Saturday morning was too bright and too crisp, and Aurora had been awake for far too long by the time half past nine rolled round and she decided it would be proper to head down to the Quidditch pitch. Her insides were a jumble of nerves, which was unexpected. She had nothing to be nervous about, knowing her position was secure, but still, there was something in the anticipation of change and the excitement of enacting it, and still not being certain of what this new team they were forming would end up like.

Cassius and Graham were already down on the pitch setting up when she arrived, and was greeted unceremoniously with a bundle of old uniforms and Beaters' bats.

"This is a bit excessive," she said to Graham, struggling to hold everything in her arms. "Do you mind telling me what this is for? Or saying hello — if it isn't below my captain's station."

"Morning, Aurora," Cassius said with an indulgent smile. "Our beloved captain has decided that a full clear out of the Slytherin changing rooms is in order." Taking a breath, Aurora could understand why.

"How long have these uniforms been there?"

"Longer than I've been on the team, I reckon."

"Brilliant. Why are we doing this now?"

"Because, we have to get the whole ship in order before we invite passengers aboard."

"And you're collecting materials to make a lifeboat? I don't think these uniforms are watertight."

"Just dump them over by the store cupboard. Wait!" He grabbed the bats from the top and knocked them together. "Nah, they're no good. Chuck them out. Pile by the Referee's Box."

"Grand, thanks, that's perfect, I absolutely have full use of my hands in order to do that."

"I'll do it," Cassius laughed, shaking his head. "Graeme's stress-cleaning."

"I'm not stressed!"

"You look a bit stressed."

"D'you want to be on this team or not?"

Aurora tried to keep a straight face as she said, "Yes, Captain."

Graeme looked her dead in the eye. "Thin ice, Black. Very thin ice."

"I'll take my chances. Oh, look — we've got some early birds on the hill."

Graeme straightened so quickly it was comical, whipping around to look where Aurora was pointing, as a couple of small students in green robes hurried over the grass, clutching brooms. "Brilliant. Good showing already. Alright. Perfect." He rolled back his shoulders, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Remember, we've got to intimidate them. See how tough they are."

"Are we going to throw uniforms at them?"

"Just put them away, Black!"

Snickering, Aurora hurried over to the store cupboard at the bottom of the stands, watching the students coming over the hill. Shortly behind them was Draco, at last, blond hair glinting in the sunlight, and with him, a stout figure in lurid pink.

Aurora glanced over her shoulder to see if Cassius had noticed yet, but he seemed preoccupied with a box of old photo frames. He was going to hate it if Umbridge stuck around; Graham, on the other hand, was going to have a field day. She folded the uniforms away in the half-full box that was already outside, before returning to the boys, who stood with Draco and Umbridge. When her cousin saw her coming, he waved and called out, "Thought I'd bring a bit of official support for the team today! Did you know Professor Umbridge was a Slytherin?"

"I had a feeling," Aurora said cheerfully, nodding to Umbridge. "Thank you for coming out, Professor. I'm sure it'll really help to have a bit of backup, especially since we're all so out of practice with this sort of thing."

"You're absolutely right, Black," Graham said, while Cassius made gagging motions behind their backs. "I do wish Professor Snape would show his face to Quidditch more often, but it's wonderful to have you, too. Perhaps you could sit up in the stands and give a spectator's opinion — once we get going of course, I'd also really appreciate your input on the characters of our potential new recruits."

Judging by the look on Cassius's face, a character recommendation from Umbridge was not something he would consider credible. "Of course, Mr. Montague." She gave a little giggle which grated on Aurora's ears. "I'm always happy to lend a helping hand wherever I can."

"Thank you, Professor," Graeme said smugly. "If you'll excuse us, we've got a bit of a crowd now."

He turned to greet the group of a dozen or so students forming at the edge of the pitch. Aurora followed with Cassius, while Draco hung back and chatted to Umbridge. Among the recruits were a few familiar faces. Vincent and Greg had been convinced to come out and try out for Beater, which had been Draco's idea. They definitely had the power, Aurora thought, but she wasn't sure how good they would be at keeping up with the game and strategising their hits. Felix Vaisey was there too, clutching his broom with a firm set to his eyes; beside him, Urquhart looked assured and relaxed, almost verging on cocky. There were a couple of second years, too, and a first year who Graeme had to tell to leave — he didn't even have a broom, and was so small Aurora thought he could fit through a Quidditch hoop easier than a Quaffle.

"Right," Graeme said, once they had a sizeable number and Umbridge had left to watch from the sidelines, freeing Draco up to join Aurora. "Good turnout this year, but I'll warn you. We've only three spots open. Two Beaters, one Keeper. There's not going to be any changes to that so if you're thinking of chancing your luck or showing off for something else, you may as well leave, or take your lot and put up with it. Got that?"

Nobody moved. Aurora sighed and stepped forward to whisper in Graeme's ear. "I thought you said you were considering a reserve team."

"Don't want them knowing that," he muttered in response. "It encourages complacency, or they'll get off track. Don't contradict me, Black."

She stepped away, keeping up a smile despite his dismissive tone.

"We'll run a couple laps of the pitch and then do a flight to get everyone warmed up. If you're too slow on the flight, you're cut. Black and Malfoy'll lead you, Warrington'll watch with me. If you don't know who they are, leave; you should be familiar with the team already. After warm-up, those of you who made it will try out for your specific spots. For Keeper, it'll be straight penalties. Whoever performs best, wins. Beaters, we'll do a test flight and you work in teams and I'll judge. Got it?" Everyone nodded. "Good. Put your brooms to the side and get in line to run."

There was a chorus of disgruntled muttering, as Aurora and Draco went to take a position beside each other near the goals. "Did you hear?" he asked, while Aurora watched the crowd forming behind them. "Weasley's been made Gryffindor Keeper."

"Ron Weasley?" She wrinkled her nose. "Well, he'll be easy to wind up if nothing else."

"He's the only addition, though." Draco glanced over his shoulder. "Dunno how this lot'll fare."

"Vaisey and Urquhart look decent," Aurora said. "And Vincent and Greg, I think, would make decent Beaters."

Draco snorted. "They're desperate. Good at taking instructions, though."

Aurora rolled her eyes. Graham whistled for them to start, and she and Draco led the group on a couple laps of the pitch, before heading to grab brooms. The boys watched on warily, but everything else was forgotten to Aurora as she whirled through the open sky, wind stinging against her cheeks. She had missed this, the lightness and the feeling of freedom, so high up there. For a moment, the world and the crowd behind her faded away, and she could have been alone amongst the clouds.

At the end of the final lap, in a rush of adrenaline, Aurora plummeted into a steep dive. The ground rushed up towards her, the pitch thundering green and white and brown. Behind her, she could feel Draco dipping down too, and when she glanced briefly over her shoulder, it was to see the crowd of candidates wobbling into their own dives, trying to keep up. Looking back down, Aurora urged her broom onwards, until the very last second when she thought she might crash; then, she pulled up to cruise a few feet above the ground, before settling down and turning around to watch the stragglers copying her. Across the pitch, Graham gave her a thumbs up.

Aurora folded her arms, resting her broom against her hip, and exchanged a look with her cousin. "Not too shabby. Well…" At the very back, the slowest fliers came down; a stringy second year tried to replicate Aurora's dive and fell off from four feet, landing with his face in the mud. "Charming."

"Right," Graham said, marching over with Cassius behind him, holding a clipboard which had presumably been procured from the cleaning effort of the store cupboard. "You lot, — McKinley, Aaron, Carlton, Avery, Etton, Rhys, Stebbins, sorry, but if you can't keep up with our players, I can't expect you to keep up with a game. Try again next year when I don't have to deal with you."

The seven sorry Slytherins trooped off, heads hung, the mud-caked second year muttering about how unfair it was. "Right, those of you who're left, divide yourselves up, Beaters on my right, Keepers on my left. Beaters will try out in pairs, so see you it you've got someone to work with. You'll be using light bludgers on Draco. Keepers, you'll be blocking penalties against Black and Warrington."

They splintered into their two groups, around a half dozen Keepers, and four Beaters. Vincent and Greg's opponents were a younger boy and girl, both a little on the smaller side. Aurora hoped their aim was good, else the boys would easily pull a win over them.

She watched the Beaters first, since there were fewer of them, and it was quickly apparent that Vincent and Gregory were the obvious choice, miles better than their opponents, though she did privately question the fairness of allowing them to tryout by aiming at their own friend. While Graham said the results wouldn't be announced until the next day, it was clear to everybody who the winning pair would be.

And then it was her turn. Flying and practicing with Cassius came back naturally, their rhythm propelling them through the air as they passed and took shots, daring each would-be Keepers to anticipate their moves and directions. Only Miles Bletchley managed to block them all seven times, though James Urquhart just narrowly missed his seventh. He would make a good reserve, Aurora thought; quick, agile, and still strong enough that he might make a decent Beater if need be.

She told this to Graham once they dismissed everybody else, and it was just the four of them left in a huddle on the benches. "I do think reserves are useful," she said. "Plus, if we go with Crabbe and Goyle and Bletchley, all our players are in their last three years. We need to have people trained up to continue, plus, you two will be leaving next year. Whoever fills the Chaser spots will be much better if they've already integrated into a team dynamic."

"I think so too," Draco said, and Aurora shot him a grateful smile. "Vaisey and Urquhart were decent, and so was that other fourth year lad."

"Lewis Aerie," Aurora supplied, thinking of the sturdy boy who had been only a hair behind Urquhart in the laps. "Yeah, I think he could be good too."

Graham sighed. "You know, we never had reserves before you."

"And if you hadn't had a reserve, we would have lost our opening match to Gryffindor three years running two years ago." She shrugged. "Your choice, Captain."

Cassius and Draco both nodded their agreement, and Graham glared at them all. "The Quidditch team isn't meant to be a democracy."

"We're just giving recommendations," Cassius said casually, leaning back. "I think it's a good idea, though. You don't have to be Flint to be good."

"I'm not trying to be Flint," Graham snapped. Aurora and Draco raised their eyebrows at each other. "I'm not! You'll see my decision tomorrow in the common room."

"Cheers, Captain."

"Stop taking the mick!"

Cassius snorted; Aurora pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. "I'll tell Snape you're disrespecting the team structure."

"We'd never disrespect you, Captain."

"Wouldn't even dream of it, Captain."

"Oh, piss off," Graham muttered, standing up, though there was a faint smile playing on his lips. "You can finish sorting out those old uniforms, I'm off to finalise the team list. Count yourself lucky I've already told everyone I'm not replacing any of you."

"Mhmm." Aurora tried not to catch Cassius' eye and laugh again. "Have fun, Montague!"

-*

For all he said, Graham did choose Vincent and Greg as Beaters, Miles Bletchley as Keeper, and put Felix Vaisey and James Urquhart down as their General Reserves. Vaisey was very pleased with himself and took it upon himself to tell Aurora this himself while she was sitting with Leah, who was entirely unamused by his presence.

"My father still wants me to entertain," she said once Vaisey left them, buoyant. "He infuriates me."

"He seems nice."

"He is," Leah huffed, folding her arms. "I hate it."

Aurora spent most of the rest of Sunday finishing off homework and putting together a plan of what she wanted to discuss with Dumbledore the following night. But everything was derailed on Monday morning when her copy of the Daily Prophet arrived, watched over by a smug Professor Umbridge, with the headline splayed across it: Dolores Umbridge Made Hogwarts High Inquisitor.

Aurora withheld a groan, turning to do Theodore could read over her shoulder. "Surely not."

"You're surprised? No, this was coming, but so soon… They can't have gone to the Assembly with this, it must have been the Minister's Council. Nobody said anything to me!"

"Can they do that?"

"I'm not sure." She glanced down the table towards Leah MacMillan, who so far seemed oblivious. But over at the Gryffindor Table, Harry Potter's face told a very different story. "If they can't, then I'm sure Fudge will take it upon himself to make sure they can. The constitution seems increasingly flimsy." Reading on, Aurora took in Umbridge's new role; inspecting her fellow teachers, analysing their curriculum and, if necessary, removing teachers from their roles. It was a massive overstep from the Ministry's usual policy of not interfering with Hogwarts, though not unexpected.

Lucius Malfoy had commented, too, to her chagrin, but of course he would take any opportunity to make a dig at Dumbledore. Yet there was some hope; Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden had both resigned from the Wizengamot in protest at the decision. They had sensible people out there still. All hope was not lost.

"I'd like to see Umbridge try and inspect Snape," Theodore muttered once they had finished reading.

"I don't know who I'd want to see get their head bitten off more."

But Umbridge did not appear to inspect their Potions class, nor was she in History of Magic or Arithmancy. The next time Aurora saw her was in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Outside the class, she could see Harry Potyer was already spoiling for a fight. She hadn't spoken to him yet, but Hermione had told her he was in a terrible mood and still hiding something from her and Ronald, which they were yet to work out.

He came up to Aurora while they were waiting on the door opening, for she was already stood with Hermione. "Have you seen this about her being High Inquisitor?"

"Obviously, Potter."

"It's bollocks, isn't it? She was interrogating Trelawney like mad earlier."

"I'm not surprised." Aurora cast a wary glance over to Draco and Pansy, who were watching her with the rest of their friends. "Try not to yell at her again this class, would you?"

"You heard what she said."

"I did. She was wrong, yes, but you're not going to get anywhere with the likes of Umbridge just by shouting. Just… Keep your temper."

"She just riles me up."

"I know. Believe me. But still, you need to be careful. Listen," she added as he went to pull away, "have you told my dad about any of this?"

He tensed slightly at the question. "I said I didn't like her much. That's all." She raised her eyebrows. He was a terrible liar; he spoke too fast, his eyes widened, his voice stuttered slightly and went just a tinge deeper. "I told him about detention, too, but…"

"I see." He hadn't mentioned anything to her in his last letter, but then, she wouldn't expect that he would. "Well, be careful, like I said. I want Slytherin to beat you fair and square in the Quidditch Cup and that can't happen if you keep missing practices because of detention."

"Don't remind me," he groaned, "Angelina'll kill me if I miss training."

Good on Angelina, Aurora thought. Just then, the classroom door opened, and Aurora hurried to Theodore's side so they could walk in together.

It was only a matter of time before Potter completely went back on what they had discussed, of course. And this time it was again Hermione Granger who started it. She had rather gone off the rails, Aurora felt. It was exhilarating to witness.

"I've already read Chapter Two," Hermione told Umbridge when she had had her hand in the air long enough that their Professor could no longer ignore her.

"Then read Chapter Three."

"I've already read Chapter Three. In fact, I've already read the whole book."

"Swot," Aurora heard Pansy mutter from across the aisle.

"Well, then," Umbridge said, blinking slowly in surprise, "you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counter-jinxes in Chapter Fifteen."

"He says that counter-jinxes are improperly named. He says counter-jinx is just a name people give to jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable." Umbridge raised her eyebrows, trying hard not to look impressed. "But I disagree."

Brilliant, Aurora thought, intrigued.

"You disagree?"

"Yes, I do. Mr Slinkhard doesn't like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be very useful if they're used defensively."

Fantastic statement. Umbridge's eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. "You do, do you? Well, I am afraid it is Mr Slinkhard's opinion, and not yours, which counts in this classroom."

"But—"

"That is enough," Umbridge said, now moving to the front of the room where she could preach to her whole unwanted audience. "Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor House."

Disgruntled muttering went around the room, as if anyone could be surprised by that. Really, she could do far worse. "What for?" Potter demanded, and Aurora snapped around, willing him with her stare to back down.

"For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions, Mr. Potter." Again, very obvious. There was no use fighting this, not right now, not like this. But they would never see it that way. "I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include allowing students to give their opinion on matters about which they know very little." Of course, Aurora thought, everybody knew that healthy debate was ruinous to decent education. "Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more license but none of them — with the possible exception of Professor Quirrel, who did at least seem to have restricted himself to age-appropriate material—" Such as theft and murder, Aurora thought, withholding a derisive laugh "—would have passed a Ministry inspection."

"Yeah, Quirrel was a great teacher," Potter said, ignoring Aurora's stare entirely, "there was just the minor drawback of him having Voldemort sticking out the back of his head."

Aurora had to clap a hand to her mouth to stop the shocked laughter that threatened to bubble out of her.

Umbridge did not notice, merely kept her gaze lazer-focused on Potter, as silence fell again. "I think another week's worth of detention would do you good, Mr Potter."

Aurora tried not to bang her head against the table.

-*

"You have to stop doing this," Aurora told Potter after class, having dragged him to one of the secret, soundproof alcoves listed on the Marauder's Map. "Or we have to stop her, one way or the other. This isn't helping your case."

"I don't care! No one's going to listen anyway!"

"They might if you stopped yelling."

"Umbridge is lying through her teeth, Aurora!"

"I know she is, I'm not stupid. But most of the school does not have that same certainty, and this is only making you sound bad, and — and more and more unhinged."

"You think I'm unhinged!"

"No, obviously I don't, I just think you sound unhinged in the rumours people are spreading about you."

"God, and I thought Ron…" He snapped out of it, shaking his head, before Aurora could press him. "She just gets on my nerves."

"I know she does. She gets on mine too. But we need to be more pragmatic."

Harry gave a derisive snort, turning away from her and making to shove past the heavy curtain that concealed them. As he did so, Aurora noticed a mark on the back of his hand; she tugged him back, and when she looked at it, a mess of scarring, her stomach dropped.

"What's this?"

There were words scrawled there, in Potter's own writing. I must not tell lies.

He wrenched his hand out of her grip. "Piss off, Black."

"Why is that written on your hand? Is this… Don't tell me you did that? Is — that's not her detention, is it?" Blood quills were banned but not uncommon. She had found one in Grimmauld Place that summer, in her grandfather's study. "It is? What the hell—"

"Leave it, Black."

"Have you told someone about this? McGonagall? This is… A whole other level!"

"No," he said, backing away. "It's fine, I don't need to tell her or Dumbledore or anyone else, alright?"

Aurora narrowed her eyes. "Have you told my dad?" He stayed silent. "You haven't, have you?"

"He's got enough on his plate. Besides, Hermione thinks she's intercepting the post anyway."

"Inter… Potter, you have to tell Dumbledore. We can use this, don't you see, this is illegal, and the Ministry would be going too far to try and approve such a thing! We can turn it around, use it against her!"

"It's fine!" Potter shouted at her, and Aurora flinched. "Just leave it, Black!"

"Why don't you want to tell anyone?"

"Because…" He seemed to search for words, face screwed up in frustration, and then shook himself. "It's my problem. Like you said I'm doing this to myself, mouthing off—"

"I never said it gives someone the right to torture you! Do Granger and Weasley know?"

He nodded. "Hermione gave me murtlap essence, and they both said I should tell Dumbledore, but he isn't talking to me."

"Harry, he'll want to know about this." Even though, she wasn't sure there was anything that he could — or even, would — do about it. "If you can build a case against Umbridge—"

"For what? What's it going to achieve? The Ministry runs everything anyway, they're never going to fix things! You think Fudge would hear me out?"

"I don't know, but—"

"Of course he wouldn't! You just don't understand."

"Stop interrupting me, Potter. I think I understand perfectly. You're angry at Dumbledore and the Ministry, angry at this whole situation. No one's helping you. But you're not helping yourself either, and none of this should be happening to you, but that doesn't mean that mouthing off impulsively is going to fix anything, nor is then refusing to speak up when you're being hurt!"

"You think we can just trust adults to sort it out?"

"No, but I do think that gathering evidence against someone is a better way to defeat them than simply shouting at the world and expecting it to change—"

"Well I'm sorry I don't think like you, Aurora! I can't just lie down and listen to her lie and pretend to like her and be all chummy!"

"What — what do you mean?"

"I know you spoke to her after class the other day! Didn't you?"

"How did you—"

"She told me in detention I ought to take a leaf out of your book."

"Maybe you should."

"No, thanks."

"You'd rather be tortured?"

He huffed, glaring at her. "Just leave it, Black. I'm fine."

"You don't just get to say that—"

"I'm fine!"

"Fine!" she shouted back, snapping in her annoyance. "If you say you're fine, the fine, I won't waste my time trying to help you!"

"You've done absolutely nothing helpful, but alright."

Aurora scoffed, and glared. "If you want to suffer, then suffer. I know as well as anyone there's no talking you out of something once you're set on it. But you're better off doing something about it."

"Everyone has their own problems. Ron and Hermione are too busy fighting with each other. They're winding me up, too."

"Tell my dad," Aurora said. "He'll want to know. At least tell him something isn't right. He wanted to come for the first Hogsmeade weekend, that's in a month. If you can hold out that long."

"I'll be fine."

"Sure you will," Aurora said, shaking her head. "Well, on your head be it."

He stormed out without replying, leaving a draught from the curtains in his wake.

Aurora was still stewing by the time she arrived at Dumbledore's office after dinner. She didn't want to go above Potter and tell Dumbledore, especially when he was so stubborn. And he was right; with the way things were going, there way likely not much that Dumbledore could do anyway. He would be angry, would contribute to that righteous anger, but he couldn't fix it. No one would listen to him. No, the only people who would be able to do anything with the information were the press.

"You seem preoccupied," Dumbledore told her as she sat down in his office. "Difficult day?"

"There's just a lot on my mind right now," she said. "I suppose you're the same. Umbridge and everything — but I'm here to learn."

Dumbledore smiled indulgently. "That you are. In which case, I think we should begin by going over the key elements of Alchemy. I'm sure you know already, from research, but nevertheless, it is conducive that we understand the basics on the same terms, to proceed. Alchemy is so precise, and yet, so variable. Some claim that there are only three base metals, but I prefer to understand alchemy with four. What do you think those might be?"

"Lead, iron, zinc, and nickel," Aurora said automatically. "They can all be transmutated into noble metals: silver, gold, and platinum."

Dumbledore nodded. "Now, the seven planetary aspects, three primes, and four Aristotelian aspects?"

"The seven planetary aspects are the sun, Mars, Venus, Jupiter, Mercury, Saturn, and the Moon. The three primes are salt, mercury, and sulphur, linked to the body, the spirit, and the soul, and the four Aristotelian aspects are fire, earth, air, and water."

"Good. I knew you would understand the basics already, but I have something rather exciting to show you. Here." He reached into the drawer beneath his desk and pulled out a small box made of what looked like graphite. He slid the lid off the top, revealing another layer of clear glass, then titled the box vertically, showing her a silver pendulum swinging between diagrams of the planetary aspects. The sun was in the centre, at the bottom; on its left was Mars, then Jupiter and Saturn; on the right, Venus, then Mercury and the Moon.

"This represents the transition between the seven aspects, which is at the core of Alchemical understanding. Many people underestimate the extent to which Alchemy is influenced by its twin art of Astrology. Of course in this sense it is not the planets themselves that are important, but the elements and properties that they represent, and the fluidity of those properties. Just as the stars and planets, in Astrology, are believed to influence peoples and bodies and events on earth, through the four elements which they are connected to, so can they, through Alchemy, affect physical materials.

"The key element to any transmutation is, as you should know from Transfiguration, movement, motion. You have to will the object into fluidity, propelling change through it. Each of the base and noble metals have a link to the planetary aspects; by envisioning their characteristics, we might first imbue a metal with the characteristics of a planetary aspect and begin the transmutation internally. This will allow them to change the way in which they influence those who use them, in talismans and such like. Now, the pendulum here swings at a continuous pace. But if I tap it like so with my wand… I can slow it, or quicken it. By doing so I change the gravitational pull, through magical force. Thus, I change the transformative speed."

He tapped the pendulum, and its paced increased, swinging back and forth with ferocity. Then, he twisted his wand slightly in his hand, and slowed it. For a moment, it hung, suspended in the centre, and then moved again, trembling slightly this time.

"And if I will the metal to change, and increase the speed..."

Slowly, the silver took on a duller shine, appeared heavier in the light. The pendulum slowed; Dumbledore twisted his wand to make it speed up again. "Thus," he said, "iron. And again." He replicated the progress in reverse, until the metal was a cool silver again, shimmering with a magical light around it. "This of course is not the usual alchemical process; the metal was originally iron, and I kept its transmutation state in flux, for demonstration purposes. Funny little instrument, isn't it?"

"I suppose," Aurora said slowly, frowning. "So, if it's in flux, how do you balance the characteristics of the metal? Inner transformation takes longer, doesn't it, it's a celestial process? Sort of — I mean, it's not actually reliant on the stars, but, it calls to that same power."

"The original force," Dumbledore said, "or the original spirit, if you prefer. Celestial spirit, chemical spirit... It has many names. And it can take varying lengths of time, depending on the power of the transformation and the precision required. Now." He caught the pendulum in his hand, collapsed it and whisked it away back into its box. "A higher transformative speed will increase the intensity of the properties which you are imbuing it with, calling more intensely on the celestial spirit. But slower, will make these powers more concentrated in the material."

"Got it," Aurora said, scribbling it down in her notes. "So, how do you control the transformative speed?"

"Precisely that — control. It takes a lot of will, and precision of magical power. Only the greatest care will allow you to transform your base into the most refined product, and for the distillation of spirit, which you may then draw out from the metal."

He glanced up, his gaze trailing towards the clock above the door, and then looked back down.

"Drawing out spirit," Aurora asked tentatively, "is that something that can only be done with metal, or can it work with people, too, animals? Or their remains?" Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up. "That sounds like a strange question, I know, sorry. It was phrased weirdly."

"Are you interested in Necromancy, Aurora? Because I do have to inform you, that is illegal."

It was only partly illegal, but Aurora didn't try to correct him. So long as she didn't use it to hurt anyone, it was fine. "And I frown on any of that sort of magic."

"But, it is possible. And I mean this in the sense of speaking to the dead, not doing anything to them." This did not console Dumbledore much, even though communion with the dead was entirely legal. "I just wondered."

"It is not entirely within the scope of Alchemy. Nor do I think any such thing is appropriate to attempt. But, in theory, yes. No one has been successful, as far as I am aware."

"Right." Aurora nodded solemnly, feeling slightly embarrassed by her lack of tact. "Of course. But, Death as a concept, as a being, is accessible, and is in his own way a spirit, soulless and disincorporated, but still there. And magical, which therefore is spirit, in essence?"

"His? You speak as if Death is human."

Perhaps he had been, once. Aurora hesitated in her reply too long; Dumbledore's brow furrowed. "Perhaps Death isn't merely a concept."

Dumbledore's frown deepened. His hand drifted over to the drawer of his desk. "There are legends," he said slowly, "stories... That Death holds his own tangible power, and that Death itself is tangible. But no one can know, and the veil of Death ought not to be breached."

"But in theory—"

"Whether you hurt anybody or not," Dumbledore said, not unkindly, in a tone as though he thought he were helping her, offering her some sympathy, understanding, "those who die can never come back the same way. And Alchemy is far safer. Metal never lived.

"I think that may be our time done for the evening," Dumbledore said, firmly, but not impolitely. "It is almost curfew for fifth years."

Aurora smiled. "Of course, Professor. Thank you."

As she made to put her belongings back in her bag, Dumbledore said, "I would advise you to put thoughts of raising spirits from your mind, Miss Black — if ever they were there. The dead ought not to be touched, and death can never be mastered. No matter how much we wish it to be so."