3. The girl in grey and green.

Mornings in the Great Hall were generally quite a bit noisy. Students, half-sleeping, were struggling to keep their eyes open in front of their plates. Some rare brave ones were enthusiastically discussing about the day to come.

'Can you make less noise when you eat?'

Maggie, who was chewing her fried eggs with a lethargic look, gave to Suzanna, the new Gryffindor with a pale complexion and long, curly blonde hair, an indifferent gaze. Provocative, she applied to make more noise.

'I'm eating...' she grumbled. 'And like I want, by the way...'

A grin appeared on Kate's face, who was with them this morning and consulted the parchment on which their schedule was.

'Wednesday', she said out loud, 'Charms from nine to ten and a half. Transfiguration from ten and a half to noon. And this afternoon, Care of Magical Creatures.'
'Yayyyyy...' sighed Maggie. 'We begin classes with a short-legged... Ouch!'

A book just hit her back.

'I heard you', grumbled the little Moira who climbed on the bench to take place.

Two braids were rounding her face and mingling in a complex flat bun on the top of her head, like a crown.

'Watch out, you've got a tablemat in your hair', said Maggie.

Moira forced a smile and ignored her neighbour's overweening remark, while serving herself some pumpkin juice, arms stretched.
A flock of owls invaded the Great Hall, carrying letters and parcels of presents from the new students' parents for their first year. If a solemn looking Great Horned Owl presented itself in front of Maggie with a letter in its beak, it was a tiny one that was twirling around Kate's head.

'Littleclaws!' she exclaimed, extending her arm so it can land on it.

It flapped its wings several times and stretched its neck to give her the crumpled paper it was carrying. It granted her a brief look for goodbyes before flying away as fast as it came. Littleclaws never was very affectionate. It just fulfilled its missions.

Kate unfolded the letter and recognized her father's chaotic handwriting.

"Sweet pea,

I hope everything's fine for you. I got wind of what happened to you at the ceremony, professor McGonagall sent me an owl to explain your particular situation.
I wouldn't have expected better from you, as unique as you are. You had to have a house of your own!
Don't worry, everything's gonna be fine. I already told you the most important isn't your house, but the life you'll live at Hogwarts and the friends you'll make. I'm proud of you.
Take care. I'll send you another letter next week.

Dad."

Following the not so literary words of her father, some upstroke and nicely written ones:

"For lack of having phones to call you, we think a lot about you and send you load of kisses from the bottom of our hearts. I hope my necklace will give you luck.
Be brave, sweetie.

Mom."

Kate's feverish fingers stroked the stone disk hanging around her neck, warm against her skin.

The first Charms classes turned out to be pricklier than Kate would have imagined. If theory, which she listened to very carefully, didn't cause any problem, practice was a sweet moment of disappointment. First years' program for this term was: manipulation and influence on nearby small objects. For their first hour, each student received a broken cup they had to repair. Few succeeded at first try and the most talented were given a more complicated task, with a cup in three, four or even five bits. But when Kate raised her wand and intoned a resolute "Reparo!" the cup disintegrated in smoking pieces, causing her neighbours' hilarity, while professor Flitwick hastened to give her another container which suffered the same fate.

'I suck...' she declared, hopelessly, when exiting the classroom at the end of the hour.
'No you don't', whispered with a thin voice Scarlett Hodgson, the last Gryffindor with mahogany hair. 'We all made mistakes!'
'Especially Maggie!' laughed Moira, trying her best to keep the pace.

The rich girl did, indeed, suffer some difficulties, but she just cut more pieces of her cup, she didn't disintegrate it, like Kate.

'All right, all right', grumbled Maggie while pulling her shoulder-bag back against her thigh, 'it was only the first class!'

They had to go through the building, then cross the courtyard. The trees with their dark green leaves were making it a pleasant cloister to have a break. The covered playground was overlooking a row of doors, one of them – the most impressive at the centre – being the Transfiguration's one. The Gryffindor girls were the first to come in. If there was a thing that gobsmacked them in this room with a high ceiling, that was the gigantic organ that was placed at the bottom of the room, on the professor's stage. So large, it was covering almost entirely the semi-circular wall! At his desk, professor Wolffhart was scribbling with his threadlike pheasant feather. So focused, his thick, frowning eyebrows seemed to touch his eyelids. Raising his head, he didn't even granted the newcomers with a smile and stayed stoical.

'Willkommen, Fräulein. Please, have a seat.'

His voice was so deep, it sounded hollow, enforced by his pronounced German accent. Shyly, they took place at the front while other students were coming in. Kate sat at the table at the very front, on the left, close to the wall, and was taking her quill, book, parchment and ink bottle out when she felt the warm feeling of a gaze in her back. She flip-flopped and found herself face to face with the steely eyes of the girl who sat at the table behind, her green tie neatly knotted under her rounded chin. Morgana McNair didn't take her eyes from her when, mortified, Kate turned slowly back to her table, her face transfixed in a non-hidden bewilderment. This girl, even though she was pretty – if she wasn't displaying this gloomy look –, didn't inspire her any trust. She could easily be compared to those little girls in those horror movies her father watched. The only ones he allowed himself to watch on this Muggle machine called TV, without criticizing them for their lack of realism.

Before she could have whispered to Maggie on her right, professor Wolffhart got up from his chair, hitting the desk with his hands in order to take a run-up. The noise was such; everyone jumped and fell silent, eyes fixed on the new teacher, who moved forward slowly, straightening his bright red scarf and his black felt collar, before putting his hands behind his back. He didn't have an impressive stature, but his tall silhouette – made slimmer by his long coat, topped with his expressionless chalky face – commanded respect and silence.

'Gut', he said with his gravelly voice. 'Now that everyone seems to be here and quiet, I think we can start.'

He went to the blackboard in big steps and grabbed the chalk. His writing was so frenetic and he was pressing so hardly, the chalk crushed in little pieces that fell on the floor.

'For those of you who are moles or don't possess the required cognitive abilities to decipher these words, my name is Wilhelm Wolffhart', he claimed in a booming voice after scribbling on the board. 'And you'll have the chance and the honour to stand me as your Transfiguration teacher during your seven years here, if Merlin wills.'

Maggie and Kate shared a worried look.

'Gut. Before starting the first lesson, I'd like to establish some rules with you. Three of them.'

With an amused and threatening look, he illustrated his words by raising three of his fingers in front of his large chin.

'Zunächst, I will not accept any lateness over the duration of a water clock's scale, otherwise, the students will attend my lessons transfigured into frogs. Any reaction?'

Indeed, two cones, between which a golden steady stream was running, were levitating over his desk. When the one at the top was empty, they romped about in a midair waltz, before inverting their places. From what Kate was able to see, thanks to her excellent eyesight, a scale was about less than thirty seconds. A very short delay! He wasn't joking... although they didn't know if it was a serious threat.

'Zweitens, you certainly noticed, my native Germany strongly comes out in your barbaric language. I will not accept any remark on that. Questions?'

A hand rose in the middle of the room. Wolffhart lowered his chin to allow the boy to talk:

'Did you fight in the Silberfalken?'

The Silberfalken's league was a group of German wizards who took the responsibility to protect Muggles fifty years ago, during World War 2 and Adolf Hitler's ascension. Some of them even tried to go after the Führer himself, but they didn't count on other wizards, with malicious intents, who were taking advantage of the auto-proclaimed chancellor for their glory and were ready to do anything it takes to earn their legitimacy at the head of the system. Those wizards were called Schafen. Sheep, traitors.

Professor Wolffhart had a scolding look.

'Zweitens bis, I will not accept any remark on that fact and questions about my strictly personal past.'

A breathe of disappointment went through the room. Even if the subject wasn't tackled a lot in the modern wizarding world, the Silberfalken history had constantly fascinated the youngest, as much as the Order of the Phoenix was arousing everybody's respect nowadays. It was always the case ever since a group fought against a tyrant. Even if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was far from being the Führer!

'Und dritten, I will be inflexible about your apprenticeship, young novices...'

He turned on one of his heel while pulling the side of his large coat towards him.

'Because transfiguration is more than magic. It's art. It's manipulation of the being. Better still, it's manipulation of life and of inert. Transfiguration is the biggest and the most phenomenal of all magic.'

His wand slipped from his sleeve and went by itself into his knotty fingers. And in a nimble move towards his opposite shoulder, a magic white line burst out of his wand and hit the gargoyle on the top of a column. This one moved, shook its horned head before its eyelids cracked and opened to reveal two blazing brightness, like two igneous coals, staring one by one the taken aback by fascination students.

'But it is also, the most dangerous and the most difficult to master...'

The gargoyle's claws clenched on the stone and created cracks in the pillar. The crushed rock was falling into pieces. And the grey beast jumped from its pedestal and landed with a crash on the floor. Some students couldn't help themselves but scream and Maggie moved back in a jump, terrified. Kate was still paralysed in fear while the chimera approached her in an attack posture and clutched the table with its sharp claws like a wild cat hunting its prey. Her eyes were anchored in the horrible creature's ones, as burning as ashes.

'Transfiguration requires humility, will, ambition, a certain sense of adventure and inventiveness. But mostly and above all: courage...'

Professor Wolffhart turned his wrist, turning the gargoyle into a spotless dove that flew in the room under the stunned laughs and reassured applauses of the children. The teacher didn't blink in front of that joy while he reached out his hand towards the bird, which landed on his forefinger. The professor's look turned gloomy and the students calmed down.

'At your level, you're only cockroaches', he hissed. 'My education will consist in making you masters. I have seven years to teach you how to be your own masters... The subject I will teach you is not made to fight the evil, to save you from tiredness or suffering, to make your life easier. It allows you to build your own reality, your world, yourself, as you wish.'

His gaze turned to Kate's livid one. At that moment, an imperceptible grin appeared at the corner of his lips.

'Gut, I think you got the main part...' he breathed.

Immediately, the dove's form changed again and it turned into a real, dark and varnished English cane on which he leaned after having let it slip in his hand to the floor. A short, fearful silence passed through the assembly before he went on:

'Does anyone here have any common sense to list me the different levels in Transfiguration?'

The students looked at each other and lowered their heads on their desks, hoping to avoid their teacher's attention in case he would interrogate them.

'Niemand? No one?' insisted the professor a bit louder.

Seeing everyone turning one by one in a specific direction, Kate followed the move and saw a little hand raised in the back of the room.

'I'm listening, jüng Mann', Wolffhart invited him to talk by lowering his chin. 'What is your name?'
'Beckett, sir. Emeric Beckett.'
'Gut, we're listening to you, Herr Beckett.'

From her seat, Kate could barely see the young Emeric's discreet face she met at Madam Malkin's. He turned pale when he saw all those looks on him and stammered:

'Three, professor. There are three levels.'
'Gut!' Wolffhart exclaimed, starting to scribble on the blackboard while leaning on his cane. 'And do you know which ones?'
'Level one is transfiguration of objects. Number two is animals. And number three is... transfiguration of a human being.'
'Ja, das ist sehr gut!'

Even though that was a compliment, the teacher didn't let it appear on his face, nor in his tone, while keeping on writing on the board, so hard his chalk was dangerously reducing.

'What is your house, Herr Beckett?'
'Ravenclaw', he stammered.
'Five points for Ravenclaw, then!'

He rubbed his hands, making chalk dust floating around, though it didn't stained his felt coat. Some students from Rowena's house expressed their moderate joy for the first points their house won.

As class went on, Kate listened very carefully, but she couldn't help but feel her neighbour's gaze in her back. Morgana McNair emitted a certain presence; intrusive and unpleasant... She felt relieved when a break was given to her, allowing her to listen to professor Wolffhart's powerful voice, who was interrogating his students on their basics. This respite ended when a little piece of parchment flew towards her and landed on her desk. Next to her, Maggie frowned in a silent question. Kate shrugged her shoulders and unfolded the secret message. The few words on it dumbfounded her:

"I know who you are and I know your father. I'd like to talk about it with you.
Meet me under the covered playground after classes."

Taken aback, Kate stuck the parchment in her cape's pocket and granted Maggie a light smile to reassure her. After a disappointed gaze, her friend focused back on the lesson.

When the bell rang, Kate told her new friends she would catch them up at lunch in the Great Hall. They didn't hide their surprise or their suspicions. However, after some unsuccessful questions, they agreed to go without Kate:

'So be it...' grumbled Maggie, nearly annoyed. 'Stay there, alone!'
'Oh, leave her be, she does what she wants after all!' Scarlett defended her, a big smile on her face.
'See you later, then!'

The small group crossed the green courtyard, already full of the oldest students enjoying their break. In a corner, fourth years were discussing about their Pygmy puffs perched on their shoulders. The little fur balls, as soft as touching, had different colours and sometimes were stroking up a little high-pitched note while rubbing themselves against their owners' neck. Further, a first year Hufflepuff seemed to be selling some candies to older boorish boys.

'Kate Whisper?'

Hearing her name, the little girl flip-flopped, squeezing her bag against her chest. Seeing her reaction, Morgana McNair gave a hint of a smile, embarrassed:

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you...!'

Once her cold facet down, Morgana gave the impression of a fragile little girl, with her pale face and her glowing hair thoroughly tidied.

'You didn't!' lied Kate, a shaking smile on her lips.
'I'm used to scare people', sighed Morgana. 'And I was worried you wouldn't wait for me.'
'Why wouldn't I?'
'You know, Gryffindors and Slytherins... All of these stories around houses, saying we're the bad guys...'
'My father was a Slytherin, I'm not prejudiced against them', Kate reassured her, more relaxed.
'I know...'

With a nod, Morgana invited her to walk in the sunny courtyard. She was moving forward, eyes on her black shoes.

'How do you know my father?' asked Kate.
'My parents were in Slytherin with your dad. That's why your name is familiar to me...'
'He rarely talks about his past life, at Hogwarts... Were they friends?'
'Mates more than friends, actually. My father said yours was a loner.'
'You seem to know a lot!'

Morgana slowed down and stared her in the face. Their eyes were so similar, they could have been sisters. But where Morgana's iris seemed as sharp as steel, Kate's ones kind of reminded the winter clouds.

'It's you who doesn't seem to know a lot about your father...'
'What do you mean?' mumbled Kate, afraid of the turn of the conversation.

For a moment, Morgana stared at her. And Kate felt terribly naïve to know so little about her own dad compared to this girl she barely knew. Was he hiding something from her?

'There's no secret in my family; we talk about everything. Sometimes good things, sometimes less good. Whatever. We are a family of wizards; we must stay in touch about everything.'
'I don't have any brothers or sisters, my mother's a Muggle and my father is very absorbed by his job. And with the recent events', pleaded Kate, sharply, 'I don't have occasions to talk about magic.'
'I see... That's unfortunate. So you don't know anybody here?'
'You mean by name?'

Morgana nodded.

'Not really', Kate grinned.
'Stay with me at lunch, then... I'll tell you!'

See a Gryffindor girl – though wearing no colour – at the Slytherin table for lunch, provoked a lot of surprised reactions. Kate wasn't yet sensitive to remarks or value judgements. After all, she wasn't even a real Gryffindor... If it was the case, the Sorting Hat would have send her there instead of fantasize on a dream house... Deep down in her heart, she felt fully Slytherin. After all, the blood in her veins came from that house, it seemed normal to her to claim her place as a student here.

'So, do you know any Slytherin?'

Morgana pointed out a direction with her chin while chewing her chicken. Following the movement, Kate discreetly turned her head. Two young Slytherin girls were discussing while eating their plates. One of them was thin; her long platinum blonde hair was reaching her lower back and was swept back by a velvet headband at the top of her head. The other one had large cheekbones and feline eyes with ebony hair tied in a pony tail. They were both displaying a confident look on their expressionless faces, showing the worthy self-importance of aristocrats' daughters.

'That's Amy Rosier and Lawrence Prince... Amy is part of one of the twenty-eight descendants of the "sacred" Pure Bloods. Her uncle was killed by Mad-Eye Moody, the former Auror, but in return he mutilated him. You know his magical eye... It's because of that![1] As for Lawrence, she's a Pure Blood too, a distant cousin of the former Headmaster[2]... Don't go near them... they are... special...'

The little girl went on by reviewing the other tables.

'The Ledger twins fled in Australia during You-Know-Who's reign. This morning, Marvin, the boy, received a letter from his parents. Apparently, they're furious he ended in Slytherin...'

Marvin was sitting next to his twin, at the Ravenclaws' table and moving his meat with his fork, slumped on his arm. He seemed to have lost all his ardour and mischievousness he had the day before. Next to him, a young Ravenclaw was eating greedily.

'That's Dexter Doxmornt. His father works at the Ministry and is responsible for investigations of magical crime scenes... Over there, that's Joris Juffbiggles. His father was sent in Azkaban when he was younger for potentially dangerous spells and dark items dealing. And the son is on the same path, if you ask me...!'

Further, indeed, the student Kate saw earlier was – with impunity and discretion – still trading Nosebleed Nougats, coming from nowhere, with Chocolate Frogs cards. The young Hufflepuff had brown, greasy hair falling in front of his angular face, with two half-closed, lethargic eyes. At the same time, a boy walked through the alley and sat at the Gryffindors' table. Already pretty tall for his age, a determined look, his head proudly held and a seducing smile, even though he was a young boy. Kate recognized him for having noticed him at the ceremony of the repartition.

'What about him? That's Griffin...?'
'Griffin Gale', completed Morgana with a fleeting smile. 'His brother is the new captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. A bunch of muscles, blonde hair and the smile of a prince charming. All the fifth years fight to spend time with him, even more now he fought the Hogwarts battle and girls see him as a hero! I think Griffin is kind of the same! That's family...!'
'How can you know all these things?' marvelled Kate.
'I have eyes and ears everywhere... That's certainly why I ended up in Slytherin! That's a family thing too! The only thing I really inherited...!'

They shared a laugh before Kate noticed the clay jar she wanted to take was empty.

'I'm going to go after some pumpkin juice, be right back...!'

Leaving her bench, she began to search for a filled carafe, sometimes checking it under her elders' noses. Kate was never lingering too long, embarrassed by their inquisitive looks. When she finally found a filled pitcher, she went back, proudly, to the Slytherins' table. But her natural clumsiness tricked her again when she walked on her robes, got entangled up in her own legs and fell flat down on her face, under the mocking laughs of her schoolmates. Kate watched, powerless, the pumpkin juice pours on the floor.

'Kate! Are you alright?'

Terry had rushed at her to help her get on her feet.

'Yes, I am, don't worry, I'm used to it!' she smiled, rubbing her painful knee.
'I didn't know you were so clumsy!'
'Now you do!'

They shared a smile before Terry casted a Scourgify, making the pumpkin juice evaporate.

'Can I take advantage of the situation to tell you something?' he breathed in a low voice while taking her back to the Slytherins' table.
'Yes?'
'I don't trust this McNair... Don't talk to her too much...'
'Why that?'

Terry gave her a serious look under his thick brown eyebrows.

'Did you see Hagrid's reaction at the ceremony of the repartition?! He literally jumped off his chair! This girl is not clear...'
'How can you say that? You don't even know her!'
'If I ask my father to look into his records, I'm sure he'll tell me her parents were Death Eaters! I'd bet my wand!'
'And so what?' said Kate, annoyed. 'Even though it is the case, she is not!'
'How do you know...' sighed Terry, as if his friend's reaction discouraged him.
'She's nice with me! Unlike others, who give me funny looks since yesterday...!'

The young man bit his lip and slowed down his pace, seeing his friend wouldn't change her mind. He studied the young Morgana, alone, quiet and shy in front of her plate.

'Alright. Maybe you're right, after all. Perhaps I get carried away for nothing and I'm wrong about that girl. But be careful. Even if the war is over, the wizarding world is still fragile. I admit I don't know you well, but I know you are the only one in your situation.'
'What does that mean? Do I look weak to you?'
'I wouldn't go that far', he smiled. 'But I have this impression that you are... kind of a... blunder?'

Kate couldn't retort: Terry was quite right. Hogwarts corridors were full of mysteries that could turn out to be dangerous... She had to be careful, especially because of her family situation. If she was just an ordinary student, she could have gone beyond Terry's warning. However, she remembered her parents' advices and those last nightmarish months. Hogwarts may be the safest place to be, it still had some flaws, and some threats might find their way to her. All of this maybe was a nebulous constitution of "perhaps", but the slightest mistake could cost her much, Kate knew that. And for now, she was just an eleven year old girl, unable to use her wand properly, if it wasn't to accidentally take someone's eye out!

'Yes, I am', she half-admitted. 'I try to connect with anyone I can... Look, I don't even have a house...!'

Terry shook his head and corrected her:

'No you're wrong, Kate, you're in all the houses at the same time! That's even better!'
'I... I didn't see things that way.'
'Your family isn't reduced in a single house. Your family, it's Hogwarts...'

The first days of classes passed by, during which Kate met one by one her teachers and the subject she would attend during her whole scholarship. But from her point of view, they only were a failure after another: she almost burnt her cape when a Blast-Ended Screwt charged her, she made her cauldron blow up when she prepared a simple wart treatment ointment, she fell off her broomstick while she was slowly flying thirty-nine inches above the ground and she killed the dittany germ when she confused the acid jar with the watering can. Behind her back and to her greatest displeasure, Kate became the attraction of her class. Only professor Longbottom showed patience and kindness to her:

'You remember me at your age!'

Professor Longbottom immediately captured the attention of his students at the very first minutes of his lessons. Not because they were passionate about Herbology, but because of his thrilling stories about his fight against Voldemort during the Hogwarts battle. And in order to complete their fascination, Neville showed, under their stunned look, the magical Galleon each DA member possessed. It was a true relic to date.

The mystery around the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher's identity remained in its entirety; the classes only started on Monday. Each first year had to bide his time all the weekend. Some of them thought it would be a war hero. Others, a bit more utopian, talked about Harry Potter himself.

On the Saturday afternoon, a cold wind coming with a slight rain, dissuaded the students to go outside. Some of them locked themselves in their rooms, playing or reading. Kate wasn't any different: daydreaming on her bed, while SirSulkington was taking a nap at her feet, its tail swinging in the air like a pendulum. On the bed nearby, Scarlett and Suzanna, sitting cross-legged, were focused on a magical cards game where animated printings were duelling with hardback swords and throwing sharp squares and explosive clubs at each other. As for Moira and Maggie; first one was working in the common room, annoyed by the cards' high-pitched screams and the second one just went out, without telling them where she was going. Since the Transfiguration classes, Kate neglected her to stay with Morgana as her classmate neighbour. Hurt in her pride, Maggie avoided Kate, except for the usual verbal conventions.

A slight beating of wings drew her attention: a small paper butterfly seeped under the door and flew towards her, before landing into her hands. Curious about the sender's identity, Kate hastily unfolded the parchment, certain about the fact that it wasn't a first year; they weren't experienced enough to make such spells.

"I'm at the library. Meet me at the table in the back as soon as you can.
Hermione Granger."

As surprised as she was cheerful, Kate jumped off her bed, waking up her cat which meowed with astonishment before it spit, unhappy. The young girl got up in haste, nearly fell when she walked on her own foot, grabbed her colourless cape and scarf and left the room without saying a word to Scarlett and Suzanna, who were monopolized by an epic electric spades battle. Kate chose to carefully walk down the stairs in order to avoid falling again on the steps; however, she quickly lost her way in the maze of the school. On the way, she met Peeves, who was throwing burning balls into a student's half-opened bag, too busy talking to notice it was going up in flames. Kate took advantage of the situation to avoid the poltergeist's attention. The library was nearly empty: a week after the first day the students would rather enjoy their break than do some abstruse readings as Funny Arithmancy, Twisted spells for insane wizards or Desperate Housewitch – housework spells for manic depressive witches. Kate crossed the big dark library under Madam Pince's searching look, who took more care of her books than her reputation. The young wizards were always looked badly because of their nasty habits of using books as pillows, to hide their scheming or their rather feeble interest for their contents, on which they drawn animated fellows. Their main attraction being the illustration of Severus Snape turning into a pink-horned slug, in the book of magical creatures at The ways of reproduction of the Nogtails chapter. Hermione was there, at the table, busy, collapsing under the books. Kate had to cough several times before she noticed her presence.

'Oh, Kate!' she exclaimed in a low voice, extracted from her reading. 'Come here, sit...'

She tapped the chair next to her and the little girl obeyed, impressed to be so close of such a hero.

'I made a lot of researches about your house... Shatterfly...'
'All of this... These are your researches?!' choked Kate, estimating the number of books piled up on the table. 'Researches about me?'
'You think... I was naïve to think I could find the answers in Hogwarts, a history. I would have known. I've read it several times.'
'The whole book?!'

Hermione ignored her remark and went on:

'I found no reference of Shatterfly. It is mentioned nowhere. So I got into the records to check if there hadn't been a similar case before. It had never been reported that a student had been sorted into a fifth house. I'm trying now to find a lead in the writings that go back to the founders' days. Everything should go from there... If there is a house, there must be a founder behind it. A wizard who scheduled that in the Middle Ages.'
'And can't we consider the Sorting Hat is old and doesn't know what it is saying?'
'It's magical, controlled by a very powerful enchantment', enlightened Hermione. 'Even though it possesses half of a consciousness, it can't get mad... That's just impossible. No, I'd rather admit there is a mystery behind all that.'

Kate nodded before grabbing the first book she could get her hand on, soberly entitled Founders, and took the initiative to back up her elder. She read again the history of the four founders, the one professor Binns told them during the introductory course, putting to sleep nearly half of the classroom. Yet, nothing could have confirmed the hypothesis of a fifth founder's existence. Nothing, not even the slightest usable lead. Gradually losing her motivation, Kate sunk into her thoughts and her present issues. That's when she decided to ask for Hermione's vast knowledge:

'Hermione?'
'Yes, what is it?'
'Do you know... Morgana McNair?'

Immediately, the young woman tensed up and turned towards the little girl, like if she was shocked she could ask that kind of question so innocently.

'I don't know her...'
'But?'

Kate had noticed the particular reaction the evocation of her new friend's name provoked. And she wanted to know why.

'I know her father. I've already seen him...'
'Who is he?'
'Walden McNair', swallowed Hermione. 'He was... a Death Eater.'

An imperceptible shiver ran through Kate's spine.

'What did he become after... Voldemort's death?'
'I don't know... Walden McNair used to work at the Ministry of Magic as an executioner, at the committee for the disposal of dangerous creatures. I stopped him from killing Buckbeak, Hagrid's hippogriff...'
'That's why Hagrid reacted this way when Morgana had been called under the Sorting Hat?'
'Perhaps... Why do you ask?'

Too honest to lie to the face of a hero like Hermione, Kate told her the entire problem. After she listened carefully, she laughed and answered:

'During my whole scholarship, I had never had any link with a Slytherin, except rivalry. I can't conceive such a friendship, from my point of view... Don't misunderstand me... I mean, it's not impossible but it seems absurd to me that a Gryffindor could be friend with the child of a Death Eater. It's as unlikely as imagining myself with Draco Malfoy!'
'I'm not a true Gryffindor', reminded Kate, pragmatic.
'That's true... You know, I think nobody should judge someone because of his parents. I personally suffered those kinds of judgements, despising my Muggle parents.'
'I know... I have the impression I am the only one to think this way.'
'Then you're better than everybody else!'

Kate felt so touched by Hermione's compliment she turned bright red. Hermione smiled at her in a kind and reassuring way. Kate's relieved sigh lost itself in the yellowed pages of the book she slowly closed.

'I sometimes have the impression I don't belong here', she admitted, stammering. 'I don't have a house, I can't use magic properly and I realise I know nothing about that world...'
'You know, Kate...'

Hermione settled on her chair, crossing her long legs.

'I have a friend who, before he arrived at Hogwarts, didn't even know the existence of the wizarding world. During eleven years, he lived in a cupboard, away from magic. And the day of the ceremony, he stayed a long time under the Sorting Hat and asked him not to sort him into Slytherin. This friend's name is now making the front page of every Daily Prophet's editions for three months now... Harry Potter.'

Hearing this name had the effect of a Petrificus Totalus on Kate. How, by Merlin, could she be compared to the Chosen One, and moreover from his best friend's mouth.

'Except... I'm not Harry Potter!' she stammered, embarrassed.
'Lucky for you', she laughed. 'What I am trying to say is that your integration doesn't depend on where you come from. Whoever you are, Hogwarts is your home and the friends you'll make will be your family. You mustn't despair so much.'
'I-I don't worry about Hogwarts... But I suck at magic! Maybe I am a Squib!'
'You are lucky to have excellent teachers this year, who will be there to help you. Besides, if you received your letter, it's because you have a certain potential.'

Hermione Granger looked so mature, so wise, Kate found herself stupid to moan like that. It wasn't worthy for a war hero to hear the unfounded complaints of a little girl while she had been through much worse misadventures. If she didn't count those months, locked up in her cellar...

[1] Evan Rosier is mentionned in one of the Harry Potter books. He's Severus Snape's friend and did, indeed, fought Mad-Eye Moody in a dreadful fight that cost Moody his eye and Rosier his life.

[2] Prince is the maiden name of Severus Snape's mother.