"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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On Christmas morning, Iris woke up to a small pile of parcels at the end of her bed. The small brunette witch used her wand to float the gifts in front of her as she walked into her brother's dormitory with Buttercup in her arms.
She put her presents on the ground, along with her cat, and grabbed a spare pillow laying on one of the other boys empty beds before throwing the pillow at Harry.
"Oy! Wake up, it's Christmas!"
That woke the boys up with a jolt.
Iris took residence on the bed she believed belonged to Neville, dropping her small pile of gifts at the foot of the bed.
She waited for Harry to groggily shove his glasses onto his face, before delicately grabbing her first package.
She waited a second, "Happy Christmas, Harry!" Iris said grinning. "Happy Christmas Ron!" The girl said to her friend, who was already ripping the paper off his own presents.
"Another sweater from Mum...maroon again...see if you've both got one."
Iris and Harry had. Mrs. Weasley had sent Iris and Harry matching sweaters with the Gryffindor lion knitted on the front (Iris's was deep blue, and Harrys' scarlet), also a dozen home-baked mince pies, some Christmas cake, and a box of nut brittle. As Iris moved all these things aside, she saw a small, square package lying underneath.
"What's that?" said Ron, drawing Iris' attention over to Harry, where a long, thin package was in front of him.
"Dunno..."
Harry ripped the parcel open and gasped as a magnificent, gleaming broomstick rolled out onto his bedspread. Ron dropped his socks and jumped off his bed for a closer look.
"I don't believe it," he said hoarsely.
It was a Firebolt, identical to the dream broom Harry had gone to see every day in Diagon Alley. Its handle glittered as he picked it up. Iris' eyes moved from the golden registration number at the top of the handle, right down to the perfectly smooth, streamlined birch twigs that made up the tail.
"Who sent it to you?" said Iris in a hushed voice.
"Look and see if there's a card," said Harry.
Ron ripped apart the Firebolt's wrappings.
"Nothing! Blimey, who'd spend that much on you?"
"Well," said Harry, feeling stunned, "I'm betting it wasn't the Dursleys."
"I bet it was Dumbledore," said Ron, now walking around and around the Firebolt, taking in every glorious inch. "He sent you two the Invisibility Cloak anonymously..."
"That was our dad's, though," said Harry, and Iris nodded in agreement. "Dumbledore was just passing it on to us. He wouldn't spend hundreds of Galleons on me. He can't go giving students stuff like this --"
