Despite her fears over what she had seen in the forest, Aurora was undeterred from her two current goals: the first, to excel in her exams, and the second, to return to the mirror. She still didn't know if she'd quite be able to get the stone, but her diagrams and what little work she'd managed to get out of the image had been helpful, and armed with new research, she thought she might as well try again before the end of term.

Every night in the common room she pored over her notes, to the point that Pansy declared her as ridiculous. "You don't see Millie and I staying up till midnight working," she said. "You're doing far more than necessary, Aurora, honestly. Nobody cares about first year marks."

"I care," she said. "And besides, I happen to be enjoying myself."

Pansy looked horrified by the thought, which Aurora was quite amused by. Draco, on the other hand, had only started scraping his notes together the week before exams and was in a state of panic, all but begging Aurora for her History notes. "It isn't my fault you use that class to complain about Potter and sleep instead of studying goblins," she said primly, but eventually relented and gave him some of her rougher notes. "You had better take care of those."

Her exams had gone very well, in her opinion, and though she knew she would never be able to gain a wholly accurate image of her own abilities, she liked to think she'd received mostly Outstandings. At any rate, she would do better than Gwen, who came out of Transfiguration looking like she'd been sick. "It was terrible," she muttered. "It turned into an iguana! How did it turn into an iguana?"

Aurora just laughed, assuring Gwen that she'd done better than she thought, while Robin Oliphant caught up to them chattering about how elegant McGonagall had said his music box was. "It wasn't meant to be a music box," Aurora informed him. "It was a snuffbox."

"Yes, well." Oliphant flushed. "It made a very nice tune."

Nevertheless, Aurora was glad when she completed her final History of Magic exam. Sighs of relief were audible throughout the classroom, and it felt wonderful to be able to run down to the lake with her friends and sip her toes into the cool water while the sun beat on their heads. She was going to do it tonight, she decided, watching as Daphne splashed Pansy with water and caused her to shriek worse than a banshee. It would be the perfect time, when she was still riding her high from how well the exams had gone and had plenty of time to work over the next week if she wanted. Plus, it would take her mind off of worrying about the results, which weren't due to come out until the end of next week.

Gwen was once again sworn to secrecy and pleading ignorance. "But if you get yourself killed," she warned, late at night, as the common room was empty, "I will be furious."

Aurora grinned on her way out the door. "Take it out with my ghost then!"

Now she knew what she was doing, Aurora felt this would be a much quicker task. She kept her violin with her, and had made sure to perfect both lumos and incendio for the Devil's Snare. She knew what key to use for the door, which was useful, as well as the potion to use — provided it didn't change, which wouldn't entirely surprise her — and how to get past the troll. The only issue was chess. She didn't know if she could pull off another win in a row, but she had to try, at least.

The castle was quiet and dark as she made her way upwards, pausing at every sound. For whatever reason, tonight felt a lot eerier than the last time she'd tried to find the stone. It felt like something was watching her. Aurora refused to look though. Giving in to her fear would only make it worse.

At one time she was sure she heard the sliding of a cloak over stones, and muffled whispering, but she had to have imagined it. She was frozen against the wall for a good five minutes, though, and only set off again when she was sure she was alone.

Someone had already been there. A harp lay discarded on the floor, and she could see that whoever had come down last hadn't closed the trapdoor correctly. Her immediate thought was Potter; anyone else would have had enough of a brain to lock or at least close the door behind them. For a second she considered turning back. If Potter was there he was bound to get her into trouble, but why was he there in the first place? Was he trying to steal it for a bit more fame and gold? She wanted to believe it, but she wasn't sure he would. Did he still think Snape was after it? But Aurora had seen the light still on in his office when she'd passed. He wasn't here.

The Kerberos growled and she hurried back, playing the violin gently. At least whoever had been here before had done a bit of the work for her. All three giant heads drooped, and as Aurora hurried to the trapdoor, she reduced her violin, stuffed it in her pocket and leapt down, dragging the door shut behind her.

She tumbled into the Devil's Snare and got past it easily, now she was better prepared. This place was eerier than she remembered. She glanced around, but nothing lurked in the shadows and she knew that. Still, she kept herself very quiet, and held her wand tightly, as she crept towards the door — she could hear wings beating inside — and slowly pulled it open.

The wings stopped. Aurora gaped at the three children in front of her: Potter, Weasley and Granger all stared back at her with wide eyes. Potter had his hand around a broom, like he was about to take flight. "What is she doing here?" Weasley blustered, staring.

"What am I doing here?" She laughed in a high and dismissive voice. "What are you doing here? I'd have thought you two would have had enough sneaking about this place."

"You're working with him!" Weasley accused, and Aurora stared, quite taken aback.

"With who, Weasley?" The three Gryffindors exchanged nervous looks. Aurora tapped her foot impatiently. "If you're just going to stand there gawping, I'll get the key myself. You can enjoy being locked in."

"Snape's already through," Potter said quietly to Granger and Weasley. "He got here before us. She can't be working with him."

"Well done," Aurora said, and though she kept her tone bored, she gave Potter a grateful smile. It seemed to surprise him. "I'm not working with anyone, as I've already explained to you, Potter." She narrowed her eyes. "Why are you here?"

"We—" Granger started nervously. She could tell the three of them were debating silently, trying to decide how much to tell Aurora. Her frustration grew again.

"Let me guess," she said, glancing between them, "you're going to stop Snape from stealing the stone and save the day, becoming everyone's favourite first year again? The pride of Gryffindor?" She sneered.

"No," Potter said, looking frustrated with her. She smirked in satisfaction. "We — we are going to stop Snape, but it's because — we have to!"

She shook her head. "You don't have to do anything, Potter. Are you going to give me that broom?"

Potter blinked in surprise and clutched the broom tighter. "No. I can catch the key myself."

"Oh, yes, I know that. Youngest Seeker in a century. But you don't know what you're looking for. I do."

She let that sink in. Granger looked furious. "You've been here before?"

"Obviously," she said slowly, smirking. She held her hand out for the broom Potter was holding. "I'm surprised it took you so long to find your way."

Potter looked very caught on what to do about the broom. Aurora could tell he was deliberating whether or not he could trust her, or if she'd even help them. "Don't give it to her, Harry!" Weasley said, looking pale.

"And what will you do if you don't?" Aurora asked, eyes cutting to him sharply. He gulped. "If you get the key, after ages, and try to leave me in here, I'll just get it again. If you don't do anything and stay here, then you'll lose your precious stone." She tried to act like the thought of losing the stone didn't scare her too. "And if you give it to me? I will let you through. If you promise not to stop me when we get to the stone."

"And what are you going to do with it, eh? Why would we let you near it?"

"I'm not going to doing anything but study it," Aurora said as evenly as she could.

"Study it?"

"Yes. Foreign as that idea might be to you, Potter—"

"Alright!" Granger said loudly. She looked nervous, glancing at the door behind them. "Give her the broom, Harry."

"Hermione!" Weasley cried, rounding on her. "Are you mad?"

"Just — just give it to her! The longer we wait, the closer You-Know-Who gets to the stone!"

Aurora stared at her, momentarily blindside. The thought struck her. "What do you mean, You-Know-Who?"

Granger clasped her hands to her mouth. "Oh, I shouldn't have said—"

"He's after it? That — you agree, you know it, too! That thing in the forest was him!" Though they didn't say anything, Aurora's theory had been silently validated. The Dark Lord, by whatever twisted miracle, hadn't died as everyone thought. And he was searching again for eternal life. She felt ever so slightly sick, but it wasn't going to stop her from getting the stone. It was better in her hands than the Dark Lord's, after all. "Give me the broom," she said quickly. Potter hesitated. "Give me the broom and I promise, I won't let him hurt you and I won't let him get the stone. Alright?"

Granger and Weasley still looked doubtful, but Aurora met Potter's eyes fiercely, and he slowly handed the broom over. She snatched it from his hand and a second later had pushed off from the ground. Her eyes caught the key from earlier with ease, and she almost forgot all about the three Gryffindors beneath her as she soared the air and snatched the struggling key out of the air before diving straight back down to the ground, grinning. Potter raised his eyebrows but said nothing as Aurora plunged the key into the lock and turned. The door creaked open and Aurora darted inside, the others at her back.

"It's a chessboard!"

"Well done, Weasley."

"Do we have to play?" Potter asked, looking shocked.

"Well, obviously, yes, that's why it's here."

Potter scowled at her and Granger tightened her jaw, but Weasley looked almost excited at the chess board. "This is brilliant," he said. "I can do this."

"Can you?" Aurora asked incredulously. She'd much rather do it herself, rather than relying on Weasley to get it right.

"Ron's great at wizard's chess actually," Potter told her sharply, and she held her hands up.

"I didn't know. I don't know if we all have to play or not — I was on my own last time, of course."

The other seemed dampened by that reminder. "I'll take a Knight," Weasley said at last. "Harry, you're a room and Hermione a bishop. Black — Aurora—" He fumbled.

"I'll be king," she said, marching to take the most protected piece.

"Are you sure?" Granger asked. "If we lose—"

"Don't you have faith in Weasley, Granger?" She rose her eyebrows and Granger shook her head.

"You're right. I do trust Ron. Take the king."

Smiling, Aurora did so. A large part of her wanted to control this herself, terrified that Weasley would make a bad move and mess it up for them, but as it turned out, he was actually good. She wouldn't say he was better than her — they did debate a few of the more risky moves — but ultimately they won without any personal casualties and were free to hurry to the next room.

"Wait behind me," Aurora instructed. "There's a troll in there. I'll get in and poison it."

"Poison it?" Weasley squeaked.

"Yes, Weasley, that is what I said. I just have to get myself close enough to its mouth."

"But where did you get poison?" Granger asked, sounding aghast. "I doubt that's legal to bring into the school."

Aurora laughed. "I didn't bring it into the school, Granger. There's a room on the seventh floor that can be anything you need it to be, I brewed it in there. Now do as I say. Don't rush in unless I die. Then I can't suffer the consequences of you lot going the same way."

On that cheerful note, she opened the door and prepared herself for a blast of aggression and smell, but all she got was the smell. The troll was already knocked out on the floor, drooling. "Well," she said, blinking. "It seems our job's already been done for us. Jolly good, now I can keep this poison for someone else."

Granger looked like she was about to faint. Smirking, Aurora grabbed Potter and dragged him along with her; the others had no choice but to follow. "We're almost there," she said, walking into the room with the Potions. It had the exact same layout as last time, but that didn't mean the riddle was the same.

At once when they entered, fire sprung up on either side of the room. Weasley looked terrified. "It won't hurt you," Aurora snapped. "You just need the right potion. Granger, you can help me with this one."

"I — I can?" Granger looked shocked by the offer.

"You do seem to have some common sense, which is more than I can say for your friends."

"Oi!" Weasley protested.

"Come on."

The riddle was the same as last time, and so it wasn't difficult. "Well," she said, not knowing what to do now they were all here. "I presume that potion will take you back out somewhere. This one will take me forward to the stone."

"What?" Potter spluttered angrily. "You said you'd take us to the stone!"

"I said I'd make sure you weren't hurt and that You-Know-Who wouldn't get the stone. He won't, but I might."

"You tricked us!"

"Well done, Granger." She smirked, clapping slowly, enjoying the look on their faces. "I tricked you."

Someone grabbed her hand. Potter wrenched the potion out of her grip, met her eyes, and downed it in one go. She stared at him, heart pounding. No. He did not just do that. "Harry Potter," she said lowly, fuming. "Did you really just do what I think you did?"

He looked shocked by himself, but nodded determinedly. "I'm saving the stone," he said. "That's why I'm here. I don't care what you're up to, Black, but I'm not letting — letting him come back. And if you're working with him-"

"I'm not," she spat. "You-Know-Who killed my mother." Potter blinked. Clearly he hadn't known that. "I only want to see the stone for my own ends."

But she couldn't now. She could come back another time but she was sure Potter would tell someone and it would be moved. He'd ruined everything, and it took all of her self control not to lunge for him right then and there. She was more dignified than that, after all. So she said evenly, "Go on then. See how you fare against Snape. If you're so determined to stop him."

"I will," Potter said defiantly. Granger and Weasley were holding the last bottle, and split it between them as Aurora watched in outrage. They were going to leave her there. They'd tricked her too. Fury prickled under her skin.

"Oh, I really do hate you three."

They all bolted, Potter through to the next chamber and his friends back wherever the fire brought them out. She was left alone, silently fuming. She wanted to hit something, burn this stupid chamber to the ground. Stupid Potter and his stupid friends — they'd double crossed her, she realised. How could she have let them? Aurora paced a few moments before steadying her breath. She wasn't going to starve and die down here; she had enough faith that Potter, if he survived, wouldn't let that happen. He was too good for that, the precious golden boy who lived. Merlin, she hated him. At that moment she hated him more than she had hated anyone in her life, and was sure that she could never stop hating him.

She made herself calm down slowly. The potions had refilled for them, after all. Perhaps she only had to wait. It was maybe ten minutes before they refilled, the riddle the same as always. Aurora immediately selected the correct bottle and downed it, anger crossing through her. She forced herself to push that aside; she could deal with Potter later when she wouldn't be such a suspect. Right now she just wanted to see the stone and get what she came for. Of course, there might be the old issue of the Dark Lord trying to murder her — but, she thought with a shock of panic that surprised her, maybe he was trying to do the same to Potter. Maybe he already had.

Much as she hated the stupid prat, she didn't want him to die. She walked briskly into the flames and was consumed, coming out the other end. What she saw made her scream.

Professor Quirrel was turned around, his turban unwound; and on the other side of his face was a pale, horrid creature with red eyes, slits for a nose, and a cold smile. She knew him at once. Terror and pain coursed through her, as the thing's eyes lit up.

That was You-Know-Who. The Dark Lord. Voldemort. The man who murdered her mother and whom her father and uncle had served until their incarceration and death. The man who had tried to kill Potter, who currently looked terrified. Aurora was, too, she realised, her heart hammering. "And who is this? One of your little noble friends?"

Aurora could do nothing except shake her head, speechless. Potter didn't say anything at all, either. "Oh, I know you, don't I?" He sneered. "Little Aurora Black. Look at you, all grown up. How proud your family must be."

Her hand flew to her wand. He laughed, a cold, high laugh that made all the hairs on her neck stand up. "Don't talk about my family," she said in a low, dangerous voice. Voldemort only laughed at it.

"Curious that the two of you should be friends. Or perhaps..." A cold smile came over his face. "Enemies. Do you know your family's history, Aurora?"

She stepped forward, pulling a white looking Potter behind him. "I do." She raised her wand, though her hand was shaking, and Voldemort knew it.

"What brings you to this stone, hmm? Power? Gold? Life? I could give you it all." There was something falsely warm in his voice, something that was trying to draw Aurora in. But she knew her own reasons for wanting the stone. "Your uncle was one of my most loyal, you know. He served me so well. The Blacks are pure of blood and noble of name." He held out a hand that was Quirrel's, but not. "You would do well with me. I hear you are an orphan now. Join me."

She just stared at him. This couldn't be real. He was not asking her to join him. "Aurora," Potter said, and she startled at the sound of her name in his mouth. "Don't."

She looked back at Voldemort, the grotesque and desperate creature on the back of her teacher's head. "You killed my mother," she said quietly.

"War is death, my child."

She shook her head, panting. "Why would you think I would want to join you?"

"Because I can offer you what no one else could. I could offer you power. A new way in the world. Everyone would know Aurora, not only for her father, but for her." She hated the way he knew what she wanted. She hated even more that, for a fleeting second, she contemplated it. But she could never trick him to letting her free. She knew that; she wasn't arrogant. Blacks didn't serve anyone. It was a lesson both her father and uncle had forgotten, and one that she refused to let go of. She stepped forwards though, ignoring Potter's gasp. The Dark Lord smiled. "Bow to me, my child," he told her in that low, inviting murmur. "I can give you the world."

She met his eyes. They were a red even redder than Gryffindor, redder than blood, and despite the colour, they were cold at their heart. Here was a Slytherin who rose higher than them all, gaining notoriety from every corner. Except he was not a man, not any more. She could see it in his eyes. They were cold but they were young. They had not truly seen pain and death like others had, like hers had. They'd only looked upon it and smiled.

"I am a Black," she told him. "I won't bow to anyone. Least of all you."

His red eyes flashed with anger and she took the opportunity to shove him backwards. He sprawled onto the ground and she ran for Potter, ignoring his look of alarm, and bolted to the wall where she remembered the door to be. "What are you doing?"

"Saving your life! You could at least be a bit quicker on the uptake!"

"But you — you were going to—"

"As if, Potter! Come—"

Quirrel wrenched Potter away from her and he let out an indignant cry. "You have the stone, boy! I will take it whether you want me to or not!"

"Get off of him!" Aurora cried, charging back towards them, wand out.

But Quirrel was already stumbling away from Potter, looking pained. Potter seemed in pain, too; he was clutching his forehead as if in agony. No, not just his forehead. His scar. Aurora glanced in horror between him and Quirrel, whose hands seemed to coming up in burns, the tips flaking grotesquely. "What did you do?"

"SEIZE HIM!" Voldemort's voice shouted, and Aurora and Quirrel lunged for Potter at the same time. He beat her to it, but only just.

"I can't hold him, Master!" he cried, stumbling away again as his arms started to blister. "I can't hold him!"

"Potter," Aurora hissed, closing around his armpits and trying to shove Quirrel off. "Work with me here."

He didn't seem in much of a position to do anything. She was terrified for a moment that he really was dying — oh, the idiot! She was going to kill him. Once she'd finished with Voldemort.

"Then kill him!" he was yelling, as Quirrel pressed Potter to the ground and grabbed Aurora, hurling her away. She landed roughly on the stones, head spinning, just in time to see Potter, shaking and exhausted looking, raise his hands to grab Quirrel's face as he blistered grotesquely.

Aurora stumbled to her feet and broke into a run again, trying to haul Quirrel away from Potter, when all of a sudden, boiling hot air ripples around the room. She pulled Quirrel off, flinging him to the ground and he weighed in pain. It was horrifying, and she stared at him, heart pounding. She didn't want to see that. But it was better than Potter getting himself killed. She turned to him, swallowing her terror, and hauled him up to a sitting position. He only lolled pathetically, head on his shoulder like nothing more than a rag doll.

Terror seized her around the throat. He was going to die. No. No, no, no. He couldn't die! "Help!" she found herself screaming as she clutched him tightly, trying to drag him along as she stumbled to her feet. "Someone, help!"

"Miss Black."

She turned around sharply at the sound of Dumbledore's voice, quite aghast. "Professor," she panted. "Please, he — he's hurt, I don't know what — he was going to kill him, Professor! Quirrel — You-Know-Who — he was going to kill P-Potter! I think — I think—"

"He is not dead," Dumbledore said, stalking over. He held Potter up better than Aurora could have, and he held her too. "Do you know your way out of this room, Miss Black?" When he looked at her with that twinkle in his eye, she knew he knew. Part of her hated him for it, but that wasn't the issue here.

"But Potter—"

"You will take him to the Hospital Wing for me, where you will tell Madam Pomfrey what has happened and await my return."

"But he — can't you—"

"Miss Black." His eyes lost their twinkle. "Do as you are told."

That was one thing she was good at. Aurora nodded, and though it took all of her strength, she managed to haul Potter upstairs all the way to the Hospital Wing. At one point she thought he might have come into consciousness, only to drop back and leave her to carry him. When at last she reached the Hospital Wing after what felt like far too long a while for something so urgent, she thought she was going to be sick from the exertion.

She burst through the doors, panting. "Madam Pomfrey! Madam Pomfrey! Quickly!"

The elderly nurse hurried from her office, looking alarmed. "What is it? What's happened?"

"Potter — Potter — Quirrel is — is You-Know-Who and he was t-trying to get the Philosopher's Stone!" Pomfrey paled. "Potter was t-trying to stop him, but he — Quirrel — You-Know-Who — he tried to kill him and Potter—"

Madam Pomfrey took him from her with ease and hurried him over to a bed. "Does the Headmaster know?" Aurora nodded numbly, staring at Potter. He looked very young like this, asleep and in a coma and not — no, just barely — breathing. Madam Pomfrey hurried around, taking various potions and ointments and casting various spells, and all Aurora could do was sit on a stool. She'd seen people die before. She knew death, and she saw him now, lurking at Potter's bedside. Surely not. Not now. She pleaded with Death silently, but he didn't look at her. Instead he was staring at Potter, not in a predatory way, but as though confused. He reached out a hand but didn't touch him. Aurora thought he couldn't. But that was stupid. He was the Boy-Who-Lived but he wasn't the Boy-Who-Couldn't-Die. It just wasn't his time, because it couldn't be. He was only a boy, after all.

"Miss Black." Dumbledore broke her thoughts and she turned, gasping. "I believe there are some details we need to discuss."

"He'll be okay," she said quickly. "Potter. He — he will, won't he? He won't die."

"No, Miss Black," Dumbledore said, eyes almost gentle. "Mr Potter will be right as rain in a few days with Madam Pomfrey's care." She gulped and nodded.

"Good. I... It really didn't look..." She lost her words, but Dumbledore nodded like he understood.

"I'm afraid Mr Weasley and Miss Granger only gave me part of the tale. I am very interested in how you came to be with them. Poppy?" Madam Pomfrey glanced up. "Might I use your office for a moment? I trust you have Potter in hand."

Pomfrey nodded tightly and Aurora found herself being led away. When she glanced at Potter, she saw Death smile mockingly at her, and when she stared back he melted into smoke. By the time she reached the office, it was as though he had never been there at all.