As had been the case last year, Hogwarts was a lot more peaceful over the Christmas holidays, when most of the students were at home. Potter and his friends were there, but at least this year Aurora didn't have to sit alone at mealtimes - Draco was staying, and it seemed he had persuaded Crabbe and Goyle to stay, too. She didn't stick with them very much during the day, preferring the company of the library books. Granger seemed to have taken the same approach, reading there on her own when the boys were off in the grounds. Once or twice the two girls caught each others' eyes, but neither made an effort to talk.

Aurora had stumbled across the Astrology section, something which she had never had much of an interest in, but she found it was fascinating in its own way. She didn't quite understand how the stars affected the path of witches and wizards, and she thought the book she was reading could benefit from a more solid theoretical explanation of this, but that didn't stop it from being interesting. Centaurs, like the ones who lived in the Forbidden Forest, had a strong understanding of stellar and planetary movements, but they didn't like to share their knowledge with humans, who they thought would never understand it. She personally thought that the centaurs' attitude was a large part of why humans didn't understand, not that she would ever dare say that to a centaur's face.

On Christmas Day, Aurora woke to a stack of presents at the foot of her bed. Gwendolyn had sent her a collection of books by the Charles Dickens she kept mentioning, Pansy had sent a pink silk nightgown which was not quite Aurora's style but still gorgeous, Daphne had sent her a lovely pair of emerald earrings, Lucille a hamper of biscuits, Millicent a large box of Honeydukes chocolates, and Draco gave her a book about the Slytherin Quidditch Team throughout the last two centuries. The Tonkses had also sent her gifts: Dora a box of wet-start fireworks that Aurora was not going to use anywhere near Snape, along with a Zonko's hair colour changer, and from Andromeda and Ted a soft grey tartan scarf and a set of cornflower blue robes. It was more than she'd truly expected, and the fact that Dora had remembered her mention of wanting to dye her hair in the Summer, and that Andromeda and Ted had remembered her favourite colour... It was touching.

"Thanks for your present," Aurora told Draco quietly when they reunited at Christmas lunch.

"Mother said a book wasn't appropriate, but I thought you'd like it more than perfume, and I imagined Pansy or Daphne would have gotten you something like that." Draco shrugged with a small smile. "I'm glad you like it."

The day was cheerful enough, though Draco and the boys did insist on a snowball fight when she said she was going to the library. "Stop being such a swot," Draco told her, tugging her outside.

"I'm on a team with Goyle, though," she said quickly - he had better aim than Crabbe.

"You're on," Draco said, and the four of them went quickly to rolling up the snowballs and launching them at each other across the grounds.

By the time it got to the evening feast, Aurora was starving from all the running around, though clearly not as hungry as Crabbe and Goyle, who stayed far longer than she and Draco did. It felt like they'd been waiting for ages in the common room, and though Aurora was quite content curled up reading before the fireplace, Draco was getting agitated.

"Where are those two?" Draco asked haughtily. "Probably still pigging out in the Great Hall."

"Probably," Aurora agreed, flicking through the Christmas Carol book Gwen had given her. "They'll be down soon enough."

"Hmph." Draco scowled. "What is that you're reading anyway?"

"Some Muggle book. Gwendolyn gave me it."

"Let me see here," Draco said, grinning as he learnt over towards her. "What sort of rubbish does it say?"

"It's quite decent, actually," Aurora told him, holding the book defensively. "There are ghosts, and they're very realistic. I think Charles Dickens might have been a wizard, or at least a Squib, and his prose is excellent."

"Well," Draco muttered, sitting back down. "I expect it still has nothing on our literature. What language is it in?"

"English, of course."

Draco sniffed. "Of course." Aurora rolled her eyes and continued reading. Let him judge this book if he wanted; she was rather enjoying it, and it had been a thoughtful gift from her friend. "Come on," he said after a few minutes, "we're going to find Crabbe and Goyle."

"We?"

"Oh, come on, Aurora! You can't spend Christmas reading!"

She huffed, but set the book down. "Fine. I'll come with you to find the boys. But I fully intend on reading when I get back."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're turning into a right swot, you know," he told her as they made their way out of the dungeons. "You might as well be Granger."

"Urgh." Aurora pulled a face at him. "Don't say that. I'm disgusted."

He laughed, and they hurried upstairs together, striding forward. "There they are," Draco said as they arrived near Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. "Who are they with? A Weasley?"

"Percy," Aurora supplied. "The one who's a Prefect."

"Oh." Draco wrinkled his nose. "I know him." He raised his voice. "Crabbe! Goyle! Where have you two been? Pigging out in the Great Hall all this time!"

Crabbe and Goyle looked rather like they'd been caught out; Crabbe, Aurora noticed, was wearing a pair of round glasses that she had never seen him wear before. "Oh, uh."

"Oh, come on, we've got something really funny to show you."

"We have?" Aurora asked, and Draco nodded sharply, before turning his eyes onto the Prefect Weasley.

"And what're you doing down here, Weasley?" Aurora rolled her eyes. Draco didn't seem to give it a rest even on Christmas.

"I am a Prefect," Prefect Weasley said stiffly. "I may go where I like. You, however..."

"Come on, Draco," Aurora said, tugging his sleeve. "Let's go back to the common room. Crabbe, Goyle?"

Draco sniffed. "Crabbe, are you wearing glasses?"

"Oh." Crabbe's eyes widened and he pulled them off too quickly. It was suspicious. "Uh, reading."

"Reading?" Aurora asked dubiously. Those looked an awful lot like Potter's glasses, come to think of it.

Draco frowned. "I didn't know you could read."

"Back to your common rooms, the four of you," Prefect Weasley told them sharply, before Draco could notice the unfamiliar guilty look on Crabbe's face.

"Come on," Aurora said, tugging him along, and the boys followed. With a look over her shoulder, she realised how stiff the pair of them looked, like they were trying to figure out how their limbs moved. They were walking like they were acting. It was very strange.

"That Peter Weasley," Draco started.

"Percy," Goyle corrected. Aurora frowned at him; he barely even knew Gwendolyn's name. Crabbe stepped unsubtly on his foot.

"Yes, whatever his name is. I've noticed him sneaking around an awful lot recently, and I know exactly what he's up to. I bet he thinks he's going to find the Heir of Slytherin single-handed." He gave a short laugh and Aurora shook her head, grinning.

"Oh, I don't know, at least he's doing something."

Draco snorted. "Yes, very uneffectively. He isn't going to find them, is he? What's the new password again?"

"Pureblood," Aurora said dully. She didn't like this one, and Gwendolyn had started a petition to Snape which had so far gained only five signatures.

"Oh, yeah," Draco said, grinning as the wall swung open and the swept inside. "I'll go and fetch it now, you'll like this. Father's just sent it to me."

Aurora sat down as Draco hurried off into the boys' dormitories. Crabbe and Goyle were both acting very odd, as though they were uncomfortable in their high backed chairs. They kept looking at each significantly, and then back at Aurora. "What?" she asked brittly, catching them at it. "Have I got something on my face?"

"No," Crabbe said quickly.

"Well then why are you looking at me like that?"

"No - nothing," Crabbe said. She narrowed her eyes at him. Something was strange here, but she didn't have the time to mention it, as Draco was hurrying back to them, smirking.

He thrust what looked like a newspaper clipping under Crabbe's nose and went back to sit by Aurora on the sofa, propping his legs up on her knees. "Get off," she muttered fondly, shoving him away with a smile.

"You're killing me, Aurora," he teased with a grin, and she aimed a light kick for his shin. "Ow!"

"That's what you get," she said breezily, grinning. She nodded to Crabbe and Goyle. "What's that?"

"From the Daily Prophet; Father sent it. Arthur Weasley's been fined fifty galleons for that flying car of his."

"Did they ever find the car?" Aurora asked, and Draco shook his head.

"No. Suspect it's gone mad and started terrorising first years."

Aurora grinned at the thought of Flora or Hestia Carrow coming face to face with a feral car, but Crabbe and Goyle remained unamused.

"What?" Draco asked them both sharply, upon realising neither had laughed. "Isn't it funny?"

"Ha-ha," Crabbe said, very unconvincing. Aurora knew him. She knew he would find it a lot funnier than that.

"That Arthur Weasley loves his Muggles doesn't he? Perhaps he should snap his wand and join them." She kept quiet, and turned to her book instead, though she still kept an eye on Crabbe and Goyle.

He spoke over her. "I'm surprised the Daily Prophet hadn't reported all of these attacks yet. I bet Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up. Father always said Dumbledore was the worst thing to happen to this school. And what's wrong with you two?"

"Stomach ache," Goyle said, grunting. He looked perfectly fine for someone with a stomach ache.

Draco scoffed. "Eaten too much at the feast again, I imagine. I expect Dumbledore's be getting the sack soon, don't you, Aurora?"

"If this keeps up," she said mildly, "then I suppose they must, though I can't think who they would replace him with." After all, who could do a better job than Dumbledore? He'd been Headmaster so long it was unimaginable that someone else could take over. "McGonagall, perhaps."

"Oh, I think she loves the Muggle borns even more than he does! Have you seen the way she congratulated Granger in class, and she never does the same for us."

"I do have to wonder how Granger did so much better than I did in that Transfiguration exam. We're equal at best."

"Exactly! It's most unjust. I don't see why she loves them so much, or any of her precious Gryffindors." He scoffed. "Saint Potter."

"Twenty points for breathing, Potter," Aurora said in an imitation of McGonagall. "Another ten for showing up, Granger! Fifty just because you're ginger, Weasley!" Draco laughed loudly. Crabbe and Goyle, she noticed, did not. Her laughter died away as she glanced between the pair of them, a nervous feeling in her stomach.

Draco didn't seem to have noticed anything amiss, but both boys had clenched their fists, and though their faces were on the surface smooth, there was some concealed anger there. What did Crabbe and Goyle have to be angry about?

"Ah, Saint Potter, always running about with that Granger girl. And people think he's Slytherin's Heir!" Aurora laughed forcedly. She caught Crabbe and Goyle staring at her and looked away immediately, feeling a great sense of unease. Something was definitely wrong here. "I wish I knew who it was," Draco said. "Then I could help him."

"You must have some idea of who's behind it," Crabbe said, leaning forward eagerly, and Aurora stared at him. He knew as much as anyone - which was, to say, nothing.

"I've told you already, Goyle, I've no idea," Draco snapped.

Goyle turned to Aurora, who looked at him assessingly. "Well, I don't know what you expect me to say, Gregory. I've already told you everything, haven't I?"

Crabbe looked pleased by this tidbit. Aurora looked at him assessingly. "I forgot," Goyle said stupidly after a moment.

Aurora raised her eyebrows. This didn't seem like Crabbe and Goyle. They both knew better than to ask her to repeat herself, and rarely spoke to her so much anyway. "And why should I tell you again? Perhaps you'll forget to keep it secret."

Draco was looking between them like he was trying to draw a line and failing to make the connection. "I just find it incredibly frustrating," he said, breaking between them. "Father won't tell me anything about the last time the chamber was opened. Of course, fifty years was before his time, but he knows all about it and you'd think he'd at least tell me. Hasn't that Andromeda you live with said anything?"

"Your Aunt Andromeda," Aurora said deliberately, much to Draco's displeasure, "either doesn't know or she wouldn't tell me anyway. I haven't mentioned it, you know that."

"Of course not." Draco scoffed. "Because her husband's a-"

"Very nice man," Aurora said tightly, looking at Draco intently.

Crabbe and Goyle looked thoroughly confused.

"But all I know is, last time, someone died. As for me, I'd like it to be Granger!"

"Draco!" Aurora said sharply. A couple of the older students looked over at her. "Now, really, she's hardly the worst of the lot." Crabbe and Goyle looked far too interested in this conversation.

"You only say that because you're a swot yourself."

"Well, personally, I'd rather no one died, don't you?" She gave him a very hard look, and Draco sighed.

"Well, yes, of course, but if it had to be anyone-"

"No wonder your father never tells you anything," Aurora said, and Draco glared at her. "You'd go tearing off trying to find the Heir yourself if you knew who it was."

"Like you did with that Philosopher's Stone."

"That was an entirely different situation, Draco, so don't try and compare it," she told him crisply.

"Hang on," Goyle said slowly. "What about the Heir?"

Both of them stared at him. It wasn't very much like Goyle to steer the conversation, especially when Draco and Aurora were arguing with each other. Usually no one dared to try and get in the middle of that. "What about him, Goyle?" Draco asked sharply.

"Well, the person who opened it last time, were they caught?"

Aurora scoffed. "Obviously, Goyle."

"They were expelled," Draco added. "Father told me. They're probably still rotting in Azkaban."

Aurora felt heat rush to her cheeks at the mention of it.

"Azkaban?" Goyle asked, sounding confused.

"Yes, Azkaban. The wizard prison?" Goyle didn't seem to catch on at all, not that Aurora wanted him to. "Where Aurora's Dad-"

"Draco!" She slapped him on the arm for that one. "Shut. Up."

"Sorry, Aurora," he muttered, and he did look somewhat abashed. "But Goyle needs all the clues he can get. If he were any slower, you'd be going backwards." He shifted in his chair. "Father told me to keep my nose down."

"As you should."

"Let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says this school needs ridding of all the Mudbloods. I'm not to get mixed up in it. He has enough on his plate what with the Ministry; you know they raided our Manor last week?" Goyle didn't look very concerned, though it seemed he was trying to appear as such.

"Yeah. They didn't find anything of course. Father's got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff, some even more than what Aurora has. But luckily we've got that secret chamber under the drawing room floor-"

"Oho!" Crabbe said suddenly.

Aurora stared at him, as did Draco and Goyle. Crabbe blushed, and as she looked at him, Aurora could have sworn his hair took on a reddish tinge. No. There weren't any Metamorphmagi in the school; Dora had said they were very rare and well documented. But his nose was lengthening too, and while Draco had looked away disinterestedly, Aurora found herself staring as both boys' face changed and melted into ones of horror. Those gits.

They jumped to their feet. "Medicine for my stomach," grunted Crabbe.

Both of them sprinted the length of the common room, practically hurling themselves into the corridor. Aurora stood up. "I'm going after them," she said quickly. The pricks. She couldn't believe this! "There's no way they'll find the Hospital Wing on their own."

She hurried out after them, sprinting up the stone dungeon passage and up the stairs into the entrance hall. Both of them were shrinking, Goyle's hair thickening and turning a darker shade, Crabbe's bursting into distinctive Weasley ginger. Aurora was glad she was a fast runner; she grabbed them both just as they were about to run up the stairs, and she hauled them back into a small alcove, glaring furiously. Having realised who was holding them, both boys - Potter and Weasley - went very pale.

"Oh," Weasley said, trying to be innocently cheerful. His acting wasn't very good. "Black. Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas? Merry Christmas? You gits, what have you done to Vincent and Greg?"

"N-nothing!"

"Don't lie! I basically saw you transform back!"

"We didn't do anything!"

Aurora stamped down on Potter's foot and he yelped. "Ouch! What'd you do that-"

"What were you doing there? Tell me, hm? Spying on us? Getting information out of Draco? Out of me?" She narrowed her eyes. "You're not as good at acting as you think you are, you know. I can see right through you. Saint Potter indeed. Impersonation is against the school rules, and seeing as neither of you are Metamorphmagi, you've definitely gone against the rules to do this." She took out her wand and pointed it at Potter. "You are to tell no one what Draco just told you. Understand?"

"And what did he tell us?" Weasley asked, voice strained. "We know one of you must be behind the attacks!"

"So that's what this is about, is it?" She looked between them in disgust. "And you targeted me, naturally? Didn't you?" She sneered. "You're pathetic, both of you. There's more chance of Potter being the Heir than there is of me. He's the Parselmouth here."

Potter paled. "That's not - I didn't!"

"I don't care, Potter." She let them both go. "I saved your hides last year, I'm not going to do it again. But I swear, if either of you repeat what just happened, anything about me or Draco, or our families... I'll make sure you're properly punished for breaking the rules this time, even if I have to do it myself."

Both boys were pale but relieved as they ran off up the stairs and out of sight. Aurora swore to herself that if she got even the faintest inkling that they'd blabbed, she'd tell Snape and Dumbledore immediately. Flying a car to school was one thing, but this would tip them over the edge into expulsion. And they deserved it, she told herself as she went bitterly back to the common room. For being stupid, interfering, slimy gits.

"What was that about?" Draco asked as she went back over to him, taking her book.

"Don't know. I lost them, but I'm sure they'll show up again at some point. I'm tired now though, I'll turn in early."

"Aurora, really?"

"I'll see you in the morning," she said firmly, and went to bed wondering who was really behind these attacks, if even Potter had no clue. She wanted to know what they'd done, too, to turn into Crabbe and Goyle. Human transfiguration was highly advanced. Even the thought of Granger managing it stretched the imagination; Potter and Weasley had no chance. Still she had to wonder.

The idea of it, too, was rather horrid. To take on someone else's identity, most likely without their knowledge, really didn't sit right with her. But wasn't that what Dora did, as a Metamorphmagus? No, she reasoned. Dora just changed her appearance, she didn't pretend to be anyone or try to manipulate their friends. She rolled over in bed, thinking. The more she thought about it, the more it bothered her. They couldn't get away with it. Even if she'd made a deal with them, she was determined that she would get some form of revenge upon them. She hadn't the faintest idea how - she didn't intend to do the same, that was for certain - but that could be a matter for another day. Today, she was happy to sleep and have a long lie in tomorrow - it was the Christmas holidays, after all.

Granger wasn't in the library on Boxing Day, nor was she at any of the meals. The next two days were the same, and Aurora came to the conclusion that she must be in the Hospital Wing. That made it a possibility that she was ill as a result of whatever means Potter and Weasley had used to transform themselves into Crabbe and Goyle - who had returned to the common room that night very bewildered, according to Draco, and without memory of anything that had happened after the feast that night. So the day before New Year's Eve, Aurora decided to feign a little stomach ache and go to Madam Pomfrey; she was already having cramps, and so convincing the nurse that she just needed a bit of pain reductor potion was enough to allow her to be let in and have a subtle nose around while Pomfrey fetched a potion.

There were curtains drawn around all the beds. Three of them she thought must be for the Petrified victims. She did not want to stumble in on them by accident, and wondered where to look. Then Granger coughed, loudly and throatily, like coughing up a hairball. She hid a smile and walked quietly to that bed, before hazarding a peek through a small gap in the curtains.

Hermione Granger... Looked like a cat. Aurora tried not to giggle as she withdrew quickly, before Granger could see her. A cat! How had she turned herself into a cat? It would be quite rare for Granger to be the one to mess up rather than Potter or Weasley, as she consistently got higher marks in Transfiguration - and everything else - than they did. Whatever method they used couldn't have been down to skill alone then, there had to have been a variable risk factor, something she wouldn't have picked up on. Something very, very minor that the boys got right and she didn't.

Aurora couldn't think further, as Madam Pomfrey handed her a small bottle of rather bland tasting potion to drink. She screwed her nose up as she did so; despite being liquid it felt rather dry and had a horrid textur which seemed terrible enough to even give it a nasty flavour. "Yes, yes, I know, Miss Black," Pomfrey said. "Have a glass of water to chase it down with. I trust you can make it to the Slytherin Common Room alright?"

"Oh, yes," she said, taking a sip. "I usually get over cramps quickly enough once I've had a potion, but they can be awful at times. I'm sure I'll be alright now - thank you awfully."

"And you're well-stocked for sanitation?"

Aurora blushed bright red. "Yep, I am! Thanks again, Madam Pomfrey!" She scurried out of the Hospital Wing, desperate to avoid a conversation of that nature going any further than it needed to for her aims.

"Where've you been?" Draco asked when she returned.

"Hospital Wing. Sore stomach." She considered telling Draco about Granger's condition but decided against it; she wasn't quite that cruel.

"Did you get a look at Granger?"

"Pomfrey's put curtains around her bed. I'm sure she's come out something awful."

"I'd hoped she'd have been Petrified."

She glared at him. "That isn't funny, Draco. But I need your help anyway."

"Really?"

"Shut up, alright. D'you any spells for human Transfiguration that could feasibly go wrong by minor error and cause someone to turn into a cat?"

He stared at her. "What... exactly are you trying to do?"

"Nothing! Nothing, I'm just... Curious. Something I read in a book, about someone who - turned into a cat, but they didn't mean to, but it didn't say what they'd done to try and Transfigure themselves, the book was quite horrible written it didn't explain much of anything, it was rather reminiscent of Lockhart, but anyway." She took a breath. "What do you think?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. What were they trying to Transfigure themselves into in the first place?"

"Another person?"

"Another person? Well, that's really hard, isn't it? It's one thing to change yourself, like your hair or eyes, but another to change yourself into a whole person." He sat back. "That's the sort of complicated thing you'd need a potion for."

Her eyes widened. When they had broken into Snape's supply cupboard all those weeks ago - that was why, that was what they were stealing the ingredients for! A potion to turn them into someone else, that had somehow gone wrong and turned Granger into a cat. "Draco, I might never admit it again, but you're so clever."

He preened. "Thank you, Au- where are you going?"

"Library," she said quickly, already heading out of the common room.

They wanted a potion to get information out of her, and inhabit Crabbe and Goyle? Fine. She wouldn't tell. But she, for all Snape hated to admit it, was a very good brewer. Better than Granger. She could make a potion too, one just slightly poisonous enough to give someone a bad stomach or headache. And she wouldn't mess up. At least if she did, she wouldn't be the one turning into a cat.