"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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Later that evening, Iris was idly staring around the Great Hall, even though she was supposed to be doing her paper for Charms class.
She noticed Lavender and Parvati huddling over a dozen teacups, avidly interpreting patterns in hushed voices.
Over at the Slytherin table, Draco, arm bound in a sling, was holding court before a clot of Slytherins.
"Does it hurt terribly, Draco?" Pansy cooed at him.
"It comes and goes. Still... I consider myself lucky. According to Madam Pomfrey, another minute or two... and I could've lost the arm," he told all the students surrounding him in an overdramatic voice.
Iris, Harry, Ron and Hermione watched from the Gryffindor table.
"The little git. He's really laying it on thick, isn't he?" Ron scoffed.
"At least Hagrid didn't get sacked," Harry said.
"I'm glad, Hagrid doesn't deserve that after all he's been through," Iris commented.
Hermione added on, "Yes. But I hear Draco's father's furious. I don't think we've heard the end of this..."
Suddenly, a shout sounded across the Great Hall.
Seamus was running in holding a newspaper, "He's been sighted!"
Everyone turned. Seamus and the other Gryffindors were huddled over a copy of The Daily Prophet, whispering worriedly to each other.
"Who?" Ron asked.
But the photograph on the Prophet's front page provided a chilling answer: Sirius Black.
Hermione read over the shoulders of others, and whispered half to herself,
"Achintee? That's not far from here..."
"You don't think he'd come to Hogwarts, do you?" Neville asked, frightened.
"With the Dementors at every entrance?" Dean doubted.
"Dementors? He's already slipped by them once, hasn't he? Who's to say he can't do it again?" Lavender told them darkly, peering at one of her many teacups.
As a flicker of fear passes through the twin's faces, Bem, a Nigerian boy stared grimly at the grainy image of Black.
"That's right. Black could be anywhere. It's like trying to catch smoke. Like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands," Bem said lowly.
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A tall wardrobe rattled violently as Iris, Harry, Ron and several classmates regarded it warily.
"Intriguing, yes? Would anyone like to venture a guess as to what's inside?" Professor Lupin walked in front of the class.
In a hushed voice, Seamus said, "That's a Boggart, that is."
