"Those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly." For Iris Potter, these words defined her whole life. Born with a natural talent for Legilim...
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Iris had another nightmare that night.
Perhaps the alcohol invading her system made it worse than usual. She was drifting down a hallway, whispers coming from all around her that sounded distinctly like screaming. Something was off about the dream, though, and her first hint came when a dark shadow passed her peripheral vision. When she looked to the side to see what it was, the dream suddenly warped, and Iris was making her way down a dark, torchlit corridor. Her eyes looked back to the side at a wall that was now covered in reflective tile, and she felt her heart race suddenly as she got startled. It should have been her own reflection looking back at her, but instead, it was the familiar face of Harry that was making eye contact. He was distorted, a broken effect caused by the ridges between the wall's shiny black tiles.
For just a second, her twin's face flickered to her own, and then he looked away. And though she was seeing through the fogginess of a dream, Iris began to become confused, realising that it wasn't her who was in control of her body.
Iris' gaze roamed back to the wall to watch as Harry's reflection again crossed the ridge of a tile, still walking down the dark corridor. The reflection flickered once more, though this time rather than turning to Iris, they became the horrible vision of Voldemort, his black robes flowing.
Iris began breathing faster, her pulse picking up speed as she watched what should have been, but wasn't, her own reflection move in time with her body, which was still walking against her will. She grew more conscious the longer she was in the dream, her throat closing as the evil red eyes that haunted her daily since the graveyard stared right back at her.
Harry's head turned back forward, pulling Iris with him. A familiar featureless black door now loomed at the corridor's end. The whispers grew deafening as she was forcefully pulled toward the door.
Iris' eyes grew wide, realising what was happening. She had been warned by Dumbledore that Voldemort would be able to invade Harry's mind, unconsciously at first, but if the Dark Wizard figured out what he could do, the consequences would be dire. Harry was too unprotected, his mind even more vulnerable when he was sleeping, and Iris had been dragged into his hijacked nightmare. She was sure Voldemort wasn't aware yet of what he was doing, but Iris knew she couldn't let her brother get any further down the corridor.
Behind that door was the thing Voldemort wanted most: the prophecy about him. He would get it by any means necessary. Iris had a strong feeling it wasn't actually Harry that longed to open that door, even though he walked toward it with such greed, but rather Voldemort's desire that took over every function of her brother's thoughts.
She strained against the confines of Harry's mind, struggling to release herself from him. Iris pushed harder, feeling like she was playing tug of war with Harry's subconscious and herself. As soon as she was granted her first sliver of freedom from being tied to her twin, Iris built a wall in his mind in front of them, between Harry and the door.
