Disclaimer: I don't own the dystopic world of Harry Potter where no one sees anything wrong with child abuse if it proves that the kid isn't a squib.

Chapter 17: Deck the Halls with Polyjuice

"You really didn't have to come with me," Harry said to his friends, one week later, as they made the very circuitous journey from Gryffindor Tower to the old DADA classroom near the Clock Tower Entrance, which Pyrites had repurposed into a smaller training room for the Gryffindor Dueling Team (the regular one, Classroom 3C on the third floor, had been out of bounds last year).

"Yes, we did," Hermione replied.

"No one should be traveling alone these days," Neville added

"And I needed some time away from the Common Room," Elizabeth chimed in as they rounded a corner. "It's just so frustrating that you get to learn all the good stuff, Harry, while Hermione and I stuck trying to teach our classmates how to cast a Shield Charm. Or Hermione is, anyway; I've tried to help, but a lot people seem to think that I'm some kind of dark lady-in training." She snorted. "The fools. If I wanted to kill them, it wouldn't be all that hard considering that the lot of them still can't cast a decent shield."

They passed through a corridor that opened out into one of the castle's many courtyards. Snow was lightly falling but despite that a crowd was gathering. Slipping through the crowd, Harry found the source of the commotion: three older Slytherin boys were accosting Justin Finch-Fletchley. The Hufflepuff boy was hanging upside down in mid-air; there were large boils all over his face and he seemed to be having trouble breathing. Harry and Elizabeth drew their wands, followed quickly by Hermione.

"—be long now," one of the Slytherins was taunting; he was tall, with short-cropped hair. "It's filth like you who are gonna be next when the Heir strikes again."

Harry cast. "Liberacorpus!" There was a flash of light and Justin was dropped back down to the ground. The Slytherin boys started looking around for the caster of the spell.

"Ohh, lookie here, Cassius," one of the other boys said. "It's Potter and Black."

The other two boys turned to face them and the first boy said. "Ahh, yes, Miles," Cassius replied. "And look Ross, they also brought along their squib Longbottom and their pet Mudblood…"

"Everte!" Harry cast with a snarl.

"Flipendo!" Elizabeth cast.

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione cast.

Taken by surprise, Cassius was knocked off his feet and flung backwards into a pillar as all three spells hit him; his wand went flying and landed at Hermione's feet. But this gave his two friends, Miles and Ross, time to collect their wits and respond.

"Stupefy!"

"Impedimenta!"

"Protego!" Harry, Hermione, and Elizabeth cast almost in unison; the red stunner hit Harry's shield and ricocheted off, while the Impediment Jinx zoomed past them and hit Neville, who had just drawn his wand, freezing him in mid-motion. Spells of many different colors began flying back and forth between as the fight intensified.

The crowd around them was watching with interest, with some people even placing bets, when the loud voice Gilderoy Lockhart sounded through the hubbub.

"What is going on here? Coming through, one side, coming through." Lockhart finally forced his way to the front of the crowd. "Oh my stars, stop! Stop! Stop!" When his cries went unheard, Lockhart drew his wand. "Volate Ascendare!"

Harry was now standing alone against the three Slytherins—Cassius had by now recovered from the initial attack and one of his cronies having summoned his wand back, while Elizabeth and Hermione had both been immobilized like Neville—when Lockhart's spell hit him in the back. Harry felt himself being flung upwards through the falling snow, a sudden chill now biting at him as butterflies mated in his belly. And then he began falling; and as the ground grew closer and closer, fear grabbed at Harry. Dread and panic chased away the butterflies in his stomach; oh, now, what was he going to do. He didn't want to get hurt. He didn't.

Harry felt a jolt, almost like an electric shock, and then—his descent abruptly slowed. Harry managed to right himself so that he landed lightly on his feet but when he took stock of those around him, he found their expressions unnerving: shock, disbelief, and even...was that fear coming from the Slytherin boys?

Cassius, Miles, and Ross all had their hands up as they stepped away from him; they definitely looked afraid.

"Look, Potter," Cassius said, his voice now trembling without even a hint of his prior meanness and arrogance. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry; I didn't mean nothing by it." And then the three Slytherin boys actually turned and almost ran out of the courtyard, as the crowd around them now whispered and murmured.

What was going on?

Harry started over towards Elizabeth, Hermione, and Neville and noticed a group of Hufflepuffs—Cedric Diggory, Ernie McMillan, Hannah Abbot, and Susan Bones —all gathering around Justin and giving Harry nervous glances as they fussed over their classmate.

"Finite Incantatum!" Harry cast, freeing the others from their immobilization, and they immediately swarmed around him.

"Harry, what was that?" Elizabeth practically hissed at him in a low tone.

"You were flying," Hermione explained, her voice also dropping.

"What? No! I wasn't flying, I was falling."

"It didn't look like falling."

"I was falling slowly."

"When wizard's fall from a height, Harry," Neville explained, looking unusually serious. "They don't 'fall slowly'. Look, I know that I'm behind you in almost every subject, but on this I know what I am talking about."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"You noticed that they called me a Squib?"

"But you aren't."

"No, but for the longest time my family believed that I was. They kept trying to catch me off guard and force some magic out of me, but nothing ever worked, not even when my Great Uncle Algie pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once and I nearly drowned. Finally, when I was eight, Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and held me out of an upstairs window by the ankles. Then my Great Aunt Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go of me. I fell, hit the ground and bounced all the way down the garden and into the road. All of my relatives—especially my Gran—were so happy that I wasn't a Squib. But in the moment right before I bounced...I was terrified; I don't think I've ever been as scared of anything as I was in those seconds while I was falling. If I could have been given a choice between bouncing or falling slowly, believe me I would have picked the latter. What you did—whatever that was—was different, and there's only one other wizard in history who has ever demonstrated the ability to fly without a broom: The Dark Lord."

Harry felt a chill creep up his spine. That would explain everyone else's reactions to this—especially those of Cassius and the other Slytherins. But Harry knew that, however it might have looked, he hadn't been flying. He had only been falling and then he'd had an episode of accidental magic that had slowed him down. That was not flying, so why did everyone seem to think that it was?

From an open corridor on the next floor, Argo Pyrites stood in the snowfall watching the courtyard below. Stood, watched and smiled, then turned and left.

(*)

"You are certain that you didn't know what you were doing?" Elizabeth asked Harry; they had made it out of the courtyard and into the corridors of Hogwarts.

"Yes," Harry replied, irritated by having to constantly repeat himself. "I am certain."

"I'm sorry, but it's just—well from the way everyone else was looking at you, especially Cedric and the other Hufflepuffs?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "Cedric, eh? And since when are you on a first-name basis with Diggory?"

Elizabeth's face flushed at her slip. "Err—yes, Diggory, of course—Diggory, I meant to say Diggory and the other Hufflepuffs."

Harry watched his stammering godsister for a moment—and then he understood; he just couldn't resist, not after all the teasing that she'd given him over the summer. "Awww, does the big bad dark lady fancy pretty-boy Diggory?" Elizabeth's face became even redder. "I'm sure he'd love to be the tragic hero seduced by the mistress of all evil, or is it the noble hero who redeems the wicked witch—,"

"S-shut up you prat!" Elizabeth finally managed to say.

Hermione covered a smile with her hand, while Neville just looked awkward.

"So, uh... anyway," Neville said briskly.

"Right," said Harry, "I'll talk to Justin tomorrow during Herbology, try to set things straight."

But the next day the earlier light snowfall had become a blizzard so thick that Herbology class was cancelled. Harry decided to use the free period to look for Justin; thinking that Justin might have decided to use the free period to get caught up on some work, Harry decided to check the library first. Sure enough, he found Ernie McMillan, Hannah Abbot, and Susan Bones huddled around a table in conversation; but he couldn't see whether Justin was among them. He was walking toward them when he started to catch what they were saying and he paused in the Invisibility section.

"So anyway," Ernie was saying, "I told Justin to hide out in our dormitory, just in case Potter's marked him as the next victim. Can't be too careful these days, not after what we saw yesterday."

"You really think that it's Potter, then?" Hannah Abbot asked anxiously.

"I do," said Ernie solemnly. "We all saw him fly without a broomstick; there's only one other wizard in living memory who has ever had that power...the Dark Lord. We've all seen how he's close friends with Black, and we all know that her father was You-Know-Who's right hand; that whole stinking family has always been as dark as their name, up to their eyebrows in the Dark Arts. He used to be friends with Ronald Weasley but then they had some kind of falling out, and Ginny Weasley's been practically stalking him since the start of the year, and now three of their brothers are Petrified? That can't be a coincidence."

"He always seems so nice, though," said Hannah uncertainly, "and, well, he's the one who made You-Know-Who disappear. He can't be all bad, can he?"

Ernie lowered his voice mysteriously, the Hufflepuffs bent closer, and Harry edged nearer so that he could catch Ernie's words.

"No one knows how he survived that attack by You-Know-Who. I mean to say, he was only a baby when it happened. He should have been blasted into smithereens. Only a really powerful Dark wizard could have survived a curse like that." He dropped his voice until it was barely more than a whisper, and said, "That's probably why You-Know-Who wanted to kill him in the first place. Didn't want another Dark Lord competing with him. I wonder what other powers Potter's been hiding?"

Harry had heard enough. Forcing his fists to unclench, he loudly cleared his throat before stepping out from behind the bookshelf. If he hadn't been so angry, he might have laughed: Every one of the Hufflepuffs looked as though they had been Petrified by the sight of him, and the color was draining out of Ernie's face.

"Hello," said Harry. "I'm looking for Justin Finch-Fletchley."

The Hufflepuffs' worst fears had clearly been confirmed. They all looked fearfully at Ernie.

"What do you want with him?" said Ernie in a quavering voice.

"I just want to clear the air," Harry said, "Explain what really happened."

Ernie bit his white lips and then, taking a deep breath, said, "We were all there. We saw what happened."

"Did you, now? Then you noticed that I stopped Warrington from hurting Justin?"

"All I saw," said Ernie stubbornly, though he was trembling as he spoke, "was you flying through the air without a broom or carpet; that's unnatural, that is, that's something only the Dark Lord could do."

"Oh, for crying out loud," Harry declared, his voice shaking with anger. "I didn't—I wasn't—,"

"And in case you're getting ideas," Ernie added hastily, "I might tell you that you can trace my family back through nine generations of witches and warlocks and my blood's as pure as anyone's, so —"

"— I don't care what sort of blood you've got!" said Harry fiercely. "Why would I want to attack Muggle-borns?"

But the three Hufflepuffs had already gotten up and fled from him, so all that Harry could do was pound his clenched fist on the table. He hadn't done anything wrong, so why was everyone acting like he had?

(*)

A week later Elizabeth Black stepped off the Hogwarts Express with her trunk and was almost immediately accosted by Auntie Andi; of course, Andromeda Tonks was actually her cousin, not her aunt, but Elizabeth had always thought of her as Auntie Andi.

"What is going on?" Elizabeth asked as she was hustled out of the platform's muggle entrance after her trunk was lightened, shrunken and returned to her. "Where's my mum?"

"Hush," Andromeda said. "All will be explained very soon, just be patient." They entered a woman's bathroom where Andromeda took her hand. Elizabeth felt the familiar squeezing sensation of apparition and then found herself standing on a patch of unkempt grass in the middle of a small square. All around them were grimy-looking muggle houses, some of them with broken windows and peeling paint, while others had heaps of rubbish outside.

"There you are."

Elizabeth whirled about at the familiar voice, then ran to embrace her mother.

"What's going on?" Elizabeth repeated. "Why am I here but not Harry?"

"You'll see in a minute," Karen assured, then looked at Andromeda.

"This way."

Andromeda led them across the road and on to the sidewalk. Elizabeth could hear the muffled pounding of a stereo from a nearby house and her nose twitched at the pungent smell of rotting rubbish just inside the broken gate. Andromeda led her up to the battered door of number 12, which had a silver doorknocker in the form of a twisted serpent, but there was no keyhole or letterbox.

"Get out your wand and tap the door once," Andromeda instructed. Elizabeth did so and heard many loud, metallic clicks and what sounded like the clatter of a chain. Then the door creaked open. "Oh, thank Merlin." Andromeda breathed a sigh of relief and continued. "Get in but don't go too far inside and don't touch anything."

Elizabeth stepped over the threshold into almost total darkness, though she could smell damp, dust, and rot; whatever this place was, it had the feeling of a derelict building. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Andromeda and Karen file in behind her and close the door, making the darkness complete.

"Now," Andromeda said, "Let me give us a bit of light."

Her hushed voice gave Elizabeth an odd feeling of foreboding, almost as if they had entered a haunted house. There was a soft hissing noise and then old-fashioned gas lamps sputtered into life all along the walls, casting a flickering insubstantial light over peeling wallpaper and a threadbare carpet that stretched down a gloomy hallway. A cobwebby chandelier glimmered overhead and age-blackened portraits hung crooked on the walls—as did the heads of house-elves; both the chandelier and the candelabra on a nearby rickety table were shaped like serpents. An umbrella stand that looked like a troll's leg stood by the door. To her left she could see an open room with two sofas, a table and a fireplace; down the hall were three sets of closed doors and in front of her was an upwards staircase.

"Welcome," Andromeda said, somehow managing to sound both hushed and dramatic at the same time. "To the ancient and noble house of Black."

"You and dad grew up here?"

"Me, your father, my sisters, our parents and grandparents, and their parents and grandparents before them."

"But why did I have to open the door? Couldn't you or Nymphadora have done it?"

"We've tried, but the door rejected us, no doubt because I was disowned, but it's an entailed estate; that means that Sirius'—and therefore yours—inheritance of it cannot be prevented by disinheritance or any other legal means, and there's a similar trust arrangement for the Black Family Fortune."

"So, why are we here instead of at home?"

"I've sold our old house," Karen said softly, "I didn't want to, but I had no choice; the Ministry was about to raid us and I was afraid that they would want to take Harry away. But we'll be safe here."

"We will?"

"Oh yes," Andromeda confirmed. "My family wasn't good for much else, but our home has almost every protective enchantment known to wizard-kind and—," A horrible scream drowned out the rest of her words.

Elizabeth started looking around for the source. So were Andromeda and Karen.

"FILTH! SCUM! BEFOULING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS! ROBBERS AND THIEVES, HERE TO PLUNDER THE HEIRLOOMS OF THE NOBLE AND MOST ANCIENT HOUSE OF BLACK! THE HOUSE-ELF WON'T LET YOU ESCAPE!"

It was coming from one of the portraits on the walls, this one was life-size and featured an old woman who was drooling and rolling her eyes as she screamed, the yellowing skin of her face stretched taut as she screamed; and all along the hall behind them, the other portraits awoke and began to holler as well, the noise became so much that Elizabeth knelt down and screwed up her eyes as she clapped her hands over her ears.

Karen and Andromeda drew their wands.

"Silencio!" Karen cast but to no effect.

"Stupefy!" Andromeda cast; a jet of fiery red light came out of her wand and hit the portrait, stunning it. Again and again Karen and Andromeda cast the Stunning Spell as they walked up and down the hallway until the yelling finally stopped.

Elizabeth straightened as they returned.

"Well that was fun," Andromeda announced in an unexpectedly light tone. "No, really it was," she continued when the others gave her an odd look. "Most of those people hated me when they were alive and I finally got a little payback; it was most cathartic. Elizabeth," Andromeda called her over to the portrait of the woman who'd started the screaming: "Meet your grandmother, Walburga Black."

Elizabeth gave the portrait another once-over, then snorted. "If she was that crazy while she was alive, then it's no wonder dad ran away."

"Indeed, she was," Andromeda confirmed. "Now, where's that—," Once again she was interrupted, this time by an elf appearing in front of them; he looked really old. "Oh, there you are, Kreacher."

"Filthy blood traitors and mudbloods," the elf began ranting.

"Shut up," Andromeda commanded but the elf ignored her.

"You are not welcome here; old Mistress would be so unhappy—,"

"Shut up!" Elizabeth declared. Kreacher recoiled as his babble abruptly cut off. Andromeda passed her a notecard; she glanced it over, then looked up at Kreacher. "Okay, Kreacher; you will not leave this house without my express and specific permission, you will not reveal to anyone that Andromeda, my mother, or myself have been to or are living in this house. And finally, you will start cleaning this place up."

Kreacher seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, then finally said in a much more dejected tone. "Yes…Mistress."

"You are dismissed," Elizabeth said and Kreacher vanished.

"Even though you can command him," Andromeda quietly told her. "You should be wary around him at all times. House-elves can be very cunning when it comes to interpreting an order; especially when it comes from someone they don't like." Then she brightened up again. "Now, let's show you around."

The tour started off interestingly enough, the open room with the sofas was the Sitting Room, and next was the dining room, and then down the corridor was the Black Family Library, which seemed to be full of all manner of tomes-many of them about the Dark Arts. Across from the library, and underneath the staircase, was a combination office/study. The basement had the kitchen, the pantry, the boiler room, Kreacher's room, a potions lab, and a one-half bathroom. The first floor had the drawing room-which included a tapestry that showed the Black Family Tree-two more bedrooms, and a full bathroom. The second and third floors were almost identical in content if not in layout: two bedrooms and a full bathroom. The fourth floor had two bedrooms and 2 full bathrooms; one of these bedrooms was specifically labeled as belong to a 'Regulus Black', whom Andromeda explained had been her uncle and a Death Eater, while the other bedroom had belong to her father. Finally there was the attic, which had the master bedroom with a walk-in closet, the master bathroom, and a storage room.

It was obvious, though, that the house hadn't been properly cleaned in months and of all the things that Elizabeth Black had been expecting to do over winter break, house-cleaning was definitely not even on the list.

(*)

With the end of the term and almost all of the students gone, Hogwarts was filled with a silence as deep as the snow that had covered the grounds. Some might have found that gloomy and even a bit creepy, but Harry enjoyed the peace and quiet that gave him and Hermione the run of Gryffindor tower. They could read and study without being interrupted and practice dueling in the Common Room without bothering anyone. More than once the two of them had even fallen asleep while sitting on a couch by the fire, and Harry had come to enjoy those few rare moments when he awoke before she did and saw her still sleeping by his side.

Christmas morning, though, saw him abruptly startled awake by an already dressed Hermione who was holding some presents.

"Whaa-?" Harry's brain was still foggy from sleep.

"The potion is ready."

Harry sat up, suddenly wide awake. "So, tonight?"

"Tonight," Hermione agreed, then smiled. "Merry Christmas, Harry."

"Merry Christmas, Hermione."

At that moment, Hedwig swooped into the room, carrying a package with a note attached.

"Hello," said Harry happily as she landed on his bed. She nibbled his ear in an affectionate sort of way as Harry untied the package. He immediately recognized the handwriting as his godmothers.

'Harry, call me when you get this'.

Harry put the note in his pocket for later and began opening his presents. Hagrid had sent him a large tin of treacle fudge, which Harry decided to soften by the fire before eating; Hermione had bought him a luxurious eagle-feather quillpen. Neville had sent him a box of candy; Elizabeth had sent him the first six issues of a popular comic book: The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle, while Karen had sent him a new sweater in Gryffindor colors.

After Hermione finished with her own presents, they gathered around Harry's mirror and he said "Lady Snuffles." The mirror fogged and then the faces of both his godmother and godsister appeared on it.

"Hey, there, Merry Christmas," Elizabeth said.

"Yes, Merry Christmas," Karen added.

"Merry Christmas," Harry replied. "Now, what's up?" After she had explained what had happened and where they were now, he said: "And you're all doing fine?"

"Yes, we're both okay," said Karen. "Andromeda checks up on us regularly."

"I've been bored," Elizabeth said. "We've spent weeks cleaning and even with magic, we only just finally got this place livable. The library here is pretty cool, though."

"There's a library?" Hermione abruptly perked up.

Elizabeth smiled. "Yes, and after checking it out, I can say with certainty that my family's reputation for the Dark Arts is thoroughly deserved; you wouldn't believe the kinds of things that they've done."

"You haven't thrown anything away, have you?" Hermione asked, sounding alarmed at the very thought.

"No, no, of course not," Karen said. "Just a bit of organizing by topic and to keep the more...mature books separate from the rest."

The conversations shifted more pleasant things and then it was time for the Christmas feast.

The Great Hall was festively decorated—with a frost-covered Christmas tree, thick streamers of holly and mistletoe crisscrossing the walls, and enchanted snow falling from the ceiling—but only sparsely populated. Aside from the teachers and staff, Harry counted only four other students besides himself and Hermione: Mafalda Prewett, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. The latter three seemed cheerful enough, but the attacks had cast a pall over everyone else's mood.

Finally, after dessert, Hermione ushered Harry out of the Great Hall and smoothly filled him in on her plan to incapacitate Crabbe and Goyle with two cupcakes that she'd spiked with a Sleeping Draught. That part of the plan went down without a hitch and after taking their shoes and a few of their hairs, they hid the two Slytherin boys in a broom closet, then hurried to Myrtle's bathroom where the Polyjuice Potion was oozing out black smoke; there were also two sets of robes which Hermione had stolen from the laundry, as their own clothes wouldn't fit after they transformed.

Hermione measured out two doses of Polyjuice and they each added their hairs; Both glasses hissed and frothed: Goyle's turned the khaki color of a booger, Crabbe's a dark, murky brown. They were about to go into separate stalls when they heard the door open and footsteps enter. Harry felt a sudden sense of dread. If a teacher had caught them—

"Well, well," a familiar voice said. Harry and Hermione spun around to see Mafalda Prewett clapping slowly, her long dark red hair swept behind her shoulders. "What do we have here?" She bent down over the cauldron and studied it for a moment. "Ahh, just as I suspected: Polyjuice Potion. Clever, very clever I must say."

Hermione fixed Mafalda with a steely glare not unlike the one Professor McGonagall had sometimes. "I don't know what you are talking about, Prewett."

"And you can lie with a straight face," Mafalda continued unabated. "Maybe you could actually pull this off."

"What makes you so certain that you know what we are up to?" Harry pressed and Mafalda just rolled her eyes.

"Oh, please, just drop the act already. Look, I'm not an idiot. Two weeks ago, I saw you," she pointed at him, "sabotage Goyle's potion, and then I saw you," she shifted to Hermione, "sneak into Slughorn's office, and then just a few minutes ago, I see you...deal with Crabbe and Goyle. And now you've got their shoes, their spare clothes, and a Polyjuice Potion. It is obvious what you are up to. So tell me: how exactly were you planning to get into the Slytherin Common Room. Do you even know where it is?" Harry and Hermione both froze with a 'deer-in-the-headlights' kind of look and Mafalda smirked. "Ha, you don't, do you?" She continued, now gloating. "How is it that you can be clever enough to do all this, but never consider that little detail?"

Hermione finally recovered herself. "Well, since you're here and didn't bring McGonagall and Slughorn with you, you have something in mind, don't you?"

"Ahh, so you aren't completely hopeless," Mafalda observed, "That's promising, yes, I am willing to lead you to the Slytherin Common Room and I'll even help you in your questioning of Malfoy, but you are going to owe me a favor. A big one."

"What favor?" Harry asked.'

"Nothing that will offend your sensibilities," Mafalda reassured him. "I'll tell you the rest when the time comes."

Harry didn't like it and could tell that Hermione didn't either, but they didn't have a choice. "Agreed."

"Good, now get your game faces on and we can be off before Malfoy starts wondering where his goons wandered off to."

Five minutes later Mafalda exited Myrtle's bathroom, trailed by Crabbe and Goyle, leading them back towards the Great Hall.

"Now listen carefully," she told them. "Never ever challenge or correct Malfoy on anything, and especially don't react at all when he drops the 'M-word' or starts to insult either of you, your friends, or Professor Dumbledore—,"

"—I don't care what he says about Dumbledore," Harry said in Goyle's voice.

"Now that's probably an interesting story, but now isn't the time," Mafalda continued. "Laugh at all of Malfoy's jokes, no matter how bad or cruel they are, and it's okay if you're a little slow on the uptake because they are too. Now, Malfoy has probably already talked about this topic to them so act like you've just forgotten; he'll buy that."

They found Malfoy near the entrance to the dungeons.

"Ahh, there you are," he drawled, looking at them. "Where have you been?"

"Oh, I found them in the Great Hall," Mafalda smoothly lied.

"Haven't you two pigged out enough already?" Malfoy asked rhetorically, "Come, I want to show you something really funny." Malfoy led them down into the dungeons until they reached a stretch of bare, damp stone wall. "Pure blood," Malfoy said and a stone door concealed in the wall slid open. Malfoy marched through it, and they followed him through.

The Slytherin common room was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and there sofas and high-backed chairs scattered throughout the room. Malfoy led them over to where two chairs and a sofa had been arranged near the fire as well as two tables on either side of the sofa. A folded newspaper was on one of the tables and Malfoy sat down at the chair next to it, gesturing at the sofa. Harry and Hermione sat down at the sofa, while Mafalda took the other chair, and Malfoy tossed Hermione the newspaper.

"There," Malfoy said, "Check it out."

Hermione held out the newspaper so that they could read it together; thankfully they didn't have to hunt around for the article because Malfoy had already marked it:

INQUIRY AT HOGWARTS?

Over the past few months both the Hogwarts Governors and the Ministry of Magic have been receiving an increasing number of complaints from concerned parents about the recently hiring of Gilderoy Lockhart by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. According to letters written by students of all years, Lockhart's curriculum is entirely self-serving and does not in any way prepare the students for their final exams—especially not their OWL's or NEWTS.

Although one of the Governors, Argo Pyrites, has personally intervened and brought back the Hogwarts Dueling Club as a way to instruct students in the necessary spells for the practical side of their exams, Dumbledore's hiring of Lockhart as well as his apparent inability to stop the recent mysterious attacks has raised concerns about whether he is still even capable of executing the job of Headmaster.

Although Headmaster Dumbledore has recently stepped down from his other positions in the Wizengamot and the ICW, a gesture intended to reassure the governors that he will devoting his full attention to these concerns, there are still many who are concerned about Headmaster Dumbledore's mental competency given his advanced age.

Mr. Lucius Malfoy, another Hogwarts Governor, had this to say: "In my opinion, recent events have shown that Albus Dumbledore is clearly losing his grip and perhaps even is on the verge of senility: first there was the death of Professor Quirrel, which has still not been adequately explained to the Governors, then this Lockhart scandal, and now these recent attacks: four students have already been Petrified, how many more of our children must become victims before we say enough?"

Headmaster Dumbledore was not available for comment.

Harry didn't have to fake it; he broke out into a genuine laugh. Hermione's laugh didn't sound too forced either. It did feel strange, though, to be in agreement with Malfoy's father on something.

"Father says that Dumbledore's going to be sacked if the attacks don't stop soon, and Pyrites is gonna make sure it sticks."

"Your father knows Argo Pyrites?" Harry asked, hoping that this hadn't been discussed already. The very possibility of a link between Pyrites and Malfoy left him feeling uneasy.

"Of course he does," Malfoy said. "They're old friends, they go way back and were in the same class in Slytherin. They both say that old Dumbledore's the worst thing that's ever happened to this place. A decent headmaster would never've let slime like that Creevey in." Malfoy started taking pictures with an imaginary camera while doing a cruel but accurate impression of Colin. Harry and Hermione forced themselves to laugh.

"And that Black girl, who does she think she is, brawling like a filthy muggle?" Malfoy rubbed his nose, it appeared to be an almost subconscious gesture; apparently, he still remembered the time Lizzie had socked him. Harry had to restrain himself from smiling at the memory. "Mother says that the Black Family fortune would have been mine if not for her. I don't know what Potter sees in her, what with all that business with her father."

"Potter," Malfoy repeated slowly, lowering his hand. "Saint Potter, the Mudbloods' friend; he's another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn't go around with that jumped up Granger Mudblood. And people think he's Slytherin's heir!"

Harry and Hermione waited with bated breath: Malfoy was surely seconds away from telling them it was him—but then "I wish I knew who it is," said Malfoy petulantly. "I could help them."

Harry's jaw dropped so that Goyle looked even more clueless than usual. Fortunately, Malfoy didn't notice. Hermione, thinking fast, said, "You must have some idea who's behind it all…"

"You know I haven't, Crabbe, how many times do I have to tell you?" snapped Malfoy. "And Father won't tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing—last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them's killed this time… I hope it's Granger," he said with relish.

Hermione was clenching Crabbe's gigantic fists. Feeling that it would be a bit of a giveaway if she punched Malfoy, Harry shot her a warning look and said, "D'you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?"

"Oh, yeah… whoever it was got expelled," said Malfoy. "They're probably still in Azkaban." Malfoy shifted restlessly in his chair and said, "Father says to keep my head down and let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the school needs ridding of all the Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it. Of course, he's got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our manor last week?"

Harry tried to force Goyle's dull face into a look of concern.

"Yeah…" said Malfoy. "Luckily, they didn't find much. Father's got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff. But luckily, we've got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor—."

Prewett caught Harry's eye and then subtly tapped her watch. That must be a signal that the hour was almost up. Harry stood, "Sorry, I need to use the bathroom."

Hermione stood. "Yeah, so do I."

And with that they hurried out of the Slytherin Common Room and just barely made it back to Myrtle's bathroom before the Polyjuice Potion wore off completely.

"Well at least it wasn't a complete waste of time," Hermione finally said as they re-emerged from their stalls in their own clothes. "We've got a new lead to look into anyway."

"Yeah," Harry replied dully as they left the bathroom.

"What's the matter? Hermione asked. "Sore about learning that your dueling hero is working with Malfoy's father?"

"Well, yes, but—well that newspaper article that Malfoy showed us. It's feels...strange to agree with Malfoy on anything. Like I've just stepped into the Twilight Zone, or something."

Hermione had no reply to that but she looked pained as well.