It seemed Potter had kept his promise; at least, Aurora hadn't had any angry Gryffindors getting in her face about why she threatened their golden boy. But Gwen had noticed something was up. "You keep looking at Potter," she said in their dormitory when they were getting ready for bed. "And he keeps looking at you, too."

"Does he now?" Aurora asked innocently, breezily.

Gwen raised her eyebrows with a mischievous smile. "Yup. What's up with it?"

"Nothing." Aurora laughed easily. "He's a prat."

Gwen was grinning. "I don't think it's nothing. No one looks at the same person that often without it meaning something."

Aurora knew exactly what she meant, and she almost laughed at how wrong she was. "Gwen, the implications of what you're saying disgust me. If you must know, I'm blackmailing him and his friends."

That wiped the smile off Gwen's face. "You're doing what? Why?"

She shrugged. "They have information that I could use. I saw — well, heard — an opportunity to get that information and I took it. Don't worry," she added, seeing the rather faint look on Gwen's face, "I'm not up to anything bad, Gwen."

She didn't look like she fully believed Aurora. It stung more than she had expected, or cared to admit. After a long moment, Gwendolyn sighed. "Is this to do with what you're always reading about these days?"

"Maybe."

"Tell me!" Gwen pleaded. "If it's that big that you're blackmailing Potter, I want to know!"

"No," Aurora said, giggling just a tiny bit. "But I promise, when I am ready to tell people, you'll be the first person I tell."

"Can you at least tell me what you're blackmailing Potter with?" Gwen looked genuinely interested as to that piece of gossip.

"Our deal was negotiated on the basis that I would keep the information to myself," Aurora said clippedly.

"Oh, Aurora, please!"

"You're far too much of a gossip."

"Only to you!" Aurora gave her a withering look. "And to Robin, but he doesn't count! I just collect gossip."

"I'll tell you at some point," Aurora promised. "But I can't right now."

Gwen pouted. "I'll get it out of you."

"No you won't."

Of course, Gwendolyn's interest only made Aurora more intensely and deliberately secretive. It was fun watching Gwen try to sneak a peek at the Alchemical charts in her book, the diagrams of various dark creatures, and the spell instructions for those she was learning.

Draco was similarly interested in Aurora and Potter's strange new way of interacting with each other. "He's looking at you again," he hissed during Potions, when Snape was harassing a Gryffindor instead of her. "Don't you want to know what he's up to?"

"He isn't up to anything," Aurora said brittly.

"He looks suspicious. I still think we should tell on them about that dragon."

"And I think we shouldn't," she whispered. "Or we should bide our time, at least."

Draco scowled and ground some porcupine quills. "You're no fun."

"On the contrary," Aurora told him, "I'm waiting for fun."

At the end of class, she sent Potter a significant look and dragged him into an empty classroom, much to the outrage of Weasley and Granger, who only backed down when Potter told them to. "Well?" she demanded, sitting on a desk while he stood. She was looking down at him, expectant.

"We don't know anything more," Potter said.

"Oh, really?"

"Really, Black. I don't know."

"And Granger?" she asked. If any of them had figured out what lay between the dog and the stone, it would be Hermione Granger.

"None of us know. But Ron and Hermione are starting to get suspicious about what's going on."

"Yes, because you're entirely unsubtle," Aurora snapped. "Everyone's noticed you looking at me it's getting rather annoying having to come up with an explanation." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Is there really nothing you've found out?"

"No," Potter said again. "I do know what our deal is. I'll tell you, I just... Don't know."

"Well, find out then." She made a sound of frustration. It seemed if she wanted anything done, she would have to do it herself. "Go, Potter." He gave her a searching look. "What?" Aurora snapped.

"Nothing. I just don't get why you want the stone."

"I don't want it," she said. "I've already given you my explanation. Now go, Potter. And at least try to be subtle."

Armed with a violin and her wand, Aurora planned to make her first attempt past the Kerberos on Sunday evening after dinner, when most students would return to their common rooms and the professors were generally on a lower alert. With Gwen sworn to silence and ready to plead ignorance, Aurora headed out of the dungeons and used a secret passage she'd uncovered earlier to sneak to the third floor corridor unseen. She couldn't hear anyone, but she waited a few minutes anyway before she stepped out and hurried silently along the corridor to the door from before.

She let herself in and locked the door behind her, just in case. The Kerberos snarled and growled at her, but she had noticed it was chained — likely so it didn't escape, though she wasn't sure how it had gotten in in the first place — and remained just out of its reach. Its teeth snapped inches from her shoulder but didn't touch her as she raised her violin to under her chin and began to play. It took only a few seconds for all three heads to droop and for gentle snores to fill the room. Grinning, but continuing to play, Aurora made her way to the trapdoor and kicked it open. Sure enough, there was what looked like a tangle of plants underneath her. She beamed, and jumped down, keeping a very tight grin on her violin and bow.

It seemed like she was falling forever. Then her legs were grabbed by some tendrils, tugging her down. She stopped herself from screaming as she landed roughly in amidst the plant's thick, black stems. They crept over her and the violin, and Aurora cursed as she quickly used a reduction spell on it, stowing it in her pocket and buttoning it tightly. The plant was still creeping around her, tightening around her shoulders and legs. She was starting to panic, her pulse racing furiously.

Think, think, think. It seemed to be trapping her, ensnaring her — snare. Of course! Professor Sprout had already taught them about Devil's Snare, and they hated light. "Lumos!" she cried, sending up a great beam of golden light into the ceiling.

It had exactly the desired effect. The Devil's Snare seemed to recoil, unwind from around her, and she slipped down to land on the floor beneath. That was two down, Merlin knew how many to go.

In front of her was a door. It seemed like the only logical way to go. Bracing herself for an attack, Aurora eased it open and was confronted by what she thought at first were birds. But when Aurora looked closer, she realised they weren't birds, but levitating keys with wings. Clearly they had been charmed. This was Flitwick's work then. On the other side of this long room was a very old looking door.

At first she thought she might have to stop the keys from flying, but then she spotted the broomstick by the door. She hurried over to it, shielding herself from the wings with her arms, and paused as she grabbed the handle. "Alohomora." The door didn't budge, but it was worth a try. Keeping someone stranded in a room with attacking keys would be a good idea so long as there was another way out for those who knew it. But no, she did have to catch the key. But which one? There were hundreds.

It would have to be iron, she thought, examining the lock. Probably old, and either very simple in design or very elaborate. And if she couldn't find the right one, then she would have to keep trying until she eliminated all other options.

Taking a deep breath, Aurora mounted her broom and took off. This was an awful lot of work to study an old stone, and she tried to imagine Draco and Pansy's reactions if they knew what she was doing. They'd laugh, but to her this was so much more than an old stone. This was a chance to know, and learn, and make a name for herself, even if it took ages. It was far too big an opportunity for herself.

She didn't know how long it took before she managed to grab the correct key, because she tried dozens of them. Some had hit her, and she knew her arm would hurt in the morning, but now she knew the correct key and she memorised its shape, form and colour. Removing the stone would get her in far too much trouble, so she would have to return again. Now she knew what she was facing, though, it wasn't too bad.

She slipped through the door and was confronted by a massive chess board. Aurora blinked in surprise, assessing the situation. She chanced trying to cross the room, but the chess pieces immediately turned on her. She'd have to play, then. Aurora knew she was good at chess, but if this had been set by a professor then she thought it would be enchanted to be excellent, and she wasn't sure she could beat a professor.

She took the place of the king. So long as she won, she was the least likely piece to have to be sacrificed. And if she lost... Well, that would just be terrible in general. Maybe she should have told someone where she was going.

Arcturus had played chess with her many times. She ought to do well here, she told herself, as she started commanding her pieces into position. The game took ages, and every time a piece swung at another she winced. This was starting to feel like a truly terrible idea, but she couldn't very well turn back now. She had to believe she could do it. "Knight to E4."

The knight on her right slid across the board, and she noticed a near fatal mistake. If her opposition moved their castle, they would be able to check her, and she didn't know what else she could move to put between herself and it. She swore under her breath as the castle moved, and her heart picked up. She really didn't want to get murdered by an enchanted chess piece. Looking around, she tried to see who could get her out of this position. If she went left she would be in the line of a bishop, and the same if she went right. But she had to have a piece. Her eyes latched onto her queen. No. But it was the only way.

Losing her queen would put her at a great disadvantage, but it didn't mean a straight up loss. And it was her only a chance. She ordered the queen to move in front of her and it did so obligingly. The castle slid to knock the queen out of place; dust clouded over Aurora, and she coughed, moving forward to blast the castle to pieces and take its place.

She had to be smarter now. She was at a severe disadvantage. She wasn't totally sure how she managed it, but she managed to juggle a dwindling supply of pawns and get one across to the other side, replacing her queen, which came easily to her side. And then, three moves later, she had a castle and a bishop in a good enough position that she could slide the queen along between them. She smirked. "Checkmate."

Her queen took the king and smashed it apart. Aurora grinned, head held high, as she swanned across the room and into the next, only to have her head almost taken off her shoulders. She leapt back, slamming the heavy door. She knew that smell. That was a troll.

Great. She hadn't fought it on Halloween like Potter and his friends had, but they'd managed to fend it off, and she liked to think she was a better witch than them. So she braved herself and shoved the door open again, ignoring the troll stench, and made a run to the other side.

The troll didn't like that, which she'd counted on. She ducked when it swung its club and grabbed on tightly. The troll paused momentarily to stare at this strange little human thing at the end of its club, and that was all the time she needed. "Confundus," she whispered. It wasn't particularly strong given her age and the size of the troll, but it was enough to let her run along the length of its club and arm, withdrawing a small vial of a smoky grey potion from her pocket. A Draught of Living Death. It wouldn't last long like it would on a human, but it would keep the troll knocked out long enough for her to get away. It was just starting to come back to itself when she tipped the vial down its throat.

For a second nothing happened. Then the troll shuddered and collapsed in a heap on the floor. Aurora almost fell over as it did so, just managing to keep herself upright and dash to the next door.

This room was strange. Nothing stood there but a long wooden table with a collection of potions on it, in a variety of sizes and shapes. When she stepped into the room proper, fires sprang up along either wall, sealing her in. Well, that stopped any chances of her going back now, not that she had been going to.

On the table was a roll of parchment with a riddle on it. Aurora grinned. She was rather good at riddles, she thought. Better than most witches, anyway. It didn't take her long to figure out, and she took the small, middle potion. She really hoped it wasn't poison, but when she sniffed it, it didn't smell like one. Nervously, she raised the bottle to her lips and drank it. It burned the back of her throat as it went down like whisky, and then it cleared and cooled. She walked forwards towards the flames and while she could feel them, they didn't burn. That was a success.

The next thing she knew, she was in a high-ceilinged, round room. There was nothing like the stone in there, that she could see, but her eyes fell on the mirror from Christmas. Her heart fell. What was it doing here?

As it was the only thing about, she made an instinctive move towards it, but paused. She didn't want to see what the mirror had shown her last time. She didn't want to admit that it might be right. She didn't want to see her father — her stupid reckless Blood Traitor Death Eater foolish boy father.

Maybe the mirror would show her the stone. That was what she was there for after all, it was what she wanted. There was doubt heavy in her stomach as she advanced to stand in front of the mirror.

All she saw was herself holding the stone in her hands, but it wasn't there in real life. Shadowy figures moved behind her, too indistinct and smoky for her to really make out, and she moved closer to the mirror, pressing her hands against the cold glass. "Please," she said quietly.

The image in the mirror didn't do much as move. "Come on," she muttered, "you stupid thing."

Maybe she had to get through the mirror, but how? She didn't know any spells to get through solid glass, though she really should have thought of that. "I want the stone," she said to the mirror, which did not respond at all.

She shoved at the mirror, and earned only a sore shoulder for her troubles. "Excuse me!" She kicked it, and though there was a very small crack at the bottom of the glass, nothing else happened. Aurora reached her hands out as though to cup the stone's fake reflection, but met only cold and solid glass.

She huffed, and sat down. At least she could see it, even if she couldnt hold it in her hands. It was beautiful. Even in the mirror she could see gentle golden light shifting like waves over the ruby red of the stone. There wasn't much she could analyse or do with only an image, but she did write down a detailed description and draw some diagrams, looking at the cut of the stone and the way its centre seemed to pulse. That was interesting. What was causing it to do that? Was it merely a trick of the light? It was still a mirror, Aurora reminded herself. Mirror images were always somewhat distorted.

There wasn't very much more that she could get out of an image in a mirror. Aurora tried again to take the stone out, but nothing worked, so she packed up her things and made to leave — except there was no door.

"Shit." Granny Walburga would have taken her tongue out for that; Arcturus would have told her off in a way that made her too disappointed in herself to never say it again; Aunt Lucretia would have scolded her within an inch of her life.

There was no door. She was an absolute idiot. Of course there was no door. What kind of person would put that many enchantments on the journey to get to somewhere and then put a door in the room anyway? She was an idiot. An actual idiot. She was going to die in this stupid room. She really should have told Gwen where she was going — or someone anyway.

Oh, Merlin, she was an idiot. What would Aunt Lucretia have said? She would absolutely have said that Aurora was an idiot, and she would have been absolutely right.

"Okay," Aurora told herself, resisting the urge to punch the stupid mirror. "Think." There had to be a way out, because Dumbledore would have had to come down here at some point, too. Except Dumbledore probably had a lot of different ways of getting around. Oh Merlin, she really was never going to get out of here.

She looked back in the mirror with a glare, and then recoiled in shock as the image changed. There was now a door behind her. "Excuse me?" She turned around sharply and saw nothing there. Well done, mirror, she thought bitterly. Bloody prick. She looked back at it and then behind her where the door was meant to be and huffed loudly. It wasn't like she had anything to lose.

She strode over to the stone wall, glared at it, and grabbed where she thought the door handle would be. It sprung open, much to her shock, and she broke into a relieved grin. She looked back at the mirror, which twinkled in the light mischievously. "Stupid mirror," she muttered, slamming the door behind her and running back to the dungeons. She'd have to come up with something else to trick the mirror if she wanted to get the stone itself, but that was a matter for another day. Right now she just wanted to get back without anyone noticing her.

"You're back," Gwendolyn said relievedly when she entered their room. "Thank God, I was worried, I was almost going to talk to Parkinson!"

"Well I'm glad you didn't," Aurora said, flopping down onto her bed. Stella yowled and leapt away to sit with Gwendolyn. "Traitor." She tugged her boots off. "Ugh, that was a total waste of time!"

"Oh no," Gwen said with a sympathetic smile. "What was it?"

She debated telling Gwendolyn for a minute, but she didn't. "Doesn't matter. I got out alright and no one even noticed." She smiled proudly.

"I can't believe you," Gwen muttered, shaking her head.

"Yeah you can," Aurora said, and grinned. "I'll tell you eventually. Promise."