that the hat perked up. Its brim split into a mouth, as it shouted out, "RAVENCLAW!"

It was obvious that the ravenclaw table didn't know how to feel about that. Evidently the other houses didn't either. Not a single person clapped.

The raven haired boy merely grinned as he stood up and made his way to the Ravenclaw table, pausing in the middle of the way to turn the recliner back into a stool, almost as an afterthought.

The boy dropped into the empty seat next to Tanya, just two down from Iris.

Tanya shot him a flat look, "You just had to go and turn the stool into a recliner, didn't you?"

Peverell gave her a shit eating grin, "Yep."

Iris's best friend just shook her head and sighed, "Only you Harry. Only you."

"Yep."

She was him look back to the table as the feast appeared on the plates, those gorgeous emerald eyes roaming the selection of foods.

Iris spoke up, "So, Peverell. Welcome to Ravenclaw! Gotta say though, I never pegged you for a raven."

Internally, she facepalmed. 'What the fuck did I just say?'

He turned to her, and she froze. His eyes… they had turned cold. The fun, comfortable warmth was gone, replaced by a look that could have frozen fire.

She felt a cold shiver pass down her spine. What had she done to get that look?

"Ms. Potter. As the girl who didn't die, I wouldn't have pegged you for a Ravenclaw either", He said, his tone as frosty as his gaze. Then he immediately turned back to the selection of foods, filling up his plate with a variety of foods.

Iris blinked, and his wand was in his hand.

'Wait, when did he…'

He flicked it in a complicated series of motions, multiple tiny beams of light impacting the food on the plate.

After a second, the entire plate glowed green.

Across form Iris, Hermione scoffed, "You look like you expect your food to be poisoned."

Peverell lifted his head, looking her straight in the eye, "It's happened before."

Iris's jaw dropped open, mirroring Hermione's at the matter of fact tone that he used, as Peverell began to eat.

The others at the table who had been listening in were also in a similar state.

'Just who the hell is he?'

The feast ended quickly; all the students having been left ravenous from the time-consuming spectacle that had been Peverell's sorting.

As per tradition, Professor Dumbledore stood up for the announcements of the year, clearing his throat.

"Now", Dumbledore began, a smile stretching his face, "That we have all been fed and watered, I must ask you for your attention for a few moments, as I give out some notices."

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to remind you that the list of forbidden items this year has expanded to include Screaming yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing boomerangs, bringing the total up to an impressive four hundred and thirty nine items. As always, the contents of the entire list can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office. He has also asked me to inform you once again that magic is forbidden in the corridors and outside of classes."

Iris scoffed. That was one rule even the teachers flaunted. She'd begun to think Dumbledore reiterated it every year as a tradition, or a joke.

"As always, I would like to remind you that the Forbidden Forest is - exactly as its name suggests – forbidden for students to enter. As is the village of Hogsmeade to all students below third year."

Iris nodded her head along with his words. The two trips she had taken into the forbidden forest in her first and second years had been two trips too many.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you all that the Quidditch Cup will not be held this year."

For what seemed like the millionth time that day, Iris's jaw dropped. "What?", she gasped, looking around at the fellow members of the Ravenclaw house Quidditch team. Everyone, from her fellow chasers to their keeper, the seventh year Ruben Bell, was gaping at Dumbledore. She noticed that some of the Slytherins were sporting knowing looks, particularly Draco Malfoy and his little gang.

The aged Headmaster continued on, "This is due to an event That will be starting in October of this year, which will be continuing throughout the school year, taking up the teachers' time and energy. However, I believe many of you will enjoy it greatly. It is my honor to –"

The doors to the Great Hall flew open with a bang. All heads immediately swiveled in the direction of the figure standing in the doorway.

A man stood there, one hand upon a long staff, a travelling cloak shrouding his form. A scarred, grizzled hand reached up out of the cloak, lowering the hood and shaking out a mane of grizzled hair. The man turned and began to walk towards the head table, a dull thump announcing every other step. He reached the end of the table, turned, and began to head towards Dumbledore. Upon reaching the Headmaster, he held out a hand, and Dumbledore shook it, his lips moving in words no one could hear.

The grizzled man shook his head, his scarred face coming to light. Gasps rung out from the four tables as the students spotted the patchwork of scars that was his face, his eyes mismatched, one whizzing around, seemingly independently of the other, a brilliant, vivid blue, unblinkingly.

Dumbledore merely smiled, turning back to the hall, "Please welcome our new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody!"

The hall was silent. Iris was gaping, her mouth hanging wide open.

Moody? Mad – eye Moody?

She may not have known the face, but she sure as hell knew the name. Moody, or Mad-eye, as her parents referred to him, was a legendary ex-auror. The man had put a record number of Dark wizards behind bars, usually in ways that left them crippled for life! From her parent's tales, he had also been a huge part of the resistance against Voldemort during the first war.

Her mother gave a small nod to the man as he sat down, which he returned.

'Wow. This should be a good year for DADA at least.'

The Headmaster cleared his throat, "As I was saying, this year, Hogwarts is privileged to be hosting a prestigious event, which will take up most of the year. It is my honor to inform you all that, after three hundred years, Hogwarts will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament."

Iris was doubting her jaw would ever be getting back up.

The Triwizard Tournament?!

"NO WAY", a shout rang out from the Gryffindor table.

The tension in the hall broke at this, as students began to laugh at a now very red faced Ron Weasley. Dumbledore chuckled, "Yes way, Mr Weasley. For those of you who may not know, the Triwizard tournament was an event, first established several hundred years ago, designed to be held as friendly competition between the three greatest European schools of Magic at the time: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. Each school would have one champion to represent it, who would compete in a series of magic tasks created to test their skill and mettle. The three schools would take turns hosting it every five years, and it was considered the most established way of creating ties between youg wizards and witches of different nationalities. That is, until it was discontinued due to the death toll."

Iris felt a nudge. Turning, she spotted Hermione looking alarmed. "Death toll?", the bushy haired brunette whispered. Iris nodded. That was a part of the tournament that people chose to ignore, "It got really bad in the last few tournaments apparently. The champions were struggling to survive the tasks at that point. The winner was usually the last person alive."

Hermione's eyes went wide. However, the rest of the school didn't seem to share her concerns. Excited whispering had broken out across the hall. Honestly, even Iris didn't really care about the death toll. The tournament would be exciting.

"Many attempts have been made over the centuries to reinstate the tournament", Dumbledore continued, "which have unfortunately, fizzled out. However, our very own department International Magical Cooperation, as well as the department of Magical Games and Sports have worked tirelessly over the last year to ensure that this time, no champion will find themselves in any mortal danger."

"The Head of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their delegates in October, while the selection of candidates will take place on Halloween. An impartial judge shall decide which students will try their hand at the Triwizard cup, a thousand galleons, and eternal glory for their school!"

The whispers doubled in intensity. From the Gryffindor table, she heard Fred Weasley exclaim loudly, "I'm going for it!".

He wasn't the only one.

At every house table, Iris spotted people gazing at Dumbledore, faces alit with enthusiasm and greed at the thought of glory and riches, or whispering fervently with their neighbours and friends.

Iris heard Tanya speak up, "Do you think you'll go for it Harry?"

She turned her head, just in time to spot Peverell scoff, "Potentially lethal interschool tournament? Oh sure. Because that will just work out perfectly."

Iris stifled a laugh. She couldn't have said it better herself.

Tanya grinned, "Your sarcasm is refreshing, as always. Honestly, its almost the same as Iris's sometimes."

Iris spotted the tiny stiffening in Peverell's posture as Tanya finished speaking. 'Interesting...'

Her attention was drawn back to the Head Table as Dumbledore spoke again, the rest of the Hall quietening down in anticipation.

"Even though I know all of you are eager to bring the Triwizard cup to Hogwarts", He said, "The heads of all three schools, along with the ministry, have agreed to impose an age restriction on the contenders, so that this tournament can be relatively safer than the past few. Only students who are of age – that is, seventeen or older – will be allowed to put forward their names for selection."

He continued, his voice raised to quell the outrage and discontentment at his words, "This is a measure we feel necessary, goven that the tasks can , and most probably will, be quite difficult and dangerous, leaving it highly unlikely that students below their sixth or seventh year will be able to cope. In addition, I will personally be ensuring that no one manages to hoodwink our impartial judge into making them the Hogwarts Champion." His blue eyes flickered over to the Weasly twins in a not so subtle look as he said this, "Therefore, I beg of you to not waste your time submitting yourself if they are under seventeen."

"As stated, the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the better part of the year. In addition, a security contingent of Aurors, both British and international, will be showing up at the end of the month, to help everything get set up and to ensure everything goes smoothly."

"I know that all of you will extend every courtesy to our foreign guests, as well as give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion, whomsoever he or she may be. Now, it is late, and it is important that you all be alert and well rested for the classes tomorrow morning. Off to bed you go!"

Finishing his speech, he promptly sat down and turned to talk to Moody (Moody! They were getting fucking Mad Eye Moody as a teacher!). The Hall was suddenly alit with a great clamor as students got to their feet and swarmed the great double doors to the entrance hall.

The Ravenclaws hung back, as always. Iris got to her feet as the students arrayed themselves into orderly lines, the Prefects corralling the first years. They walked out, students talking and laughing in muted tones, though Iris did notice a lot of 'subtle' glances towards Peverell.

She sidled up to Tanya, Hermione in tow, who was walking next to Peverell, chatting lightly.

"So, Tanya", Hermione spoke up first, "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

Tanya started, her head whipping around. She relaxed when she was it was just their book loving (read: Addicted) friend. The glare she gave in return was just shrugged off bye the bushy haired girl with a smile.

Iris shook her head. First year, Hermione would never even have considered doing such a thing, never-mind waving off the glare. It was nice to see that her friend had begun to become more outgoing. She'd come a long way in three years.

"So?", Hermione continued, eyebrow quirked, still looking at the ebony haired girl as they climbed a staircase behind the rest of the House.

"Don't worry, I'll do it", Peverell spoke up, smiling at the brunette, "Though I'm sure we've already met."

"We never talked. Also, running from Death Eaters can really be called a meeting can it?", Hermione replied, her tone a bit cautious. Iris could sympathize. The teen next to them had killed four death eaters. Without breaking a sweat.

"True", Peverell said, nodding thoughtfully, before his expression darkened "Though I didn't really do much running per se. More of they ran from me."

Hermione winced, "Oh. Yeah. I know what they were doing was wrong, but did you have to kill them?"

Peverell turned to her, his expression turning to stone, "Do you think they would have thought like that? What they were doing – and what they were planning to do – was beyond deplorable. I would rather scum like that not live, rather than live on to harm someone."

Hermione was quiet for a while, as they climbed more stairs. Hey, Ravenclaw tower was called a tower for a reason.

The brunette shook her head, before speaking up again, "I still didn't get an introduction, you know."

Peverell chuckled, a sound of mirth and warmth, so different from his last tone, "Yes, I suppose you didn't. Very well. Ambassador Harry Peverell, Lord of House Peverell and all that, at your service. Hermione, I believe?"

Hermione chuckled, "yep. That's me. Hermione of House… Granger, I guess? Maybe? I'll have to check. That's Iris Potter, the 'Girl-Who-Lived'. So, You're the Lord of your House? How does that work? Aren't you our age? Which country's ambassador are you? Britain's? probably not because I've never heard of you. Have you gone to any other magical school? Do you know Tanya well?"

"Hermione! Breathe!", Iris interjected, as the Hermione paused, causing her to blush and give the raven-haired boy a sheepish smile.

Peverell stared for a moment, before smiling, "You know, you remind me a lot of a very close friend of mine. In order: I'm the Lord of my house as I'm the last living member remaining, sort of. I was granted the title as I was emancipated at twelve, due to… circumstances. Also, I'm pretty sure I'm older than you guys. I'm exactly one year older than miss girl-who-didn't-die. So, I'm in my fifth year now, I think. I'm not the Ambassador to any country in particular. I'm technically the ambassador from Magicals as a whole to the various magical species of the world. I've never had any 'formal' magical education, though I have learned from a bunch of people. I've known Tanya for two to three years, and I think we get along quite well."

Peverell gave Tanya a look as he finished, causing the ebony-haired teen to blush furiously.

Iris cocked an eyebrow, "Then why the hell hasn't she ever mentioned you?"

Tanya opened her mouth to reply, before Peverell cut her off, his tone much colder than it had been for the past few minutes, "She didn't tell you about me as I asked her not to. As to why…. Reasons."

Hermione was frowning, apparently deep in thought, "Ummm, Mr. Peverell? How can you be ambassador for Wizards as a whole? Aren't you fifteen?"

"Fifteen isn't such a young age. I am ambassador as I have a few unique… talents, I suppose, that make me well suited to the role. Lets just say… I am good at languages."

Hermione scoffed, "You cant be that good. Do you know Latin?"

"Yes"

"Latvian?"

"Of course."

"Xhosa."

"Learnt that two or so years back."

"What languages don't you know?"

"Well, I still haven't had a chance to learn Hawk. Infernal has been on my to do list for a long time. I'm pretty interested in picking up Elder Silan as well."

Hermione gaped at him. He wanted to learn to speak to hawks? Also, what the hell was that last language?

Her questions were cut off as the rest of the house came to a stop in front of the heavy wooden door that was the entrance to the Ravenclaw Common room. The male prefect turned to face the first years.

"Okay, listen up First Years. My name is Nicholas Belby, and I'm the fifth year Prefect of Ravenclaw House. My counterpart is Cho Chang. Through this door lies the Ravenclaw Common room and Dorms, which will be your home for the rest of your years at Hogwarts. Ravenclaw House is the house of the studious and inquisitive. We expect everyone to try their best to learn and grow in knowledge throughout the year. The house is like your family, and we expect everyone to treat everyone else well, understood?"

At round of nods from the eleven-year-olds, Nicholas continued, "Unlike other houses, which have a password, the entrance to our common room is accesed by knocking on the knocker and answering the riddle it asks. You can only have five attempts at each riddle though, and you can't ask for a different one. If you cant answer it, you'll just have to wait for someone to come along and open it for you. However, if you can argue and justify your answer sufficiently well, the knocker will allow you past, so be ready to defend your answers. Understood?"

As the first years nodded again, Nicholas nodded, "Good. Now, would anyone like to try?"

Iris spotted movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned, spotting Peverell move from his place next to Tanya.

Nicholas spotted it too, "Ah! Peverell was it? So, would - "

He was completely ignored by the raven-haired boy, who walked up to the door, giving the knocker a very tired look.

"Look I just want to sleep", he said, as he faced the eagle head, "SO do me a favor and open."

The last word was spoken in a different tone, one that was heavy, yet oddly melodious, and thrummed with power.

The door swung open.

Iris blinked.

Then blinked again.

What?

She, along with every single other student, gaped as Peverell gave a tired wave over his shoulder as he stepped through into the Ravenclaw common room, headed towards the door that housed the boys dorms.

Tanya spoke up from next to Iris, the surprise evident in her voice, "I… did not know he could do that."

-HP:GoT-

Harry's feet pounded on stone as he climbed one of Hogwarts hundreds of staircases, his hand skimming the stone banister as he moved. He reached the landing, and turned onto another – you guessed it – stone hallway.

'I'm… really starting to get stick of this stone.'

Oh well. At least the myriad paintings and tapestries kept the hallways and passages from looking exactly the same.

Almost a week had passed since his little stunt at the sorting.

He had… mixed feelings about Hogwarts at this point.

The whispers and stares hadn't stopped after a few days, despite what Tanya kept assuring him. If anything, they had increased.

It spoke volumes about how stagnant and boring life in the British Wizarding World was if just his arrival had given students something to gossip about for a whole week.

Isis spoke up in his mind, 'Don't sell yourself short Harry. You're an interesting person. You're young, rich, an international political figure, and a LORD. Hell, I won't be surprised if the whispers last the whole year.'

'I'm not that interesting!'

He could literally feel the deadpan look Isis gave him.

He winced as he realized what he had just said. He was sure he'd gotten rid of that habit.

'Damn Dursleys. Damn them to hell.'

He sighed internally, 'Sorry Isis. Some things leave a mark, I guess. But I meant if just my arrival generates this much gossip, then imagine what will happen when the other schools arrive.'

'Don't forget Viktor.'

He flinched violently, 'I'd… totally forgotten about that. Shit.'

'Shit is right.'

He shook his head. Viktor was going to have his ass for the stunt he'd pulled at the Quidditch World Cup. Then he'd beat him up for taking on the Death eaters alone.

Say what you want, Viktor Krum was really protective of people he was close to.

It was probably why they'd clicked so well.

His watch beeped. He looked down at the dial. 9:20 AM.

His pace increased as he walked down the hallway, turning onto an empty corridor on the seventh floor, adorned with only a single tapestry of a man who… was he teaching trolls the ballet? Wow. Wizards… weren't really smart, were they?

The sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor as Tanya walked around the corner, her ebony hair framing her beautiful face as she walked down the corridor in a blue trimmed set of robes.

'Those robes really hide a lot don't they?', Ghost spoke up in his head.

'Huh?'

Unbidden, the image of Tanya in his shower came to the forefront of his mind, the water cascading down her gorgeous body, dripping down h – 'Nope. Not going there!'

He realized dimly that his face was warm. 'Fuck you, Ghost!'

'Yes please!'

He shook his head slightly as Tanya walked up to him. He spoke up, "Tanya, what –"

She walked right past him, before stopping in front of the weird tapestry. She turned on her heel, pacng back and forth in front of the tapestry thrice.

A door materialized on the wall next to Harry.

He blinked. 'What the – '

Without a word, Tanya opened the door and stepped into the room.

He sighed. She'd been like this for the past week, refusing to acknowledge him or speak a word.

It… hurt. He didn't know why, but it made him feel horrible, just her ignoring of him. So when she'd told him to meet her on the seventh floor in front of the tapestry of a Barnabas something, he'd jumped at the opportunity.

He stepped into the room, and immediately froze.

It was the same as her room at Grimmauld Place. Right down to the last detail. There was even the photo of them from the trip to the Alps that Sirius and Sasha had taken them on. Say what you like, Sirius was seriously dedicated to his job as Harry's godfather. Doubly so when he had learned of his lack of a father figure growing up.

His brow furrowed in confusion. 'How the hell?'

Tanya had taken a seat on the bed. She was still silent, just staring at his face.

Harry spoke first, "So. Want to tell me why you've been ignoring me this week Tanya? You seemed very happy that I would be coming to Hogwarts. What changed?"

She didn't say a word, just standing up and walking up to him. Her stormy grey eyes boring into his vivid emerald. He could see a swirling maelstrom of emotions in those eyes. Anger, confusion and… was that hurt?

"So", Tanya spoke, her voice low, "Harry Potter, huh?"

He flinched. Ah. He'd… never gotten around to telling her, had he?

Apparently the flinch had reaffirmed something in the ebony haired girl, because when she spoke again, her voice was hard.

"You know, when I first heard Dumbledore call you that, I thought I heard it wrong. I though the Headmaster had mispronounced Peverell. But when I looked, and I mean really looked, I saw it. I mean, how could I have been so blind? Your hair, it's just like Iris's. The way you walk, the way you hold yourself, even your fucking adorable smile! How the hell could you have been anything but a Potter? Even your eyes. They're the exact same as Iris's. So, tell me. When were you going to tell me who you really were Potter?"

Harry's irritation had slowly begun to rise as Tanya had been speaking. His voice had taken on a steely tone, much like Tanya's when he replied, "Yeah, cause that would have been a great conversation starter. 'Hey Tanya, you know your best friend Iris? The Girl-Who-Lived? Yeah, I'm her older brother. My name is really Harry James Potter.' That would have gone perfectly, I'm sure!"

Tanya was gaping, "You're Iris's elder brother? How come she never mentioned you?"

Harry scoffed, "How could she? The only way she would have was if she had known I existed! A pretty unlikely event considering that her parents threw me away when she was ONE YEAR OLD!"

"Th- Threw –", Tanya began, her eyes wide.

But Harry wouldn't let her continue. His irritation had peaked, and he was pissed. "Yeah. Threw me away. I didn't defeat one of the greatest dark lords in the past century, did I? I wasn't the Girl-Who-Lived, I wasn't the 'Saviour of the wizarding world'! I wasn't good enough! So they decided to pawn me off to Lily Potter's sister. Who did this to me."

At the last sentence, Harry lifted the plain blue shirt he had on, revealing his chest, covered with its intricate patchwork of scars. Tanya's hand came up to her mouth as she gasped, tears forming in her eyes.

"So yeah.", Harry snapped, his voice dripping with rage, "I wasn't going to tell you I was Harry Potter. Because I am not. And apparently never was. So, don't you dare call me Potter again, Black, because that is not my name!"

Saying so, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, muttering a myriad of curse words in a plethora of languages, leaving a shocked Tanya behind, tears spilling down her cheeks as she watched his retreating back.

-HP:GoT-

It was the first Sunday since term had begun, and Iris was heading to her mother's room in the Teacher quarters.

It had become a sort of a tradition for them, ever since her mother had joined Hogwarts as the Muggle Studies professor a few years ago. Every Sunday, Iris would head over to her mother's quarters and they would just… spend some time together.

It helped that Dumbledore had encouraged it, even linking the fireplace in her mother's room to the one in Potter Manor, allowing her father to pop over to visit.

Sure, it was favoritism, but hey, being the girl-who-lived had to have some perks right?

She knocked on the door of her mother's room, "Mum?"

The heavy, wooden door pulled open, revealing Lily Potter standing in the doorway in a Beatles t-shirt and jeans.

The red-haired woman smiled at her daughter, "Good morning Iris. Come in, I'm making coffee!"

Iris grinned as she walked into the room. Coffee was something she could get behind. And her mom made some of the best coffee.

The quarters themselves consisted of a large living room, a bedroom and an attached bathroom. The living room was large, a trio of couches clustered near a fireplace on one wall, while a kitchenette took up the opposite wall. Even though the Hogwarts house elves were happy to provide for the teachers at any moment, her mother had always enjoyed the act of cooking, hence the kitchenette.

A door led to the bedroom on the remaining wall, flanked by bookshelves filled with both books on magical theory as well as her mother's entire collection of detective novels.

Seriously. The woman was addicted. It was almost like Hermione. Except Hermione's addiction was… seriously worrying. Even for a Ravenclaw, calling a three-thousand-page book light reading was a bit… much.

A red carpet covered the floor near the fireplace, charmed inflammable of course. The stone walls were adorned with a bunch of pictures of Iris, James and Lily, as well as images of her parents and their friends from their Hogwarts years. A portrait frame resided in the wall next to the kitchenette, currently empty, but usually the home to a portrait of a woman called Medea, an attractive elvish princess who stood infront of the beautiful forest in the background.

Above the ornately carved stone mantlpiece hung a picture frame, turned towards the wall, its plain back displayed to the room.

Iris had never seen the picture in the frame, though not for lack of trying. The frame was stuck to the wall that way, and despite her best efforts (including Hermione's Finite Incantem, as well as lots and lots of begging) had remained like that for as long as her mother had been a Professor.

The only hint she'd ever gotten about what picture it was was the slight look of melancholy that her mother would have whenever she spotted the frame.

She shook herself out of her reverie. She had come for answers dammit. Answers about the mystery that was Harry Potter, or Harry Peverell, or whatever his damn name was.

"Mum?", she spoke up, smoothly stepping into the room and shutting the door behind her, "Who's Harry Potter?"

Her mother stiffened, and she could have sworn that she saw the redhead shoot a glance at the turned frame. The older woman spent a few seconds in silence, before sighing. She turned, and Iris was taken aback by just how sad her mother looked.

"I… I suppose it's past time you got to know anyway."

Iris's brow furrowed in confusion. 'Whaaaa…..?'

Her mother moved over to the fireplace, taking a pinch of Floo powder from the pot on the mantlepiece, before throwing it on the fire, loudly calling out 'Potter Manor!' as she did so.

Iris watched as her mother stuck her head into the fireplace, calling for her father.

A moment later, she pulled her head back, before stepping aside. She gave Iris a sad smile, "Please, just hear us out on this. And please don't judge us too harshly."

'That…. Told me nothing about what you meant.'

The fireplace roared green as James Potter stepped out, wearing a simple red shirt with the Gryffindor emblem and a pair of jeans, his usual, exuberant self.

For all of thirty seconds, until he saw the look on his wife's face. And the absolute confusion on Iris's. His perennial smile dropped immediately. That, honestly made Iris more apprehensive than her mother's words had. Her father's bubbly nature had been a constant in her life, ever since she had been a child.

To see it drop that fast was utterly terrifying.

Her father gave her mother a long look, one she met with a resigned conviction. Letting out a sigh, the raven haired man gestured for Iris to take a seat on the couch.

The emerald eyed girl took a seat on the couch, her parents sitting across from her, none of them speaking a word. The silence stretched to awkward amounts before her father spoke up, "Well Iris, there – There's no easy way to say this. You know how you've always been an only child?"

Iris could only nod nervously, her eyes never leaving her parents faces.

"That's… not entirely true."

"Excuse me?!"

Iris's eyes followed her mother as she stood from the couch, stepping over to the picture over the mantlepiece. The redheaded woman touched her wand to the frame, before turning it over, giving Iris her first glimpse at the image it held.

It was a family picture. A young, red haired woman smiled at the camera, her emerald eyes sparkling, holding a black-haired baby girl close to the bosom of her dress. A young man stood next to her, his raven hair messy and untamed, hazel eyes framed by large, round framed glasses, a large grin splitting his face, one arm around the woman's waist, the other holding onto the black haired young boy sitting on his shoulder. Bothe the children's vivid emerald eyes seemed to shine in the light of the sun as they stood in front of a beautiful cottage, the young girl's eyes alight with curiosity as the boy gave a toothy grin towards the camera.

Iris stood on shaky legs, stepping towards the photograph. Her hand came out, tracing the still face of the girl. Her eyes dropped to the small bar of text at the base of the image, and her heart stopped as she read the words.

'James and Lily Potter, with their children Harry James Potter, age 2, and Iris Lily Potter, age 1, in front of their cottage at Godric's Hollow, 17th August, 1981. Photograph taken by: Sirius Orion Black, aka Padfoot, aka the Greatest Dogfather of All Time.'

Her words died in her throat as tears began pooling in her eyes. Her brother. Peverell, Harry James Potter, was her brother.

She had a brother.

And… she'd lost him. That was the loss she was feeling. She had a brother. And she'd never known it.

She was dimly aware of her mother stepping up next to her, her hand joining Iris's on the glass of the frame, a sad smile on her face.

"You both were such happy babies. And often inseparable too. Sometimes at night, you wouldn't be able to sleep unless he was there with you. It was adorable to see you both fast asleep in a crib, holding each other tight."

Iris let out a small, choked laugh. She met her mother's gaze, eyes brimming with tears, her magic swirling in confusion, "W.. Why?"

It was James who answered. He stepped up next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder, "Voldemort."

At the sight of her confused look, he proceeded to elaborate, "After that night on Halloween, we… we were scared Iris. We were planning to go even deeper into hiding, screw the Wizarding world. We weren't sure if he was truly gone, and what the Death Eaters would do after the news got out. We just wanted to keep both of you safe."

As Iris opened her mouth, her father cut her off as he continued, a weary look now etched upon his face.

"By the time we were preparing, it was too late. Albus arrived, with a lot of the order members, to the ruins of the cottage. He told us that the news had somehow gotten out, that the people believed Voldemort was dead, and that the Death Eaters were on the run. He took one look at you, saw the scar, and did a couple of diagnostic spells. Apparently, they confirmed something for him, as he stated with some of the most conviction he had shown that you were the one who had thrown off the Killing Curse and defeated Voldemort."

"He told us the news would get out, that you would be praised as a Saviour. Those words immediately shot all of our plans to dust. So, we decided to move into Potter Manor. The four of us, along with Sirius and Remus, moved there and put up the wards at full strength."

"The next few days proved his words true. The public was calling you the Girl-Who-Lived, and our plans to disappear would never work with you being a celebrity, and us being your parents. Then, just the next day, Albus showed up at our doorstep. He looked worried about something, uncharacteristically so in fact."

"He sat down with us and told us that he was sure Voldemort wasn't as dead as people believed. He said that the snake faced bastard would come back one day, and that you would need to be prepared. He said that you would need to be trained and that… that having Harry around would only hold you back."

"Huh?"

"He told us that you… you would need our full love and attention", Her mother said, taking over from her father, her voice soft, "He said that you being the Girl-Who-Lived, being famous, would make Harry jealous and spiteful. He… insisted… that Harry would need to grow up away from you. Away from the fame, away from the spotlight. He said that Harry would become a liability, an easy target for those trying to get back at you for defeating Voldemort. He… asked that we send Harry away."

"And we agreed. Sirius was against it of course. Hell, Remus was too. But to us, we just wanted to keep you both safe. And if that meant sending Harry away from all this, like we had originally planned to do for all of us, we would! Albus was the one who took him, and he assured us he would be kept safe, with a loving family!"

Iris's shock had slowly turned to anger as she heard her parents out. A writhing, blinding, burning rage that was only accentuated by the feeling of loss. Her parent's decision had torn her from her brother. Separated two parts of a whole.

"So, you just threw Harry away, just because an old coot told you to?", Iris snapped, her magic swirling and crackling around her, incited by her anger, "I could have had a brother. If we were so close as babies, why the hell did you think we would let ourselves drift apart?! Why the fuck would I have let my bother be jealous or spiteful?! But no, instead of giving it a chance, instead of caring for both of your children, you just threw one of them away!"

"Iris –"

"Don't give me that 'protection' bullshit! If he was going to be a target, why couldn't he have been taught to protect himself as well? You both gave me lessons! Why the fuck would he have been any different?! But no, he didn't stop a dark lord, so he wasn't good enough to keep, was he?!"

"Iris!", Her mom interjected, tears rolling down her cheeks, "You don't… we just wanted to keep him safe! You have no idea how much we wanted to keep him with us!"

"But you didn't, did you?", Iris's reply caused her mother to flinch at the pure venom lacing her daughter's tone. She turned on her heel. She couldn't stay. Not now.

Ignoring the protests of her parents, Iris stormed out of the room, slamming the heavy wooden door behind her.

She fled down the corridors, turning at random points, unaware to where she was going, just trying to get away from the room with those… those people she had thought she knew.

A cool breeze hitting her face brought her thoughts back to just where she was. She blinked. The turned in a circle.

How the hell had she managed to get up here?

She was standing at the battlements of… the west tower, maybe? In front of her, the world curved away, revealing a stunning vista.

The sun, high in the sky, shone down upon the sparkling waters of the Black Lake, spread out in front of her. The grounds of the ancient castle, a lush green, lay to the sides, dotted with the tiny figures of students. Bounding it all, the thick woods of the forbidden forest receded into the distance, a rolling wave of dark greens under the clear blue sky.

It was beautiful. Why hadn't she come up here before?

Iris closed her eyes, feeling the breeze brush over her face and swirl around her.

A few minutes later, she was calmer.

A couple of tears may or may not have been shed.

She leaned against the battlement, arms crossed, elbows resting on the warm stone as she took a minute to just think.

She had a brother. Or, more accurately, she had had a brother, since her parents had decided to send him away.

She had never felt as appalled by something her parents had done. Ever. Honestly, if she hadn't heard it from their own mouths, she probably wouldn't have ever believed such a thing to be true.

Now, she could finally understand Peverell's – No, Harry Potter's. Her brother's – cold attitude. How he must have felt, to see her and her parents, see their love, their bond, and know that he could have been a part of it, if something had been different. To look upon the family that threw him away, so happy with their lives, lives he could – and should – have been a part of.

Hell, Iris could even respect his attitude. If it had been her in his place, she probably would have been screaming and raging.

She couldn't even imagine how it must have felt, what he must have gone through. She just… couldn't.

As Iris stood there in the breeze, replaying her recent conversation in her head, a thought suddenly struck her.

'Mum told me Dumbledore said that I had been the one to throw off the killing curse. Dumbledore said it. How did he know that I was the one to vanquish Voldemort?'

Her hand came up to her forehead, tracing the lightning bolt scar inscribed on its left side. She had always had a love-hate relationship with that scar. It was the source of the fame that plagued her anywhere she went, an easily identifiable blemish on her face.

'Mum said that he cast some diagnostic spells or something. But he didn't see the attack, did he? How does he know I was the one? What if it wasn't me? What if it had been Harry instead?!'

She internally grappled with the idea. Was it possible? Was she not the Girl-Who-Lived? Could her brother have been the 'one'?

When she thought about it, Harry did seem to be the more… hero type. At the quidditch World cup, he had known so many of the Lords and Ladies… Wait a minute, why did he know so many of them? And why the hell did she not look into that yet?

Iris's brow furrowed in confusion. Why hadn't she looked into that? In fact, it was getting harder and harder to think about… who had she been thinking about?

Her eyes widened. She couldnt remember. She couldnt remember. Even as she tried to recall it, it was like her mind slipped away from the memory.

She'd been thinking about the quidditch world cup and… who had that boy been, who'd been talking to Daphne's parents? Oh right, Peverell. Harry.

'His name is Harry dammit. Harry Potter!'

Her mind retraced the events of the Cup. He'd been talking to… someone? Sirius maybe? She couldn't recall… In fact, she wasn't even able to properly recall what he'd said during the match. It had been important. She could remember that... just not what it was!

Hell, she couldn't even remember what she'd seen him do during the whole week! It was like he was just… not there.

'What the fuck is going on?!'

What had she been thinking about? Oh. Right. Harry.

She tried to remember what had happened during the attack. They'd been having a… tense party in her family's tent ('Wait, why was it so tense?'). Then Sirius and her dad had rushed in, shouting about an attack.

The moms had taken the younger kids and tried to head towards the forest. Harry had… helped ('maybe?'), along with that weird ghostly… apparition… thing… wait, what the actual fuck was that ghost girl? And why the hell wasn't she more interested in finding out? Hell, she couldn't even remembered what the… spirit had looked like. Iris was pretty sure it was female. Maybe.

And later, Harry had butchered those four Death Eaters who had been trying to… assault that girl. He'd just casually killed all of them, his calm, collected demeanor gone, replaced by… had that been anger? She wasn't sure.

But by Merlin had he looked hot doing it.

Wait a minute. She'd been thinking like that a lot lately. About how hot he was, how cool, smart, and all those other things. (Also, how did she remember that when she couldn't remember anything else about him from her first week?)

Iris felt her face heat up uncomfortably.

Was she… crushing on her brother?

Oh god.

-HP:GoT-

Fluff Galore! Just want to point out a few things: Lily and James are not bad people. They made a choice that they still feel very guilty about. Was it a bad choice? Yes. Did they want Harry to suffer? Fuck no.

Also, Dumbledore wont be evil. He'll just be manipulative, but he honestly does things for the good of others, not the Greater Good. Mostly. He didn't know that the Dursleys would treat Harry the way they did, and he forgot to check up on him because of something he himself did, that will be explained next chapter. Hopefully.

Harry's main wand has been finalized though. You'll find out what it is soon enough. Still looking for Types of magic for cultures to specialize on, like Roman war magic, Japanese Rituals etc.

Once again, if you see any plot holes and grammatical errors, please let me know.

As always, feel free to review!