"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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After a tense dinner, Iris and Harry were set with the task of cleaning up all the dishes. Not that she minded, it was an excuse to leave the table and Aunt Marge's constant scowls in hers and Harry's direction.
"Can I tempt you, Marge?" Uncle Vernon asked, holding up a large bottle of brandy.
Marge looked delighted, "Just a small one. A bit more... a bit more... That's the boy."
She took a sloppy sip from her full glass, "Aah. Excellent nosh, Petunia. It's normally just a fry-up for me, what with twelve dogs."
Iris watched, transfixed, as she smacked her lips, lowered her brandy and let Ripper take a slobbery lap out of the glass.
Aunt Marge looked up and caught Iris and Harry looking.
"What are you two smirking at! Where is it that you send them, Vernon?" she questioned.
Uncle Vernon looked nervous as he says, "For the boy, St. Brutus's. It's a first-rate institution for hopeless cases. And the girl is going to St. Catherine's Finishing School."
Iris noticed that upon hearing this, Harry frowned and glanced at Uncle Vernon, who glared darkly at him.
"I see. And do they use the cane at your schools, children?" Aunt Marge questioned.
Iris knew the expression on Harry's face all too well. It was his 'I enjoy making trouble' face.
"Oh, yes. We've been beaten loads of times," he said sarcastically.
Iris elbowed Harry in the ribs.
Aunt Marge hadn't appeared to have caught on to Harry's sarcasm and said, "Excellent. I won't have this namby-pamby wishy-washy nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it."
The twins turned so their backs were facing the table and Iris used legilimency to force her way into Harry's head,
Just a few more minutes, Harry.
Yeah and then the rest of the week, Harry rolled his eyes.
Iris turned back around though Harry stayed in place. Aunt Marge took another sip of brandy and continued on with, "Still. Mustn't blame yourself for how these two've turned out, Vernon. It all comes down to blood. Bad blood will out. What is it their father did, Petunia?"
"Nothing. That is... he didn't work. He was -- unemployed," Aunt Petunia stuttered out nervously.
"Of course. And a drunk, I expect --"
"That's a lie," Harry said loudly. Iris' eyes darted between the two in worry.
Aunt Marge pauses on her wine, eyes narrowing on Harry.
"What did you say?"
"Our dad wasn't a drunk," he said forcefully, turning to face her.
