Here comes the 4th chapter of this second volume of LMA - Statim Vivus Fierem!

Before starting reading, I'd like to draw your attention about the fact that, from now on, future chapters will come every two weeks (if not three, but really exceptionally!). Indeed, they are becoming longer and longer with time (twice as long for the shortest ones!) and I'm starting a whole new job by the beginning of next month. So I will have less time and more words to translate. I hope you will understand and still enjoy the story anyway! Even if it means waiting a bit longer.

Don't worry, I don't intend to stop translating. I love translation and this story too much!

Enjoy!

4. Mister Fawley's manners.

This Thursday morning, her first day of class for this second year at Hogwarts, Kate passed it in the castle's dungeons. It maybe was the first place that didn't miss her. The sickly smells, coupled with the smothering heat originating from the multiple cauldrons inlayed in every table, had not yet finished to have her grimace. She wasn't surprised now to see that Slughorn was looking more and more like a worm in its apple, his greasy greenish pale skin gleaming under the torches' flames, the only source of light. His grimace, he expected to be good-humoured, rendered him even more repulsive.

'Welcome to your first classes of second year, dear students', he announced as he pulled on his thick suspenders, balancing forward. 'I hope you spent great holidays and you all managed to provide yourself your new schoolbook for this year, as it was notified on your purchase list...!'

In an instinctive gesture, everyone put a hand on their book, or moved it closer, without saying a word.

'Even you, Miss Simmons?' he asked as he passed by Suzanna, who already had built herself quite a reputation.

The latter gave him a tight-lipped smile as she took her book from her bag. A whisper grabbed Kate's attention.

'She may have her book today, but I'm sure she forgot her brain in her dormitory...!'

Her heart eaten by a growing anger, Kate turned around on her bench and met Morgana McNair's sharp gaze. Her silent wrath avoided her to be frozen by it. The two girls shared, in this new bond of hate, close memories, still wide open. If she had wanted to, Kate would have rushed to denounce Morgana after her attempt last year and that kind of provocation, targeting her dearest friends, was arousing this desire. A sardonic smile, emphasising her success, stretched the young Slytherin's lips, who suddenly transitioned from friend to enemy. Maggie, who noticed that her neighbour was turning her back to the desk, observed the exchange of sore looks and grabbed Kate's shoulders to force her to turn back and ignore Morgana.

'Don't pay attention to her...' she whispered. 'She didn't even have the chance to get a brain when she was born.'

They sniggered in silence, bent over their desks, while Slughorn was explaining what today's potion would be: a Swelling Solution. They all had at their disposal a cauldron and the necessary ingredients. From time to time, Kate didn't miss to check if she was doing the same gestures and techniques as Scarlett, who had been automatically indicated as the best student in Potions. But the interest Slughorn gave to her concoction let her think that he was trying a subtle approach:

'If you prepare it correctly, this potion is supposed to turn purple.' he said while she was conscientiously crushing her scurvy grass seeds in her mortar. 'Like the colour your house should be...'
'Y-yes, professor.'
'Is that it, purple? I often see you wearing that colour outside classes...'
'Perhaps, professor. I don't know...! I just... really like purple!'

Slughorn nodded while Kate, embarrassed, tried not to shake as she weighed in her hand the amount of powder she would put in her cauldron.

'And so... do you have any idea about what could have caused this unexpected opening of the house? In your blood, as you said last year.'

He was now taking it seriously...

'I did, professor...'
'I well remember your father.' he chuckled. 'But your mother... maybe she was one of my former students? I don't remember her. Perhaps you could refresh my memory, Miss Whisper...!'
'She's a Muggle.'

This assertion transfixed Slughorn and caught the attention of many close students, who were discreetly observing the exchange. Kate very well knew what her teacher was thinking right now: a former Slytherin marrying a Muggle seemed to be an aberration.

'That... These things happen! You know, some of my best students were Muggle-Borns! Like the late mother of your well famous professor, Harry Potter.'

These things happen... Like it was sort of a regrettable accident..., thought Kate.

'You see, I'd be thrilled to know your theories about Shatterfly, as you are its famous creator by proxy. What do you think? Mind sharing some words around a succulent meal?'

Kate understood very well where Slughorn was going, with his grey eyebrow raised above his insistent pig-like eye: she was now a new guest for the well famous Slug Club. He couldn't miss such a chance. She knew herself, from the moment the Hat claimed above her head, that she would be different and would draw other people's attention. However, if she seemed disturbed, she wasn't displeased, deep inside. The little teenager she was felt the need to be recognised, especially by her professors, it was natural.

'If you want, professor...!'
'No, Miss Whisper, if you want! I don't want to force you in any way!'
'Well... it would be a pleasure!'
'Perfect! I was hoping you'd say that!'

Then he went back to check the other students' preparations while Kate had a hard time processing the new. She was dragged out of her meditation by Maggie's elbow:

'Your potion is boiling over, Miss Celebrity...!'

Panicked, Kate tried to make up her mistake, in vain.

At the end of the exercise, they all had to pour a drop of their preparations on a toad assigned to each one of them. Kate's one belched a large bubble, while Maggie's one only grew one dart on his back, invisible amongst all the others. The toad that had the biggest success was Marvin Ledger's, which inflated and rose up in the air like a helium-filled balloon, until it reached the ceiling in a disturbed "RIBBIT!", under the hilarity of the other students.
When they got out of the Potions classroom to join the courtyard for a little break, second years found themselves in the middle of a crowd of students, gathered on the grass. People were pushing, messing around, trying to approach.

'What the hell is happening in the giants' world?' grumbled Moira, trying to jump in order to see anything else than uniforms.
'I don't know, I don't see anything.' deplored Scarlett, who had also rose herself on her tiptoes.

Maggie, the most enterprising of them all, tapped on the shoulder of the student in front of them, apparently a sixth or seventh year, who raised an interrogative eyebrow, surprised.

'Why is everyone gathered here?' asked Maggie.

However, the young platinum blond haired girl didn't answer and stared at Kate, standing still next to her interlocutor, before exclaiming:

'Ah, Whisper, they're looking for you!'
'M-me?' she said in a hiccup. 'Who are "they"? Professors?'

Nevertheless, she didn't let her time to react; the elder stepped aside and requested her to move forward in the crowd, rolled around like a common bag of feather. Reactions around her were going in front of her puzzled look. Some were trying to be reassuring, others mocking. Finally, she managed to get a glimpse of five wizards and witches, adults from outside the school she guessed, for they weren't wearing uniforms but beautiful coloured robes. They all were interrogating students on the fly. Some had the famous Quick-Quotes Quill, transcribing everything they were hearing.

'And so, you know her well? What kind of childhood has she had? The war, all this?' uttered a witch with long brown hair, wearing glasses and a big orange hat in front of a quite pedant looking Slytherin student.

Kate didn't listen to the answer, too disturbed by the situation. One single name was in all mouths: hers.

'She's here! She's here!'

The exclamation resounded a long time and propagated as everyone turned towards her. For a second, Kate only heard the echoes of her own heart, beating against her ribs, before she was bombarded by the journalists.

'Katelyna Whisper! So nice to meet you!'
'Would you accept to answer some of our questions?'
'A picture for the Daily Prophet?'

The flash coming out from the camera dazzled the young girl, who blinked, dizzy, in the middle of the other students' deafening racket.

'How does it feel to be at the origin of one of the Wizarding School's most important reversal in centuries?'
'Well... I...'
'Your question is completely ridiculous!' laughed one of the journalists, talking to his colleague with disdain. 'Of course she is not indifferent about it! I would have a more pertinent question for you Miss: did you choose this new house's name yourself?'
'No, of course not...! It's the Sorting Hat who's decided that...'
'Did you have the feeling that it was going to be like this, before the repartition? Did you know it was going to happen?'
'But not at all!'
'What do you think will happen to Shatterfly?'
'Did you find dormitories?'
'How can you explain the fact that two students, moreover foreigners, joined Shatterfly yesterday?'

Questions were crowding in Kate's head, overwhelmed with noise and emotions. Firstly, she looked around for support and help; a quiet plea, praying for someone to catch it. Panic took control of her body: she made a U-turn and tried to run away, tears coming up. However, the journalists didn't let go:

'Did you think about becoming prefect right from second year? For three students?'
'Do you have the intention to take actions for Shatterfly to be recognised by the Ministry of Magic?'

Shook in all directions, Kate closed her eyes, gnashed her teeth and prayed for all this to end, clenching her fists. Her legs were shaking, threatening to break under her own weight and the many looks on her. She wanted to scream, but she was scared. She wanted to cry, but she was ashamed.

'Leave her alone!'

A large arm intervened and pushed little Kate in a silhouette's shadow. And with a belligerent look, Eliot faced the five journalists, thirsty for questions, while the students fell silent on the same second. The adults observed for a moment the young man with surprise and deep contempt for this interruption. Kate shivered, entrenched behind her cousin who wasn't blinking.

'You're obstructing the media coverage, young man!' took offense the witch with the orange hat, her lips pinched. 'How dare you allow yourself to...'
'And you?! How dare you allow yourself to harass Kate in the middle of the school?!'
'You know her?' asked the oldest of the five, bending towards him, squinting.
'Kate is my cousin,' he claimed, furious, shaking is light-brown locks in front of his eyes, 'and no one touches her or asks her stupid questions as long as I'm here! Understood?'

However, the journalists' reaction was opposite to what he was expecting:

'You're cousins? On her father's or her mother's side?'
'Did you always live close to each other?'
'Have you ever thought you could have been the one who opened the fifth house before her, as you share a part of the same origins?'

And as Kate saw Eliot's fists clench and the beating veins at the surface of his skin, another student intervened. Clive Ollivander forced his way through the crowd in order to grab his friend's shoulder. He was giving a hint of a forced, non reassured smile, flapping his hands in a way that hoped to impose silence.

'That's okay, it will be enough for today, ladies and gentlemen! I'm sure you have all you need to write a good article for now.'

Then he discreetly addressed to Eliot a sharp whisper:

'Now calm down and don't go along with their game!'

The friendly gaze he gave Kate over his glasses calmed her shakings as she stayed hidden behind Eliot.

'Not even close!' settled a witch, embittered. 'The world deserves to know who Katelyna Whisper is and why Shatterfly has been opened! The new will spread all across the country!'
'Yes, of course, I understand that, but you shouldn't exhaust your subject on the first day, it would be very regrettable for your media.' tried to negotiate Clive, smart when it came to speeches, even though he was uncomfortable to debate like this in front of journalists, under hundreds of searching looks.

He grabbed Eliot's shoulders, his palms on his shoulder blades, and tried to drag him away with Kate from the five wizards' hold. However, the young Hufflepuff remained transfixed by fury, his sore look fixed on them.

'Give us at least one or two answers, Miss Whisper!' attempted the youngest, trying to take a glimpse of Kate's face, hidden in Eliot's shadow. 'A few words and that will be all...! After all that's true, we'll surely have occasions to talk again, but for today...'

A brusque move interrupted him as Eliot grabbed his collar threateningly, under the students' alarmed looks and muffled screams.

'I said "no stupid questions"!' he whispered between his teeth, close to the face of the reporter who was terrified by this sudden outburst.
'Eliot, stop!' screamed Kate, frightened, while pulling on her cousin's pullover.
'Mate, that's okay, let go of him now.' Clive tried to reason him, nervous. 'He won't hurt her, he understood...'
'I don't think so... Maybe he will understand better this way...!'

Straight after saying that, he took out his wand and pushed it between the quivering reliefs of the terrified journalist's throat, while his colleagues stepped back, horrified by the turn of events.

'No, don't screw up, Eliot!' begged Clive, thinking about taking his wand from him to avoid any accident. 'It's not the moment!'
'Entfernen Sie sich!'

Wolffhart's booming voice resounded, so loud; everyone jumped and turned towards him. Students didn't have to be asked twice to step aside and let him through to the centre of the crowd, moving forward in quick and discreet steps, like a black ghost sliding on the grass. Kate would always feel that mix of intimidation and fascination each time she laid her eyes upon her Transfiguration teacher's waxen face. Journalists themselves stayed stone-faced in front of that theatrical apparition that shut every person gathered here up; only the end of summer wind was whistling between branches.

'I advise you to let go of that incompetent right now before your hands get dirty, jung Mann', he said to Eliot who obeyed after one last hateful gaze towards the columnist.

Then, Wolffhart spoke to Kate, who gained some confidence as she straightened up, not fearing the unwelcomed visitors when with her teacher, who adjusted his red scarf:

'Fräulein Whisper, follow me, bitte...'

They all watched them leave, while Kate followed in small, quick and disorganised steps, the long felt coat of Wolffhart, who took the path to the corridors. A tremendous relief shook off Kate's panic, even though she regretted for a moment to have left her friends and cousin, who would certainly found themselves in the grip of the journalists without her... Her professor didn't say one single word as they entered a small, white stoned room that Kate didn't know, with benches and tables piled up to be forgotten. Everything was just chaos and dust, as if this room never was anything else than an abandoned shed in which were stored all furniture since the Middle-Ages.

'Why did you bring me here, professor?' shook Kate as she studied her environment.

The latter who had just closed the door adopted however a completely different voice, softer. A young man's voice that didn't belong to him...:

'Actually, Miss Whisper, I am not your teacher...'

The respectable German's chalky face faded in a curl of smoke and his long black coat was replaced, in a sudden wind, by an elegant soft brown suit. The man standing in front of her wasn't even thirty. A beige sophisticated hat, just like the after-war Muggle ones, was standing on his black curly hair. He had designer stubble, stain of carelessness in the middle of this fine picture giving him a more attractive look, and a beautiful emerald green satin tie.

Worried by such metamorphosis, Kate stood still, pale, as the other man addressed an amused smile to her, which didn't seem to reassure her.

'I don't want you any harm, Miss Whisper.'
'W-who are you?'
'How careless of me, I forgot to introduce myself...!' he apologised.

All at the same time, he moved forward and took off his hat, before he grabbed Kate's little hand on the fly and brushed his lips against it in a bow. This stranger's aristocratic manners were perturbed her as well as charmed her...

'My name is Orpheus Fawley, but call me as you want.'

He nodded before letting go of the little girl's febrile hand, who observed him sit on one of the many broken benches, in front of a ripped open table.

'Please, have a seat in front of me!' he invited her with a courteous gesture, after he put his hat in front of him.

On her guards, Kate joined him, careful, and sat in slow motion, sliding on the wood without taking her eyes off of the stranger, very affected.

'Are you... a journalist, too?'
'Indeed,' he confirmed, his brown eyes sparkling over his large smile, 'but comparing with those gossiping cockroaches would be a regrettable mistake... I'm not one of their kinds...'
'What do you mean? Do you think it's... healthier to bait a young girl and isolate her in an abandoned room...?'
'Hmmm, indeed, I grant you that, my methods are not performed under optimal conditions, nevertheless, I bet I would have proceeded otherwise if I had a choice.'

Mister Fawley had the golden word and easy link. A power that collared his interlocutor, forced to listen to him until the end and to appreciate the smiles he gave between two sentences. He joined his two hands on the table, looking deep into Kate's eyes, distraught.

'My principles and my purposes differ from theirs. While they are looking for a scoop, I unearth authenticity. That's what creates the attraction to the reader; the fact that they feel close to the people they meet in the course of an article, because they see themselves in them. A long term task. Researches. Out of the question to dash off the job just to make my superior happy... No. To praise rightness is an exercise in style that few understand the impact of the art.'

He gave a slight chuckle, as Kate didn't blink, straight on her wobbly seat.

'I've had the occasion to work with celebrities. Talented wizards and witches. Icons of our world. To study sociological behaviours, during war. Facts that force us to see the world on a different point of view, to take interest in the depth of things, not superficiality just like those fools manhandling you back then in the courtyard. And your case, Miss Whisper, is for me one of the best opportunities in my career. To dig up one of this school's greatest mysteries, which everybody knows under a charming student's little face...'

Kate couldn't help but blush as Fawley kept on:

'I lost interest a long time ago to the Potter phenomenon. Too much media coverage. Too Manichean, too, too... Excess is the privilege of deception. While you are a blooming flower. Nothing was predestining you for this event that has, without any doubts, changed the course of your life... And that's what I'm interested in: your route and your thoughts.'

He got up and clapped his hands before opening them widely.

'What do you think, Miss Whisper? You would be my voice and I, your quill...'
'Well, I mean... I... I don't know you... I don't know if I'm allowed, or even if I want, to share... private... facts...!' she stammered
'Be reassured, I'm not planning on beginning my investigations today... I'll give you all the time you need. Under no circumstances will I force you...'

The idea of being followed by a reporter, who seemed, at first sight, talented and full of resources, didn't push her back. At twelve years old, Kate was already in position to claim that she had her own personal biographer.

'I'll accept... if you answer my questions.' she said more self-assured.
'Of course, with pleasure. It's important for a journalist to be asked some questions to which he can ask back...!'
'How did you do...?'
'About what, please?'
'Y-you... took the shape of my professor! You talked German, just like him! H-how did you do that?!'

Fawley's performance would have, indeed, stunned more than one person.

'Very important researches, coupled with a natural talent for metamorphosis, Miss. Some journalists adopt animal forms to sneak and glean some information; I don't stoop to that kind of insanity...'
'You can turn without using Polyjuice?'
'Hmmm, I see you're very gifted for your age, you possess some knowledge that exceeds however your level!'

The multiple successive compliments constantly flattered little Kate, who appreciated more and more this man by the name of Orpheus Fawley.

'I consent that it may have surprised you. I am what people call in the common language, a Metamorphmagus. A natural gift that passes on in my lineage... I can change my appearance at will. And it goes without saying that this talent turns out to be very useful in my profession. But it's rather more efficient with some knowledge of the person of whom we take the shape.'
'You know professor Wolffhart?'
'I've never had the occasion to talk to him, but I made some researches about him in order to approach you. That is, besides, what caused my delay with regard to my colleagues who bombarded you. Why him, I don't know, I could have chosen any of your teachers, but he appeared to me as a good choice for researches. As well as I did for you.'
'And... what did you find about me?' she asked, curious, as she waddled on her chair, her hand between her thighs.
'Very few things, as a matter of fact, you're still too young. However, I've had the occasion to learn more about your relatives... Among other things, about your father, whose house I shared at Hogwarts, and your cousin, Eliot, who spent a long time in St Mungo's after the war...'

If Kate was prying when it came to her, the fact that Fawley interfered with her own family made her feel uncomfortable. She grabbed one of her brown curls, with which she fiddled nervously.

'Was it Eliot who stood up for you earlier, while those cockroaches were bothering you?'

With a brief grin, Kate nodded.

'He's a brave boy.' said Fawley. 'It goes without saying that he cares about you...'
'We're family, and in a family you always take care of each other... Seems natural for me. It's normal.'
'And I hope you are aware that you are very lucky, Miss Whisper. Some families had torn apart during war. Brothers giving each other up, cousins killing each other for the sake of an ideal, fathers abandoning their children to follow the steps of a Dark Lord... Also, I deeply admire your family principles... A lot of people should learn from your morals.'

After a short silence, punctuated by Fawley's unchanging smile, the latter pulled his watch out of his beige jacket's pocket and opened it.

'Ten past thirty four... By the way, shouldn't you be in classes?! Oh, my apologies if this is the case, I got carried away by my journalistic zeal...'
'Oh, no, no, according to my schedule, I don't have classes between ten and noon on Thursdays this year.' she assured him after a brief moment of uncertain panic.
'Splendid... so I can explain what I expect from you.'

Saying this, Fawley rummaged about in one of the inside pockets of his jacket and pulled a roll of parchment out.

'Now you're designated as a future target for the media, I'd like to be at your disposal to retranscribe any information about you, whether public or more private. You're still young and inexperienced, but soon, people will want to know your life. Because other people's lives fascinate. They dream about adventures and mysteries, which you will give to them, just by saying your feelings and the circumstances you will encounter. To be more concise, Miss Whisper, you give me all the information you want about you, whatever the moment, whatever the content, about what you would like to tell to the world, what comes to your mind. And I'll take care of embellishing everything, diffusing it, if needed...'

The too tempting offer was hiding something. Kate suspected it very quickly, mistrustful:

'There are conditions, I presume?'
'You presume well. You shall not, in any case, transmit this information to any journalistic entity, except me.'
'In main headlines, you want exclusivity. I thought you weren't interested in that? That you were leaving it to the cockroaches?'

Kate, more serene in front of Fawley, was testing his limits, his flaws, admitting that, even though the man seemed very nice, he was hiding some of his intentions, closer to his unscrupulous journalist's nature...

'I was talking about scoop,' he qualified with a grimace as he noticed Kate's growing trickery, 'we're talking here about long term in order to avoid any unfortunate doubloon that could play tricks on you. You know, if I am a paragon of truth, honest defender of wizards' rights regarding authenticity of transpositions, some of my colleagues don't care about that kind of ethic, as long as they sell their papers. And I think you would regret to find yourself with two versions of the same story about you...!'

Finishing his argument, Fawley unrolled in front of her a huge contract that Kate looked over with wide eyes. At the bottom of it was the emplacement for her signature. With a new pleasant smile, Orpheus Fawley snapped his fingers and a big peacock feather appeared in his hand, which he held out to the little girl.

'Your first autograph and our deal will be settled. You won't be harassed by those parasites anymore and you will have the insurance of the truthfulness of the information about you.'

Shuddering, a drop of ink threatening to fall off the end of the quill, Kate was thinking. Her eyes met, for a moment, Fawley's barely insistent ones, bending forward in order to keep his gaze at the same height as the little girl's.

'I would have some conditions too.' she declared.
'What an idea...!' he said surprised, rubbing his fingers against his chin rendered rough by his beard. 'Say it, I'd be curious to know what you want to submit.'
'You told me you make a lot of researches about people...'
'Indeed. And my sources are reliable and complete.'
'If I asked you to... would you give me information? About people in particular? Anyone?'
'You would like to spy on someone in particular?!' he doubled his amused exclamation.
'Not like right now!' she stammered. 'B-but... maybe. If someday I need to know something in particular, about someone. Could you give me this information?'

Fawley pinched his lips and sighed, revealing his reflexion and dilemma.

'According to the codes and current laws, I'm not in the position to provide you such things.'
'According to the codes, the laws and Hogwarts' current rules here, someone stranger to the school isn't in the position to demand anything from a twelve year old student whom he pulled alone in an abandoned room to make her sign contracts.'

A smile, more amused and embarrassed than the previous ones, stretched on her interlocutor's lips.

'You are smart, Miss Whisper. That is a quality I appreciate... Good. So be it. If someday you have questions about someone, you just send me an owl, to the same address to which you will send your confessions, and I will try to make pertinent researches for you.'

He looked at the contract. He already seemed more nervous...

'Just make it quick, the ink is drying and it scrapes the parchment, there's nothing more unpleasant...'

After one last moment of reflexion, which Kate deliberately prolonged, she gave a brief smile, put the quill on the table and got up, in front of Fawley's disconcerted look, before she threw her schoolbag over her shoulder. But she spoke up before he could protest:

'I'm still underage. I'm not allowed to sign an official document. I need a parental consent. If you want your articles and your authentic exclusivity so badly, talk to my father. And try to convince him as well as you did with me...! However, be careful...! He's very skilful with a Quidditch bat in his hands!'

Delighted with her last reply, Kate scampered along towards the huge storeroom's exit, leaving a rather astounded Fawley.

Shortly before the clock rang noon, Kate joined the Great Hall, hoping to find her friends. However, none of them were here. Not even Terry or Eliot. Moving forward in the main alley, Kate nevertheless saw a little girl, sitting at the end of the Slytherins table: Eibhlin O'Cearbhail, the first year sorted into Shatterfly, to the general surprise. Given her green tie, Kate deduced that her professors assigned her to the house of ill repute. The young girl's sprinkled with freckles nose was almost stuck on the letter she was reading when Kate approached her.

'Can I sit here?' she asked, pointing out the seat in front of her.

The young Eibhlin rose up her chin and watched the newcomer from head to toe with her slightly translucent brown eyes.

'Is an authorization needed for someone who does not belong to the house to sit at the Slyterins table?' she wondered, speaking fast as she shrugged her shoulders, revealing her rather strong Irish accent.
'Not as far as I know...!'
'So... why are ya askin me?'
'I don't want to bother you...'
'Ya would have bothered me less by sittin directly without askin. But, aye, c'mere.'

With a shy smile, Kate slid on the bench, putting her bag on her laps while Eibhlin was still staring at her intensely.

'I'm Kate Whisper,' she introduced herself, 'I...'
'Oh? So that's ya?' she got interested, giving a hint of her first smile as she pronounced those words with her natural deep voice. 'The headmistress told me after the ceremony of the Hat. Yer the first sorted into Shatterfly?'
'That's exact! I came here to... chat a little. To know you. If we were both sorted into the same house, there might be a reason...!'

Alternating embarrassed smiles and changes in position, Kate, afraid to sound clumsy, spoke:

'So... you're from Ireland?'
'Aye!' she exclaimed with a radiant face, hearing the name of her country. 'The most beautiful country in the world!'
'I presume there's no witchcraft and wizardry school over there...'
'All Oirish attend Hogwarts!' she said like evidence with wide eyes and a thinner high-pitched voice.
'Oh? That's... I mean, they're not as noticeable as you are!' mumbled Kate.
'Yer talkin about me accent? And me name?'

To tell the truth... you represent the Irish cliché on your own...! thought Kate in a half smile.

'Em. Maybe. I come from North-West Oireland, from Donegal, there are not much wizards here. Me dad is not a wizard himself. Are both your parents wizards too?'
'My mother is a Muggle, just like your father,' she answered peacefully. 'And... why did the professors send you to Slytherin, Eibh...'

Stumbling over the particular pronunciation of her name, the little girl corrected her:

'If this is too complicated, ya can think of the name Evelyn, it is almost pronounced the same.'
'Eibh... Eibhlin?'
'Almost that.'
'And about Slytherin?'
'Aye, teachers took us apart yesterday, with the other lad. The Asian. They started to talk between them and, finally, they asked us to choose a house ourselves...'

Kate opened wide eyes; if she had had the chance to choose last year. But Gryffindor welcomed her because of its low numbers. She caught herself being jealous of Eibhlin's privilege.

'And so... why Slytherin? You know their reputation, don't you?'
'Their colour is green. It's the colour of Oireland.'
'Oh. Of course, it's a good argument.'

Then, the young Eibhlin shrugged her shoulders, beating her long eyelashes on her chestnut irises.

'I don't pay attention to what is said about me house now. There was no reason to if the Hat didn't sort me into Slytherin.'
'The most important is that you feel good...! I hope some of your housemates won't give you any trouble.'
'Why? They should?'

Kate preferred to play it honest:

'I mean... I've had problems with some Slytherin girls last year... I hope they won't shift on you just to avenge themselves, given that you're in Shatterfly too...!'

A short moment, her face frozen in indifference, the young Eibhlin stared at her interlocutor before raising a single eyebrow. Terry might have found quite a rival here...!

'I do not understand people's logic sometimes.'
'It happens...!' chuckled Kate in front of the neutral reaction of the new student, who seemed to despair of human kind and its insane behaviours. 'By the way, speaking of illogical persons... did the journalists come to see you?'
'Yer talkin about the people outside who were askin a lot of question about Shatterfly and who talk faster than meself? Em. After talkin to them durin five minutes in Oirish, they grew tired of it. And they left me alone.'

As she was talking, Eibhlin seemed to lose interest in Kate, observing her environment, or glancing at her letter, from time to time. The oldest found here the natural attitude of a, perhaps, not very sociable girl who took pleasure in solitude more than verbosities of children of her age. She reminded her of little Hygie, except she wasn't as mute.

'Good. I'm glad to know that, so... I... I will leave you alone too, then.'
'Aye.'
'I'm glad we talked.' said Kate as she nodded and left her bench in a slight jump. 'If you need... don't hesitate to come and see me. I'm in Gryffindor. If you don't find me, spot the tiny girl or the blonde one who always screams, they should lead you to me...!'

As soon as she left Eibhlin, Kate met Morgana's steely eyes at the other end of the table. They both stared at each other for a while, mingling their respective feelings coming out from their grey eyes, like threatening and unavowed denials of their endless dispute. Until the young Whisper moved forward to join her roommates at the table placed under the lion emblem, a silent wrath buried deep down in her heart. Without even waiting for all the girls to be here, Maggie had already shoved her first bite of sprinkled with parsley potatoes into her mouth, chewing them cheerfully in front of Scarlett's nearly disgusted look, appalled by such lack of manners.

'I didn't know your parents locked you up in a cellar the whole summer without even giving you food.' joked Moira. 'They preserve you from their fortune and raise you the hard way, under your rich appearance? That explains why you look like a pug...'
'If I were a nasty girl, I probably would retort that I'm feasting on the peasants' food, you lawn-grazer...' mocked Maggie.

Afterwards, she turned and bent towards Suzanna, looking questioningly:

'By the way, what is a pug?'
'I think it's a Muggle item allowing you to fill your bath.'
'No, that's a plug.' corrected Moira, who ignored Maggie's last outrageous remark. 'A pug is a tiny ugly dog.'
'So, you're trying to fob the model on which you were conceived off on me?'
'Someday, I will make you eat your feet, Maggie.'
'You're too small to reach my mouth.'
'Cut in two, I wouldn't be so sure.'
'That still makes me taller than you.'

Kate took place in the middle of this scene, meeting Scarlett's desperate look, silently begging her to stop this quarrel. However the altercation, which wasn't something unusual, dried up by itself, until Maggie, still voraciously devouring her meal, held out a letter to Kate who just sat next to her.

'There, it's for you.'
'For me?'
'Yeah. Wolffhart told me to give it to you. Apparently, you forgot it after your... face-to-face with him!'

Maggie's look meant to be mocking; nevertheless, Kate didn't play her game and grabbed the envelope without saying a word in a nimble gesture. She suspected the message wasn't from her teacher and her feeling was immediately confirmed as soon as she opened the letter:

"Miss Whisper,

It is my duty to present you, with the most honourable intentions, sincere apologies following the misunderstanding that seemed to have established itself without our knowledge after our meeting. It is very understandable that you felt scoffed by my request; nevertheless, I wager that the actions that I take about you are only in your good interest. Also, even though you don't accept to support me in this project, I've had at least the occasion to meet you and share some very interesting words in your company. Along the suggested lines above, I wish you all the best for the future and the accomplishment of your dreams and projects, especially about Shatterfly. On the other hand, if by the most fortunate of luck, it's conceivable that you reverse your decision, don't hesitate to send me an owl to the following address:

Mister Fawley Orpheus
21 Brook Street, 3rd floor
LONDON

Whether it's to talk about what burdens you, to discuss about your projects, to question me about people whose secrets you'd like to discover or even to give me some Howlers, use my address as it suits you so long as you find your own interest. In return, I count on you to preserve the confidentiality of this highly personal information.

Fully intending to see you again, I give you, awaiting our next meeting, my best regards."

At the bottom of the letter, the letters were dancing gracefully to form the name of the writer, the O even greeting the reader by waving his hat, before putting it back on its top. And Kate couldn't help but give a slight smile, hidden at the corner of her lips. Adults thought they could seize her, but they were wrong; without even knowing it, it was her who was having now a full hold on them...