Hello everyone.

I hope you enjoy the latest instalment of my Charlotte Potter: The Cat Burglar series. I've been toying for a while if I should write a Young Charlotte series as a prequel to the main series now The Hell of Fourth Year is finished. However, I've opted to write a series of short stories and put them into a large collection to showcase different points in Charlotte's life, starting from her beginning to her darkest times and moments in London and at Hogwarts.

Enjoy, and please don't forget to leave a review to let me know what you think.

As usual, I do not own Harry Potter. Just the series and the plotlines of my Harry is a thief story.


Second-year at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry has not started off well for Charlotte. Not only is an insane House-elf bothering her, but a series of attacks taking place in the castle have led to fingers of suspicion and fear pointing at everyone. The other members of the Golden Trio whom Charlotte is convinced are spies and liars have a theory of who the Heir of Slytherin is, but Charlotte is not convinced...

Forced into the scheme, Charlotte opts to disguise herself as Pansy Parkinson just as the finger points at her. But disguised as Pansy, will Charlotte feel different...?


Charlotte Potter: The Cat Burglar.

Life of Crime.

The Stupidity of Polyjuice Potion.

"So… let me see if I've got this straight; you believe Draco Malfoy, the most unsubtle of all of the Slytherins… is the Heir of Slytherin, simply because he is a…well, a Slytherin?" Charlotte asked, keeping her voice slow since it seemed to be the only way she could speak to these two retards as they explained their amazing theory.

Charlotte Potter was sure there was something wrong with whatever was served to the Gryffindors at mealtimes if they came out with rubbish like this, or there was some kind of weird mental disease that only affected people with a deeply inlaid Gryffindor mindset while she sat in the library with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, her so-called 'best friends.' She knew they weren't her friends, not by a long shot.

They were both spying on her for Dumbledore, and as she listened to their incredibly stupid plan, Charlotte knew there was no way Dumbledore would not know about what they were planning. Granger had just suggested they break into the Slytherin common room, disguised as members of Slytherin house, and interrogate Draco Malfoy himself on his own home turf, to make him confess to being the Heir of Slytherin.

What the hell was wrong with them?

Did IQs drop as soon as someone was sorted into Gryffindor? Charlotte couldn't understand that given how she hadn't lost her own brain cells, but she wondered what kind of synaptic fire-works were going on in the brains of Granger and Weasley, hence the reason she was sure the two brainless puppets were only doing as Dumbledore wanted, once again.

She had thought the Philosopher's Stone mess was bad enough - she had been curious about the three-headed dog, but she wasn't interested until she learnt of the properties of the stone and what it would provide for someone as insane as Voldemort. She hadn't gone down there to save the school. She hadn't risked her life to stop the Dark Lord who'd murdered hundreds of people only because he was lashing out at the world and killed those whom he did not like.

She had done it because she knew if Voldemort had come back, he would come after her, to kill her and she didn't want that although now she knew it was inevitable in her future.

But this year, this plan….It was insane, especially since Charlotte knew without a shadow of a doubt it was not Draco Malfoy who was behind the attacks. Yes, Malfoy had been vocal about gloating how the muggle-borns were going to be purged from the castle. Yes, he was a Slytherin but Charlotte didn't think the Heir was a literal Slytherin. There were hundreds of students and staff in the castle, any one of them could be the Heir of Slytherin. It would be the ultimate move of a Slytherin, to disguise themselves as the one least expected to be a suspect.

It would be what Charlotte herself would do in their place. When she was away from the Dursleys, she had found a book on stage magic (it was laughable, a witch who had access to real magic, would read such a book), and she learnt enough about illusion to know not everything was as it seemed to be.

Charlotte could understand and appreciate that.

It made sense to her the true enemy was one you least expected. Sure, she might be wrong about it not being a Slytherin, but if it was then they wouldn't be drawing attention to themselves.

Draco Malfoy was on the opposite end of the equation; a rich pureblood aristocrat, a blood supremacist who believed only wizards who were pure should exist or even be educated in a school like Hogwarts. No, in Charlotte's mind, the true Heir of Slytherin was someone who was in one of the other Houses. The irony was almost too perfect.

"He has to be!" Weasley pressed before he dropped the oblivious reason - in his mind - why Malfoy had to be the one responsible for the attacks. "He's a Slytherin!"

Charlotte closed her eyes and knuckled her forehead. "That does not mean he's the Heir of Slytherin. There are dozens of Slytherins who could claim their whole families have been in the House. Where's your proof-?"

"Well, think about it, Charley," Hermione leaned forward, "his whole family have been in Slytherin. It makes sense."

Sometimes Charlotte had heard from other students commenting on how Hermione Granger should have been a Ravenclaw, but she disagreed with them since she was convinced the stupid girl was in precisely the right house. She was as stupid as the others.

It was sad in an ironic way, but Charlotte had genuinely thought she and Hermione would become firm friends, especially given her status and awkwardness. Hermione was a highly insecure girl who was incapable of living life unless it involved being a classroom with a teacher droning a tedious lecture out, and seeing that teacher as a living god. Charlotte herself liked books and learning, she was constantly going out of her way to experience new things in order to make herself better and stronger, while at the same time she used the pains and the trials of her past to better her future.

But she had learnt Hermione Granger was not someone to like; their friendship was nothing more than a farce.

Her so-called intelligence did not exist; all she did with her time and her life was gorging herself on every book she could lay her hands on, vomiting everything that came out verbatim, but what made Charlotte laugh scornfully at the little clown because that was what she was; a clown who saw herself as the fount of knowledge itself. But all she did was read and regurgitate books; she never tried to find other sources of information.

In her mind, if the knowledge was in a book, then she had no reason to look elsewhere.

It just was, amen. The end.

But what the fuck had led Granger to this insane course? She wouldn't be surprised if Dumbledore had hinted one of the Slytherins - a certain blond dickhead - was the Heir, and they should get evidence. Beyond that they had no desire to find any proof, even Hermione couldn't be bothered to research the Malfoy family line, and determine if they had links to the Slytherin line, or if they could speak parseltongue themselves.

She also would not be surprised if Dumbledore had reminded her about the polyjuice potion. Lord knew she wasn't imaginative to come up with the idea by herself.

"Okay, his entire family have been in Slytherin. By that same logic, Ron here is the Heir of Gryffindor if his whole family have been in Gryffindor. But he isn't," Charlotte pressed home, hoping to make Granger see sense.

But she was wasting her time.

"No, Charlotte, I agree with Ronald. It has to be Draco Malfoy," Hermione lifted her chin in that self-righteous manner Charlotte found grating.

Charlotte rubbed her own chin, thinking. This was a waste of time, she knew that. One of the bonuses of living on the streets of London was you learnt quickly to survive on your wits.

You learnt very quickly never to trust anyone.

You began to understand people better than any psychiatrist could, or anyone trained to read somebody's body language. You learnt whenever they were lying or misleading you.

Charlotte had begun to learn those lessons while she had been living at Number 4, but her training didn't work with everyone she had met. The Dursleys were obvious, easy to read. They never changed their manner, from Petunia's pettiness and the way she liked turning her nose up at everything as if she were a rich aristocratic snob rather than a boring old house-wife who believed she was special when she was nothing more than an inveterate gossip, and Vernon's belief he was a big man because he had….raped her while shouting, and blustering his way through life.

And it was because of those personalities, Charlotte had been fooled, not once but twice. The first time was when she had been forced to encounter another abusive muggle family. But the second was more insidious than that, and it had shaken her up pretty badly. What made it worse was she could have prevented it if she'd been less desperate.

She remembered how she had been misled when that social worker had tried to take her off of the streets, only to discover she was nothing more than a pervert who wanted to sell her into sexual slavery. Charlotte had managed to escape when quite a few other children, younger and slightly older than herself had not managed to survive.

After that mess, Charlotte had needed to personally enter a police station in order to leave the streets when she'd decided she felt it was safe since nobody was looking for her, and Marge wouldn't think to look for her in London after so long. And the police were unlikely to mention it to her if a Charlotte Potter walked into a police station, asking to enter a children's home while mentally stronger than she had been before.

If there was one thing she had learnt from that encounter, it was to never judge a book by its cover. That was why she knew there was no chance Draco Malfoy was the Heir of Slytherin; if it were him, Malfoy would never be able to resist boasting about what he was doing, and if he were, then not even his precious daddy would be able to get him out of the mess.

But she knew this was a waste of time. Even if they got into the Slytherin common room, Malfoy would know nothing relevant although it did occur to Charlotte the idiot would boast about something irrelevant that only someone as shortsighted as Ronald Weasley would consider to be important.

The most insulting thing was, Charlotte could understand the theory of Draco Malfoy but at the same time she wondered if Dumbledore had put them up to this; it would be like Dumbledore to make a subtle suggestion for them to jump to this conclusion, and she knew in a different world she might be jumping on their bandwagon, but Charlotte was not that stupid.

"Alright," she didn't like this, but she knew nothing she could say would change their minds. At the same time, she might be able to twist this to her advantage… "What do we use to get inside the common room?"

Hermione grinned. "Polyjuice potion; it is a complex potion which changes the appearance of whoever drinks it for over an hour. Professor Snape lectured us about it a while ago, and the book where the recipe of it is written in is kept in the Restricted Section of the library."

Charlotte fought the urge to quirk a brow. She remembered the lecture on potions from Snape as well, thanks to her occlumency training, but she did not remember him mentioning a book….

"The Restricted Section?" She repeated dubiously while making it appear she was thinking about the current problem, not the fact somebody had told her where to look - it made sense Dumbledore would tell Granger where to look, and he needed to make it as difficult as possible to make the whole thing look as authentic as possible - while she thought through her options. "We will need a teacher's written signature to get in there. And I have the perfect candidate."

"Who?"

"Lockhart."

"Why him?" Weasley groaned.

"Think about it; Lockhart is so keen for free publicity, for people to call him incredible and brilliant, and he's always looking to expand his fanbase. During my detention with him, Lockhart wanted me to help him with his fan-mail. He'd be eager to autograph something we give him, but it will also have the title of the potion's book, nicely folded in, and Lockhart will be too stupid to unfold the paper," Charlotte smirked smugly at her own quick thinking, even as she absently massaged her wrists from the long night she had spent in the company of Gilderoy Lockhart while she had tried to ignore the way he studied her hungrily, much like the Dursleys had done, like that perverted bitch.

Her instincts had screamed at her Lockhart was a paedophile, and the way he looked at her in classes only served to make her skin crawl. Charlotte might not know what Lockhart wanted with her, but she could guess. Despite how she appeared to the school at the moment, Charlotte was still the Heiress of an old family. She was still the Girl Who Lived. The fact Lockhart would want her in some way sickened her, especially as she remembered being raped by Vernon Dursley…

"Professor Lockhart isn't as bad as you make him out to be, Charlotte," Hermione rolled her eyes, but Charlotte ignored her, refusing to argue since she knew it would do no good; despite the lies she had said last year, that bullshit about books and cleverness not being as important compared to friendship and bravery… Charlotte knew Granger hadn't meant it, not since she had a lifetime of reading books, and believing only in a book - even in an outdated one - the answers to life lay for her to discover.

And that was nothing compared to her almost zealous worship of authority figures. What was so great about them? Surely Granger could see…actually, Charlotte had no idea why she was even bothering to ask in her mind at all. She just sat there and listened as the two imbeciles thought up their insane plan. Weasley was unhappy when he learnt his moment to wring the truth out of Malfoy would not be available for another month, but Charlotte wasn't worried about that.

No, what worried her was one of these two idiots would make some stupid mistake which would find them all in even worse trouble.

X

The more she watched Hermione brew the potion, the more convinced she became the so-called Brightest witch of her age had help in making it. The Polyjuice Potion was incredibly complex, and more than once Charlotte had seen the other witch visibly struggle with it before she seemed to settle down.

Despite Hermione's self-beliefs, Charlotte knew the only reason she achieved 'acceptable' in potions was that all she did was memorise the recipe and the instructions from the blackboard in Snape's classroom, and work on the potion from there. She was good at reading and taking in instructions from a blackboard and a book, but that was all she could do. Hermione simply was not good at improvising anything on her own.

But those classroom potions Snape forced them to brew were small fry compared to the potion they were brewing in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom - Charlotte had to admit, there were good points to brewing the potion in here; no-one in their right mind would come in here, except Charlotte herself given her own personal relationship to the ghost, but otherwise the bathroom was unoccupied, the corridor was rarely frequented since nobody would want to listen to Moaning Myrtle sobbing and screeching like a banshee, so it was otherwise avoided, so it made perfect sense to brew an illegal potion in here. But what worried her the most was the security.

For one thing, Weasley and Granger seemed to ignore the fact the potion smelt like burning mud. If the stench reached the nostrils of a student or a teacher who just happened to be passing by and who had a really acute sense of smell and a very strong curiosity streak, the whole gaff would be blown. Charlotte had taken the law into her own hands, and she had thrown open the windows, so a chilly current of fresh air swept through the room.

Hermione had been shocked by the reason why she had done it, and the realisation that due to the so-called precautions she'd thought up hadn't taken into account the potential dangers of someone finding out what they were doing in the most mundane way.

But Charlotte was convinced Hermione was getting help, especially since the last time she'd been in the bathroom, the potion had been at a relatively basic stage. Now it seemed more advanced. That might not be too bad, but beforehand Hermione had been fretting about several of the brewing stages as she seemed to realise the potion was way above her level.

And then suddenly she seemed more confident.

Of course, Weasley hadn't noticed it, but she had, and she guessed Weasley might know of the help Granger was getting anyway. That was why she was sure Granger was getting help with the potion.

"Again? You're saying the Chamber of Secrets has been opened before?" Hermione asked as she worked while Charlotte ignored her 'friend's' so-called skill.

She didn't like potions although it had fascinated her, thanks to those stories of witches standing over cauldrons. But thanks to Snape and his petty animosity to anything Potter, Charlotte had developed a strong dislike for the subject even though she was determined to ace the Potions OWL, so she could earn her freedom away from Dumbledore.

She practiced potions as best as she could, thanks to some outdated potion guides, which more than made up for Snape's wanton abuse of the subject.

"That's what Dobby implied," Charlotte said from behind her book, with only her tight fists curled around the edges of her book showing her fury towards the House elf.

What the hell had Dobby been thinking, cursing that bludger to come after her? Didn't he know if it had hit her in the head, she'd be dead? He might want to send her away from the school, but why did his desire cloud his judgement so badly?

The pain her arm had taken which had landed her in the hospital wing thanks to Lockhart's inability to keep his nose out of things like that stoked the fire of her desire to make the little shit pay in a way his masters could never in reach.

"How's your arm?" Charlotte lifted her gaze and found Hermione staring at her pityingly.

Charlotte sighed and she flexed her right arm. "Still tingly after a night taking skele-grow," she replied before she went back to her book. Despite her anger, Charlotte was grateful since her right arm had suffered a lot of damage thanks to the Dursleys. It would be nice to have an arm where the bones didn't have fractures.

She hoped to murder Lockhart. Why the hell didn't anyone try to stop the moron from interfering in the first place, especially since he could have done much more damage?

"Don't you see, Lucius Malfoy must have opened the Chamber during his time here," Weasley hadn't commented or expressed concern about Charlotte's arm, he was more interested in carrying on his petty vendetta against the Malfoys. "And now he's told Draco how to do it."

Charlotte was grateful for her skill in occlumency otherwise she would have smashed her fist right into Weasley's stupid face. But she had to admit he might have a point about Malfoy senior even if she doubted he'd opened the Chamber anymore than his son had; she hadn't really spent much time with the man, and there was only that one meeting, but she had seen Lucius was more subtle than Draco.

But she couldn't see him being responsible for the first opening God knew how many years ago. Weasley was just taking what they knew and twisted the facts to make it out to be the Malfoys. This was one of the reasons she despised the Weasels. They were so taken with their pathetic vendetta towards the Malfoys they were ignorant of the others in the castle.

Unfortunately, Granger agreed with the conclusion. "Maybe," she unstoppered a phial and poured the contents into the cauldron, "we just need the poly juice potion to be sure."

Weasley stared at the cauldron from where he was standing. "Why are we brewing this potion in broad daylight in the middle of a girl's bathroom? Aren't you two afraid we'll get caught?"

"No," Charlotte didn't lookup.

"Nobody ever comes in here," Granger added, nodding in agreement with Charlotte's blunt reply.

"Why not?"

Charlotte didn't say a word, the answer to the question was going to appear any moment now.

Unfortunately, Granger had to answer. "This is Moaning Myrtle's bathroom."

"Who?"

Charlotte sighed and shook her head. Oh fucking hell, how many times do you need to give somebody an answer to a question before it sinks in?

"Moaning Myrtle," Something in Hermione's voice made Charlotte look up, and the first thing she caught sight of was how Granger's back had stiffened. She looked around, knowing what the stiff back meant… and sure enough, just behind Weasley, was the ghostly form of a girl wearing an old Hogwarts uniform with her dark hair in plaits, and round glasses on her face.

She floated over to Ron just as the oblivious idiot asked, "Who's Moaning Myrtle?"

"I'm Moaning Myrtle!" Myrtle snapped, her high-pitched voice making Weasley jump, her strident tone making it very clear she had heard every word they'd said. "Oh, don't worry about me, nobody will ever speak to miserable, moping, Moaning Myrtle….," she sobbed.

Charlotte sighed, she wasn't in the mood for a tantrum or loud shouting, not today. "Hello, Myrtle."

The transformation was immediate. Where Myrtle was on the point of exploding into a sobbing fit before, now she perked up. "Oh, hello Charlotte!" She gushed. "I haven't seen you in a while…"

"Don't worry, I haven't forgotten you," Charlotte ignored the looks from the two idiots in the bathroom as she smiled at the ghost. "It's just I've had a hectic couple of weeks, especially with what that damn bludger did, and Lockhart removing the bones in my arm…."

"Ooh," Myrtle flinched before she looked interested. "Lockhart?"

"The new Defence teacher?"

"Good?"

"Shit."

"Ah, say no more; I had my fair share of bastards who were thought to be good," Myrtle said, "will I see you soon?"

"Definitely," Charlotte smiled at the ghost warmly.

When she had first met Myrtle, she had only just arrived as a student in the castle. At the time Charlotte had merely been exploring the school in this strange new world. When she had stumbled across this bathroom, she had just heard the sound of sobbing, and while Charlotte had adopted a similar non-interference policy to everyone else who hadn't helped her, she had gone back to the corridor and she'd heard the sound of sobbing again. Curious she had walked in…

And she had met Myrtle.

While she was fascinated by the idea of ghosts, especially now she knew that they existed and weren't people wearing a white bedsheet with holes for eyes, Charlotte had not expected to meet the ghost of one of Hogwart's students, especially one who had died so young. So much for Hogwarts being one of the safest places in Britain. She had introduced herself, and while it had taken Charlotte some time she was able to persuade the ghost she wasn't going to mock her, throw things through her while she kept score, Myrtle had warmed up to her and they had become friends. Charlotte had gone back to the ghost many times over the last year, and a few times since her second year started.

One of the reasons why Myrtle had such trouble accepting her as a friend was because of her house. Apparently, the Gryffindors of her time had bullied her relentlessly; it seemed even then the so-called House of the Brave was much worse than the Slytherins.

Brightly, Myrtle flew away into one of the cubicles. A moment later they heard the sound of something hitting the water before they heard the water slosh around to the ground.

Charlotte shook her head, unsure of what Myrtle was doing in the u-bend.

"How does she know you?"

Charlotte looked up, inwardly sighing at the question and bristling at the aggressive tone in Weasley's voice. She had learnt after she'd been sorted into Gryffindor, Weasley had been ensuring nobody else befriended her. She wasn't particularly bothered, ever since she was a kid at the Dursleys where Dudley and his gang made sure she had no friends before she was humiliated a few times by those pretending to be her friends, she had been cured of that disease of needing people in her life.

But at the same time, Charlotte was angry with the choice to accept people in her life or not had been taken out her hands. What made it worse was Hermione Granger had joined Weasley in keeping people away. Charlotte had no doubt Dumbledore had ordered it, but she didn't see why they'd be bothered about her being friendly with a ghost.

"I met her at the beginning of last year," she explained, "I was exploring the school, she was in here, and we hit it off; took me a while since hardly anyone's been nice to her in the past, besides what does it matter?'

She went back to reading her book.

X

Sometimes Charlotte really hated the Wizarding World. The Duelling Club had been a disaster, especially when Malfoy conjured that snake with Snape's assistance. She had known she could speak to snakes ever since she had found that adder during the school trip to the south coast, but she hadn't known it would be labelled dark.

She should have known the stupid wizards would have labelled parseltongue as evil, even if there were benefits to speaking to snakes. What would happen if you were walking through a jungle in India or South America, and came across a dangerous snake. What would they do then if they attacked?

The way Charlotte saw it, it would be the human's fault they'd blundered into the snake's territory.

But of course, now, everyone saw her as the new suspect of being the Heir of Slytherin. It never occurred to anyone to find out the truth. No, they were more content with making death threats to her while some of the teachers acted coldly towards her, and that useless bitch McGonagall not only turned a blind eye, she also went on about how her parents would be ashamed of her for speaking parseltongue and the worst people who'd used the language.

The good news was the Polyjuice potion was nearly ready. It should be ready around Christmastime. Charlotte was starting to look forward to the use of the potion, not because of the fact she believed any of the Slytherins were so stupid to boast about what was going on, but because she wanted to shut Weasley up.

Weasley was still going on about proving Malfoy was the Heir, although she'd caught him sending her strange looks as if worried she was going to attack him in the name of Salazar Slytherin.

He needn't worry. If she were the real Heir, she wouldn't use a monster to get rid of him. And yet she was still curious. She was surprised Weasley, with all of his hatred towards anything relating to snakes and Slytherin was still hanging around her. But she wasn't concerned about that, guessing Dumbledore had told him to stay for some reason; whatever the old fool had told them, neither Granger nor Weasley was walking on eggshells around her.

As the deadline to use the Polyjuice potion grew closer and closer, Charlotte spent a lot of her time spying on Pansy Parkinson. She had selected Pansy because the girl was in Malfoy's little group of Slytherins, making her a logical choice. In any case, it was well known Pansy Parkinson had a thing for Malfoy, and she was always draped over him and was oblivious to Malfoy's clear patience and tolerance of it although he didn't really enjoy it at times.

The fact she was staying at the castle was also a bonus. She'd found out who was staying on at the castle, and she was glad Pansy was staying; her other choice had been a boy since there were few girls in Malfoy's group. Charlotte spent three whole weeks watching the girl, learning her mannerisms and practicing them as best she could while she also practiced some of Pansy's speech. Out of the trio, Charlotte knew she was the only one who was bothering since neither Weasley nor Granger would have bothered to practice something like that.

But there were more practical reasons she had chosen Pansy Parkinson; the girl was around her height and build, despite one or two differences between them, so if Charlotte stole Pansy's uniform there wouldn't be too much of a problem fitting into them. The main reason was Pansy, even at eleven, had seemed to have chosen Malfoy as her future husband, so she hung all over him, and while she could tell Malfoy didn't always enjoy the experience, she believed there wouldn't be any problems getting close to the blond Slytherin.

But that was when the practicalities ended.

Pansy Parkinson was a simpering, arrogant, haughty bitch. Charlotte had spent a lot of time practicing to be her, and she was not looking forward to the experience.

Charlotte had asked Weasley and Granger who they were choosing, and although Weasley hadn't bothered to expand his mind that far, Granger claimed to have chosen Millicent Bulstrode, and had a hair in a phial, just like Charlotte did although she needed to knock the Slytherin girl out with a spell which would last for a good three hours and she stole Pansy's uniform and her wand while Hermione had to help Weasley with either Crabbe or Goyle.

Millicent Bulstrode…

Charlotte somehow could not understand why Granger had chosen her when there were other Slytherins, but then she found Granger had opportunistically taken a strand of hair from Bulstrode's robes without any real planning or idea of whom to disguise herself as. And even if she had chosen a girl who wasn't close to Malfoy, as far as they knew, she could still have picked someone so she could have discreetly asked around for other pieces of information, although the chances of them confessing to being the Heir of Slytherin were remote.

The Heir was someone who was doing this all by themselves.

Charlotte just could not imagine the Heir would be so stupid they had taken anyone into their confidence, otherwise, they would have blabbed their 'friends' actions by now, or they would have become spooked. But Ron and Hermione both thought the Heir of Slytherin, wrongly known as Malfoy, would talk.

Still, it would be interesting to know what Malfoy knew.

Charlotte wondered if the bushy-haired girl had seen the downside to leaving the potion unattended for such a long time, but she hadn't voiced her thoughts even when the trio were back in the bathroom and stood over the cauldron filled with the repulsive potion.

Hermione ladled some of the potion into three glasses while the three of them stood by a sink where the muggle-born witch had placed the cauldron in to make it easier to ladle some of the potion into the glasses. The trio was already wearing their Slytherin uniforms; Hermione's and Ron's were both too large, while her own was just about right. "We have only an hour before we're back in our original forms," she was saying.

Charlotte sighed and took out the phial she had which contained the single strand of hair she'd taken from Pansy's head, and she also removed the small perfume bottle as a reminder of something she needed to do.

"What's that for?" Hermione asked quizzically when she saw the bottle.

"Pansy sprays herself with this stuff three-six times a day," Charlotte explained, while she dropped the hair into the glass in front of her, "it would seem bizarre if she didn't wear it."

"Fair enough," Granger shrugged, dropping the hair from her own phial into the glass, Weasley doing the same.

"Urgh, essence of Crabbe!" Weasley moaned in disgust when he saw the potion change colour. Charlotte deliberately did not look into her own glass. As she curled her hand around the handle of her glass, she took a look at her appearance…and she saw she was still wearing her glasses. She took them off and put them into Pansy's pocket. She'd put them on when her body returned to normal.

"Cheers," Hermione nervously tapped the other glasses with her own in a toast before they swallowed.

The moment Charlotte's lips and tongue touched the potion, she wanted to spit it out of her mouth out of reflex but she forced herself to down the potion as the magic contained in it started to work before it even reached her stomach. She closed her eyes as she forced the sudden sensation of things coiling around inside her body to the back of her mind.

"I think I'm going to sick!" Weasley moaned before he ran off to a cubicle. So much for Weasley's stomach.

"Me too!" Hermione ran off a moment later, her glass smashing to the ground. Charlotte stood there, using her occlumency control to hold back the pain as the transformation bubbled through her body. She looked at herself in the mirror and she watched as her appearance changed. Her black hair changed colour slightly and her whole facial structure transformed while her eyes changed to a greyish blue colour, making her look more like a pug while her clothes began to fit her while she took a good look at the time on her watch.

Charlotte ran a hand over her face in awe, amazed to see not her hand, but Pansy Parkinson's hand touch her face. She might not have approved of the plan, but it was so bizarre seeing her own reflection and seeing a totally different person staring at her from the mirror…she smiled, and a Pansy smirk spread across her lips.

Charlotte ran her hands down her front, her hand brushing against the Slytherin snake while her smirk widened.

Holy fuck, I should have gone into Slytherin. I feel Free. But the fucking Hat put me into Gryffindor; at least it apologised to me for taking the decision out of my hands…

"Charlotte?" Vincent Crabbe's voice spoke from behind, and her eyes flickered over and she saw Crabbe standing behind her.

"Don't call me that, Crabbe. My name is Pansy Parkinson," Charlotte smirked at him. There was something about this that turned her on, and she didn't know what it was.

It was a joke, but nobody ever said Gryffindors caught such jokes and realised the double meaning. Weasley looked at her in horror.

"You can't be," Crabbe stuttered.

Charlotte snorted and rolled her eyes at how typically Gryffindorish this fool was; hadn't he ever heard of a joke before with those bullying brothers of his? "Of course it's me, Charlotte, you idiot! I'm in character, just like you are!" She snapped, sneering at Ron with annoyance. "Honestly, why is it you ask so many stupid questions? I knocked the real Pansy out, so how could it not be me?"

"Oh, right!" Weasley mumbled, glaring at her a little bit out of embarrassment, but Charlotte ignored him and she turned to the cubicles. She was now slightly worried since Granger hadn't appeared yet.

"Hermione?" God, she really hated having to pretend she liked these two. "Are you coming, or not?"

"I…I can't come out! You two better go! Remember the time limit!" Charlotte raised a brow, hearing the sudden panic in Granger's voice and she wondered what had happened.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron hadn't noticed the panic, "We know Millicent Bulstrode's ugly…"

No, that's not it…. Something is wrong!

"No, get out of here. You can't be gone too long."

Charlotte checked her watch. Over four minutes had passed, so they needed to go even though she was having to fight her own curiosity to find out what it was that was keeping

"She's right," she muttered, "we'd better go."

Charlotte grabbed hold of Weasley and pulled him towards the door before she caught sight of the perfume bottle. "Oh, nearly forgot," she said, and she sprayed some of the perfume around herself. She coughed as the strength of the perfume reached her nose. "Fucking hell, I knew she sprayed the stuff on herself, but this stuff is strong," she muttered, fanning her face so the worst of the fumes didn't make her choke.

Charlotte had never really been a perfume fan, although she could see herself using it to smell nice to something like a job interview. But what some girls did was pour it all over themselves by the bucketful.

"What the hell-?" Weasley demanded, looking at her in surprise.

"Pansy sprays herself with this stuff regularly; God knows why. Now come on, we need to get going," Charlotte said, and she quickly led Weasley out of the bathroom leaving Hermione behind. She had no idea what would cause Granger to panic unless something really wrong had happened with the potion but that made no sense since she and Weasley were okay.

No matter, they had to get this over and done with.

X

"The Slytherin common room's this way," Charlotte said with Pansy's voice as they walked down the corridors, turning this way and that.

"How d'you know?" Was that suspicion in Weasley's voice?

Charlotte bit her tongue. "Because I, unlike you, bothered to watch them," she said shortly.

"What, so you know the way to the common room?" Weasley asked in excitement, and his voice rose just ever so slightly. Charlotte swung around and made a hissing noise to shut him up. "Not so loud, you idiot!" She snarled at him.

"What, but-!"

But Charlotte wouldn't let him finish his protest/excuse, not at this stage when they needed to keep their mouths shut, or the whole thing was blown to hell. She knew if Granger were here, she would be just as frustrated with Weasley as she was since she knew the risks of using Polyjuice potion. Unfortunately, Weasley was either so ignorant of what would happen if he gave them away, or his emotional control was even less than she had first suspected. "No, think. If you give your twin brothers the location of the Slytherin common room, they'll go out of their way to prank them-."

"They deserve it!"

Charlotte clenched her fists in rage, trying to push aside the urge to curse the bastard in front of her for that remark. She had watched the Slytherins over the last year and a bit. They only retaliated whenever they were attacked, and what the Weasel twins did to them was unacceptable in her mind, but many of the Gryffindors found it hilarious when a first-year was pranked so badly they cried whenever their schoolwork was destroyed, or when they made them cry.

So much for the House of the Brave.

The sheer callousness of the Lions made her want to wipe them out sometimes. "And then they will be caught. What do you think the teachers will do to them next? They will want to know how they discovered the whereabouts of the Slytherin common room, and there's a chance your brothers will blab and say it's you to save their own skins. And then they'll interrogate you, then me, and Hermione, and then one of us will tell them about what we're doing!"

"We wouldn't-!"

"Oh, so you wouldn't lose your nerve?" Charlotte taunted him. "I think you would."

Weasley stared at her strangely. "Are you okay, Charlotte?"

Apart from wishing I were a Slytherin, and be allowed to show off my true self? Do you even realise what being in this form is like for me? I feel so different, free… but of course, I'm not, am I? I just want to to be truly free, so I'm not hemmed in by your stupid beliefs on what's good and what's evil? Having to act in a certain way so I don't get labelled as Dark because you are so childish and cry foul when those whom you bully manage to fight back?

But even Charlotte wondered just how much of Pansy's essence had affected her, or if the Polyjuice had given her the excuse she needed to show off her true self.

That didn't matter.

This imbecile was going to give them away at this rate!

"Pansy! I'm pretending to be Pansy right now!" Charlotte hissed at him. "Call me Charlotte in front of the whole of the Slytherin common room, and we'll be caught, and then you can either be expelled! Do you understand that? Do you get it? Now come on!"

They were almost at the Slytherin common room entrance when a familiar, grating voice called out to them. They both turned and spotted Draco Malfoy walking towards them.

"Crabbe! Pansy, what've you two been doing, pigging out in the Great Hall all this time?"

Showtime, Charlotte thought to herself as she smiled as brightly as she could, amazed anyone could show affection for the blond rat. "Oh, I wasn't pigging, Draco," she said, hoping she had adopted the right simpering tone (she noticed Weasley staring at her in disbelief, and more than a little jealousy; she knew the red-headed loser was lusting after her for some reason or another, but she was not interested and she had no problem making sure that message sank into his thick skull). "I was just waiting for you to give me company…"

Malfoy grimaced. "Well, you're here now," he muttered grudgingly. "Come on."

Charlotte nodded and she eagerly took Malfoy's arm, like she had seen the real Pansy do once or twice. She wasn't surprised Malfoy looking at her arm with distaste, but she was glad he didn't push her away, and it made her wonder what the real relationship the two Slytherins had with one another. It had never made sense, the way the real Pansy simpered around Draco, treating him as Prince Charming while Malfoy only just managed to tolerate her presence. It was bizarre, but she guessed it made sense to them.

Finally, Malfoy took them both to a bare patch of damp wall.

"What's the new password again?" The blond boy asked, almost to himself.

"Pureblood," Charlotte piped up, earning looks from both wizards - Ron because he couldn't believe she had it in the first place, and Malfoy was gazing at her in annoyance for outdoing him.

The door opened and they walked into the Slytherin common room. When she had decided to choose Parkinson as the candidate to take something from for the Polyjuice potion to work on, Charlotte had placed listening and tracking charms on the Slytherin girl and followed her around for a bit. That was one reason why she had learnt enough about the body language of the girl whom she was impersonating, and she had followed Parkinson to the Slytherin common room entrance over the last three days, and she'd learnt of the password. She had checked it earlier and found it was still valid.

But as she looked around the underground space of the common room, taking in its darker hues in shades of black, silver, green, and other colours, Charlotte felt more at home here than she did in the Gryffindor common room. Dominating the room at the far back, were a number of windows looking out into the cold murky water of the lake. It was somehow both serene and beautiful, far better than the boring windows looking out over the grounds in the tower.

Oh, the tower was cosy, no doubt about that, but this place was even more so. Charlotte had no idea if it was because there was none of the Light propaganda here as there was in the tower. One look at the disguised Weasley didn't surprise her; Weasley was looking around the Slytherin common room with the symbols of the so-called dark side with disgust, not awe.

But it didn't bother her much, ironically enough.

Malfoy sat down, and Charlotte easily followed suit, and she forced herself to half lay on Malfoy's body, hoping she didn't overdo it. Out of the corner of her eye, Charlotte could see Weasley staring at her in shock. Had the idiot never seen the way that the real Parkinson did the same thing with Malfoy? God, Gryffindors…

"I had a run-in with that Weasel prefect, Peter-," Malfoy began.

"Percy," Ron corrected instantly, which prompted Charlotte to send a mild glare his way. That's right, you moron, give him as many clues as you can and he'll know who we are, she thought in disgust before she checked her watch under the pretence of looking at her nails.

Her heart almost leapt out of her chest in relief when she saw they had bags of time, but it would still be close. They had thirty-five minutes before the potion wore off, and Charlotte wanted to get out as soon as she could, and that meant they should not waste any time. Unfortunately, she was with Ron Weasley, and knowing the idiot, Charlotte was positive Weasley was going to bleed Malfoy dry of every dirty secret he could.

Fortunately, Malfoy didn't notice the slip. "Weasley is strutting all around the school, looking for the Heir of Slytherin; but I doubt it will happen, the Heir's too cunning for that pompous idiot. You would never believe the Weasley's are pure, the way their lot act. Did you know their father knocked mine to the ground in Diagon Alley during the summer? He's lucky my father didn't pull strings and have the DMLE arrest him; that would have taught their blood traitor family their place! An embarrassment to the wizarding world, the lot of them."

Charlotte blinked in surprise, stunned by the sudden truth to Malfoy's statement.

My god, he's right; from what I've learnt about him, Malfoy senior is really close to Fudge. It would take just one message from Malfoy to Fudge, and Mr Weasley could find himself arrested without any chance of regaining his freedom. The most poetic aspect of the whole thing would be Malfoy would be within his rights to lodge the complaint, Charlotte thought to herself while she gently massaged Malfoy's shoulders; she was glad she had seen Parkinson do this often enough, otherwise it would have been suspicious, and she glanced at Ron.

And she kicked him, seeing in horror he was glaring at Malfoy with rage.

"OW! What-?!" Weasley shouted, startling some of the nearby Slytherins.

"Crabbe, how many times do I need to tell you tonight to do something about that stomach tonight?" Charlotte interrupted him quickly before he uttered her name by accident, spitting at him in Pansy's pureblood princess drawl.

Malfoy sneered at Weasley in disgust before he gently did something Charlotte never expected. He ran a hand down her back, and she needed to stop herself from punching his lights out, even though a part of her even in her real form had wondered what it would be like to give him a blowjob (she hoped Pansy didn't give Malfoy blowjobs in public; but while she personally thought Malfoy was an arrogant rat, she knew he was attractive; it was just his personality which turned her off). "I'm surprised the Daily Prophet hasn't caught wind of all of these attacks," he commented without saying anything at all about 'Crabbe's' indigestion, but it looked like such events were common. "No doubt Dumbledore is hushing it all up. Father always said Dumbledore was the worst thing to ever happen to this place!"

Charlotte was about to let out a simpering remark to further their agenda when Weasley shouted, "You're wrong!"

Malfoy stiffened, pushing Charlotte off of him, and he stood up, glaring at Weasley angrily. He didn't see the way she was glaring at the disguised Gryffindor as well in growing but quiet rage. He knew the risks, he knew they were under a time limit, and he knew what would happen if someone learnt who they were, so what was it about Weasley and his stupid, irrational temper? Weasley seemed to have realised he had made a huge mistake and was trying to make himself look as small as possible as he took in the two glaring at him. But it was not working.

"What? You mean to tell me there's someone worse than that old fool in this school?" Malfoy challenged. "Well, do you?"

Charlotte grinned when she lost her glare, and she quickly piped up while she gently took Malfoy's manicured hand in her own. "Oh, Draco, I think there is," she simpered up at him, "there's Charlotte Potter, the Girl Who Lived and she's well below your level; I mean, she's the daughter of a mudblood while you're a pureblood," she didn't need to fake her sneer at her own hated title although she mentally muttered a prayer and an apology to Lily for needing to say that.

But it worked to appease Malfoy.

"You're right, Pansy. Saint Potter and people think she's the Heir of Slytherin! Can you believe that?" Malfoy sneered, really insulted by the idea, but Charlotte caught something else there, and it took her a few moments to realise what it was before Malfoy's next words told her what it was.

Unfortunately, Weasley hadn't caught onto what Charlotte had realised, and he opened his mouth. "Who is the Heir? Is it you?"

Charlotte wanted to murder to him. She was going to kill him in the worst way imaginable, and she was going to ensure the other Weasleys were sterilised for the good of the human race's future, to stop any more idiots like this one running around. For crying out loud! What the hell happened with Hermione so she couldn't be here? She might be a spy, but she's not thick enough to blab like this. Oh, who gives a toss, I'm still gonna murder him. How could he be so stupid to ask something like that-?

At the same time, she was more pleased with her theory of Malfoy not being the Heir was confirmed.

"Of course I'm not, Crabbe," Malfoy's voice broke her out of her murderous thoughts, and she studied him closely and listened to his voice as he gazed pityingly at Weasley. "You know that. I told you that before. I am not the Heir of Slytherin. I never was. I just wish I was, and yet that half-blood slut who thinks she's so great because she has a stupid scar on her forehead is believed to be the Heir, and not someone better."

Half-blood slut am I? Oh, believe me, Malfoy, there will be a time when I remind you about that crack when you are crying and begging me not to slice off your genitals! Charlotte thought to herself, a slow sadistic smirk crossing her face for a moment before she realised the true implications of what they had learnt.

Weasley and Granger had both been wrong. Oh, she'd had little doubt in her mind Draco Malfoy was not the Heir of Slytherin. Draco might wish to be the Heir himself, but there was no way he'd have the mindset and the subtleness to keep his mouth closed about it, and the fact he envied her and was jealous of how she was perceived by the school despite enjoying how the rest of the student population were treating her, but one truth remained.

Draco Malfoy was not the Heir of Slytherin.

By the same logic, Lucius Malfoy was also innocent of the original release of the monster going through the school.

And yet… Charlotte was still baffled about why Dumbledore would even suggest it was Draco in the first place, and it took her a moment to think through the options.

Scenario one; Dumbledore had reached a dead-end in trying to figure out who the Heir was on his end, and short of interrogating each student in turn or looking through their belongings - which would be hard for him to do given the magical laws out there which even he despite his delusions of grandeur would have a hard time ignoring - he wanted his spies to do the job of finding out the identity of the culprit, but Charlotte discounted it quickly. The scenario would only work if Dumbledore's minions in the different houses were given potential suspects to look into, and while she could see him using students to do the leg work, the teachers would be brought in as well to look into things their end. But she hadn't seen or heard any sign of that happening, so the scenario was unlikely.

Scenario two; Dumbledore had genuinely believed the Heir was one of the Slytherins, but he didn't trust Snape to find out for sure, so he had weaved a tale of lies for his two acolytes, and forced them to brew Polyjuice Potion in order to discover the truth. Somehow she doubted it, although it was a possibility given how Dumbledore said one thing, yet he would turn and do something completely different. He may trust Snape for some unusual reason even if the bastard didn't deserve it, but would he take things this far? Charlotte could see the pendulum swinging between YES and NO easily in both answers.

Scenario three; it was all an elaborate test for his trio of pet Gryffindors, and he was hoping they discovered the truth for themselves while he sat back and let events happen around while he just observed but never interfered.

Somehow that last scenario seemed the most likely. It would be like last year, where Dumbledore's plan with the Philosopher's Stone unfolded neatly over the course of the year; the newspaper article about the break-in at Gringotts, the dragons' egg, the mentions of the stone, the detention in the forest…all of it leading to that encounter with Voldemort.

Dumbledore would not intervene once, and Charlotte knew it only too well.

But while Charlotte was vindicated and satisfied with the news, Weasley was not.

"But…you must have some idea who's behind it all?"

"Of course he doesn't, Crabbe!" Charlotte had no problems sneering at Weasley, who gaped at her in surprise - she inwardly sighed, knowing he was going off on her, some bullshit about betraying Gryffindor, or something childish like that - and carried on, "if Draco knew, he'd be telling the rest of us, so we could get rid of the mudblood filth in the castle. Isn't that right, Draco?" She smiled at the blond in the same loving way she had seen the real Pansy do.

"Yes, Pansy," Malfoy smirked, although Charlotte noticed his smirk didn't reach his lips. He was clearly lying to her. If he knew who the Heir truly was, he would help…without telling the rest of the Slytherins in his group. "But anyway, no-one knows who the Heir is; everyone's too stupid to realise if it was Potter, why would she let everyone know?"

Holy fuck, I never thought I would ever learn Malfoy and I agreed on something! But he's right; why the hell would I advertise myself attacking the rest of the school?

Charlotte glanced at Weasley, a sneer on her lips. "Yeah, Potter's too much of a goody-goody to attack anyone," she purred as she lied, gently massaging Malfoy as she went.

She didn't care about the students in the castle. It was hard for her to even think of them in a good way, especially after what they'd done. Her contempt for the students had begun a while back, and it had only grown over the last few weeks.

"Draco," she said as something occurred to her, "I heard a rumour; the Chamber has been opened before, so why is it there's another mudblood purge happening now?"

She was getting tired of saying that disgusting word although she could think of a few muggle-borns who actually deserved being referred to by that name, but out of remembrance for her mother, she didn't say it. But she hoped the way she'd put it, "mudblood purge," would be attractive to Malfoy enough for him not to get suspicious, and besides she wanted to know as much as she could about the opening of the Chamber before.

She didn't think Lucius was responsible then, just as she had known Draco wasn't responsible.

"Mudblood purge? I like that, Pansy. Father told me it happened fifty years ago," Draco explained, a look of delight on his face. "A few years before he came here himself. Nobody was caught, and there were several identical and similar attacks, but a mudblood died." A smirk of delight crossed his pointed face at the thought of a muggle-born dying, but Charlotte knew Malfoy had never seen death before - all he had experienced was being spoilt rotten by his parents and being taught the pureblood supremacist crap from the cradle. He might think it was glorious them suffering, but he had no idea what it entailed.

"It's only a matter of time before another mudblood dies this time. This time, I hope its Granger."

Charlotte had to quickly kick Weasley in the shin when it looked like he was going to burst out of his seat and attack the blond Slytherin with his bare hands at the threat towards Hermione like he was a muggle fighter and not a wizard. "Ow!" Weasley yelped and he rubbed his shin, but Charlotte made a noise to shut the idiot up before he said or did anything else, something they could not walk away from as easily. It would only take one mention of her name, her real name, and the whole gaff was blown.

Unfortunately, Malfoy saw her do it. "What's going on with you two? You're both behaving oddly?"

Cursing Weasley and his entire family for their mental defects and their stupid tempers, Charlotte thought of something quickly, "Oh, I kicked him because he was there and because I knew he'd take it," she replied offhandedly before she checked her watch again under the pretence of checking her watch, and to her horror she saw they only had ten minutes to go. She thought of an excuse to get out of the Slytherin common room and back to the place she'd stunned and left the real Pansy Parkinson, drop off the girl's uniform and wand, and then get back to the bathroom where Hermione was.

"And I had better go out," she went on, standing upright smoothly. "This talk's made me hungry to make the mudbloods still at Hogwarts regret polluting the air of true witches and wizards, and I think Crabbe needs to see someone about his stomach…I'll see you later, Draco," she added, blowing him a kiss over her shoulder before she gestured for Weasley to stand up and follow her.

X

As they left Malfoy in the common room, hoping the second year Slytherin did not speak to the real Crabbe and Parkinson and discovered he had spoken to imposters, but she would worry about that later, Charlotte knew Weasley was determined to get answers from her for the way she had acted in the Slytherin common room and she was only just able to keep him silent even though he was bursting with indignation over what she'd said and done in the Slytherin common room in Malfoy's company.

They had already stopped over at the place where Granger and Weasley had knocked the real Crabbe and Goyle out - Charlotte winced at the stupidity of her Gryffindor housemates; didn't it occur to them to knock Crabbe and Goyle both out for longer? - and instead of showing care to Crabbe's clothes and things, Weasley just dumped them.

With that in mind, Charlotte only hoped the idiot would soon realise she was only acting and keeping in character, but she wasn't bothered about that; she'd speak about that when they had the chance to speak to Granger to get the bushy-haired witch on her side, to make Weasley realise she had not meant what she had said. At the same time, she needed to get them both as far away from the Slytherin common room as they could.

No, her main thoughts were going to what she had learnt from Malfoy.

Fifty years ago, a muggle-born had died. And she had a good idea now of one of the reasons the teachers was taking this whole mess so seriously although attacks on students would make anybody nervous and worried, the idea of a monster which attacked without leaving a mark, just leaving them petrified, had the power to kill…

Finally, Charlotte and Weasley arrived at the broom cupboard where she had left the real Pansy Parkinson as she transformed back, leaving Charlotte dressed in Slytherin robes. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, and since she was in a more illuminated corridor and not a shadowy bathroom, she saw just how suited she was to the Slytherin colours…

"Pansy's in there," she whispered to Weasley, pushing the fact she better suited Slytherin away. "Wait out here while I give her her uniform back."

"No, I want to talk to you about what you did-."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Ron," she snapped, tired of this; it was bad enough Weasley refused to act the part, but he could never let go of the past without throwing a tantrum and make a major drama out of everything. "I was in character, what did you expect? That I would slap Malfoy around the head or something? If I'd done that, we'd have been caught. Is that what you really wanted? I had to behave that way, draping myself all over Draco's body, so he wouldn't get suspicious, and I had to use that disgusting word to make it believable. You, on the other hand, were just preparing yourself to punch him in the face! Nothing suspicious about that right, even though we know Crabbe and Goyle don't beat their boss up! Now stay here, the potion should be wearing off in a moment."

She was relieved to be in the broom cupboard with Ron not in her company, and she was even more pleased to find Pansy lying on the ground; with the weather outside and the fact there were fewer students in the castle because of the attacks, Quidditch flying practice or games were the last things on anybody's minds. In short, they were the perfect place to hide, and given how close this one was to Myrtle's bathroom, and how virtually empty it was, it was even better.

Charlotte got to work quickly while the potion wore off, and she was once more herself again. Using her real wand, she undressed her borrowed Slytherin robes and replaced them back on Pansy while making sure the other girl's possessions were in her pockets. Once she had donned her own robes, sneering at the red and gold lion crest of Gryffindor house, Charlotte smiled at the green and silver and black trim of Pansy's own robes.

She had never believed in the stupid lies about Slytherin being home to dark wizards. For the most part, many of the Slytherins looked like they were just ordinary people. But when she had walked into their common room, that underground space with a window looking out into the murky gloom of the black lake, Charlotte had to admit to herself in another reality, she would have been a Slytherin working and living in that part of the school. It was ironic, really, for the Girl Who Lived to be a Slytherin when her parents were Gryffindors and were murdered by a Slytherin, but she didn't care. Sometimes she wondered why she had been sorted into the House of the Brave when it was patently obvious to anyone she did not belong there.

With a sigh of regret, Charlotte flicked her wand in Pansy's direction, mumbling the incantation to revive Pansy. Hopefully when the Slytherin girl woke up she would guess someone had pranked her and they'd made the mistake of not locking the door, and leaving her wand with her, or something like that. Hopefully, when she and Crabbe returned to the Slytherin common room and found Malfoy, the blond wizard wouldn't mention the encounter with their imposters.

Fingers crossed.

Charlotte walked out of the room and with Ron, they both went to the bathroom.

"So you didn't mean what you said about muggle-borns?" Weasley pressed as they both walked in, unable to contain himself.

Charlotte groaned, and she swung around and spat at him, "No, you idiot. My mother is a muggle-born too, and I despise that name; if you think I'm gonna believe in that shit, then you need your brain tested. Not that it doesn't."

"Oi!"

"It's true. I should have gone on my own; I wouldn't have wasted time asking him stupid, obvious questions and I wouldn't have looked like I wanted to beat him up! Did it never occur to you where we? We were in the Slytherin common room, for Merlin's sake; if we were discovered because of your stupid, irrational temper, what do you think would have happened? It would not have been my fault, it would have been all of our fault, but you would have given us away!" Charlotte glared at Weasley, her anger shutting him up. "Did you never once think, not ever, that you should lock your feelings away in a strongbox until we were finished, and did it never occur to you you are blinded and biased towards the Malfoy family? They're not the only people in the magical world besides yourself, and yet you are blaming them for everything going on!"

"They're Death Eaters and Slytherins-!"

"So were several others, yet you don't blame them!"

"What happened in the Slytherin common room?" Hermione's voice called out, sounding tired of the fighting.

"It's not Draco Malfoy, Hermione. He basically told us he wasn't behind the attacks," Charlotte was glad to walk away from the redhead, unable to resist adding smugly with a hint of spite but she remembered Hermione's refusal to come out and so she opened the door to the other cubicle so she could peek over the wall, "you were wrong. But we learnt the last time the Chamber was opened, a muggle-born died."

As she peeked over the side while she stood on the toilet, Charlotte heard Myrtle saying, "Ooh, wait till you see it, it's hideous!"

"Hermione, what's happened?" Charlotte knew Myrtle; she wouldn't gloat about anyone being hideous and find it funny, not unless something really serious had happened.

She gasped as she looked down into the cubicle. It was Hermione and yet it wasn't. The figure below seemed part human and part cat, with the bushy wavy appearance of Hermione's hair in the thick black fur while a long black tail was sticking out. But Hermione's face was that of a cat, with the mouth and the nose merged into a cat snout while she had whiskers and cat-like eyes.

"Hermione, what did you do?"

"It was a cat's hair I pulled off of Millicent Bulstrode's robes," Hermione sobbed, looking up into Charlotte's face, "Look at my face!"

Charlotte sighed as she jumped off of the toilet, speaking as she went while she also made other plans with how to deal with the leftover evidence of what they'd been doing. "We need to get you out of here, Hermione," she said practically, "you can't stay in here forever. And besides hopefully by now the worst of the potion has worn off, so Madame Pomfrey won't find it and she won't ask too many questions; we can just say you were conducting an experiment and it went wrong."

After she had vanished the rest of the Polyjuice and picked up the copy of the potions book with the Polyjuice recipe, Charlotte took a moment to think about everything going on in the school.

While she wasn't surprised Malfoy wasn't the Heir of Slytherin, she was left wondering who was.