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loomis-maxima · 1 year ago

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A Family Divided

Genre: Angst with a happy ending

Word count: 2k

Warning: Bullying (siblings), mention of family death, description of injuries.

Notes: This sort of follows canon but sort of not at the same time. The reader (Iris) is Harry's sister and is 2 years older than Harry. So this takes place in what canonically is Harry's 7th year but in this fic it's Harry's 5th year. Does that make sense? Probably not but hopefully you'll understand!

Special thanks to @i-like-pandas5 for the idea and @loomis-maxima for dealing with all my bitching when it came to writing this thing.

You were Iris Potter, the older sister of Harry “The Chosen One” Potter. What everyone forgets is that you were also in the house when Voldemort killed your parents. But since you weren’t in the nursery where your mother gave her life to save your brother, he became “the boy who lived,” and you became an afterthought - the unfortunate, forgotten sister of the boy Wonder, old enough to grasp what had happened but still young enough to have hope.

At one point in your lives, you loved Harry; you took care of him when the Dursleys didn’t and sheltered him from the abuse you received at the hands of your aunt. Her reasoning? You looked too much like your mother. You cried when you got your Hogwarts letter because it meant you had to leave him. You spent the whole train ride worried about your brother, hoping he was going to be okay before you returned home, only to arrive at Hogwarts and learn all about what happened when you two were little.

The sorting hat debated whether to put you in Slytherin or Hufflepuff but decided you were ultimately Slytherin for your resourcefulness, cunning, ambition, and determined nature. You found belonging and friendship in Slytherin. You didn’t realize how deep the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor was until Harry was sorted into Gryffindor, and started changing.

During his first year, he stayed close to you whenever he could and introduced you to his friends, Hermione and Ron. They were good kids, if not a little annoying, but you were happy your brother found friends.

The resentment for your baby brother didn’t start until his 3rd year when he really started leaning into his “chosen one” moniker. He made a name for himself at 14, sealing your fate to always being in his shadow.

“Stop copying Harry! Merlin, you're so obsessed with him!”

“Look at you trying hard to be like Harry. You could never be like Harry.”

“Your scar looks so fake!”

Those were comments you were sick of hearing—everyone thinking you're copying your brother because you also have a scar on your face. Where your brother's is a lightning bolt on his forehead, you have a white scar going down from your right eyebrow, across the bridge of your nose and down your left cheek. It usually blended in with your skin, but there were days when it was more pronounced than usual.

“Speak to her like that again, and they'll be finding pieces of you for generations to come.” Mattheo threatened, the collar of a 3rd year Gryffindor clutched tightly in his fists. You watched from a corner, twirling your wand between your fingers, waiting for your turn to cast Furnunculus as they scurry away.

“Merlin Iris, mum gave her life to save me, not you. You need to get over it already and just accept your place.” Harry would taunt you as he walked by your table. Mattheo would glare daggers at him, and Draco would be more than happy to hurl insults his way.

You started changing—perhaps it was Mattheo's influence on you. Maybe you have always been like this, but you decided to embrace all that Slytherin was: the good, the bad, and the evil. You had to listen to students and professors alike compare you to your brother. You just got sick of it, sick of hearing all the stories of adventures he got into, how he would never get in trouble because he was “The Chosen One.”

***

“Hogwarts is threatened! Man, the boundaries! Do your duty to our school!”

You heard McGonagall call as hundreds of stone knights marched to their positions. This was it—the battle of Hogwarts. You knew it was coming, and the whole school knew it was coming.

“All first and second years! My name is Iris; I am a 7th-year Slytherin student. I’m going to try to get you somewhere safe! Follow me, please!” You yelled out above the din. Once you had enough attention, you quickly and effortlessly led them through the school, blasting your way through enemies like they were pieces of paper. Mattheo is by your side, helping to guide students, Draco is on the left side of the group, Theodore is on the right, and Lorenzo and Blaise are pulling up the back.

“Run, run, run, little snake,” Harry taunted when he saw you guiding the younger students away. “Run away, little snake; you couldn't stand up to a lion anyway.” Your jaw clenched, listening to your little brother’s taunts, but you choose not to dignify them with a response. You had a plan, and it would show the world who the stronger Potter was.

You wanted to be on the front lines, defending your beloved school, but you also didn't want your friends to have to battle their own families, so you tasked them with protecting the first and second years in the dungeon.

You lead everyone into the kitchen before securing the door with Protego. It’s not a perfect system, but you hoped it’d be enough to keep everyone safe and keep any Death Eaters at bay. You walked around the kitchen, checking in on all the frightened students, trying to put their minds at ease.

“I'm scared, Miss Iris. What if Voldemort comes and gets us?” A timid little Hufflepuff boy asks as you get to him.

You sighed softly and crouched down to his level before motioning around, drawing attention to Mattheo, Theodore, Lorenzo, Blaise and Draco standing near the walls, surrounding the group of students. “Do you see these five boys with the green uniforms standing up? Those five are going to keep you safe. They have kept me safe the whole time I was here. They are extremely skilled witches, and I have full faith they'll keep you safe.”

“What about you?” The same boy asked

“I'm going to end this once and for all. I'm tired of living in my brother's shadow. Time to make a name for myself.” You said before rising to your feet again and walking towards the entrance to the kitchen.

You turn to leave the kitchen when Mattheo grabs your hand and holds you back from going. “I'm coming with you, Rissie. I'm not letting you do this alone. I can’t lose my only light.”

You turned to face him before planting a gentle kiss on his lips. “My love, a Riddle is going to die tonight, and I would prefer it if it weren't you. Please stay here; I need to know you're safe.”

Mattheo searched your eyes for something, anything to tell him you're bluffing, but there is nothing but determination. “You be safe; I need you to come back to me after all this. I’m not ready to deal with life without you.”

You nod, silent tears rolling down your cheeks, and kiss him one more time. You looked up and addressed your friends before running out of the kitchen towards the stairs. “You lot better keep the next generation of witches safe. If you must die, I better hear it was saving one of these kids, or so help me, Merlin, I will raise you from the dead and kill you myself!”

You were quick to join the fray, joining professors and students alike as you defend your school and your home, a fierce determination burning deep inside your very being. Voldemort took your family from you; you were not going to let him take your school.

“Iris!” You turn to see who is calling to you when a deafening boom echoes all around before chunks of the castle crash down around you, knocking you to the ground. Once the dust has settled, you quickly take stock of your surroundings. Your left arm was trapped under some rubble at a painful angle, and your wand was nowhere in sight, scattered amongst the debris. The distinct taste of iron fills your mouth.

You could hear Voldemort’s laughter as he taunted your brother. “Now you have nothing, Harry Potter. Your sister is dead!” Like hell, you were dead; the throbbing pain in your head and shoulder told you that. You needed to get out; you couldn’t let Harry kill Voldemort and claim the glory for himself. With your quick movement, your shoulder dislocated. You bite back a pained scream before carefully freeing it from the rubble.

“CRUCIO”

Voldemort's wand fell, his tortured screams silenced the battle, and everyone turned to see who the witch was that cast the unforgivable curse. There you stood on top of the rubble, bloodied, shoulder dislocated, arm hanging limply by your side.

You carefully stepped out of the rubble, clocking your brother's face; a mix of hatred and awe adorned his stupid features. You turn your gaze back to Voldemort, writhing in pain on the ground. You walked over to him and crouched beside his face.

“You killed my parents. It's time for me to repay the favour,” you spat. “Avada Kadavra,” you whispered as you watched the life drain from his eyes. His movements ceased, and his body deteriorated, scattering like ash into the wind. You stood up and locked eyes with your brother before the whole world went black.

***

You wake up weeks later in St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. You could feel a weight on your bed, a rough, calloused hand clinging to yours. You gently close your fingers around the hand and carefully open your eyes before quickly closing them again, hissing at how bright everything is.

“Nox,” you hear somebody say as all the lights go out in your room. It wasn’t pitch black by any means; light from the window and the hallway filtered in, but it was much easier to open your eyes. It takes you a couple of seconds for your eyes to adjust again before looking down, seeing a mess of brown curly hair resting against your bed. You knew those curls like the back of your hand - Mattheo. A faint smile pulls up on your lips; he survived.

“He has been here since we brought you here, dear.” You turn to the voice, seeing McGonagall sitting in a chair on the other side of your bed. “It’s good to see you awake, Miss. Potter. Your friends have been quite worried about you. When I return to Hogwarts, I will make sure to tell them you are awake.’ McGonagall says, placing her needlework on her lap. “I must extend a heartfelt, sincere thank you for saving the first and second years. Snape had found them in the kitchen once the battle was over; not a single student was injured. That was very quick, selfless thinking on your part, Miss Potter.”

You smile weakly. “I didn’t really think; I just knew they didn’t need to see the fighting or risk seeing their families being maimed or killed. I’m glad they survived. Did…Theo and the others survive, too?” You ask, all of a sudden very concerned about your best friends.

McGonagall pats your hand reassuringly. “Mr. Nott, Mr. Zambini, Mr. Malfoy, and Mr. Berkshire are all live and well, fret not. They have a few cuts and bruises, but they are alright. They have sent you many cards and letters. Read them when you have the strength.” McGonagall stands from her chair before walking to the door. “I must return to Hogwarts, but I shall send an owl to check on you.”

“Goodbye, Professor,” you say before turning your eyes back to your sleeping boyfriend beside you. You squeeze his hand and gently rub your thumb along his skin. He begins stirring, feeling your hand squeeze his. His eyes open, and it takes a few seconds to register that you are looking at him.

“Iris?! You’re awake!” He says, his excitement palpable. “I missed you so much. I didn’t…I didn’t know if you would wake up again! The professors found you unconscious and barely breathing. The Daily Prophet has been singing your praises ever since they learned you killed my father. Harry is miserable that he is no longer the popular Potter. You did it, mon amour; you broke out of your brother’s shadow!”

You smile weakly, cupping his cheek with your hand. “Shhh. Love, you’re talking too much. I just want to be here with you. I don’t care what is happening at school right now.” Mattheo chuckles before taking your hand and kissing your palm.

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