Aralynn decided she didn't like spotlights of any kind. Not the notoriety from her name, nor the whisperings and wonderings from her peers. The spotlight she disliked the most was being surrounded and watched by the entire school. The crowd was eerily quiet, but their eyes screamed with horror—screamed with condemnation. Aralynn didn't blame them. If she were among her classmates, staring down anyone else standing by the stonelike cat and ominous writing, she would think them guilty, too. The scene was shocking. It was impossible not to jump to conclusions. All she could hope was for rationality to triumph. They knew better of her; knew better of them all, didn't they? They knew that none of them could do something so heinous, right?

Their faces gave her no comfort.

Argus Filch was bearing down on them. His fury for them was stronger than his concern for Mrs. Norris. His quaking body disturbed the stillness. His hands were raised, fingers twitching like he was battling the desire to strangle them right then and there. Maybe he would have if he was alone—if there weren't thousands of pairs of alert eyes watching. Rather than strangle them, he pointed an accusing finger. The finger settled between Harry and Aralynn. "You!" he screamed. His enraged voice echoed off the walls, shattering the tense silence. "You… You've murdered my cat!"

Aralynn flinched at the mere thought. None of them were capable of murder, especially not something as innocent as an animal. Filch hated them all equally, perhaps even more than Professor Snape did, but she still couldn't fathom how he believed them responsible for such a monstrosity.

They didn't dare protest. They didn't dare defend themselves. Not when Filch was looking more murderous than he ever had before.

Filch was howling. "Mrs. Norris! My Mrs. Norris! You've done this to her! How could you?! I'll kill you! I'LL KILL YOU!"

The crowd shuffled, making a pathway for Headmaster Dumbledore to rush forward. The teachers were tailing him, expressions strained and worrisome. They had since changed out of their Halloween costumes. Aralynn tried to picture their grave faces while thematically dressed. They would have been painfully misplaced, considering the gravity of the situation.

Dumbledore stepped forward, detaching Mrs. Norris' stiff body from the torch bracket. "Argus," he began evenly. There must have been some kind of unspoken warning on his face because Filch tempered himself immediately. Then, Dumbledore turned towards the staircase. "Come with me, Argus." For a moment, however brief, they braved the idea that they were free of penalty.

It was a foolish hope.

The silver-bearded man didn't look back when he spoke again. "I expect the same of you, Mr. and Miss Potter… Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger."

Aralynn resisted the urge to look toward the room where Kiyana was hidden. Their fates were uncertain, but she could, at least, be thankful that they managed to free her from implication.

Professor Lockhart lurched forward eagerly. "You're more than welcome to use my office, Headmaster. It's quite close, just upstairs…"

Dumbledore was halfway up the stairs then. "Thank you, Gilderoy."

Aralynn, followed by Harry, Ron, and Hermione, trudged after Dumbledore. She was disgusted by the sight of Lockhart, nearly skipping, looking self-important like he had been divinely blessed. The disgust wasn't maintainable for long. Each step filled her with agony. Mr. Filch and the entire student body believed the four of them were responsible for what had happened to Mrs. Norris. Professor Dumbledore was an understanding man, a merciful man, but how much more clemency could he afford? Was exoneration even possible for them? Filch would be pushing for justice. Maybe the other students would, too. If Dumbledore did nothing, what would the parents think? What would the teachers think?

The closer they got to Lockhart's office; the heavier Aralynn's feet became. They felt like cement blocks, weighing her down, and making it difficult to walk. She was keeping pace behind Professor Dumbledore, but she felt slow. She wished she could be slow; willed it, even. If there was a way to prolong punishment, she would gladly do it. The options were scant, if not nonexistent. Not only was she on Dumbledore's heel, but Professors Snape and McGonagall had also followed the headmaster. She was trapped, boxed in by them.

When the door came into view, Aralynn couldn't help but feel like they were headed straight for the gallows.

They entered the dark office. Professor Lockhart waved his wand and lit the candles on his desk. The Lockharts in the portraits and posters fled from sight with their hands over their heads, trying to hide the curlers pinned in their hair. Aralynn, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down just outside the cusp of the candlelight. There was no sense in hoping that being occluded by the darkness would help the teachers forget that they were there, awaiting discipline, but Aralynn couldn't help herself. All that was left for her to do was grasp at straws.

Professor Dumbledore laid Mrs. Norris down on the desk. He leaned over her, beginning to examine her condition. He poked at her rigid body and tried to move her legs, but they remained stubbornly in place. His hand stroked along the long length of his silver beard thoughtfully. Aralynn might have laughed at the irony of it if her throat wasn't tight. Dumbledore leaned closer, still poking as he did. He was just inches away from the cat, his crooked nose brushing the tips of her fur. Aralynn then realized that he was sniffing her.

McGonagall was just as close, studying the cat with pursed lips. Lockhart was circling the desk like a vulture, rattling off what he believed might have happened. "I'll bet the Transmogrifian Torture was the curse to kill her," he said. "It's a nasty little blighter. I've seen it many times, you know. Could've been me a time or two if I wasn't quick enough. Thankfully, my dueling skills are unparalleled. Terribly unlucky I wasn't near when this happened! I know the very countercurse that would have saved her…"

Filch was distraught. His shaking hands were balled into tight fists against his chest. As soon as the word 'kill' fell from Lockhart's lips, he was overcome with dry, racking sobs that shook his entire body. Aralynn couldn't help but empathize. There seemed to be nothing else in the world that Filch cared for more than Mrs. Norris. Maybe she was the only thing in the world he cared about. It must have felt a lot like losing family, and as she tried to imagine that for herself, her eyes began to water.

Professor Snape's dark eyes were glistening in the dim light. His mouth was flattened in a way that looked like he was trying to stop himself from smiling. There was glee in his features, though it was subtle. He seemed to be enjoying Filch's misfortunes far more than he should. Aralynn couldn't help but frown while she watched him.

McGonagall leaned away from the cat while Dumbledore waved his wand over her body and muttered complicated incantations under his breath. For a moment, Filch looked hopeful, but it was quickly snuffed when nothing changed. Mrs. Norris didn't breathe, blink, or move an inch. Maybe Lockhart was right, and she really was dead. Not that it mattered to him at all, considering he was blathering on about some problem he dealt with in Ouagadougou. Professor McGonagall was glaring at him, but he didn't notice. He hardly noticed anything that wasn't his own reflection.

When he did catch the disapproving look, he was quick to finish his thought. "It's all written in my autobiography. It'll be a wonderful reference for you."

Finally, Dumbledore straightened up. Filch preemptively lifted his hands to cover his face and sobbed harder. He was preparing for confirmation that his beloved cat was, in fact, dead.

Dumbledore, however, looked much calmer than before. He spoke softly. "She's not dead, Argus."

Filch peeked at the cat between his fingers. He lowered his hands, fastening them around himself. "She… She's not dead?" He choked out the words, overcome with relief. "Why is she like that, then? All stiff and lifeless? What's wrong with her?"

Dumbledore looked pensive. "She has been Petrified."

Lockhart was smiling triumphantly. "Just as I thought."

Aralynn stared at Lockhart, who had not expressed that supposed thought once.

Dumbledore was stroking his beard again. "Though, I'm afraid I cannot say how."

"They did it!" Filch insisted, pointing at the small space between Harry and Aralynn again.

"This is quite beyond the skillset of second years, Argus," said Dumbledore firmly. "No, this was done by very advanced Dark Magic."

"No!" Filch hissed. "They did it! They did!" He turned his hateful, burning face towards them. "They were there! They wrote that stupid message on the wall! You saw it!"

Dumbledore was looking expressionlessly at Filch. "What makes you believe them guilty?"

"They were there!" Filch repeated loudly. "He knows! Potter knows that I'm… He must have told the rest of them all about it! About me being a Squib!"

Aralynn paled as all eyes in the room looked between the two of them. "We would never do something like this, Professor Dumbledore."

Harry was shaking his head fiercely. Where Aralynn had spoken softly, he shouted. "We never touched her!"

"I don't believe you!" Filch roared. "You saw that Kwikspell letter in my office! Thought you'd get back at me, eh? WHY'D IT HAVE TO BE MY CAT?!"

Professor Snape stepped forward. "If I might interrupt, Headmaster, there was no opportunity for Miss Potter to have participated. I saw her in the Great Hall, along with Miss Davis." He paused to look suspiciously at Aralynn, clearly noting Kiyana's absence. "They left only moments before we did." Aralynn stared at Snape, shocked that he would come to her defense. "Perhaps Mr. Potter and his friends were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time…" Aralynn's stomach dropped the moment Snape turned a baleful sneer towards her brother. "However, I do not recall seeing Mr. Potter and his friends at the feast. Which, itself, is rather suspect, but it also leaves the question of why they were in the upstairs corridor at all?"

While Harry and Ron stumbled over themselves trying to explain where they were, Hermione sat up straighter. "We were at a party."

"A Deathday Party," Harry amended quickly before Snape could continue. "For Nearly Headless—sorry—Sir Nicholas."

Aralynn noticed the satisfied smile on Hermione's face when Harry corrected himself.

"Yeah," said Ron, breathy and flustered. "You can ask any of the ghosts. They were all there. They saw us."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "If you were attending this Deathday Party, then why were you on the second-floor corridor?"

"We were tired," said Harry. He was trying to sound confident, to leave no room for doubt, but his voice was wavering. "We wanted to go to bed."

"Without any supper?" interrogated Snape. There was a cruel and satisfied grin stretched across his pale face. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were quickly festering out, running out of possible excuses for their presence at the scene of Mrs. Norris' Petrification. He cornered them, and he was enjoying it far more than he should have. "After all, ghosts aren't known for supplying edible food at their parties. Not for those with working hearts and stomachs, that is."

"We weren't hungry," insisted Ron, but his stomach gurgled loudly just afterward. He stared down at it through his robes, looking betrayed.

Snape looked triumphant. "Headmaster, it seems to me that Potter and his friends are withholding the truth or at least aspects of it… For this, I believe punishment is warranted. Perhaps the loss of certain privileges until he decides that honesty is the wisest choice? Immediate removal from the Gryffindor Quidditch Team would be quite fitting. Recreational activity should only be for those who abide by the rules…"

McGonagall huffed sharply. "I hardly think that's necessary, Severus. There isn't a single shred of evidence against Mr. Potter."

Professor Dumbledore was studying Harry thoroughly, as though he was trying to break through his skin and peer into his soul. He looked thoughtful but troubled. After a moment, a tranquil smile appeared on his face. "I'm inclined to agree with Minerva. Nothing here incriminates Harry and his friends. You know, as well as I, that this kind of magic is far out of reach for children." He turned towards Snape. "Innocent until proven guilty, Severus."

Snape was displeased but Filch was furious. "My cat has been Petrified! I want to see some punishment!"

"Rest assured, Argus, that this will be righted. Professor Sprout is raising Mandrakes in the greenhouses at this very moment. As soon as they reach maturity, we can fashion a potion. This will reverse her Petrification." Lockhart opened his mouth, but Dumbledore interrupted. "Would you mind doing this for me when the time comes, Severus?"

Snape smirked at Lockhart. "Of course, Headmaster. I am the Potions master, after all."

"Very good," said Dumbledore. He turned towards the four of them. He looked unsurely between Harry and Aralynn but waved towards the door behind them. "You may return to your dormitories."

The atmosphere outside of Professor Lockhart's office was lighter—cleaner. Aralynn hadn't realized that her lungs were so deprived of breathable air until she inhaled deeply. The crushing weight of fear lifted, but not entirely. There was darkness brewing within the castle walls. It had only just kindled, hadn't yet festered. Whatever the cause of Mrs. Norris' Petrification, human or otherwise, was just getting started. It had been readable on Dumbledore's face, decipherable by the concerned etchings… but she could feel it, too. They all could.

They were quiet as they mechanically walked the path to the Gryffindor Common Room. Aralynn didn't know what the others were thinking and feeling, but she was reflecting on what had only just happened. She thought about Snape protecting her, but not Harry, Ron, or Hermione. She thought about Dumbledore's searching eyes, trying to dissect them until all that was left was their deepest thoughts. He had looked uneasy, looked unsure… Like they might have had more involvement than he was willing to acknowledge. Almost as though he had been in a similar position before. The apprehension in his gaze made Aralynn wonder if their exoneration was true.

They knew they were innocent, but did Dumbledore?

He had argued that they were incapable of Petrification, that that kind of magic was far too advanced for them, but the way he had looked at them didn't make Aralynn feel safe. His words echoed in her mind.

'Innocent until proven guilty, Severus.'

Was that how he felt, then? That they might have been guilty, but there wasn't enough evidence to prove it? It was one thing for Filch and the rest of the school to mentally convict them, but it was another entirely for Dumbledore to convict them. He was their only saving grace, and if he believed, no matter how small that belief, that they were guilty, then… Then the next time something went wrong, they would have to answer for it.

Aralynn imagined them, shackled, kneeling upon a dais, while every other person in the castle leered at them from the stands.

Harry then ducked into an empty classroom, where they followed and gathered around him. He was frowning while he looked between their individual faces. "That was close," he muttered, shuddering. "I wonder if… Well, d'you think I should have told them about the voice?"

Aralynn answered before he had really finished. "No."

Harry blinked, taken aback. "Why not?"

Ron shook his head. "Harry, hearing voices is hardly a good thing."

"Haven't other wizards heard voices before?" The question was unconfident like the answer was already somewhere in the words. He looked withdrawn. He might have begun believing that he was going mad. He looked afraid, too, like he was fearing that they believed he was going mad.

"Dunno," Ron answered. "It's not a good sign, though. It's not… normal. Not even in the wizarding world."

Aralynn had to control the urge to elbow Ron in the ribs when she saw Harry's eyes flash. "There's an explanation," she said firmly. They looked at her, almost expectantly, like she had an answer. "Somewhere," she then added. She overlooked their disappointment. She was disappointed, too, but she was also adamant that Harry wasn't going mad. Perhaps it was more that she refused to even consider that her brother was losing his mind, but she melded the feelings together until they became one and the same.

Hermione smiled, somewhat tentatively, between Harry and Aralynn. "Of course, there's an explanation. We'll find it."

Aralynn was grateful for Hermione's faith. Even if it was forced faith.

Harry looked warily between them. "You believe me, don't you?"

"We do," said Ron. "It's just… well, it's a bit weird, innit?"

"I know," Harry said through gritted teeth. Aralynn was sure that he was tired of being looked at like he was part of some freakshow. "This whole thing is weird. The Chamber of Secrets… what even is that?"

"It sounds familiar," said Aralynn, raking through her mind.

"Yeah…" Ron agreed, looking thoughtful. "Some secret chamber here in the castle… Think Bill told us the story before. Maybe it was Charlie… I don't remember it, though."

Harry swallowed. "D'you think it's real?"

Hermione smiled sympathetically at him. "It very well could be. This castle is centuries old. Who knows how many hidden passages and secret chambers there are."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "I would think you'd know, 'Mione."

Hermione blushed.

Aralynn grumbled, distracted by her own thoughts. "I can't believe Filch could think we'd do something like that to Mrs. Norris… All because of a Kwikspell course."

"What's a Squib, anyway?" asked Harry.

Ron snorted, the sound of repressed laughter.

Aralynn sighed. "It's not funny, Ron."

"Not with anyone else," Ron countered, "but with Filch…"

Aralynn shook her head, then looked back at her brother. "A Squib is someone who was born into a magical family but has no power themselves. They're, essentially, the opposite of Muggle-borns. They're quite uncommon."

Ron snorted again. "Makes sense why he's trying out that stupid Kwikspell stuff. Honestly, it explains why he hates us students somuch. He's jealous of our magic." He shook his head. "Bitter old git."

Aralynn looked up when a clock sounded. "We'd better get to bed before we're caught. We barely just escaped expulsion as is."

"Maybe Snape is waiting around the corner," Harry muttered.

Ron stared wide-eyed at Harry. "Don't jinx it!"

For the next several days, the attack on Mrs. Norris dominated all conversations. It very well might have been the only topic being discussed at all. Aralynn had the idea that she would be able to pretend as if nothing happened, but she quickly realized how stupid that thought was. Ignoring it was impossible when the entire castle was consumed with it but Filch was determined to keep it at the forefront of everyone's minds.

He spent his time, day after day, loitering in the spot where the cat was found. He paced the span of the writing on the wall, wringing his shaky hands together. He was suspicious of them all, spitting and shouting accusations whenever someone strayed too close. On the rare occasion that he left, the students would avoid him at all costs. Sometimes, that meant shoving their way inside classrooms where they didn't belong. They welcomed scolding so long as it didn't come from the caretaker.

Filch wouldn't leave his post unattended for long, maybe half an hour at the most. It was safe to assume that he was waiting—biding his time until the attacker inevitably returned to the scene of the crime. Aralynn didn't expect that would happen, not unless the culprit was recklessly arrogant, or maybe just downright stupid. If they had even half of a brain, they would stay as far away as possible. They couldn't be so idiotic that they would poke around when Filch was there, vigorously scrubbing the red letters with Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover. It was senseless, as the words remained stubbornly there, without a single scuff, but he acted purely out of desperation.

It was simple to recognize that the incident left everyone reeling. Some were affected more than others, Hermione included. She dove headfirst into research, paying mind to little else. It became increasingly more difficult to hold a conversation with her, and impossible to find her without her nose shoved between the pages of a book. She favored spending her free time in the library over the Common Room. Aralynn often joined her, while Harry and Ron left them to their curiosities. Sometimes they would accompany the girls in the library, but they were careful to stay quiet and out of the way. It was safer for them that way.

Ginny Weasley also appeared deeply affected by Mrs. Norris' Petrification. Whenever Aralynn saw her; during mealtimes, in the corridors, or in the Common Room, she looked unwell. Her fair skin had grown paler, with purplish circles under her eyes that seemed to darken each day. Whenever Mrs. Norris was discussed within her vicinity, she would become impossibly paler, and her lower lip would tremble. She always looked like she was on the verge of crying. Ron chalked it up to her love for cats, even a nuisance of a cat like Mrs. Norris was. Aralynn wasn't quite as convinced. Of course, she had no other explanation, but Ginny was distraught far beyond loving cats. There was something more—something deeper—but it was difficult to pin down when she was so unwilling to talk about it.

That Wednesday, Aralynn was intending to try and break down Ginny's defenses after lunch but was sidetracked when Professor Snape decided to keep Harry behind once Potions class ended. Aralynn reluctantly followed Ron and Hermione to the Great Hall, where she ate absentmindedly while she worried about Harry. By the time she was walking between Ron and Hermione to the library, she had forgotten that she wanted to reach out to Ginny at all.

Ron and Aralynn sat next to each other at one of the many tables while Hermione immediately disappeared into the maze of bookshelves. The incident with Filch's cat had eased the strain between them, but some awkwardness still lingered. Aralynn wasn't quick to forget all the vile things he had said to Kiya, even if he was being decidedly cordial towards her now. At some point, they would need to have another discussion about it, and Aralynn wasn't looking forward to it. They had never managed to keep it from devolving into an argument. She didn't expect that to have changed.

Aralynn pulled her History of Magic essay from her satchel, unfurling the lower half of the parchment so that she could continue writing it. She had long since surpassed the three-foot length requirement, but she wasn't finished with it. There was still so much left to say. When she felt eyes on her, she paused and looked up to stare at Ron. His mouth was hanging open while he stared wildly at the parchment.

She blinked at him. "What, Ron?"

"That's longer than three feet," Ron pointed out, still looking astonished.

Aralynn stared. "So?"

"So, why are you still writing?"

"I'm not done yet."

Ron scoffed. "How? How much is there to write about "The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards," anyway?!"

Aralynn rolled her eyes. "Quite a lot if you had actually read the material Professor Binns assigned."

"I've already said what I needed to say, though," Ron said.

Aralynn shrugged. "Well, you'd better hope it's three feet or longer, then."

Ron looked like he was considering. "Maybe I can squeeze a few more words in…" he muttered, beginning to write as large as he could.

Aralynn watched him silently for several minutes. They were alone for once, and they still needed to have their discussion about Kiyana. She wondered if they would get another opportunity like this, without Harry and Hermione spectating uncomfortably. Then again, they were in the library, which was possibly the worst place they could be if they ended up screaming at each other… but she also wanted to get it over with. Sooner, rather than later, was preferable.

Ron must have felt her staring now, as he looked up. "What?" His gaze flickered down to the unnecessarily huge lettering on the parchment. "Too obvious?"

"I doubt you're the only one writing like it's an advertisement," Aralynn replied, then sighed quietly. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh," said Ron, looking back at the parchment. "About what?"

"Our argument," Aralynn answered. "Or, I suppose I should say arguments."

Ron's hand paused, but he didn't look up. He sounded wary when he spoke. "Right… What about it?"

Aralynn had to stop herself from scoffing. She should never have expected Ron to begin the conversation with something as simple, and necessary, as an apology, but she was determined to keep herself levelheaded. "Well, I'll start by thanking you." Maybe that would soften him a little bit. "For helping me protect Kiya on Halloween."

Ron settled his quill back into the ink jar next to him. He looked up at Aralynn, smiling weakly and unsurely. "You don't have to thank me," he said, then held a finger up when Aralynn opened her mouth. "I mean, you shouldn't thank me. It was the right thing to do. We get in trouble for all sorts of things, all the time, but she shouldn't be part of that just because she's one of…" He hesitated like the following thought was difficult for him to say. "One of our friends."

Aralynn refrained from questioning his use of 'our,' and instead nodded. "I didn't want her to get in trouble. Guilty by association… That's not very fair, is it?"

"No," Ron agreed. He looked up at the ceiling, at the bookshelves, at the other students—looking anywhere but at Aralynn while his cheeks were flushed, and he was feeling awkward. "Look, ah… I'll say this to her, too, eventually, but… I'm sorry. I was being…"

Aralynn's lips twitched. "An ass?"

"Yeah…" Ron assented slowly. "I was gonna say 'unfair,' but that works, too." The redness in his cheeks extended to his ears. "I shouldn't have thought… just because of Slytherin… with Draco…" He shook his head. "Anyway, I see now that was being too judgmental."

Aralynn was quiet for a moment. "I know you don't trust her, but she's a good person. She's my friend. I care about her."

"I know you do," Ron said, looking around them quickly. "You were right before, you know. About me being… jealous. It's just that, I…" He stopped himself. "Yeah, I was jealous."

"I thought so," she said, trying very hard not to sound smug. "We've been close for—well, I was going to say a long time, but really, for our whole lives. I get why you felt that way, but you shouldn't. You have a special place in my heart. You're my brother."

Ron swallowed loudly. "Yeah, I know, I was just being stupid."

Aralynn offered a sympathetic grin. "I don't think you were being stupid. Mean, sure, but not stupid."

He watched her. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said. "I understood why you felt that way, I just didn't think you needed to treat her badly."

He nodded. "I know. I can be a jerk sometimes, but I'm working on it."

"I believe that you can do anything you set your mind to," she said. "You're a good person, Ron. You shouldn't ever doubt that."

Ron rubbed his red ears with his hands. "I didn't expect this to get so emotional…"

Aralynn chuckled. "Sorry."

Ron grinned. "Are we all good now?"

"So long as you also apologize to Kiya, yes."

"I will."

"I'm not expecting you two to be friends. Just friendly."

"I'll try," said Ron. "To be her friend, I mean."

"I'd appreciate that."

"I live to make you happy," Ron joked.

Like they were never at odds, they fell right back into step with each other. Fighting with Ron had always been easy, but making amends was easier. They were too close, cared about each other too much, to stay angry for longer than was necessary. Their differing opinions about Kiyana Davis created the longest squabble they had ever had. Hopefully, it would stay the longest. She didn't want to be so separate from him ever again. It felt wrong.

Aralynn was grateful that she could feel comfortable while alone with Ron again. It allowed her to finish her essay, which didn't take long now that her efforts were focused. She was measuring it when Harry finally joined them, looking shocked and unhappy. She smiled at him regardless. "There you are!"

"Oh no!" Ron groaned. "It's still eight inches short! That's impossible!"

Aralynn kept her eyes on Harry but couldn't help but roll them at Ron's outburst. "Get all the tubeworms, then?"

"Yeah," Harry replied. His voice was hollow. He took a seat next to Ron, watching as he wrote, somehow, even larger than before.

Aralynn frowned across the table at him. With each passing week, Harry became increasingly more dejected. The school year hadn't had a promising start, but it didn't improve as it progressed, either. Not for Harry, at least. Hearing the disembodied voice for the first time startled him, but hearing it again, coupled with discovering the Petrified cat, had him completely rattled. She couldn't truly understand how he felt, but she knew it was slowly eating away at him. She wished she could understand. If she could help shoulder his burden, she gladly would. More than anything, she wished she could let him know that he wasn't alone… but, as far as they knew, he was. He was the only one hearing the voice, but Aralynn wished she could hear it, too.

There was more contributing to his despondency now, though. Something fresh. Maybe he had heard the voice again. Aralynn inhaled warily. "What's wrong, Harry?"

Harry looked at her. "I ran into Justin on my way into the library. As soon as he saw me, his face went white like a ghost. He ran away from me as fast as he could. He looked terrified."

"That's weird," she remarked, another frown pulling at the corners of her lips. "Justin was nothing but friendly before, if not a little clingy…"

Harry sighed. "Maybe I shouldn't care, but it bothered me."

"You shouldn't care," Ron said. He had his tongue between his teeth while he measured his essay again. "He's a bit of a dolt if you ask me. All that gushing about Lockhart… How thick can you be?"

"Don't let Hermione hear you say that," Aralynn muttered.

As though she had been summoned, Hermione reappeared from her journey around the library. She threw herself into a chair next to Aralynn, huffing and puffing under her breath irritably. None of them addressed her, as she had been impossible to talk to for days now, but she was looking between them like they had offended her. "All the copies of Hogwarts: A History have been checked out," she began, filling the silence between them. "There's a two-week waiting list for it! It's completely ridiculous!" She shook her head. "If only I hadn't left my copy at home…"

Aralynn raised an eyebrow. "You forgot a book?"

"No," Hermione replied tightly. "Of course not. It wouldn't fit in my trunk with all of Lockhart's books in there."

Aralynn rolled her eyes. "There's a surprise. Seven whole books for one class. What was he thinking?"

"He was thinking that he wanted to talk about himself all year," Ron answered.

Before Hermione could scold them for talking negatively about Lockhart, Harry turned towards her. "Why're you after that book, anyway? Haven't you read it dozens of times already?"

"Fifteen," Hermione corrected, then scrunched her nose. "Why do you think all the copies are taken right now, Harry? I'm trying to read about the same thing everyone else is."

Harry remained quiet, but he looked lost.

"The Chamber of Secrets," Hermione clarified.

"Oh, right," Harry murmured, then sat up straighter. "What about it?"

"That's the thing, I can't remember. I'm not even sure there's anything about it in the book, but without it, I have no way of finding out." Hermione frowned. "I've scoured the library. There's no mention of it anywhere else."

Ron shook his head. "You've probably read every single book in here at this point."

Hermione scoffed. "Don't be absurd, Ron."

"Class is starting soon," Aralynn said, looking between them. "We could ask Professor Binns about it."

Ron jerked his head up, panicked. "What? How soon?"

They ignored him.

Hermione hummed. "We could try, but I'm not sure if he would willingly discuss it. It's speculative, after all, and he's quite rooted in what's factual."

Aralynn shrugged. "Worth a shot."

Ron looked at his watch. He immediately began sweating. "Hermione, let me read what you've written. There isn't much time left…"

Hermione glowered at him. "Absolutely not. You had ample time to finish, Ron."

They stood as the bell sounded, and when Hermione wasn't looking, Aralynn shoved her scroll of parchment into Ron's hands. As soon as Hermione found out, she would receive an earful, but the last thing Ron needed was to fail his classes. It was difficult enough for him without a functional wand.

Ron wrote feverishly during the short walk to the History of Magic classroom. Just before they walked through the door, he tossed the parchment back to Aralynn with a thankful smile. Aralynn took her seat next to Hermione at the dual desks, placing the scroll on the table in front of her. She folded her hands in her lap, staring at the blackboard at the head of the classroom while she waited for the professor. Most found History of Magic a dull subject, but Aralynn rather enjoyed it. Professor Binns wasn't the liveliest of teachers, but he taught carefully and thoroughly. His slow, monotonous voice didn't bother her in the slightest. If anything, it allowed her greater focus on the material. If the rumor that he failed to realize he died, and simply stepped out of his body the next morning to continue teaching, was true; then she had to admire his dedication to his work.

Professor Binns appeared from behind the blackboard. He always looked worn and weary, but he was unstoppable in his pursuits. How could he be if he continued teaching even after he died? He sat down at his desk, opened his notes, and cleared his eternally scratchy throat. Most of the class fell into their routine of dozing off or staring unseeingly at random objects around the room while he droned on. They hardly paid attention. It was a miracle that they managed to maintain passing marks at all. Hermione and Aralynn were the only two who were alert and listening. As always.

Professor Binns was engaged in a long-winded lecture about the International Warlock Convention of 1289. Aralynn wrestled with the idea of calling his attention so that she could ask about the Chamber of Secrets. It wasn't a question of if she was going to, but rather when. No one ever asked questions, not even Hermione or Aralynn. There would be no reason for him to pause or seek student interest. He would talk through the whole class. If she wasn't eager for information, she wouldn't have interrupted him otherwise. There simply wasn't going to be an opportunity for questions if she didn't force it. She put her hand in the air.

At first, he didn't notice, but when he did, he stared confusedly at her raised hand. This, clearly, hadn't happened in any of his other classes for a long time. It was almost like he didn't know what to do with himself—how to react. After a moment, he cleared his throat for the seventh time since class began. "Yes, Miss Potter?"

Aralynn returned her hand to her lap. "Professor, I was wondering if you had any knowledge about the Chamber of Secrets?"

There was a shift in the classroom. Upon mentioning the Chamber of Secrets, attentiveness returned to them all. They sat up in their seats, some leaning over their desks, watching the professor more intently than they ever had before. They waited with bated breath, finally interested in something that he might have had to say. Binns seemed overwhelmed and unsure of himself with the newfound attention. He adjusted his position in his chair, sinking down just a little lower.

"I don't teach mythology, Miss Potter," said Professor Binns, raspy and wheezy. "This is a history classroom if you've forgotten. I handle only indisputable facts. Not fairytales!" He nodded as though he had even managed to convince himself. "Where were we? Ah, yes… in September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers—"

Aralynn's hand went up again, to which Binns grudgingly answered. "Professor, if I might, arguments can be made for many facts. Particularly historical ones. Our only records of what was were written by people who told us what they wanted us to know. How're we to know that they weren't biased, or plain lying?" She grinned at his reluctant agreement. "That being said… aren't myths and legends always rooted in some fact?"

"That's an arguable stance," Professor Binns replied gruffly, "but, based on fact or not, it's simply not enough to warrant a discussion about it."

Aralynn wasn't going to back down, and she sat up straighter and stared harder to demonstrate that. "Please, sir, isn't knowledge why we're here?"

"Knowledge!" Binns scoffed. "Fantasies and bedtime stories are hardly knowledge, Miss Potter." He looked between the students, taking the time to gaze at each of their faces as though he had never really seen them before. Their eyes were glittering with interest, and it very well might have been his first encounter with such curiosity. He sighed heavily, almost mournfully.

"Oh, very well…" He unwillingly pushed his notes aside and rose from his chair. He glided around to settle in front of his desk, giving him a better view of the unusually alert students. "Over a thousand years ago, a small group of the greatest witches and wizards of the age, together, nurtured an idea of creating an institution for magical children to learn how to embrace and hone their abilities. This was during a time when magic was feared and persecuted by the common people. Thus, they built this castle here in rural Scotland, where they would be safe from Muggle prejudices. Historians have come to pinpoint that the construction happened sometime during the early tenth century, though the precise date is unknown. These four witches and wizards are who your houses are named for: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin."

Professor Binns paused, clearing his croaky throat.

"Initially, their colleagueship was quite harmonious. They worked together to seek out children with magical affinities so that they could bring them to Hogwarts and educate them properly. However, this process soon became a contentious matter. You see, Salazar Slytherin wished to be more selective about student admittance. He maintained the belief that magic should only be taught to children born from all-magic families, later known as pure-bloods. He was insistent that Muggle-born children were poisonous to the purity of magic, and that they were untrustworthy. This created a division between Slytherin and the other founders, which continued to crumble until there was a serious argument between Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor. As a result, Slytherin left the school."

Professor Binns paused again, and his face twisted into a grimace.

"This is as far we know, factually. This is all we've learned from reliable history, but this tale has been obscured by the preposterous legend of the Chamber of Secrets. There are no confirmations that this legend holds any stock, and therefore has no business being told!" Professor Binns sighed. "Well, the story claims that Salazar Slytherin built a hidden chamber in secret… unbeknownst to the other founders. This chamber was said to be sealed by Slytherin himself and could not be opened by anyone other than his true heir. When that time was to come, and the heir unsealed the Chamber of Secrets, they would then be able to unleash the horror within and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy of studying magic."

The classroom was eerily quiet, but heavy with discomfort while they absorbed the information. They looked uneasily at each other, all wondering if that long-dormant horror from the Chamber of Secrets had finally been unleashed. If it had, then by who?

Professor Binns was taking in their reactions, but he only looked annoyed. "Of course, it's utter nonsense. The school has been searched, inch-by-inch, countless times before. By the most learned and talented witches and wizards, no less! Not even the faintest clue of its existence has been found. There is no secret chamber. It's nothing more than another ghost story to frighten newcomers."

Aralynn looked over when Hermione's hand shot in the air. She didn't wait for the professor to call on her before speaking. "Sir – what was in the chamber? What was the 'horror within'?"

"Supposedly," Professor Binns began, looking pointedly at Hermione, "it was some beast—a monster that the Heir of Slytherin alone possessed the power to control." There was a collective anxious exhale, and he shook his head. "Not that it matters. There is no Chamber of Secrets and no monster."

"Sir, maybe the Chamber has never been found because the Heir of Slytherin hasn't come to Hogwarts yet?" challenged Seamus Finnegan. "If he's the only one who can open it, then it would make sense why it's still hidden…"

Professor Binns snorted. "If previous headmasters and headmistresses could not find the thing, then what makes you think an adolescent could? That's nonsense, O'Flaherty."

"Wouldn't Dark Magic be required to open it, though, Professor?" asked Parvati Patil.

"What of it, Miss Pennyfeather? Just because a wizard doesn't use Dark Magic doesn't mean he can't!" Professor Binns replied sharply. "If someone as powerful as Headmaster Dumbledore couldn't find it—"

"Not if he's not the Heir of Slytherin," interrupted Dean Thomas.

"That will do!" Professor Binns snapped. "The Chamber of Secrets is nothing more than a myth. Discussing it is pointless, and I'm quite finished with the topic. Now, if you don't mind, we will be returning to what is true and verified: history!"

After the lesson, the corridors were crowded with students chatting energetically. Most of the voices blended incoherently, but Aralynn caught the Chamber of Secrets being mentioned several times. Each time she looked in the direction of the conversation, she would find the discussers staring between Harry and herself. The story of Salazar Slytherin's secret was spreading quickly, and it wasn't difficult to assume what they were thinking while they stared unashamedly. Aralynn forced her attention forward, looking at nothing, but she preferred that to people gawking at them like they were the confirmed Heirs of Slytherin.

Ron made himself loud to counteract the surrounding talk. "I've never really heard good things about Salazar Slytherin, but I never would've guessed he was the one to start all the pure-blood superiority nonsense! I'll tell you; it's got to be a bad time to be in Slytherin. I'm glad I'm not part of that insanity!"

"Centuries have passed since that belief was rampant," Hermione said. "It's not nearly as potent as it once was."

"No," Ron agreed, "but there are people who still believe it. I mean, look at Malfoy! Didn't you hear what he said on Halloween? "You'll be next Mudbloods." I'll bet he knows all about the Slytherin stuff already."

Aralynn's throat felt like it was thickening. She swallowed, again and again, but it never felt any thinner. People would be pointing fingers now, it seemed like they already were, but would they be pointing at the Slytherins? Would they accuse Kiyana of being Slytherin's heir? The timing was awfully convenient, with the legend jolting back to life the exact year that she enrolls at Hogwarts. Aralynn could never think so lowly of her, but that didn't mean others wouldn't… That Ron wouldn't…

Aralynn didn't want to think about those possibilities. She didn't want to think that Kiyana might be harassed and deemed culpable. She might have been able to shoulder judgment, but how much would be too much? There had to be a limit, even for the strongest person. It was impossibly unfair. Kiya was one of the nicest people she had ever met, and it pained her to consider that people might think of her as a monster. She was so distracted by her own worries that she hadn't even noticed Colin Creevey coming and going. She did, however, notice when Harry spoke.

"That Ara and I are Slytherin's heirs, I expect."

Aralynn jerked her head towards him. "What?"

Harry sighed. He was frowning. "Colin was here, saying someone in his class was talking about us… I was just telling Ron and Hermione that I'll bet they were saying that we're Slytherin's heirs."

Aralynn stared at him. She wasn't surprised, considering the way some had been looking at them in the corridors, but she was still horrified. "That's ridiculous, though."

Ron nodded fervently. "There's no way. People here'll believe anything, though."

As the crowd dissipated, Kiyana rushed towards them. She looked bewildered with her eyes wide, and hair stuck to her face from running. She barely managed to stop before bulldozing through them. "Come quickly!" she said urgently through heavy breaths. "I was just checking out the spot where Mrs. Norris was found, and I saw… well, you'll just have to see it for yourselves! Come on!"

The four of them shared a confused look but immediately ran after her. They ran around the corner, pausing in front of the ominous writing on the wall. THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. The corner looked the same as before, only it was missing the stiffly hanging Mrs. Norris, and Filch guarding it like his life depended on it. They looked unsurely at each other again.

"I don't see anything out of order," Aralynn said. She looked up at Kiya, but the girl had her back facing them. She was staring at the window above the message.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped. "Look there!"

They pressed closer, looking where Hermione was pointing at a small crack in the window. There was a group of spiders, maybe twenty, all trying to fight their way through the small opening. They looked much like they were trying to flee from some sort of danger.

"I've never seen spiders act like that," Aralynn muttered.

"Neither have I," agreed Harry. "Ron?"

Ron was standing back, nearly against the opposite wall. His face was colorless, staring with wide, panicked eyes at the congregation of spiders. His legs were trembling like he was fighting the urge to run. He gulped. He spoke, barely above a whisper, two octaves too high. "I don't like spiders!"

Hermione turned then, too, studying his condition. "We handle spiders all the time in Potions. Those never seemed to bother you."

"They were dead!" Ron replied loudly.

Aralynn cleared her throat to keep from laughing. "Fred turned his teddy bear into a spider when he was three. He was upset that Ron broke his toy broomstick. He's been terrified of them ever since."

"You would be, too!" Ron said sharply. "Imagine cuddling with your teddy, and all of sudden, it's got too many legs and pincers…"

Hermione looked at Aralynn. Both of their lips were white with how hard they were pressed together, trying their best to stop themselves from laughing.

At some point, Harry had opted back to watching the spiders. "Wasn't there water on the floor that night?" he asked. "Looks like someone's mopped it up. Where did it come from?"

"There," answered Kiya, pointing to the door next to the window. It was the room she had hidden in before Dumbledore and the teachers caught her with them. "It's a bathroom."

"Let's have a look," Harry said as he stepped forward, but stopped when Ron cleared his throat.

"We can't go in there," Ron insisted. He looked mortified at the thought. "That's the girls' toilet."

"Nobody will be in there," Kiya said.

Hermione nodded. "No one ever is. That's Moaning Myrtle's loo."

Aralynn moved behind Ron and pushed him forward when he failed to follow everyone else inside. He was standing rigidly, feet planted firmly against the ground, so Aralynn had to use most of her strength to get him to skid forward. When they were nearly inside, she gave him one forceful push with her shoulder, and he went stumbling forward with his arms waving erratically.

"Easy!" he hissed.

"Should've just cooperated," Aralynn replied with a shrug.

Ron looked down at his shoes, which were shining with dampness. "There's water all over the floor still! Whoever mopped mustn't have done a very good job."

Hermione shook her head. "The floors are always wet in here."

Ron grimaced. "Why? That's gross."

Hermione threw her elbow into Ron's ribs, gesturing towards the open stall they were nearing. The paint on the wooden doors and walls was flaking off. The long mirrors above the chipped rows of sinks were dusty. The room itself was musty, smelling strongly of mildew. It had long been neglected. Aralynn assumed it was for good reason.

Kiya was the first to approach the stall, leaning against the opening and peeking her head inside with a grin. "Hi, Myrtle. How're you today?"

The translucent ghost of a girl whose face was just visible over the toilet seat turned towards them. As soon as she laid eyes on Ron and Harry, she looked appalled. "Oi!" she shrieked shrilly. "This is a girls' bathroom! They're not girls! What are they doing in here?!"

"Don't worry, Myrtle, they're friends," said Kiya.

Myrtle seemed to relax, only the tiniest bit. She was still looking suspiciously between the boys. "What do you all want?"

Hermione pinched Harry when he whispered in her ear, looking desperate as she tried to stop him, but it was too late. Myrtle had noticed.

The ghostly girl shot out of the toilet, looking furious and eyes brimming with tears. "What are you whispering about me?!" she choked out. "Being dead doesn't stop me from having feelings, you know! I wish everyone would just leave me alone!"

Hermione glared at Harry. "Sorry, Myrtle, we weren't trying to upset you—"

Myrtle let out a loud, sarcastic laugh. "People live to upset me! Wasn't life full of misery bad enough?! Do you have to make my afterlife even worse?! I thought death was supposed to be peaceful!"

"You're right," said Kiya. "It should be." She smiled when Myrtle looked over.

"Harry just wanted to know if you've seen anything unusual," Hermione said quickly, taking advantage of Myrtle's momentary silence. "There was an attack on a cat just outside on Halloween."

"Did you see, or hear, anyone?" Aralynn asked.

"Well, I don't know," Myrtle replied dramatically. "I wasn't really watching or listening. I was rather preoccupied trying to kill myself because Peeves really upset me at Nick's Deathday Party, but then… Then I remembered that I couldn't do that because I'm…"

"Already dead," Ron finished with a casual nod. The rest of them turned to glower at him.

Myrtle sobbed loudly, shot into the air where she flipped, and dove headfirst into the bowl of the toilet. They could still hear her wailing somewhere in the piping.

Aralynn sighed. "Ron, why'd you have to say that?"

Ron was staring, shocked, at the toilet where Moaning Myrtle had disappeared. "I didn't know it was some big secret!"

"Myrtle is… sensitive," Kiya told him. "Very sensitive. I had a chance to get to know her while I was hiding in here. She can be rather agreeable when you're being nice to her."

Ron huffed, frustrated. "I wasn't mean to her!"

"You weren't exactly nice," Aralynn mumbled.

"I was just being honest!" Ron shouted, waving his hands.

"The best way to handle Myrtle is by pretending you're talking to a toddler who can't control their emotions," Kiya explained, then paused. "Not like she's stupid, though, she doesn't like that."

Ron stared at her. "So, just don't talk to her at all?"

Kiya grinned. "You're on the right track."

"We'd better get out of here," Harry said, watching the sky darkening through the windows. "Dinner will be starting soon."

After leaving the bathroom, they headed down to the Great Hall for supper. Aralynn waved Kiya off as she went to sit with her housemates, then took her own seat across from Ron, and next to Hermione. They began to eat quietly, but Aralynn noticed that Harry was looking contemplative. She watched his expressions shifting with his thoughts. She didn't have to wonder what was on his mind. It was on hers, too. It was likely on all their minds, including Kiyana's.

After a moment, Harry finally spoke his thought aloud. "D'you think the Chamber of Secrets is real?"

Aralynn looked up. "I think it tracks so far."

Harry looked at her. "You do?"

"Well, Professor Binns did say that the legend spoke of a monster residing in the Chamber, and Dumbledore wasn't able to reverse Mrs. Norris' Petrification, so that makes me think that whatever did it wasn't exactly human…"

"I was thinking the same thing," Hermione said, smiling proudly at Aralynn. "I think it's safe to assume that the Heir of Slytherin has finally come to Hogwarts, but… Who could it be, then?"

Ron scoffed. "Isn't it obvious?"

Harry blinked. "Is it?"

Ron stared at him. "Professor Binns also said that the monster in the Chamber would attack those who shouldn't be allowed to study magic. I mean, can we think of anyone who openly hates Muggle-borns?"

Hermione looked skeptical. "If you're talking about Malfoy—"

"Who else?" Ron insisted. "Didn't I bring this up earlier? Think again about what he said on Halloween, Hermione. He looked way too pleased about Filch's cat. Excited, even! All the pieces fit together."

Hermione shook her head, still looking unconvinced. "Malfoy, though?"

Aralynn hummed. "Well, his family is known for their pure-blood radicalism."

Harry nodded. "He also isn't shy to boast about the long line of Slytherins he comes from. If that heritage dates back far enough, he could easily be a descendant."

"Who knows how long they've been doing this," Ron muttered with a disgusted frown. "Just handing down the key to the Chamber, generation after generation, father to son…"

"I don't know if Hogwarts would still be open if this was a recurring incident, Ron," said Aralynn.

Ron shrugged. "Maybe they've been waiting for the right time."

Aralynn tapped her fingers on the tabletop. "Why now, though?"

Ron blinked at her. "Maybe because the Malfoys were You-Know-Who supporters, and The Twins Who Lived are here for the taking?"

Hermione shook her head. "Whatever is supposedly in the Chamber is rumored to attack Muggle-borns. Harry and Aralynn are half-bloods."

Ron held his hands up. "It's a possibility, that's all I'm saying."

Harry frowned. "Malfoy, the Heir of Slytherin…"

"Too bad we've got no way to prove it," Ron said with a sigh.

Hermione looked thoughtfully at Aralynn, who seemed to consider her silent wondering, and then nodded. "There might be a way."

"Not that it'll be easy," Aralynn muttered.

"It'll definitely be dangerous," added Hermione.

Harry and Ron were leaning forward, looking impatiently between them for answers. Ron was the one to finally cave. "What are you two talking about?"

Hermione bit her lip. "We'd be breaking about fifty school rules…"

"We're sure to be expelled if we get caught," Aralynn remarked, then shrugged. "Might be worth the risk, though."

Ron waved his hand in front of their faces. "Hello? Mind telling us what you're going on about?"

Aralynn swatted Ron's hand away. "Don't get your knickers in a twist."

Hermione took a breath. "We're talking about breaking into the Slytherin Common Room and questioning Malfoy without him ever knowing it was us."

Harry leaned back with a sigh. "I thought we were talking about something possible."

"It is possible," said Aralynn.

Ron furrowed his eyebrows. "How?"

Hermione and Aralynn looked at one another, and Aralynn shrugged with a grin on her face. Hermione turned back towards Harry and Ron. "Polyjuice Potion."

Ron and Harry looked at each other. "What's that?"

"Snape briefly mentioned it during one of his lessons," Aralynn said. "Hermione and I were curious, so we started doing some research."

"'Course you did," Ron muttered.

Ignoring him, Hermione continued to explain, "It's a potion that changes your appearance—transforms you into somebody else. We could use it to disguise ourselves as three Slytherin students. Then we can talk to Malfoy, and get some answers, without him ever knowing."

"Chances are that he's bragging about being Slytherin's heir behind closed doors, anyway," Aralynn grumbled.

Harry ran his hand through his unkempt black hair. "I'm not so sure about this…"

Ron looked at him with a nod. "Yeah, this sounds barking mad. I don't want to be stuck as some troll-looking Slytherin goon for the rest of my life."

Aralynn rolled her eyes. "The potion is temporary, Ron."

"It's likely our only hope for proving whether or not Malfoy is the Heir of Slytherin," Hermione said. "Acquiring the recipe, though, is going to be a challenge. According to what Snape said, it's written in a book called Moste Potente Potions, and if the rest of what's in the book is anything close to Polyjuice Potion, then I'll bet it's in the Restricted Section."

Ron groaned.

"How are we going to get any of the professors to sign a note of permission? We don't exactly have a good reason for wanting that kind of book," Harry wondered.

"We can ask Lockhart," Aralynn suggested. She was nauseated even saying his name, but she was sure that he was their best bet. "He'll sign anything you ask him to."

Ron smiled brightly. "You're brilliant, Ara!"

Aralynn smiled, but she didn't feel brilliant. She felt desperate. She might have done anything, maybe even more dangerous than brewing and using Polyjuice Potion, if it meant she could spare Harry and herself from being suspected as Slytherin's heirs. After every foul thing Malfoy had ever done and said, those repercussions would be well deserved.

Aralynn looked between the faces of the Slytherin students, deciding which of them would be the least horrifying to become. Other than Kiyana, who wasn't an option because of her rivalry with Malfoy, none of them were particularly appealing. Then, she stared at one pug-faced girl and decided.

She would become Pansy Parkinson.