Chapter 16

Edmund was absolutely livid and on the brink of snapping some necks. Alastair Moody, he had assume that Moody would be a good teacher, but no, he was the worst. Casting unforgivables right in front of naive fourteen year old teens, it made Edmund despise him. From what he had heard, Moody tortured a spider with cruciaticus right in front of Longbottom, whose parents were still in a magical induced coma at St. Mungo's.

Edmund growled again and slashed his wind chakra coated sword at a training dummy. It all came back to one stupid man. Albus the-ever-so-eccentric-medlesome-asshole Dumbledore. Oh Edmund hated him. He had understood the old man's game. Since the moment Iris stepped into the walls of Hogwarts, she had been in many life threatening situations and had to take the full brunt of sheep mentality of wizards. She had to face danger every single year and at the end of it, she was sent back to her relatives who prayed for her death everyday.

All of this was caused by one barmy delusional old f.u.c.k. He had left Iris on the doorsteps of magic hating muggles, had constantly pushed her against the odds by testing her in his own twisted way and had manipulated her into looking up to him as her saviour. But, what could Edmund do to make Iris see the reality? Her two stalkers were always around her and did their best to isolate her and pushed away whoever tried to get close to her. His feelings for Iris were extremely clear and it pained him to see her getting hurt, both physically and emotionally. All he needed was one opportunity, just one, and he'll expose everyone who had tried to harm her, control her and use her for their benefit.

(ROTS)

"I believe you."

The moment the words left his lips, Edmund wondered if they were the wrong ones. The look on Iris Potter's face as she whipped her head around to stare at him was… heartbreaking, to say the least.

When the goblet selected Iris as the fourth champion, Edmund could see the shock and fear on her face. It was so very clear that she was caught completely unaware and had no intention of entering the tournament.

But, being the naive teens and a habit of behaving like sheep, Iris was blamed for being a glory hound and a cheat. Many students had wanted to participate in the tournament and it was a big deal for them. For a fourteen year old to trick the goblet and then claim innocence, they felt wronged. Even her best friends, Weasel and Granger, had abandoned her, the former accusing her for cheating and having all the glory and money, while the latter just followed the crowd, sparing a look of guilt at Iris and leaving without a word.

Edmund, allowed a smile to appear on his face and said in a reassuring tone, "I believe you. You didn't enter your name in the tournament."

I believe you. Three little words. In three words, Edmund Vulpis had managed to accomplish what Malfoy and Snape had been trying and failing to do for the past few years. He'd broken Iris Potter. She all but collapsed forward into his robes, her sobs and wails muffled by the high-quality fabric, but he could most definitely feel the trembling of her body as he wrapped his arms around her.

Edmund quickly got to work on calming down the 'Savior of the Wizarding World'. Rubbing circles into the small girl's back with one hand, he stroked the other through her tangled mess of hair.

As he held Iris Potter's too-small body close and began to carry her along, he spoke up, "Potter… Samhain really isn't a good day of the year for you, now is it?"

Her grip on him tightened, and she shook her head into his shoulder, even as her sobs lightened up a bit, her focus turning towards hearing him speak rather than her own current, overwhelming issues.

"First you lost your parents to the Dork Lord…"

"Then, your first year here, you end up facing a Troll of all things. Safest place in all of Magical Britain my arse."

Iris was shaking in his arms a little. Was she laughing, perhaps? Or more likely, she was laughing and crying at the same time. Edmund smiles slightly, even as he considered his own current big dilemma. Where was he going? He couldn't take her to the Ravenclaw dorms for incredibly obvious reasons. Nor was he going to take her to the Gryffindor dorms. Not only was he not intending on leaving her in her current state, he wouldn't likely get a word out before he was hexed for the mere crime of touching a crying Gryffindor, much less the Girl-Who-Lived, despite everyone in that House currently shunning her.

In the end, there was no choice but to use the Room of Requirement, which he had found by accident last year. So with that decided, Edmund started making his way up to the Seventh Floor, taking the long way around to avoid running into people.

"You took that Troll down, Potter. Even though I thought you were reckless and disapproved of it, I thought the books about you might have some truth in them. You might not have had all those crazy adventures they made up about you while you were growing up, but you do have the heart of a lion beating within your b.r.e.a.s.t, now don't you?"

He was speaking conversationally, but Edmund would have to be a fool not to feel her reactions, given he wass currently holding her quite close to him. She was hanging off his every word, even as he paused for a moment, watching the staircase before him shift about until its connected to the landing he wanted to go to.

"… Then came second year, and the Heir of Slytherin. Obviously, it was never you. People can be so… small-minded. Especially in large groups. Still, being able to speak parseltongue is nothing to be ashamed of as I told you that night beside the lake. It might have garnered a bad reputation here in the United Kingdom, but it is greatly valued in places such as Egypt, India, Africa, and elsewhere around the world. You could probably make a lucrative and exciting career out of nothing but translating what magical serpents across the globe are saying, given how rare the ability is."

By the time he was done speaking, Iris wasn't hiding her face in his shoulder anymore. Instead, teary emerald eyes are staring up at him in honest curiosity and even a small amount of wonder. Edmund smiled down at her, even as he continued his journey to the Seventh Floor.

"It's no mark against you that you don't know about all of this. You would need to order books from outside of Britain to find any of this sort of stuff out. You might have asked for help but were turned away, clearly they don't want you to learn something they see as dark and are too scared of. I can lend you a few later, so long as you promise not to let Granger set her eyes on any of them. She'd likely get them confiscated, like I heard she did with your broom last year."

Edmund lets out a sigh, even as Iris' eyes sparked and hardened at the reminder.

"Last year… last year was the Dementors. Let's not even get into that mess. No, let's talk about this stupid tournament instead."

"… Stupid?"

For the first time, Iris spoke up, her voice quiet but very notably surprised. Edmund grinned down at her at that.

"Very stupid. Don't think I don't know that, and don't let anyone else try to convince you otherwise. The Triwizard Tournament was discontinued for a reason, Potter, and the fact that its been brought back without even a single attempt at revamping the rules and working more safeguards into the entire thing is a travesty of the highest order. Oh, but wizards do seem to love to look back on the past with rose-colored goggles several inches thick, don't they?"

He'd finally reached the painting of Barnabas the Barmy. As Iris considered and processed his words, Edmund paced back and forth before it, all while focusing his hardest on what he would need for the night to take care of the small slip of a girl in his arms. A bed, certainly. A bath as well. Clothes and various hygiene products were also a must. Anything else, Edmund knew he could call upon the House Elves for. He had an entire stable of elf names that he used whenever he needed their assistance, never making sure to call on the same one too many times in a row.

The door to the Room of Requirement had appeared, and Edmund felt Iris stiffen in his arms as he reached out and opened it, pushing his way inside. Whatever she might have said about the door not being there before was caught in her throat when she saw the beautiful interior of the room. Even Edmund is impressed by what his imagination has wrought and left to wonder if perhaps the Room of Requirement had some sort of mind of its own that was inclined to spruce things up a bit.

Regardless, he doesn't let his own surprise give him pause like Iris did with hers. Instead, he made a beeline towards the extravagantly large bed that took up the center of the room, letting her sit at it's edge.

"The seniors talk about it sometimes. Every single year since you've arrived, its been one thing after another. Something you need to learn now is this; once is happenstance, twice is coincidence… but three times is enemy action. Someone is trying to plot against you, Potter, and they've thrown all subtlety out the window with this latest attempt. Why anyone can think you would have willingly put your name in the Goblet… well, it just goes to show how STUPID most of Hogwarts' residents truly are."

Iris looked up at him, alarmed by what he just said. "Someone's plotting against me? But who?" 'Could it be Voldemort? I've been having dreams of him being in a shack, along with Pettigrew and another person.'

Edmund sighed, this will be a long night.