"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 felt herself slam flat into the ground; her face was pressed into the grass; the smell of it filled her nostrils. She had closed her eyes while the Portkey transported her and Harry, and she kept them closed now. She did not move. All the breath seemed to have been knocked out of her; her head was swimming so badly she felt as though the ground beneath her was swaying like the deck of a ship. To hold herself steady, she tightened her hold on the two things she was still clutching: the soft but dirtied and scorched sleeve of her brother's shirt and Cedric's body. She felt as though she would slide away into the blackness gathering at the edges of her brain if she let go of either of them. Shock, pain, and exhaustion kept her on the ground, breathing in the smell of the grass, waiting... waiting for someone to do something... something to happen... and all the while, her body was still wracked in shaking pains from the Cruciatus curse...
A torrent of sound deafened and confused her; there were voices everywhere, footsteps, screams... She remained where she was, her face screwed up against the noise, as though it were a nightmare that would pass...
There were so many voices screaming in her mind. The sound was deafening and made her want to curl up in pain.
But she was numb.
In both body and spirit, Iris was defeated. Her boyfriend, her love, her happiness... was dead. Right in front of her. And behind the thin veil over her eyes played the malevolent bolt of vivid green light striking him down over and over.
Then a pair of hands seized her roughly and turned her over.
"Iris! Harry!"
She opened her eyes.
She was looking up at the starry sky, and Albus Dumbledore was crouched over her. The dark shadows of a crowd of people pressed in around them, pushing nearer; Iris felt the ground beneath her head reverberating with their footsteps. Her eyes were glazed dully, the world hazy around her as she had trouble focusing.
They had come back to the edge of the maze. She could see the stands rising above her, the shapes of people moving in them, the stars above.
Beside her, Harry let go of the cup, but Iris clutched him and Cedric to her even more tightly. Her eyes drooped closed as her headed pounded. They opened once more when Dumbledore urgently shook her, and she exhaustedly gazed up at him, his face swimming in and out of focus.
"He's back," Iris heard Harry whisper. "He's back. Voldemort."
"What's going on? What's happened?"
The face of Cornelius Fudge appeared upside down over Iris; it looked white, appalled. "My God — Diggory!" it whispered. "Dumbledore — he's dead!"
The words were repeated, growing louder in Iris' ears as she slowly tuned back into reality, the shadowy figures pressing in on them gasped it to those around them... and then others shouted it — screeched it — into the night —
