The next few days were some of the most stress-inducing of Katrina's life and that included the week that Katrina was given the responsibility of caring for a newly hatched Hungarian Horntail, Kane retrieving the egg to use its scales in potions and misjudging its exact hatching time by three days. With him away on a mission in Brazil, she was left to contain the creature and extinguish its multiple, pint-sized fires in her bedroom. Back then, it seemed like nothing could compare, Kane coming home to find an eight year old Katrina in oven mitts chasing after the unruly dragon with a fireproof box, but that was before she was dealt her current dilemmas.

Having to conceal a part of herself hampered her ability to enact the numerous tactics she learned from Kane. If she was not forced to conform to her fabricated past as a helpless girl held hostage by a crazed death eater, she would have discovered who in the castle had imitated her brother and was an ally to the maniac who treated her like a possession and his equally insane, romantically obsessed minion. All she could tell Kane, thanks to her venture into Draco's memories, was that Aubrey was involved with Chimaera. The Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry was another obstacle, Katrina unable to speak with a Slytherin without drawing attention and even if she sidestepped that issue, they would never speak to her civilly, due to her Gryffindor status and being Harry Potter's sister.

Left with limited options, she settled for spying, from a distance, with Harry, though their time was stretched thin between lessons, mountains of homework, quidditch practice, and DA meetings. Having to juggle three quidditch practices, the defense meetings were staggered and to better communicate with its members, Hermione cast a protean charm on a set of fake galleons, the numbers changing to match Harry's coin to reflect a future date. At the first meeting since Katrina's return, she sat to the side with Harry, pretending that Dumbledore instructed her to not overexert herself. In reality, it was an excuse to observe her classmates, to dispel the scenario she considered that the culprit was a student outside of Slytherin. The only believable student, out of the group, was Zacharias Smith, who continued criticizing Harry behind his back, but from what she heard from Hannah, during a private conversation in Herbology, he had been in the hospital wing the previous week, having his arm broken by a bludger during quidditch practice.

Her desire to solve the puzzle of Cayden's secret ally was driven partly by her second dilemma, Snape. Ever since he found her in the Astronomy Tower, he had not spoken a word to her and there was an unspoken, lingering tension in any space they shared, whether that was the Potions classroom or passing each other in the corridor. She had not forgotten how, in the heat of the moment, he referred to her by her mother's name. Aware of the vitriol he held for her father, she thought it was peculiar that he had confused her for her mother, with such desperation in his tone.

The morning of the first quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, when she was not lost in her own thoughts, she was comforting an increasingly anxious and sweaty Ron contemplating drowning himself in his bowl of cereal. The childish taunts from the Slytherins had affected him the most, not used to the endless snide remarks that his teammates endured for years. Katrina was displeased to see Draco imitating Ron dropping a quaffle whenever he was near, his performance drawing laughter from his peers.

As Harry and Ron stood up from the table, Katrina, Hermione, and Sophie wishing them good luck and Fay giving a half-hearted nod of support, she grabbed the pitcher of water, side-eyeing the Slytherins openly mocking both boys and taking a brief glimpse at her mirror. She had been messaging Jace throughout the morning, to bounce ideas back and forth on how to find the imposter. While she appreciated Harry's help, Jace had experience in the matter, from the task force and being an auror, as opposed to her brother immediately accusing someone for the slightest odd behavior.

I've got a plan. Keep you posted, she wrote, watching Graham rub a lipstick stain from his cheek and muttering at a pouty Selene.

People began to leave the Great Hall to get their seats for the match. Instead of joining Sophie and Fay, she sidled over to the Ravenclaw table, where Roger was pinching Finn's arm in response to a comment about Luna's life-sized, lion's head hat. Liam scrunched his nose, still sore over her 'embarrassing' him but not willing to vocalize his disdain to his friends.

Considering she had been rather cold to him, Roger looked surprised, not remembering that they had spoken when she returned to the castle. Finn made a point of checking his watch and urging their friends to leave the table.

"Hi. I um…I know I've been weird around you lately and you must think it's your fault but it's mine." Roger started to open his mouth. "It is and I decided to bottle up my feelings. I get enough attention from my brother's outbursts and just being me so I didn't want to add to that. I was mad at myself for what happened, for getting in that situation."

"Katrina, you didn't do anything wrong," he protested.

"I felt like I was back there…in that basement with that death eater," she said, sniffling. "I'm not mad that you saved me but hearing everyone talk about it, it made me feel like that's all I'll ever be, the helpless girl who couldn't fight back."

"No one thinks that and if they do, their opinion is a load of dung. What happened in the past doesn't define you, Katrina," he said, compassionately. "All that matters is what you do with your life in the present. The fact that you survived shows how strong you are and you're not helpless. You shouldn't keep everything bottled up. If you ever need to talk, I'll always be there to listen."

Wiping away a tear from the corner of her eye, she reached into her peacoat. "I'm not used to these things but Sophie says it helps when she has to make up with a friend." She held out a braided bracelet, an eagle charm dangling from the blue and bronze string. "I don't know if it works for boys but you could call it a makeup gift? If it's stupid, you can say so. I should've asked Harry."

Roger chuckled, taking the bracelet. "Are you kidding? A way to show off my Ravenclaw pride and made by you? I'll never take it off." He slipped it onto his wrist. "Do you want to sit together for the match?"

"Sure," she agreed. "But I have to check on my brother…in case Slytherin hexed him into believing he's a chicken. I'll meet you in the stands."

Following Ginny and her friends out the door, she headed to the changing rooms and wrote another message ("He's wearing it") to Jace. A banner hung across the Slytherin doorway, You're the greatest, Draco. Love, Pansy dwarfing the other written words of encouragement.

"Katrina?" Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were walking towards the changing rooms. "The Gryffindor rooms are on the opposite end."

"I'm not looking for my brother," she said, as his bulky bodyguards trudged through the doorway, their heads scraping the bottom of the banner.

"Really?" he asked, leaning on the wall. He clasped a crown-shaped badge in his hand. "Why's that? Did the Gryffindors send you to hex me before the match? I was waiting for one of the Weasley twins or Dunbar, as payback for charring her skirt during Potions. In my defense, I didn't think Nott would go through with the dare."

"I wanted to wish you luck. I thought it would cause less of an uproar if I did it down here." She acknowledge the banner. "Sorry I didn't write on it but Pansy didn't leave much space, did she?"

"Don't let your brother hear you being so nice to me or he might have a heart attack," he joked. "If I win, maybe we could go to Hogsmeade to celebrate, the tw—"

"Draco, quit flirting and get your head in the game." Graham and the rest of the team rounded the corner. "Get changed into your robes."

"Good luck," she repeated.

Bundling her sleeves over her scarlet red mittens, she gave him a small hug, her hands moving around him and back to her sides at lightning speed. Draco staggered backwards, having hit the brick wall as he turned his head. A pink tinge to his cheeks, his eyes shut, and a hand over his nose, he blindly stumbled into the changing room. As she passed the older boys, Adrian teasing her for a kiss for good luck ("Tongue makes it really good luck," he advised, making Cassius Warrington snigger), she stopped, just as she was closest to Graham.

"You dropped this." Bending down, she picked up a crumpled piece of parchment. "Here you go."

"It's not mine," Graham dismissed.

"It has your name on it." She handed him the parchment. "But to be sure, you should read it."

Climbing up the steps to the Ravenclaw section of the stands, she noticed silver crown-shaped badges, like the one Draco had in his hand, pinned to the sweaters and coats of every Slytherin but they were too far away for her to read the inscription. Roger was showing a similar badge to the other Ravenclaws, their faces a mix of exasperation and disgust. When he saw Katrina, he was not quick enough to hide it in his pocket.

The phrase Weasley Is Our King was etched on the badge. "A third year gave it to me. She was too scared to go to Snape in case the Slytherins found out she snitched so I talked to him and all he said was that badges aren't against the rules."

"Of course he didn't care. He probably came up with the idea," argued Lisa. "They pull these stunts all the time. Why would this year be any different?"

Madam Hooch, the flying instructor and quidditch referee, was in the center of the field, both teams marching out to wild cheers and whistles. Mirroring their housemates, the Slytherin team wore the offensive badges. To them, it was a funny prank but Katrina disagreed, viewing them as a cheap shot to get under an already panicked Ron's skin. Once they mounted their brooms, Madam Hooch blew her whistle and the match began, the players shooting into the air with the quaffle, bludgers, and golden snitch.

The match was extremely fast-paced, the teams zooming around the field as red and green blurs. Lee provided an interesting commentary, reprimanded by McGonagall for his wistful comments on Angelina rejecting him for a date. Harry and Draco were circling the field above the constant action, searching for the snitch. In the midst of Roger explaining to her how the Slytherin team relied on strength over strategy, she heard singing from the Slytherins, their voices drowning out Lee and the cheers from the other houses.

Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That's why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King.
Weasley was born in a bin,
He always lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley will make sure we win,
Weasley is our King.

"Idiots, the lot of them," said Sue, draping Liam's jacket on her shoulders. "Bet Runcorn wrote it when she was too busy to pay attention during choir practice…and she wonders why Flitwick never gives her a solo."

Pansy, at the front of the stands, moved her hands like a conductor. The foul song was affecting the visibly shaken Ron, who was hovering between the three goal hoops as Cassius approached, the quaffle tucked under his arm.

"Ooh, way off," said Finn, as the quaffle soared through Ron's outstretched arms.

"Can't Madam Hooch do something?" asked Katrina, listening to the Slytherins start another chorus. "It's not fair to Ron."

"It's immature but like the badges, not against any rules," lamented Roger. "The best he can do is tune them out."

That was not as simple as it sounded, the Slytherins shouting the lyrics to the point that Lee's commentary was inaudible. Harry had been stationary in the air, forgetting about the snitch to check on Ron, and looked over at Katrina in the stands, both knowing that Ron's low confidence was plummeting further by the minute. To their dismay, Ron let in three more goals but Angelina managed to score on Miles Bletchley. Katrina's cheers were cut short by Harry almost being struck in the head by a bludger, thanks to Crabbe, who, along with Goyle, seemed intent on injuring him.

"Go Harry!" she shouted, watching him fly towards the golden snitch hovering at the Slytherin side of the pitch.

Everyone else realized that he had spotted the tiny, fluttering ball, Draco included, and waited for the impending end of the match. Neck and neck, either could have grabbed the snitch but Harry succeeded, the pitch erupting in cheers from the Gryffindors.

WHAM!

Crabbe had swung another bludger at him, striking Harry in the back and knocking him off his broom, leading to a round of jeers for his sleazy stunt. Blowing her shrill whistle, a furious Madam Hooch raced towards the dimwitted Slytherin. Katrina was about to leave the stands to help Harry, until she heard a spiteful snigger.

"Maybe he'll get another scar he can brag about," Liam quipped, Sue giggling with him.

"That's not funny!" Roger stepped between her and the unapologetic Liam, reminding her of the day he tried to fight Harry. "He could've hurt him. Shut up or—"

"Or what, Potter?" He swatted Roger's hand from his chest. "No, I'm so tired of you defending this demented brat just to score an easy shag."

"Liam!" shouted Stella Fawcett, another seventh year, appalled.

Katrina imagined herself ripping off his head, using Kane's breathing exercises to stay calm despite the growing urge to pummel him. "I'm not going to do anything because scum like you doesn't deserve a fraction of my attention."

Feeling her entire body shake, she hurried down the wooden staircase, finding her brother in an argument with Draco, who was directing his rage over the match at him and the Weasleys. He hinted at the song the Slytherins had been singing, implying that it was his idea. The Gryffindor team, minus Ron, halted their triumphant cheers, Angelina holding Fred back and Harry doing the same with George as Draco called Mrs. Weasley fat and ugly and her husband a useless loser. Katrina had heard him insult the Gryffindors countless times but never to this vicious degree. It took the combined strength of Angelina, Katie, and Alicia to restrain Fred from attacking Draco. Some Slytherins were off to the side, snickering at the taunts.

"But you like the Weasleys, don't you, Potter?" he asked, sneering. "Spend holidays and everything there, don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink but I suppose when you've been dragged up by muggles, even the Weasleys' hovel smells okay…or perhaps, you can remember what your mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it."

It all happened in the blink of an eye. Harry and George sprinted at Draco, tackling him to the ground and throwing punch after punch. Pansy was shrieking like a banshee, fearing for her 'precious Drakie', the crowd was bellowing from the stands, Fred was itching to get his own hands around Draco's throat, and Adrian and Graham moved to join the fight, prevented by Katrina's ice charm freezing their shoes to the grass. Flicking her wand, she cast an impediment jinx, separating the three boys.

Katrina kneeled beside a dizzy Harry, helping him sit up to check his injuries. Before she could heal a scrape on his chin, Madam Hooch interfered, absolutely livid with Harry and George.

"What do you think you're doing?" she screamed. "I've never seen behavior like it. Back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House's office! Go! Now!"

Katrina expected her to punish Draco for his role in the fight. "But Madam Hooch—"

"Quiet, Miss Potter! Both of you, to your head of house!" Harry squeezed Katrina's hand before departing the pitch with George. "Absolutely disgusting behavior. There's no reason for you to be standing around. All of you, return to the castle."

Wanting to accompany Harry but certain that McGonagall would shut her out, she stayed on the pitch, her heart pounding like a drum in her ears. She could faintly hear Katie's voice, telling her to come back to the common room. Wiping blood from his nose, Draco looked at her, aware that he was caught in his putrid act. What mental gymnastics would he pull to downplay his actions?

The daisies near her began to wilt, their petals falling one by one. "Katrina, I wasn't—let me—"

Not caring if she accidentally siphoned him, she pushed him back to the ground. "Am I supposed to ignore the last two minutes?" He stood up, wincing. "You can't say things like that, not to my brother or anyone."

"I'm allowed to be angry that we lost," he replied, a poor excuse. "Is it my fault Weasley's such a terrible keeper? Last I checked, I'm in Slytherin and we don't get along with Gryffindors. It's the way things are…been that way for centuries so why would it be any different now?"

"Because you don't have to be what other people think you are" she snapped. "I guess it's my fault for thinking you didn't have to act like a carbon copy of your father but I was wrong! You're exactly like him so congratulations! You really have it perfected, the posturing, that stupid smirk that's practically tattooed on your face, and the heartless insults about people you deem inferior…"

"Why do you care so much? You didn't even know your mother!" Draco froze, the anger immediately draining from his face. "I didn't mean—"

"No, you did," she interrupted. "Thank you for the reminder."

Katrina stormed off, tears stinging her eyes. These were not the fake tears she drummed up to fool Roger in the Great Hall. She was halfway up the path when she felt someone grab her wrist.

Spinning on her heel, she pointed her wand at Draco. "You don't touch me! Don't ever touch me!"

"K—Katrina, please. Let me ex—forgive me," he implored.

"So you can keep spying on me for your father?" She shut him up for the second time. "You're not that clever. I've known your game from day one and I've been the one playing you, ever since you convinced Umbridge that you'd be an oh so amazing mentor to me. Everything since then has been me pretending to give you what you want. The truth is that you're not worth any of the calories I burn talking to you day after day in that library, acting like the airhead seals who clap their manicured flippers whenever you do something as simple as pick up a fork."

"Wh—I haven't been doing that," he said, Katrina scoffing at his foolish attempt to trick her.

"Spare me your bullshit. If your father wants to get information from me, he can be a fucking man and get it from me himself! I don't owe you anything, Malfoy," she snarled. "You made your feelings very clear so it's my turn. This mentor garbage is over but you won't say that to Umbridge. Don't talk to me, don't look at me."

"Katrina—" Roger appeared beside her. "Davies, sod off!"

"Go slither back to your common room. You've done enough." Nostrils flaring, Draco did not move, challenging the head boy. "Go or I'll have a long chat with the headmaster about you and your friends sneaking around past curfew, on nights that you weren't on patrol. You're lucky all you've got is a bloody nose."

Instead of the castle, Roger brought her to the empty courtyard where people spent breaks between classes. Water flowed in the fountain at the center, frost intertwining with the vines that covered its stone base. Sitting by the fountain, she pulled her knees to her chest.

"Remember my offer this morning? No expiration date on it," he whispered. "What Malfoy said…"

A tear trickled down her cheek. "He's sort of right, isn't he? I don't know her. Harry doesn't remember them much either but at least he was with them for a bit. My parents died, thinking that I was dead."

Conjuring a handkerchief, he handed it to her. "Malfoy and right don't belong in the same sentence. I've known him longer than you and this is what people like him do. They lash out and dig at the worst thing to make you feel as bad. It's what they thrive on like some twisted leech." She blinked back tears. "And I bet your parents never stopped thinking about you."

Her head rested on his shoulder, the closest she had gotten to anyone at Hogwarts besides Harry. She was unsure if it was her being vulnerable or needing comfort in that moment from a person she trusted outside of her usual, undeniably small bubble.

"I should've punched him," she mumbled.

"Your brother probably has detention until the end of the year. No need to add you to that list, no matter how satisfying it would be." He let out a soft sigh. "I'm sorry about Liam. This situation with his dad has him acting out. His case was dismissed but now his coworkers aren't treating him that well and Liam wants him to lie that he was being forced to support Dumbledore but he refuses to let them win."

"I can handle it but if he gets in my face again, I can't promise I won't hex his nose off," she warned.

Roger grinned. "I'll tell him. I have to meet with Flitwick about career stuff. If you want, I can walk you back to your common room."

"I'll manage." She glanced at his watch. "McGonagall should be done yelling at Harry soon so I should be there for emotional support as he rants about Malfoy."

Separating from Roger on the second floor, Katrina left him to visit Flitwick's office and continued to the fourth floor, entering an empty classroom. Seconds later, the door swung open, followed by an enraged Graham.

"What the hell is this?" he asked, holding up the parchment she had given him outside the changing rooms.

"Dear Graham, I know your secret," she recited, picking up a lion figurine on the windowsill. "If you don't want me to rat you out, meet me in the empty classroom on the fourth floor across from the bust of Merlin at 12:30. Sincerely, Katrina. Sounds pretty straightforward to me."

"Is this a prank you and your deranged brother came up with? I'm not falling for it." An invisible barrier formed in the doorway, blocking his exit. "Don't test me, Potter."

He took out his wand. "Oh, I wouldn't do that. It's going to repel any magic not cast by me. You must not want those secrets to get out, with that temper." Lowering his wand, he faced her. "Yeah, secrets as in plural. You're trying to figure out if it's that you've been cheating on your girlf—wait, fiancee, isn't she? You like to keep that word hush hush. It's crazy how she hasn't caught on when you're sloppy but maybe she's too in love to be observant. Like how you're top of the class in Transfiguration but then you have Layla Rosier tutoring you in the library. It's smart, to pick a class that Selene isn't in so she doesn't know her fiancé and her bestie are lying."

"Whatever insanity you've dreamt up, Selene would never believe you. Reverse the spell before I count to three or you're going to regret being trapped in here with me," he threatened.

"Wow, I was going to say that to you." She twirled her finger. "Why don't you read the back of the note, Casanova?"

A second message appeared on the parchment. It detailed how Selene and Layla would receive identical notes from Graham, instructing the girls to meet him in the Astronomy section of the library. When they arrived at the location, Selene's note would reflect Layla's and expose her beloved fiancé's infidelity by guiding her to Layla's missing diamond earring that had fallen off a few nights ago during their 'tutoring' session and the 'LR + GM' etched on the underside of a table. Katrina had added a time delay to her handiwork, giving Graham five minutes to be honest with her.

"You're bluffing," he hissed. "You couldn't—what have I done that makes you want to meddle in my life? Is this some convoluted way to get payback for Draco's stunt on the pitch today?"

"Can we skip this pointless dance around the obvious? That you broke into my room by masquerading as my brother? That you're awfully chummy with Lukas if he gave you that ring?" She indicated the silver ring on his right hand, a phoenix etched in the ruby. "Interesting since Draco's told me how much you despise the Carlisles yet you're wearing an authentic Carlisle ring. See, during the first war, there was all this hype and praise for Kane Carlisle and merchants capitalized on it by making copies of his family ring but they got the crest wrong. They put a dragon inside the ruby because he was called the fearsome dragon of North America but actually, his family crest is a phoenix."

"You're nuttier than what the Daily Prophet's been writing," he said, putting on a clueless facade. "Maybe you need to go back to the hospital wing, have Madam Pomfrey take a second look."

"I can speed up the timing of my spell," she offered. He bit the inside of his cheek. "You're not half as crafty as your inflated ego from years of undeserved praise for the luck of being born into a wealthy, pompous family has you thinking, Montague. The real Carlisle rings are enchanted to communicate with those wearing it and I'm guessing Lukas gave you his mother's, which he was saving after she tried to pawn it for money years ago. What was your endgame in telling Roger about Cayden? Is he being petty about failing three times at getting me?"

Graham stared at her, a dozen emotions flickering through his dark eyes. "Fine, you want to lay the cards on the table? I know the truth about where you've been, how you were holed up in Kane Carlisle's home and not being held prisoner by that idiot Crispin Lee, and yes, I'm briefly putting aside my hatred of that arrogant prat because it gets me something that I want."

"And what's that? Breaking mommy out of Azkaban?" she asked, reading about his mother's imprisonment months before Voldemort's downfall. "Is Daddy not pushing for her freedom and you prefer her over that trophy wife of a stepmother who graduated in your second year? Cayden promised to get her out faster so you'll feign complete loyalty to Voldemort and have a side hustle? That's risky and if you don't want it to become public knowledge, you're going to give me every communication you have with Lukas. I don't care if it was you exchanging workout routines. I'll give you the day. You've got an angry girlfriend to deal with, don't you?"

"You said if I was honest, you'd reverse the spell!" he said, as she headed towards the door.

"And it's been five minutes and forty seconds." She pouted at the incensed Slytherin. "Someone needs to work on that temper."

Graham was about to attack her until she removed one of her mittens. It proved her hunch that Lukas had informed him of her gifts.

"Did he mention that my abilities don't always require touch? Not as reliable but I can put in the effort with the proper motivation," she said, nonchalantly. "This conversation stays private and I'll remind you that I was trained by the best so I have ways of keeping an eye on you. I'll be in touch. I'd say I'm rooting for you lovebirds but she can do better."

If a stranger entered the Gryffindor common room, they would be under the impression that it was the aftermath of a funeral, not a quidditch victory. All around the room, her housemates' faces reflected anger and sadness. A miserable Harry was sitting around the fireplace with Hermione and the Gryffindor team, Ron absent among them. While McGonagall's choice of punishment was a week of detention for their 'disgraceful exhibition' of muggle fighting, Umbridge interrupted, presenting her with the latest Ministry decree that stemmed from McGonagall beseeching Dumbledore to override Umbridge's decision to not reform the Gryffindor team.

The new decree bestowed final authority on punishments to Umbridge as High Inquisitor, allowing her to alter decisions made by the professors. With her new authority, she banned Harry, Fred, and George from the team and confiscated their brooms.
"There has to be a loophole," said Fay, sitting on the couch with Sophie and Neville. "Dumbledore's the headmaster. That toad can't have a higher authority than him."

"That'll be next, I suppose, making her a super headmaster…" said Fred, bitterly.

"Where have you been?" Harry asked Katrina, turning away from the fireplace. "Hermione said you got into it with Malfoy after I left and what that snotty ferret said about—I'll punch him again, until his whole face is black and blue."

"He's not worth it," she said, opting to not relive what occurred on the pitch. "I was with Roger. He wanted to calm me down before I hexed Malfoy or Chambers. He and Sue were laughing when you got hit by the bludger."

Sophie made a gagging noise. "God, her standards are low. Of course she'd settle for trash like Chambers. It'd be either him or a flobberworm."

"Dumbledore will find a way to lift the ban," Katrina assured him. "She can't keep you from playing quidditch forever."

Draco paced in front of Snape's office, moving back and forth for such a long time that his shoes were staining the floor with scuff marks. The potions professor had not yet returned from the pitch, busy dealing with Crabbe for striking Potter with the bludger after the match, but Draco preferred standing outside his door to being in the common room, where Pansy and the girls would treat him like he suffered excruciating torture. How had he screwed up this badly? How had he gone from Katrina being willing to give him her best version of a hug to her viewing him as a disgusting insect? It was utterly mental that he was heartened by the bare minimum of physical touch, Katrina having to, adorably, bundle her hands in her sleeves, when he received more from an elderly woman at a Ministry party raving about how he resembled his handsome father.

His mind kept redirecting his blame to Potter. Her damn brother had to spoil that fleeting happiness, humiliating him by catching the snitch, and though he would gladly blame Potter, it was his words that caused the mess. He wished he had a time turner to reverse his mistake, to stop himself before Katrina heard a single insult.

"If you've come to convince me to lift Mister Crabbe's punishment, our newest educational decree leaves it out of my hands," said Snape, walking along the shadowy corridor. "He did injure a player after the match had ended but Professor Umbridge settled on a minor sentence of writing lines. Admittedly, to him, that must seem severe."

"It's not about Crabbe, sir. Before term started, my father told me to speak to you if I was having issues," said Draco, a tight feeling in his gut. "It's about Katrina Potter."

Snape's hand hovered over the door handle, a minute part of his stoic expression faltering then back within seconds. Stepping into his office, Draco sat in the high-backed armchair by the fireplace and disclosed his father's orders to befriend Katrina to get possible secrets from her about her brother and Dumbledore. It was unsurprising that Snape was privy to the plan, his face unchanged at Katrina's reveal of knowing the plan and putting on an act to deceive him.

He was looking at an herb inside a vial on his desk, its stem momentarily switching from yellow to red. "I did warn your father that such a scheme was not without its faults. A man like Dumbledore doesn't get his reputation by being gullible. He was prepared for the Dark Lord attempting to use the children of his followers to get to the Potters."

"But I haven't written him," confessed Draco. "I haven't sent any letters. I've tried but what am I supposed to put in them? That she likes to draw or tells the weirdest jokes that shouldn't be funny but they are when she says them or how her—he doesn't want to hear that, professor."

"Why do I have the sense this isn't about your father's ill-fated plan?" asked Snape, placing the vial in his drawer.

"I thought I was finally getting her to trust me and now she's imagining my head on a spike." A giant lump formed in his throat. "I don't want her to be mad at me. What do I say to her?"

"Unfortunately, there is no magical solution to understanding the intricacies of a teenage girl, Draco," he said, sagely. "Like her brother, Miss Potter can be stubborn and your apologies will bounce off her like an imperturbable charm. If regaining her trust is that important to you, I'd recommend—"

A loud bang, like a cannon, rang outside the office, accompanied by screams. Snape opened the door to Layla, half of her face covered in bright red boils, being chased by a bat-bogey hex and Graham dodging spell after spell being thrown by a fearsome Selene. Her blasting curse narrowly missed his head, tearing an enormous hole in the wall behind him.

"Finite!" cried Snape.

The bats ceased swarming Layla, who was curled up in a ball. Disarming Selene, he kept her apart from a wary Graham with a shield charm.

"What is the meaning of this? Miss Carrow, control yourself!" he said, physically preventing her from strangling her boyfriend.

Growling, Selene reached over Snape. "I'm going to skin you alive, you traitorous worm!"

Hiding under the invisibility cloak, crouched between Harry and Hermione, Ron's eyes were on the dungeons entrance. Late into the night, he had climbed through the portrait hole to the Gryffindor common room, sulking over his performance on the field. Hearing about Umbridge's quidditch ban only worsened his guilt but Hermione cheered him and Harry up, seeing that the lights were on in Hagrid's cabin. Deciding to pay him a visit, they sneaked out with the invisibility cloak, a tough task for four teenagers, and halted at the sound of piercing screams and breaking glass.

"What do you reckon that's about?" asked Ron, Snape and Selene's voices carrying through the door and scaring the portraits.

"I heard a rumor that Montague was sneaking around behind Carrow's back," whispered Katrina. "With Run…Rook…Rosier, maybe? Carrow must've found out."

"Well, let's go before Snape gets fed up and takes it out on us," encouraged Harry, guiding them out of the castle.

Hagrid's cabin stood out in the darkness, smoke coiling up from the chimney and into the pitch black sky. Trekking through the thickening snow, they approached the cabin, a dog barking frantically as Harry knocked on the front door. For the first time since sitting in McGonagall's office, Harry smiled at Hagrid's gruff voice, but it fell when they saw the state of their friend.

"Merlin's beard, keep it down!" he said hastily, at Hermione's scream. "Under that cloak, are yeh? Well, get in, get in!"

Squeezing past him, they pulled off the invisibility cloak. Katrina had never met anyone with giant blood before but she wondered how it took an article from a tabloid reporter like Rita Skeeter for others to deduce his unique heritage. He was twice as tall as an average man, at least eleven feet, and three times as wide, his hands the size of trash bin lids. His hair was matted with congealed blood, his face littered with fresh cuts, and his left eye was surrounded by a mass of purple and black bruises. Dodging Harry's questions about his injuries, he limped from the door, placing a copper kettle over the fire. A large boarhound danced around, hopping on its hind legs to slobber Katrina's cheek.

"I'm tellin' yeh, I'm fine. Blimey, it's good ter see you three again." Peering around with a pained grin, he noticed Katrina petting the dog. "Yeh mus' be Katrina. Look at yeh, all grown up."

"Nice to meet you," she said, kindly.

"Yeh're a spittin' image of your mother." A tear fell from his swollen eye. "Shame your parents never saw yeh two together. They didn' deserve ter not see yeh alive and well."

The tender moment was ruined by Harry, Hermione, and Ron pestering him for answers, referring to the scrapes and bruises. They suspected that his mission involved giants but Hagrid did not appear eager to share the details, calling them nosy. Slapping a green-tinged piece of dragon meat over his eye, a resigned Hagrid recounted his mission to find the giants, after learning about Harry's encounter with dementors over the summer. He had traveled with Madam Maxime, the headmistress of Beauxbatons and a supposed half-giant herself though she favored the term big-boned.

Ron sipped from a bucket-sized mug. "A month?" he asked, incredulous at the long journey. "But—why couldn't you just grab a portkey or something?"

"So they couldn't be tracked," said Katrina, peering out the frosty window with his dog (Fang, according to Harry) nudging her leg. "Magic leaves a signature behind and a skilled wizard could use it to pinpoint a specific person. It's why Kane travels like a muggle on stealth missions."

"Tha's right. We're bein' watched, Ron," said Hagrid, adjusting the steak. "The Ministry's keepin' an eye on Dumbledore an' anyone they reckon's in league with him."

As Hagrid spoke about shaking off the Ministry official tailing them in France and finding a giant tribe in the mountains, Katrina examined his collection of herbs on a shelf. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were enraptured by his tale of meeting with the leader of the giants and running into trouble with the leader being killed and replaced by another, less friendly giant and the presence of death eaters hoping to sway them to Voldemort's side.
Katrina placed a bowl of purple paste on the table, freshly mashed from his herbs. "Your cuts will get infected. It'll tingle for awhile but then it absorbs into the skin. Kane's a baby when it comes to his injuries too so I had to make pastes like these that make it look like he's tough and naturally healing."

"Tha's sweet of yeh, Katrina, but I'll be fine…" She dropped a wooden spoon into the bowl. "Yeh get that stubbornness from yer dad. I'll try it soon as I'm done talkin'. Now where was I? Oh, then, in abou' the sixth cave, we found three giants hidin'."

The mission had not been a complete success, the leader raiding the caves of the giants they befriended and the survivors deciding not to join the fight against Voldemort. Despite the setback, Hagrid was optimistic that a couple of the giants would change their minds, persuaded by Dumbledore's friendliness towards their kind. Beginning to apply the paste to his cuts, he clammed up when questioned about what caused them and why Maxime returned without him.

Sealing the glass jars, Katrina spotted a squat figure in the distance. "Someone's out there. Harry, someone's coming towards the cabin."

"You're seeing things. Hagrid, how—ow!" She had smacked his head with a tea towel. "Katrina!"

"My vision's better than yours," she said, tossing him the cloak. "Get under it. I'll stall."

Phasing through the wall with a charm, she blended into the cabin, holding her breath in spite of the chilly air. Umbridge, dressed in a green tweed cloak and matching hat with earflaps, strolled up to the door and rapped on it repeatedly, Fang barking in response. Katrina tiptoed closer as the door opened, listening to her speak to Hagrid like he was deaf. She warded off an excited Fang with her handbag and introduced herself, surveying every inch of the cabin.

Whether she knew who was inside was unclear but her scrutinizing gaze suggested that she knew Hagrid was not alone, explicitly telling him that she heard voices. She was not deceived by Hagrid's explanation of talking to Fang or that the footprints in the snow leading up to the cabin were from an earlier visitor, at a loss for words when she noted the footprints solely faced one direction. Switching to interrogate him over his injuries, she was dissatisfied with his vague answers for his absence.

"Yes, as gamekeeper, fresh air must be so difficult to come by," she said in that sickly sweet voice.

"Well…change o' scene, yeh know," he muttered. Her mention of mountain scenery could not be a lucky guess. "Mountains? Nope, south of France fer me. Bit o' sun an'…an' sea."

He blamed his lack of a tan on sensitive skin. "I shall, of course, be informing the Minister of your late return. You ought to know too that as High Inquisitor, it is my unfortunate but necessary duty to inspect my fellow teachers so I daresay we shall meet again soon enough."

"You're inspectin' us?" asked Hagrid, confused.

"Oh yes," she said, nearing a corner where a speck of Ron's shoe was visible under the tea towel. "The Ministry is determined to weed out unsatisfactory teachers, Hagrid."

"Hi professor!" Katrina exclaimed, causing her head to whip around to the doorway.

"Miss Potter, what are you doing out on the grounds at this time of night?" she asked, aghast.

Katrina jumped in the snow. "Is it night? Oh yeah, it is…I was supposed to meet Draco in the library. He's the nicest and really smart. He's like the best student in the whole school. I was going there and then my head felt funny and I wanted to play in the snow. I've never seen snow before. Did you see my footprints?" She smiled at Hagrid, who had caught onto her ruse. "Whoa, you're big. I like your house. My brother's famous. I'll give you a hint."

Cupping her hands like circles, she placed them over her eyes. "You made these footprints?" echoed Umbridge, slowly. "Miss Potter."

"Yeah. I hopped back and forth to make some bigger and then I hid behind the house. I'm sneaky," she said, with a high-pitched giggle. "Do you want to play hide and seek with me?"

"I will be taking you to the castle, dear. Wandering alone at night is not safe for a young lady like yourself, certainly not a place like this." Umbridge steered her away from the cabin. "Let's get you inside and I will reverse that nasty confundus charm."

Resembling a motherly figure, she brought Katrina into the castle and lifted the presumed confundus charm that had addled her mind. Katrina thanked her, claiming to not see her attacker, and waited in the Gryffindor common room, Harry, Ron, and Hermione hurrying through the portrait hole.

"That was good acting, Katrina," praised Ron. "For a minute, I thought you were Harry."

Grabbing a pillow from the couch, Harry chucked it at her. "I needed to sell it. If I didn't, Umbridge could've caught you. How about a thank you? Like this." She put her hands over her eyes again. "Thank you, Katrina."

"Harry!" admonished Hermione, as he made a rude hand gesture. "He won't say it but I will. Thank you. It was quick thinking. I'm going to Hagrid's tomorrow to help with his lesson plans. Would you like to come with me? He wasn't listening to me about how horrid Umbridge is but maybe two voices are better than one."

The next morning, Katrina awoke before the other girls and checked the Marauder's Map, having taken it from Harry's pocket on his way to bed. She slipped it back into his trunk while he slept and left the castle, hiding behind a gargoyle statue to drink the muddy contents of a vial in her bag. Her insides writhed, the burning feeling spread throughout her body as her limbs lengthened and her hair grew past her shoulders. Taking out her mirror, she was greeted by Selene's reflection, her tanned face framed by her curly brown hair. She walked to the quidditch pitch, where Graham was flying around the field. As he flew around one of the goal hoops, he dove back to the ground and climbed off his broom.

"Selene," he said, cautiously. "Hear me out. Like I was trying to tell you in Snape's office, Layla and I were a one time thing. Whatever that note said, it was a lie. She means nothing to me."
"Aw, trouble in paradise?" she asked, leaning against the wooden post. "I'm shocked."

"Potter," he snarled. "What are you doing?"

"Kane packed me lots of useful potions, for my safety. We had a deal, teddy bear," she reminded him, using Selene's cutesy nickname. "It's not as conspicuous if I look like your heartbroken girlfriend. The fact that you don't get that proves you're not in the creepy inner circle, more a bottom of the barrel goon. It's a brand new day so I'm here to collect. Shall we sit in the stands where anyone who passes by will think we're having a mature conversation about our relationship and if it has a future?"

Mumbling a slew of curses, he followed her into the stands. He kept his eyes forward, uncomfortable with her altered appearance.

"I'm no seer but I predict she'd rather get trampled by a hippogriff than forgive you. Not that I need to be one when the entire castle could hear her chewing you out last night," she said, crossing her legs. "Fair warning, your new buddy may swoop in to nurse his own broken heart. As he's overshared with me many times, he does love a screamer."

"We're not here to talk about Selene," he snarled. "Whatever I tell you, she stays out of it. Swear on it, whether she takes me back or not."

"Promise." She traced an X over her heart. "You're the one working for a psycho, not me."

"Debatable," he shot back. "I've heard stories about Kane Carlisle. Why are you sure he's the good guy in this situation?"

"He's not today's topic of discussion. I doubt you're clued into the big stuff but Lukas must be giving you information in case he needs you for a job. Before you answer this, let me be clear that lying is a waste. I don't need magic to sense it," she said, daring him to test her. "What was with Lukas and Aubrey's brunch date? Who were they meeting?"

"I don't—a man." He brushed dirt off of his hand. "Lukas didn't say his name, just that he's a historian."

"For what?" she asked, turning towards him as Snape passed by with McGonagall in deep conversation. It was an odd pairing, one she did not need discovering her. "Lukas can't sit through a briefing without zoning out."

"About an old medieval myth. Hundreds of witches and wizards, all dropped dead at once. Parents tell it to their kids to scare them from sneaking out and doing bad things. The story goes that these wizards stole from a powerful sorcerer and he cursed them to die in the same spot," he said, treating it like a silly ghost story. "My aunt used to tell it to me when I stole cookies from her kitchen. She'd say their souls would take me away. Whatever they wanted out of that meeting, they didn't get it so he wanted me to introduce him to Selene's cousin Gwen, who works in the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

Why would Lukas and Aubrey be interested in a random myth? Kane had taught her that many myths were based in fact, the finer details getting lost over the centuries. When she questioned Graham about the story, specifically what was stolen, he told her that it was the sorcerer's prized, jewel-encrusted dagger, the most coveted object in the land. Remembering what she had seen when Kane was interrogating that criminal Andrews, the images of a dagger, she left Graham in the stands and headed back to the Gryffindor common room, the polyjuice potion wearing off when she reached the Fat Lady's portrait but no one around to witness her transformation.

"Hey, can you knock?" asked Harry, covering himself with the curtain around his bed, as she entered his dormitory.

He was alone in the room. "Where is everybody? Breakfast?"

"Yeah, that's where we're going too," he said, pushing up his baggy sleeves. "Where else? Why do you look like you're on a sugar rush? I'm not doing those drills again. You want to hone your ninja skills, fine, but I'm okay with my wand."

"Tell Hermione and Ron that we're visiting Dumbledore to appeal the quidditch ban." She tossed him his tattered shoes. "Team Potter is going on a treasure hunt."