Katrina walked down the long, windowless corridor, the tip of her wand the sole source of light. A cacophony of whispers echoed around her, speaking too softly for her to discern a single voice but she was able to understand a few words. There was mention of 'the Potter children' , a 'valuable girl', and 'getting rid of a mutual threat'. At the end of the corridor was a plain black door and as she reached for the handle, her palms glowed bright red and a raging fire swirled around her, the voices getting louder. A strange hybrid creature formed in the flames that flickered across the door, inching closer to Katrina's hand.
The smell of smoke filling her nostrils, she sat up straight, her heart beating fast. Though she knew it was just a dream, it felt extremely vivid, like she had traveled to the actual corridor in the middle of the night. Raising her hand to wipe a bead of sweat from her forehead, she saw that it was glowing red and turned to her pillow, half of it burnt to a crisp and sporting a palm-sized hole that extended to the wooden floor. The same had happened to Sophie's posters on the wall above her bed but to her relief, the other Gryffindor girls had not been woken up by the strange smell, all in a deep sleep.
Picking up her wand from her nightstand, Katrina repaired the damage, expecting someone to catch her in the act. She stiffened at Sophie rolling onto her side, her scarlet blanket sliding to the floor in a twisted heap. Hermione's clock showed that it was five o'clock at the morning and Katrina decided to keep her promise to Kane, knowing that it was pointless to get back in the bed for a couple more hours of rest. Changing into a pair of workout leggings and a tank top, she stuffed her books into her bag and scribbled a quick note, lying that she wanted to explore the castle before breakfast.
Katrina crept down to the exercise room, careful to avoid Mr. Filch and his cat Mrs. Norris. Her gloves shifted into ones suitable for training and with her wand, she created a dummy that mimicked Kane's fighting style and 'no mercy' attitude. It was similar to the ones he used when their sessions were interrupted by a message from the task force or a sudden MACUSA meeting, usually with President Kowalski waiting for him in the living room. Starting my training now she wrote on the two-way mirror with her wand, the words fading into the glass.
"Okay, fake Kane, remember we have to be quiet," she said, picking up her sticks. "We're not alone anymore and I don't need a detention on the first day."
For two hours, she practiced her drills with the dummy, in both magical and non-magical combat. She admonished the enchanted dummy multiple times, fearing that too much noise would alert the cantankerous caretaker. Hearing a set of footsteps, she dodged a body-bind curse and vanished the dummy and her bag, before casting a disillusionment charm to blend into the stone walls. The door opened to raucous laughter, five boys entering the room. Seeing Draco among them, she assumed the other boys, all older and fairly muscular (one even rivaling Jace), were Slytherins.
"Don't make that face, Malfoy. We've been doing this for years," said a brunette boy with arms like tree trunks. "It's called getting a leg up on the competition. Davies, Johnson, and Cadwallader are all thinking the same but we're a step ahead."
Stifling a yawn, Draco scowled at him. "Well, Flint didn't start on the second day of term, did he? They don't have full teams yet. You've got Crabbe and Goyle as replacement beaters so we're already ahead, Montague."
"What, Pansy didn't wake up her wittle Drakie to watch the sunset together?" teased another boy, the tallest of the five. Draco glared at him through bleary eyes. "Or did she catch you staring at the pretty little kitty in Gryffindor?"
Katrina froze on her way to the door, the boys oblivious to her presence. The boy was obviously referring to her, his choice of nickname reminding her of Lukas. She despised it, viewing it as a way to deem her meek and helpless when the truth was that, if she truly wanted, she could take down these sexist fools with a touch of her pinky. Draco did not laugh this time, shoving the boy.
"Sod off, Pucey," he snarled. "I wasn't staring."
"Hey, I don't blame you," said Pucey, holding his hands up defensively. "It might upset Pansy, which isn't that hard to do, but it's a win-win. Your father wanted you to get close to her, didn't he? So you get the intel on Potter and get to have some fun. She's not exactly a hag, is she? Besides, how hard would it be? The girl spent fifteen years alone in a dirty basement. She might welcome a good teacher..."
"I'll teach her a few things," said the red-headed boy beside him. "I don't like a girl that talks too much anyway."
Fed up with their vile comments, she sneaked out of the room while their backs were turned, all of their attention on Montague. Katrina considered that Draco's offer of friendship had an ulterior motive. Why would he be so interested in talking to the sister of his known enemy? If she accepted, he could hope to ask her about Harry or the Order, if his father knew of the organization. It was a ploy to benefit the side his family had chosen, one that valued bloody purity and enjoyed torturing muggles.
Up ahead, people in Ravenclaw robes passed the empty corridor, gossiping amongst themselves. More were descending down the grand marble staircase, heading to breakfast. Passing her wand over her outfit, Katrina changed into her uniform and conjured her bag. She blended into the crowd walking towards the Great Hall.
"Where have you been?"
The Ravenclaws in front of her were spooked by the sound of her brother's voice, budging together into a tighter group. Harry muttered something to a cross Hermione about the younger students, then turned towards Katrina. Ron made a rude hand gesture at a boy whispering about the twins.
"Why were you out by yourself?" hissed Harry. "You could've waited up for me. What if one of these morons who believe Fudge's lies decided to hex you as a joke?"
She adjusted the strap on her shoulder. "I woke up early and couldn't fall back asleep. I wanted to walk around outside. I'm used to having to be stuck in a house all day."
"And that's completely understandable," interjected Hermione, giving Harry a look that said 'I told you so'. "But Harry does have a point. For now, it may be better for you to be with someone trustworthy like us or Fred, George, Ginny…at least until everyone comes around to believing Harry or you get more comfortable in the castle."
"Is something wrong?" she asked Harry, anger emanating from him.
Looking like it pained him to relive, he explained that there was tension between him and another Gryffindor boy in their year, Seamus Finnigan. Like many others, his mother was a staunch supporter of Fudge and the Daily Prophet, unwilling to accept Harry and Dumbledore's 'stories'. Her belief was so deep that she pondered not allowing Seamus to return to Hogwarts. It had gotten worse when Seamus inquired about the encounter with Voldemort and Cedric's death, subjects that were deeply traumatizing to Harry, leading to the two boys shouting and Seamus darting out of the room at top speed as the rest of the boys rose from their beds.
Hermione had confessed to the equally awkward conversation with Lavender, who was as skeptical as Seamus. His anger ebbing slightly, he thanked Katrina for sticking up for him. Both he and Ron were not supportive of Hermione's encouraging message of inter-house unity. Sitting at the Gryffindor table, he glanced over to the teachers' table, as if expecting to see Hagrid in Grubbly-Plank's spot. Hermione surmised that Dumbledore was vague on how long she would be substituting for his classes, to not draw attention to the missing professor who was possibly still away on Order business.
A tall, dark-skinned girl, her hair in braids, marched up to Harry. "Hi Angelina," he said, passing Katrina the bowl of strawberries.
"Hi," she said, briskly. Her eyes fell on Katrina. "Your sister, I'm guessing. Katrina, isn't it? I'm Angelina Johnson, seventh year. I'm on the Gryffindor quidditch team with your brother. Actually, I've been made captain this year."
As Harry congratulated her, Angelina's mood became more serious. She planned for keeper try outs later in the week, wanting the whole team present to make the decision. Hearing her grumble about Roger and 'that dunderhead Cadwallader' swooping in for an earlier day and rumors of Slytherin booking the pitch after their tryouts, Katrina remembered Draco mentioning that Slytherin was the only house with a full team. She had never seen a quidditch match, her knowledge of the sport coming from animated conversations with Jace. Many nights were spent in Kane's manor where she joined him in cheering for a specific team while Kane and the task force had secret meetings.
Harry grabbed a plate of sausages. "Katrina, do you want to come to tryouts? I figured you've never seen a match and our dad was a chaser so it runs in our family. Maybe if we give you flying lessons between classes, you could try out for keeper. I bet you're a natural."
"Don't know about that," she said, pouring herself a cup of tea. "I've listened to games with Jace. He says the Fitchburg Finches are the best."
Ron made a garbled noise, his mouth full of toast. "Es goot ung fer brans." At a reproachful look from Hermione, he swallowed it. "He's got dung for brains. They've won the USA league loads of times but if they went up against the Chudley Cannons, no contest."
The name sounded familiar. "Didn't they finish last in the league this summer?"
"It was a bad season," he mumbled, his ears as red as his hair.
The table soon filled up with other Gryffindors, Lavender dragging Parvati to the furthest seat away from Harry by a boy with sandy hair. She made an exaggerated point of avoiding any eye contact with Katrina, likely upset from the previous night. Sophie and Fay sat across from Katrina, the blonde holding a pink clipboard.
"How was your walk, Katrina? Isn't it so beautiful in the morning?" she said, her upbeat personality not jelling well with her barely awake peers. "You should've woken me up. I could've shown you this spot by the lake that's amazing. It's like something out of a nature magazine. Do you want to sign my petition?"
Three names were scribbled at the top. "What's it for?"
"A very important cause." Harry quietly groaned into his goblet. "To convince Dumbledore to bring back plays."
Slathering strawberry jam on her toast, Sophie began a dramatic retelling of the history of plays at Hogwarts. Every Christmas and sometime in the spring, the students performed recreations of popular wizarding fairytales (muggle fairytales too, if it did not cause too much of a stir from the fanatical purebloods), under the direction of the professor in charge of artsy activities like the frog choir. In the 1960s, the performance of The Fountain of Fair Fortune ended disastrously due to many factors, including a massive fire created by ashwinder eggs and a bloody duel between actresses over the lead actor. After that catastrophe, the school board of governors banned the plays to prevent future incidents.
Sophie was a self-proclaimed drama nerd, participating in plays from a young age. When she arrived at Hogwarts, she hoped to continue her passion but was saddened to learn of the ban and while she joined the frog choir ("Technically, we hold toads but who cares?"), she campaigned each year to convince Dumbledore to speak to the Ministry about restarting the old tradition. Though he was not currently regarded in a favorable light, her hope was that he could get some of the governors on his side to call a vote.
"Just you wait. This is the year I'll finally wear Dumbledore down and yours truly will be up on a stage," she said, proudly. "What do you say, Katrina? If this works, maybe you could try out. Plays are so fun and who knows? You could be an award-winning actress in the making."
"I don't think she'd be into that," replied Harry.
"Oh, let me guess. Quidditch?" asked Fay, taking a bite of her bacon. "Is she going to stay tethered to you for the rest of her life? I didn't realize that because you're twins, you have to do the same thing. I'll go tell Parvati."
"I'll sign," said Katrina, to stem his resurfacing anger. "It does sound fun. It could take everyone's mind off of bad things."
Catching her hopeful expression, Harry sighed and grabbed the clipboard, signing it before passing it to Ron and Hermione. Sophie happily tucked the clipboard into her bag, just as owls soared through the upper windows to deliver letters and packages to their owners. Harry stabbed his sausage, displeased with Hermione getting the latest Daily Prophet from a damp barn owl. Katrina lightly smacked his hand with her spoon, overhearing him mutter a rude comment to Ron about Fay's father. Fay had undoubtedly heard the remark, threatening to give him another scar.
Their inevitable fight was halted by McGonagall moving along the table to hand out course schedules. Hermione and Fay's schedules differed from the others, taking Arithmancy instead of Divinations. Ron whined about their classes for the day, yearning for Fred and George's Skiving Snackboxes.
"Good morning, fair lioness," Fred said to Katrina, both he and George approaching the table.
"Of Gryffindor. We hope you slept well?" asked George, taking a kipper from Ron's plate. "These young ladies didn't give you any trouble, did they?"
"Or were you kept awake by your brother's shouting? You could hear him from Hogsmeade." He grinned at an unamused Harry. "And do mine ears deceive me? Hogwarts prefects surely don't wish to skive off lessons?"
As Ron grumpily showed them his schedule, Harry twirled the knife in his hand, almost preparing to lodge it into one of their necks. The twins sniggered at Hermione's warning to remove their notice in the common room for product testers, claiming that her bigger concern was fifth year and the upcoming OWL exams. The exams were meant to test their proficiency, helping to decide their futures. Half of the classmates in their fifth year had breakdowns and tantrums from the pressure of mountains of homework and being held to a higher standard by the professors. Not achieving many OWLs themselves, they were not worried about their final year, more focused on upstarting their joke shop.
Following the line out of the Great Hall, someone nearly collided with Katrina's shoulder. It was the ebony-haired Slytherin girl.
"Do you know how to walk, Potter?" she asked, speaking slowly. The girls with her giggled into their sleeves. "Did someone show you how? I can ask my baby sister for tips."
Spotting her prefect badge, Katrina deduced she was the Parkinson girl Hermione mentioned on the train. The girl spoke to her like Sophie had the night before, though it seemed to be more malicious. Hermione kept a tight grip on the back of Harry's robes.
"Don't you have a ferret to bother, Parkinson? Do us all a favor and leave," said Fay, dismissively.
Chancing a glance at the teachers' table, the girl sneered at Fay. With a snap of her fingers, the other Slytherin girls trailed after her like ducklings, disappearing into the crowd.
"She's another one to avoid," Fay told Katrina, as they headed to History of Magic. "Pansy Parkinson. She's like a female version of Malfoy. They believe they're so great because of their families but in reality, they're dumber than a box of rocks. It's why they're soulmates."
"They're a couple?" asked Katrina, thinking of how Pansy was overly affectionate with him during Umbridge's speech.
"Not officially but she's his number one fan," said Sophie, with a shudder. "I guess spoiled brats gravitate towards each other. He could take a sip of pumpkin juice and she'd act like he walked on water. Her friends are horrid too. Millicent Bullstrode is the one who looks like she'd twist you into a pretzel, Daphne Greengrass was sort of decent in the beginning and now she's basically Pansy's number two, Aria Runcorn claims she's part siren but sounds like a dying whale, and Tracey Davis is the smartest of the bunch. It's not saying much but she helps Pansy with her insults."
An ancient, shriveled ghost floated in front of the blackboard in a classroom on the first floor. Between their cleaning bouts at Grimmauld Place, Harry had told her about the various professors, including the 'dull' Professor Binns. Dying in his sleep in the staffroom decades ago, he retained his position as the History of Magic professor, the class regarded as most boring. The reason became clear as Binns droned on about giant wars, a majority of the class drifted off into their own worlds. Katrina and Hermione remained alert, taking detailed notes while their fellow Gryffindors flipped through magazines under their desks, doodled on their parchment, or struggled to not fall asleep.
Sophie and Fay busied themselves with a Witch Weekly quiz about animagus forms. As Hermione shot disparaging looks at Harry and Ron, who showed no interest in a 16th century battle in the Balkan mountains and preferred to play hangman, Katrina noticed a silver glow from the inside of her bag. She enchanted her quill to take notes and peeked at the message written on the mirror: Hogsmeade entrance, 5:15 PM, claim to be in meeting with Dumbledore. Kane's message distracted her for the remainder of the lesson, her mind racing with theories of why he would meet so soon. Was he having second thoughts about her attending Hogwarts?
Lost in her thoughts, she left the classroom at the sound of the bell, nodding every so often to pretend to be listening to an argument between Ron and Hermione over his and Harry's dependence on her notes, Ron attempting to guilt her with the possibility of the boys failing their OWL exams. They secluded themselves in a corner of the courtyard, shielding themselves from the misty drizzle. With a flick of Katrina's wand, two stripes, brown and yellow, formed on the top-left corner of her parchment.
"What are you doing, Katrina?" asked Ron, as she slid the papers into a folder.
"I'm going to color code my notes so it's easier to study for exams," she said, closing her bag. "The top stripe is the subject and the other stripe is for the specific lesson. It keeps things organized."
He looked at her like she grew a second head. "Bloody hell. How do you have the time to come up with that? You might give Hermione a run for her money. If she doesn't get that stick out of her backside, you'll help me and Harry out, won't you?"
"Don't take advantage of her, Ron," said Hermione, sternly. "Instead of finding ways to slack off, why not put in an effort?"
Roger was sitting by the fountain with a group of seventh years, talking about quidditch. In the midst of laughing with his friends, he smiled at Katrina, who shifted her gaze to the sketchpad on her knee. Harry seemed to catch the small interaction but his attention was quickly diverted to Cho passing through the courtyard. Similar to their conversation on the train, rife with awkward pauses and stutters, her brother fell to pieces around the pretty girl, the conversation soon turning sour as Ron interrogated her over her support of the Tutshill Tornados. It spurred another argument between him and Hermione.
"What?" he asked Katrina, looking depressed. His crush on Cho was as obvious as a dragon among nifflers. "Why are you making that face?"
"No reason," she said, returning to her drawing of the courtyard.
Their bickering continued into Potions, Harry used to their spats by now and telling Katrina to let it run its course. Unlike History of Magic, which consisted of solely Gryffindors, their Potions class was shared with the Slytherins, both houses separating into opposite sides of the room. Katrina sat at a table with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, feeling a pair of eyes on her. Draping her bag over her chair, she saw Draco at the next table over with those two boys he had been with on the train and a third stringy boy. She doubted it was coincidence that he had chosen the end of the table closest to her.
"Settle down," said Snape, sweeping over to his desk.
No one dared to defy the stony-faced professor. The way he spoke to the class, a stranger would presume that he could barely stand his students. It was his demeanor during Katrina's tutoring sessions dialed up to an eleven, his words of warning on passing their Potions OWL scaring some like Sophie and Neville. His displeasure was all the more visible when he looked at Harry, her brother returning the icy glare.
"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," he said, softly. "So whether you are intending to attempt NEWT or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students."
Their first lesson was the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety. Hermione sat up straighter at his mention of the potion requiring full concentration, one mistake possibly causing an irreversible sleep. Flicking his wand, the instructions appeared on the blackboard behind him and the students lined up to grab the necessary ingredients from the cupboard.
"Bet she's worse than Longbottom," someone whispered.
"Surprised she isn't taking class with the first years. That might be too hard for her," said another, not bothering to lower their voice. "She could stay with the owls but they're smarter. I heard she can't even read."
"Shut up, Parkinson," hissed Harry.
Pansy and Daphne persisted with their snide giggling. Tuning them out, Katrina collected her ingredients and began working on her potion. The draught was not as simple as the boil cure potion, the instructions extremely intricate. Snape moved around the classroom, openly criticizing many Gryffindors while passing by the Slytherin cauldrons without comment. Katrina thought it was unfair but the apparent norm, Snape, being the head of Slytherin, openly showing favoritism to his house.
The praise was not warranted, a few struggling as much as the Gryffindors but indifferent to following the instructions. In their minds, even with zero effort, they could pass the class. Draco's potion was admittedly the closest but nowhere near perfect, the cauldron of the stringy boy next to him emitting white steam. Sophie was quietly begging a frustrated Fay for assistance, her cauldron spitting red sparks. All around the room, different colored vapors rose to the ceiling and students attempted to stir their congealing mixtures. On the other side of Hermione, Harry was having trouble himself and Katrina thought of how to help him.
Her window of opportunity short, with Snape tearing Neville to shreds, she scribbled on a ripped piece of parchment. Before she could pass it to Harry, Snape faced the class, announcing that a light silver vapor should be rising from their cauldrons. Only Hermione and Katrina had brewed a suitable potion, the girls sharing a quick smile. As Katrina reduced the flames beneath her cauldron, she felt those eyes on her again.
"Potter, what is this supposed to be?" she heard.
Snape was peering into Harry's cauldron. The Slytherins eagerly abandoned their own cauldrons, awaiting the potion professor's criticism.
"The Draught of Peace," said Harry, tensely.
"Tell me, Potter, can you read?" asked Snape, leading to sniggers from the Slytherins.
Harry gripped his wand tightly. "Yes, I can."
Snape ordered him to read the third line of instructions. As he did, he realized his mistake, admitting that he forgot to add the two drops of hellebore.
"I know you did, Potter, which means this mess is utterly worthless," said Snape, sounding pleased. "Ev—"
Mid-spell, he snapped his head to Katrina and her raised hand. Everyone in the class turned to her, Hermione mouthing for her to lower her hand, Parvati subtly shaking her head, and Ron pale as a sheet.
"Two humiliated Potters for the price of one," Pansy whispered to Daphne.
"Sir, he can fix it," said Katrina, timidly. "If he adds two more scoops of powdered moonstone and stirs it four times counterclockwise, it'll come out right."
Pansy's smirk was wiped from her face. Katrina's detailed answer made the Slytherins question if she was correct or making it up in her head. No longer whispering rudely about her brother, Draco was looking over Katrina with the same expression he had on the train. Snape's dark eyes bored into hers for almost a full minute.
"Miss Potter, did I give any indication that this was meant to be a group assignment?" he asked, a rhetorical question. "I suggest you focus on your work instead of making excuses for your helpless brother."
The contents of Harry's cauldron vanished in an instant. Returning to his desk, Snape directed the class to fill a flagon with a labeled sample of their potion for testing and assigned them an essay on the properties of moonstone. Holding her breath from Ron's potion that smelled like rotten eggs, she placed her potion on Snape's desk. Harry was the first out the door, not bothering to wait for her or Ron and Hermione.
"Miss Potter, stay," said Snape, as she passed his desk. "Roper, Dunbar, unless you've suddenly changed your last names without my knowledge, there is no reason for you to linger. Get to lunch."
Fay had to physically push a reluctant Sophie out the door. Pansy whined for Draco to hurry up, the blonde Slytherin the last to leave the classroom.
"Professor, I wasn't—if I was being rude, I didn't—I wanted to—" Katrina stuttered.
He picked up her flagon. "Best in the class. You have an aptitude for potions, far beyond your fifth year peers. You were correct in your assessment. If I had asked anyone else in the class, they would not have come close to the answer but potion-making is not a team effort."
"He's my brother," she said, a weak defense.
"Students in my class succeed and fail on their own merits. Do not concern yourself with your brother's failings," he said, echoing Kane's advice. "It will hold you back. He unfortunately does not share your gifts. Let us not make this a habit."
"Yes, sir," she replied.
"You're free to go." The door creaked open. "And disregard Miss Parkinson's feeble-minded comments."
Entering the Great Hall, she felt like she was under a magnifying glass. People whispered about her 'standing up to Snape', referring to what occurred in Potions class. Their version of events was twisted, acting like Katrina had savagely attacked him. Glowering at his plate, Harry tore into his shepherd's pie, Hermione's attempt to console him falling on deaf ears.
"Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots," said Ron sagely, as Katrina sat at the table. "Look at how he treated Katrina. She was helping Harry out and Snape wouldn't listen. Did he take points from Gryffindor? If he gave you detention, I'll go to Dumbledore myself."
"No. He said not to help," she said, uncomfortable with the whispers.
Harry looked up from his plate. "I'm sorry you got involved. Snape's the worst. First day and he already fails me."
"Well, you did technically forget the hellebore and he did say to pay attention." His eyes narrowed slightly. "N—not that it's all your fault. All that smoke made it hard to read sometimes but you can't blame him for what you did wrong."
"Whose side are you on?" he snarled. "You stood up for me, Katrina!"
"Because it wasn't fair for him to empty your cauldron. It doesn't erase your mistake." Her explanation did not abate his anger. "I'm not very hungry. I'm going to the library to work on my essay."
People were sparsely scattered around the library, their heads in books. Choosing a table in the back corner, Katrina opened her copy of Magical Drafts and Potions. Her thoughts kept drifting to Harry in the Great Hall. Had she been too harsh? She never wanted to anger him yet in all honesty, Snape's punishment, while cruel, made some sense. Kane would never stand for her blaming her mistakes on others.
As she skimmed a paragraph on moonstones, a shadow was cast over the table. Draco sank into the seat across from her, no bag or books in sight.
"Hello Katrina," he said, oddly polite. "Don't mind if I sit here, do you? Or are you going to have Potter try to hex me ?"
Keeping her head down, she flipped to the next page. "Unless I missed it, there aren't assigned seats. I can't force you to move but in the little time we've talked, this seems par for the course for you."
"What does that mean?" he asked, tracing a golden snitch etched into the table.
"I think you're a glutton for punishment," she replied, casually. "You and my brother clearly have an antagonistic relationship and he'll be angry if he sees you near me. You like getting a rise out of him and the constant fighting. I rest my case."
Smirking, he leaned towards her. "Or I just find you interesting. Is that so horrible?"
"I'm not interesting," she said, starting to write a new paragraph.
"Of course you are, Katrina. I find you utterly fascinating." His hand creeping too close, she moved her hand to her lap. "Tell me, how does a girl who spent all of her life locked away brew a potion as good as know-it-all Granger's and figure out how to fix a bad one like her brother's?"
"Lots of great tutoring from Hermione and I'm good at guessing," she said, refusing to meet his gaze. "Sorry to disappoint you."
Katrina found it difficult to concentrate on her essay, with Draco continuing to sit with her. He was completely silent and for once, she was not comforted by the quiet, mainly because he had resorted to tapping his fingers against the table. Certain that this was his tactic to fulfill his father's request, she remained unbothered and searched for a book in the Potions section.
"You've got plenty of time for work." Draco grabbed her intended book, holding it out of reach. "You think you know me but let me prove you wrong."
Katrina handed him a folded piece of parchment from the inside of her robes. "This will satisfy your curiosity."
He glanced at the parchment. "It's blank."
"Precisely. It's blank because I have nothing for you to tell someone who wants to use it as ammunition against me or my brother," she said, stopping herself from revealing what she heard in the exercise room. "Whatever game you're playing, I don't want any part in it. All I want is to get through the year and you should get started on that essay because you added way too much moonstone in your potion and if you had tested it, you'd be taking a very long nap."
Turning on her heel, she left the library and hid behind a rusty knight. Draco exited minutes later, checking both sides of the corridor before stuffing the parchment in his back pocket and walking towards the staircase. Opening her bag to put away her partially written essay, she noticed the edges of her mirror glowing silver.
Tapping it with her finger, the glass shimmered, revealing Jace. "Hey tiger. Good first day so far?"
There was a streak of purple paste under his bruised eye. "W—what happened?"
"Lukas and his ass kissers jumped me after training," he said, as if it was nothing. "His payback for the drawing room. The coward did it when Kane was called away for a meeting. It's not as bad as it looks, Katrina. It'll heal within the hour. How's Hogwarts? Did you meet Hannah yet?"
"No. I've only met a few people outside of Gryffindor," she whispered. "Maybe tomorrow during Herbology."
Katrina resisted the urge to tell him about Kane's message. It was against their code of conduct to discuss personal messages, as a precaution against someone masquerading as that person.
He leaned against the familiar wall of the training room. "I know that face. Spill it."
"It's about…Malfoy," she said, a half truth. "There's this room that the quidditch players use to exercise during the season and I used it for my drills like Kane said. The Slytherins came by…they didn't see me but I overheard them talking. His father told him to get close to me, to get information on Harry and maybe the Order."
"I figured," sighed Jace. "His father sees you as an easy target. Did you tell Dumbledore?"
"No, he hasn't gotten rough or anything. He's…persistent," said Katrina, hearing the bell ring. "I have to get to class. Don't leave the paste for more than an hour or it'll burn. I miss you."
"Miss you too," he replied, wincing from his sore eye. "I'll talk to you later. If Malfoy doesn't let up, you tell Dumbledore and then tell me. I'll teach that pampered prick a lesson."
Climbing up the staircase to Divinations, barely remembering the specific path Roger had shown her due to the crowd, she met up with Fay and Sophie. Fay was in a sour mood, thanks to a letter from her father. Despite her protests, he forbid her from trying out for the Gryffindor quidditch team, to better focus on her studies.
"It's not like I'm failing," grumbled Fay. "I'm doing loads better than that cow Parkinson but he'd sooner rip out his heart than say that to her despicable father. He worships those snooty families. I swear if it was between me and Malfoy, my father would save him."
"Speaking of Malfoy," Sophie glimpsed at the second year Hufflepuffs beside her. "Did he bother you in the library, Katrina? Hermione said you went there after Harry…"
"Was a total ass to you," finished Fay, one of the second year girls covering her ears.
"Fay," whispered Sophie, hitting her shoulder. "Well, after that, he yelled at Ron and Hermione and left then Draco walked in with Crabbe and Goyle. Those two gorillas that are always by his side? Anyway, I heard Adrian Pucey tell him where you were and he ditched in the middle of Pansy complimenting his hair."
"New girls shouldn't be alone anywhere, especially pretty ones," warned Fay. "You're like a shiny new toy to them."
"I didn't see him," lied Katrina. "I was pretty well-hidden in the back so he must've missed me. Why was Harry mad at Ron and Hermione?"
Fay shrugged. "One of them probably told him to shut it for once."
At the top of the North Tower, the Gryffindors were ascending a silver ladder attached to a trap door. The ladder led to the oddest room Katrina had been in: twenty circular tables crammed together, surrounded by armchairs and pouffes, shelves containing crystal balls, teacups, and playing cards, red scarves draped over lamps, and a heavy aroma of perfume. It was fitting that Professor Trelawney was a bit strange herself, resembling an ethereal owl with her thick glasses and gauzy shawls.
Harry waved her over to a table with him and Ron but unsure of his current temperament, Katrina sat with Sophie and Fay. Sophie informed her that Trelawney was easy to win over by grimly predicting their own demises. The idea sounded absurd, Katrina knowing that Elizabeth, Kane's second in command, was a seer, her gift of foresight helpful in several missions, but her predictions rarely pertained to tragedy or death.
Most of the class was spent reading the introduction to The Dream Oracle. In the last ten minutes, they were tasked with using the book to interpret each other's dreams. Trelawney hovered near Parvati and Lavender, both girls hanging on her every word. Divination was proven to be more guesswork than actual work, an innocent dream about cats being interpreted as good or bad depending on the fur color.
"Told you," muttered Sophie, as Trelawney loudly declared that the black cat in her dream was an omen of terrible suffering. "Your turn, Katrina. A long hallway means…change. That makes sense but if we ask Trelawney, she'll say it means you're turning into a monster or something."
As they left the classroom, Fay groaning over their assignment of a month long dream diary, Katrina saw Harry waiting at the bottom of the ladder. "Katrina, can we talk?" His eyes flickered between a wary Sophie and Fay. "In private? I'm allowed to talk to my sister."
"We'll be at the end of the hall in case you decide to have another tantrum," said Fay, earning a scowl from him.
When they were alone, Harry apologized for his behavior at lunch. "I was angry about Snape and I took it out on you. I wanted to talk to you about—"
"Wrap it up! We have a class to get to!" shouted Fay.
"Later. Come on," he mumbled.
Umbridge, wearing her fluffy pink cardigan and black velvet bow, was seated at her desk in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Her pouchy eyes followed Katrina as she walked to a table with Fay and Sophie.
"Well, good afternoon!" she exclaimed. She was dissatisfied with the poor response, just Katrina and a couple others giving a reply. "Tut, tut, that won't do now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge'. One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"
"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they chanted back at her.
Telling them to put away their wands ("Ugh, I can't take all this writing. My hand's going to fall off," whined Sophie), she tapped the blackboard sharply with her wand, Defense Against the Dark Arts: A Return to Basic Principles appearing on the board. Katrina wrote the same at the top of her parchment, listening to Umbridge discuss their 'disruptive, fragmented' lessons over the years. She considered their proficiency in the subject was below average, blaming their constantly changing, subpar professors. Jace had told Katrina about a rumored jinx on the position, professors unable to last more than a year for various reasons.
The message on the blackboard changed, listing course aims. Umbridge's idea of Ministry-approved standards centered on theory, not practicing actual defense. It contrasted with the very name of the class. Settling back at her desk, she directed them to read the first chapter of Defensive Magical Theory. The beginning paragraph further confirmed Katrina's suspicions of the Ministry's meddling, the first sentence questioning the purpose of defensive magic.
To her left, Hermione raised her hand, her book unopened. Umbridge, who held a determined stare on a window, was forced to acknowledge her, speaking to her like a small child. Hermione inquired about the course aims, specifically the lack of using defensive spells, and Umbridge's answer of not seeing the need to use spells in the classroom was comparable to a breaking dam, several students raising their hands.
Katrina listened in silence as Umbridge argued with the other Gryffindors, downplaying their concerns. Her sweet voice belied her vicious comments, dismissing Hermione for believing she knew better than Ministry experts and implying Remus was a dangerous half-breed. Umbridge was merely a conduit for the Ministry, to prove their supposed might and undermine Dumbledore for his lies about Voldemort, but to Katrina, the students were bearing the brunt of the punishment by limiting their education. Instead of learning proper defense, the Ministry would prefer for them to read out of books.
Harry was stewing in his seat, barely able to contain his anger. Sophie raised her hand after Umbridge told an incredulous Parvati that they would not perform defensive spells until their OWL exams, repeating that theory was enough to ensure success.
"Professor, no disrespect but how is reading about and casting the spell the same?" There were murmurs of agreement around the room. "Wouldn't it make sense to—"
"Miss Roper, as I've stated, with a structured curriculum, you will be more than prepared for your exams in June." Sophie was not comforted in the slightest. "I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough—"
"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" asked Harry loudly, his fist in the air.
"This is school, not the real world, Mister Potter," she countered.
The discussion went from bad to worse, with Harry bringing up the threat of Voldemort. Hearing the name sent the class into a panic: Fay's quill snapping in half, Neville falling off his chair, and Lavender uttering a terrified squeal. There was a hint of grim satisfaction in Umbridge's eyes, suggesting that she wanted to veer into this direction. Taking ten points from Gryffindor, she addressed the class about the purported lies, amid interruptions from a fuming Harry, and insisted that the Ministry guaranteed their safety, urging them to come forward if they heard any fibs about dark wizards.
"Harry, please don't. It won't help," whispered Katrina as he stood up, in spite of the fact that Umbridge had already given him detention.
"So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?" he asked, his voice shaking.
"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," replied Umbridge, coldly.
"It was murder," he said, his entire body shaking in contained rage. "Voldemort killed him and you know it."
Quietly ordering him to her desk, the class watched with bated breath as she scribbled on a piece of pink parchment, gave it to Harry, and he marched out of the room. To avoid being her next victim, they read, or at least pretended to, until the end of the lesson.
"What do you think the note said?" Sophie asked Katrina in a hushed tone.
"Hem, hem." Katrina looked over at Umbridge. "May I have a word, Miss Potter?"
"I'll be fine," she whispered to Sophie. "I have to see Dumbledore anyway so I'll meet you in the common room."
Ron and Hermione were the last to leave, taking their time gathering their belongings to eavesdrop on the conversation. "I trust you're adjusting well? It must be such a transition and I imagine your brother's unstable rantings aren't making it easy. Don't be nervous, dear. We got off on the wrong foot when you gave your testimony to Head Auror Scrimgeour but it wasn't out of ill intent. The Minister is thrilled that you've survived and he wishes to support your reintroduction to society."
An idea popped into Katrina's head. "I appreciate that, professor. I apologize for my brother's outburst."
"No need," said Umbridge, smiling. "I expected as much before I arrived at the castle. If ever you wish to talk, my door is always open."
With a silent nod, Katrina walked out of the room and sneaked past the students heading to the Great Hall. Kane was standing at the gated entrance to Hogsmeade, his eyes on his watch.
"Good thing I gave you that extra five minutes or you may have been late," he said, facing her.
"Umbridge wanted to talk to me," she explained. "There was a…heated debate in class and Harry struggled to reign in his temper. I stayed quiet the whole time. She said she and the Ministry are there to help me and she must think I'm clueless so I thought it might be useful in the future to be more agreeable towards her."
Kane chuckled. "I've taught you well. The Ministry's antics are secondary but it's important to know what they're up to, especially if it works in favor of Voldemort. You'll need to take off your robes and tie before we leave, for security."
"She's not teaching any defensive spells," said Katrina, unfastening her robes. "She's willing to leave them vulnerable to prove a point."
After she stuffed her robes and tie into her bag, he apparated them to his manor. He led her down to the basement, to the end of the hall where Mr. Moore was outside a steel door. The burly man gripped her shoulder, gazing down at her in a fatherly manner.
"Kane, we shouldn't—" he started.
"This isn't up for negotiation," argued Kane. It was strange for the two men to be at odds. "Katrina, we've apprehended a dangerous individual. He has withstood our usual methods, even occlumency. You can loosen his tongue."
Realizing what he meant, she froze, biting her bottom lip. On rare occasions, Kane involved her in interrogations, using her siphoning abilities to his advantage. She would never accuse him of putting her in danger but the chance of losing control worried her. Having no say in the matter, she removed her gloves, handing them to a remorseful Mr. Moore, and stepped into the room. A heavily beaten man, his right eye swollen shut and multiple scratches across his bearded face, was bound to a chair with thick black cords.
"Ready to give up, Carlisle? We all have to suffer a loss now and then. Whatever you're looking for, you won't get it from me," he said, speaking with a Southern accent. He spotted Katrina beside him. "If you've come to bargain, she is rather tempting, I must say."
Moving behind the chair, Katrina placed her hands on either side of his head. A surge of energy flowed through her, like she had swallowed a dozen invigoration draughts.
"What were you doing in that apothecary, Andrews?" asked Mr. Moore, his wand tip glowing bright red. "It wasn't a random hit. You were searching for something. What was it? Who sent you?"
Andrews coughed violently, spitting blood onto the floor. Her hands warm, she started to loosen her grip until Kane ordered her otherwise. The veins in the Andrews's wrists became more pronounced, his skin an ashy grey.
"W—what is this?" he said, his head falling forward. Another puddle of blood gathered around his feet. "What's happening? I can't—"
"Get in his head," Kane told her. "Enough with the bravado, Andrews. We know you're not the brains of this operation. Why were you in the apothecary?"
Closing her eyes, she delved into his mind, getting flashes of images. "He was looking for Peruvian Vipertooth venom. It's not sold in open markets but this apothecary had it in stock for a client with the right price."
"Get…out…" he panted.
"There's a knife…no, a dagger…" Her hands were shaking. "A drawing of a cave…white peacocks…"
Katrina was forcibly separated from Andrews. "That's enough." A sort of hunger churned inside her as she looked at Mr. Moore. "I can take it from here, Kane. She gave us a good start."
The hunger vanished when her gloves reappeared on her hands. Steering her out of the basement, Kane struck the top of her head with his wand to drain the magic she had absorbed during the interrogation.
"Take a moment." She rubbed her head. "This stays between us, Katrina. Until it's necessary, Jace remains in the dark."
"I—I won't tell," she said, knowing the rules. "Is that man a death eater?"
"Leave the case to me and Alaric." He rested his hand on her shoulder. "Whatever that scum is planning, we'll put a stop to it. I want your mind on your lessons, not criminals."
As he brought her back to Hogwarts, she thought of what she witnessed in the man's mind and her craving for that warm feeling.
