5. Slugs and pink shoes

Very few first years of Gryffindor had kept informed about the selections for their new Quidditch team. After Harry Potter's departure in 1997, the captain and Seeker post had became vacant. As for the disconnected team, it had tried in vain to hold on to its last members, too preoccupied by Voldemort's ascension than the Quidditch results. As a member of Dumbledore's Army, Ginny Weasley had wanted to respect her priorities and refused the captain post in order to favour the security of the students, instead of managing six persons for matches taking place into a school under the yoke of tyrants. However, she had taken the Seeker post, which she was keeping with honour. And so, Gareth Gale, Griffin's big brother, had accepted to take the captain post as soon he joined the team as the new Keeper, for which he had revealed himself to be brilliant. The impressive charisma, characteristic of the Gales, had allowed him to show himself as an inner leader, strategic and self-willed.

Two young Chasers had been nominated after the trials for which a lot of Gryffindors had tried their luck. Jade Danielson and Betty Bushby, fourth years and best friends, had been given the post after a perfect performance in throwing passes; there was such complicity between them, that their exchanges, done with panache, totally fooled the assembly. The new pack would have now to prove itself in front of such an experienced team as Hufflepuff, which had never changed its players for two years.

Luckily, after a particularly cold and rainy week, the sun decided to reappear on the day of the match. All the students had run towards the stadium as soon as they had finished their breakfasts. While climbing the stairs, Kate turned and looked at the pitch with an amazed look, taking a deep breath of vivifying air. The wooden towers were covered with canvas sheets in all four houses colours, on the pointed tops of which, flags decorated with each house's animal were floating in the wind.

She hastily met up Maggie and Terry, too occupied sharing forecasts at the top of the bleachers.

'Gryffindor hasn't lost a single cup since 1994', put forward Maggie as proof, her chin raised, underlining her haughty profile. 'It's impossible we loose the match! Impossible!'
'Your team is broken up', replied Terry, leaned on one of the guardrails. 'While in Hufflepuff, we have tactics, strategies, unlike you! The team has been playing together for a long time, we have the advantage! I'm certain!'
'We have Ginny Weasley.'
'Half of your players are only in fourth year...'
'Apparently, our new Chasers are very talented.'
'We have better broomsticks than yours!'
'Your justifications are poor.'
'You are being very dishonest.'

Running out of arguments, Maggie turned red, threatening to blow out with anger, before telling Terry, who was very amused by the situation:

'Very well! This being the case, I don't see any other solution than taking bets.'
'I'm in', he smiled. 'What do we bet?'
'If Gryffindor wins the match, you'll have to wear pink shoes for a week.'
'And if Hufflepuff wins, you will replace me to fill in Slughorn's jars with slugs' eyes next Tuesday. Without gloves. And without your wand.'
'Deal!'

And while clapping each other's hand, none of them knew at that exact moment, that they just had launch the first bet of a long series... When Kate decided to join the conversation, a young student accosted her. She recognised Joris Juffbigles, the apathetic looking Hufflepuff. He swayed about, looking at her, fiddling with the corner of his cape.

'Hey, do you want Omnioculars?' he whispered, checking no one was looking at them.
'Not really', she stammered, embarrassed, 'thanks...!'

Joris shrugged his shoulders and slipped towards Maggie. She turned around and her expression changed into a grimace of revulsion in front of the too intimate approach of the other student.

'You want Omnioculars?'
'Hands off!' she screeched. 'And who do you think I am?! My grandfather invented the Omnioculars! I can have hundreds of them, all sizes, all models and all colours! I could take a bath of Omnioculars if I wanted to! So, why the hell are you trying to sell them to me?'

The young Hufflepuff jumped in front of such a verbal attack. Terry took advantage of it to go on:

'We don't need them, Juffbigles...'

His usual sympathetic tone, however, turned snappy, making the boy understand he wasn't welcome. He walked away to propose his services to other students more likely to offer him a bit of their attention.

'I can't believe it, who is that boor?!' said an indignant Maggie to Kate, pointing out at Joris with an accusing thumb. 'Did you see how he grabbed my arm?!'
'Don't pay attention to him, he is not mean', explained Terry, bending towards her, his eyebrows skilfully asymmetrical, giving him an amused look. 'On the contrary, he's very useful; he can help you out with anything! If you have something to give him in return... Really, those things he has, I don't know where he gets them! Last time, he proposed me a Shriekingclock after I arrived late in classes!'
'A... Shriekingclock?' questioned Kate, who didn't know about the many objects of the magical world.
'It's a pocket watch that talks at specific hours to remind you where you should be. It's useful, but particularly exhausting, especially when the watch is old and becomes amnesic! Believe me, when you wake up in the middle of the night with an old lady's voice that yells at you it's time to feed the owls, you promise yourself to never have a Shriekingclock again! The one I had in my childhood became depressive. It used to tell me "It's time to have a bath! Have fun, I go rusty in a bath... I'd love to rust someday. Just die once and for all. Feel my gears stop and sink... Aah, this life isn't for me anymore, I can't wait to be sold in separate parts!" Sometimes, all of a sudden, it used to say "Time to crush me with a rock!" A catastrophe...'

The two girls burst out laughing, imagining Terry as a child, facing an old, melancholic and suicidal pocket watch.

'And then? What did it become?'
'No idea! It must be in my parents' cellar, trying to find the best way to end its life! Which shouldn't be easy...'

Then, a powerful feminine voice, full of enthusiasm, suddenly cut all the discussions, resounding in the stadium:

'Hello everyone! I hope you're fine! Are you ready to support your favourite players today in an unforgettable Quidditch match?!'

A wave of approval shouts answered her, covered by the roar of Luna Lovegood's lion head, in the opposite bleachers, making all of her neighbours take a step back.

'So welcome as they worth the two teams that will face in this opening match! Hufflepuff and Gryffindor!'

The players came out from the big backstage door, under the supporters' applauses. Many girls let out high-pitched screams when Gareth Gale entered the pitch with a proud and casual look, rejecting his brown hair back.
Ginny Weasley's appearance provoked a certain excitement too; because everyone knew her talent for Quidditch and seeing her playing was giving the impression to attend to a professional match.
Mrs Hooch, the referee of today's match, ordered to the captains to salute each other, after reminding them the rules. Zacharias Smith really looked like a blonde clown next to Gareth. The latter, two years younger though that he was, was already exceeding him from eleven inches, the difference being more flagrant when they had to shake hands before getting on their broomsticks. The two teams got settled on the pitch, flying in close formation, or executing solo figures under the students' cheers. Kate struggled to believe her own eyes. It was the first time in her life that she was assisting a Quidditch match. Indeed, her father, as the former Beater in his house's Quidditch team, told her about it a lot, but she only saw photos. Today, she was having the impression to live somewhere else, where Quidditch wasn't only a picture, but a whole new reality, here, at Hogwarts.
In the centre of the arena, Mrs Hooch brought the big trunk containing the balls and freed simultaneously the Bludgers and the Snitch, before grabbing the Quaffle and throwing it into the air.

'Here we go!' yelled the young commentator. 'The Quaffle has been launched! And it's Demelza Robin who grabs it! Great one! With a lot of shrewdness and skills!'
'Ah, it's already a bad start for you!' Terry shouted out to Maggie.
'It's only the first catch...! The match doesn't end on it!'

The players were flying in all directions and Kate had to take a little period of adjustment to find her way, while the commentator, over-motivated, was going on:

'... Cadwallader gets the Quaffle back with a breathtaking dexterity. He's very gifted! Oh, what a feint! The Bludger gave him a pretty close haircut! He passes it to his captain, who dashes straight to the hoops! What a speed! What a skill! Unbelievable! Gale just countered the attempt with a tremendous kick in the Quaffle, which is back on the game! Well done Gale! That was high-level! We couldn't expect less from him!'

The student in charge of commenting seemed so fervent and carefree about her loquacity that Flitwick had to correct her while she was fantasizing about the Gryffindor captain's merits, under over-excited chuckles of fans and the boos of boys, all houses combined. This made the three friends, leaned on the guardrail, laugh.

'Look!'

Maggie gave Kate a little hit with her elbow before pointing out a red flash, zigzagging into the air. The commentator enlightened them:

'Oh! It seems that Weasley has spotted the Snitch! It would be a first if she catches it before a single goal is scored! And Summerby has decided to follow her! Maybe this time, he will succeed in catching it without sneezing!'

The first goal, made by the Gryffindor team thanks to the complicity of Danielson and Bushby, provoked a burst of applause. But the lions became quickly disillusioned when Hufflepuffs came back in attack and scored three goals in a row.

'Oh oh, seems like Peakes isn't very happy, seeing the Bludger he just hit towards Smith! Avoided just in time! Luckily for him, I wouldn't have liked to be in his place if he had received it!'

The match went on without any new development. If the players in red weren't bad, the ones in yellow, on the other hand, were deploying all their talents of their long experience as a team. Their Keeper, a girl named Anna Grimm, was very talented to catch the Quaffle on flight with both of her hands, letting go of her broomstick. The gap between Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs gradually accentuated, to the great displeasure of Maggie, who was raging each time the yellow team was scoring.

'Otherwise... just so I know... did you ever manipulate slugs' eyes?' Terry defied her.
'No, and I will never have to!' replied Maggie, stung.

When the score hit 40 versus 110, things began to slowly evolve; until Ginny Weasley swooped down, closely followed by Summerby. Some spectators stood up, their hearts racing thinking this would be the end of the match. The winner could change any minute now.

'Weasley is very fast! What a shot! But Summerby is just near! But... What is Weasley doing?!'

The young woman had just shot up, an inch before touching the ground. Her opponent was so taken aback, that this unguarded moment cost him. Everyone had a movement backwards and a grimace of pain.

'Ouch! That must hurt! Summerby literally crashed on the ground! I saw his shoe fly! And his broomstick is set into the ground like a pole! With a disabled Seeker and well knocked-out for a while, Hufflepuffs better score the most goals they can to prevent the 150 points that would make Gryffindor win!'
'Otherwise, did you ever wear pink or will it be your first?' mocked Maggie, by revenge.
'In your dreams...!'

The lack of experience of the young Gryffindor players showed through when, with a missed back of his bat, Jimmy Peakes sent a Bludger on his Beater teammate who wasn't obviously expecting that.

'Ouch! Coote just received a Bludger right in the face! And everyone knows Peakes is not gentle! Hot, hot, hot! Luckily for him, Coote didn't fell off his broom! But I think he will have a nice bump and a magnificent excuse to hit his teammate tonight!'

Hufflepuff Chasers took advantage of that to score again, against a particularly furious Gareth Gale.

'There! The Snitch!' suddenly exclaimed Kate, pushing Maggie.

The tiny winged ball was fluttering a few feet from the bleachers and Ginny quickly noticed it, seeing the reactions of the spectators nearby.

'Ah! I think Weasley finally saw the Snitch! And this time, it's not bluff anymore! Let's hope for Hufflepuff that Summerby can climb on his broomstick in a few minutes, otherwise, he'll have a reason to cry tonight! He definitely never had much luck against Weasley!'

Ginny passed by under the supporters' eyes in such speed that everyone had their hair tousled, screaming their encouragements.

'What a beautiful Hawkshead Attacking Formation from the Gryffindor Chasers! And what efficiency! They're getting closer to the hoops and... oh! What a beautiful feint! A very skilful pass! Goal! What a shame for Grimm, who grazed the Quaffle with her fingertips! Bushby just scored again for her team! Gryffindor is slowly catching up! But will it be enough to pull out a win?'

Kate was much more focused on Ginny's ballet in the sky than on the other players' performance. The little girl was stamping on her feet, sometimes biting her fingers, other times vigorously clutching on the guardrail. Her scarf had no colour, she was belonging to none of the four Hogwarts family and she was yet, fervently praying for Gryffindor to win. More than for her house, she wanted to see Ginny Weasley at the height of her art.

'Weasley is so close!' yelled the commentator, hysterically. 'She has it just against her forefinger!'

It was a torrent of clamours that shook the stadium when Ginny's fingers closed on the Snitch.

'200 versus 140, Gryffindor wins the match thanks to Weasley's phenomenal dexterity!'

Maggie yelled with joy, jumping at the same time, then started a happy dance while moving her arms above her head.

'I won! I won!'
'It's the Quidditch team that won, not you...!' qualified Suzanna, further, amused by her roommate's screams and relieved by the conclusion of the match.
'Pink shoes, show time!'

The ecstatic Maggie was facing a rather crestfallen Terry.

That's how a few days later, Terry showed late at the Transfiguration exams, his feet decked out in pink shoes, clashing with the black and golden uniform of his house. The other students, already leaned over their parchments, followed with a discreet look Terry's quick walk though the classroom, under the rather surprised look of Wolffhart, standing in front of his desk, his hands behind his back. He gazed at the vivid coloured shoes, his expression unchanged if it wasn't for his raised eyebrow, on one side of his pale face.

'You are late, Herr Diggle.'
'I-I know, professor, I'm sorry.'
'New aesthetic tendency?'

Some students couldn't help themselves but chuckle, whilst Terry was melting down in front of the intimidating and unruffled look of the great Wolffhart, in his usual thick black felt coat.

'N-No, professor... I mean, it's... it's...'
'Be delighted I don't turn you into a polecat for the rest of these tests, he cut him short, sharply, while bending his waxen face with dark rings under his black eyes over him. Your shoes made me more lenient; that's a proof you pay proper attention to my lessons, at least... Now get to your seat, jetzt. And try to be as quiet as possible in respect for your classmates who had the decency to arrive in time. Verstanden?'

In front of such a warning and relieved not to have lost points despite his lateness, Terry swallowed and rushed to his desk, unpacking his quill and his ink bottle, before receiving the subject from professor Wolffhart's hands.
Kate was very focused on her copy, her quill scratching the parchment without taking a break. The imposed theme was perfectly what she expected: '1 – Explain the principle of the equivalent material exchange. Give an example. 2 – Which procedure would you use to turn a thimble into a swiss-army-knife usable in your everyday life? (Options as a compass that indicates the nearest Irish pub, claw-clippers for small dragons or even poisoned needle are not essential)'. The test, however, didn't seem to suit all the students. Next to her, Maggie was sighing, leaning her head on one hand, then another, while reviewing the subject as if the answer would jump from behind the letters. Meanwhile, professor Wolffhart had returned to his desk and was correcting some copies, his big pheasant quill ragged.

'Hey, Kate...' whispered Maggie in a very low voice, bending over the table in order to be heard by no one but her neighbour.
'Hmm?'
'Tell me, what's the magic formula for the swiss-army-knife?'
'Helvetiae cultro', she breathed, annoyed and fearful to be in trouble if they were caught red-handed. 'Now, leave me alone!'
'Thank you!'

The pearly glinting water, the red and the green, was streaming in the water clock with slyness. Until the professor Wolffhart got up and, grabbing the edges of his desk in the same breath, lifted the furniture and turned it upside down, as easily as if he was shaking a sheet. It broke on the stage's steps, spilling the piles of parchments that flew everywhere. That deafening crash terrified so much the students, that everyone, in a common jump, had raised their dumbfounded looks towards their professor who took advantage of it to collect their copies with a move of his wand.

'Die zeit ist verkauft!'

The students' parchments slipped through their fingers, preventing them from writing their last words. However, no protest rose up, everyone too impressed by Wolffhart's impressive stature in front of his crashed desk on the floor. Once the teacher had taken every copy in his hand, he made a nimble move of his wrist and brought his desk back at its place, realigning and reorganising all the supplies that were on it, as if nothing happened.

'The test is over, you can go. I will ensure to give you the results at the end of the month. And next time, I will take the opportunity to give you back the house elves' rags you did last week as your homework...'

The students turned white altogether while packing their stuffs, starting to leave the room and crying for some girls.

'Except you, Fräulein Whisper', shouted out Wolffhart, without detaching his look from the piled parchments on his big ebony desk. 'I'd like to talk to you...'

Quite distraught by her professor's call, Kate stood still while her classmates were leaving, one by one. Maggie made up her mind to leave her friend, after she addressed a grin that was supposed to give her courage. When the young girl found herself alone in the huge classroom, after the last students had closed the door behind them, Wolffhart, still focused on the copies he had collected, called her out:

'Step forward, Fräulein... I don't bite. Except when I'm very angry, but, be reassured, it's not the case...'

His joke terrorised Kate, more than it gained her trust. She walked towards the desk in small steps, her eyes wandering without focusing on anything, especially on Wolffhart's inclined face.

'So? Are you able to explain?'
'Ex... Explain?' she stammered.
'Ja. Explain me this...'

Without even looking at his young interlocutor, he made the paper slide to her with his gnarled fingers and turned it by pushing on the corner. Kate recognized her still rough calligraphy and her homework she prepared for the latest classes. All of that adorned with a huge magnificently lined W, with upstroke loops.

'W?!' she wondered, surprised to see such a letter on her copy and not knowing how to react.
'Hmmm... Indeed, for some of your classmates, we could have use that letter for 'wirbellos', which means invertebrate, and that would be enough to qualify the IQ they showed on their work today. Thank you Merlin, you don't have a slug's level. This W is the first letter of the word "wunderbar".'
'And... what does that mean?' shyly smiled Kate, shrugging her shoulders.

That's when Wolffhart raised his tousled head and stared at her, his black gaze as piercing as a bird of prey's under his thick grey eyebrows.

'Wonderful', he articulated, his accent brought out, harder, on each syllable.

Immediately, Kate calmed down and felt her limbs stop shaking. An ecstatic smile appeared on her face.

'And... that's why you wanted to see me?'
'Genau... I'd like you to explain to me.'

Again, Kate tensed up with stupor: did he think she was capable of cheating in order to obtain good grades?

'I don't understand', she stammered in front of her teacher's piercing eyes.
'As I see you every day in practical, Fräulein Whisper, you're not far from the magic level of a daisy; or, if I wanted to be more specific in the truthfulness of my words, a Blast-Ended Screwt. And yet, on that copy, you demonstrate outstanding capacities to memorize my lessons, understand them, assimilate them and perfectly retranscribe them. What is the reason of this gap between theory and practical?'

Both touched and offended by this statement, Kate cogitated a few seconds, not daring to cross Wolffhart's eyes which, not once, had blinked.

'I have the impression magic doesn't work with me. I can see it! Each time, everything I try explodes!'
'Ich weiss, ich sehe...'

Looking away, Wolffhart stroke his rough chin with his fingertips, giving Kate a few seconds of grace before he interrogates her again.

'Also... before coming at Hogwarts, magic had already shown around you? Was it working? Or was it dormant?'
'I was able to do some small things, but...'
'Like what? There, for example, show me. Without your wand; I care about my desk... Bitte...'

Kate's little hand extracted from her large sleeve and, at the slender instigation of her fingers, a white smoke materialized. It gradually took the appearance of an evanescent butterfly, which delicately landed on her forefinger. Intrigued, Wolffhart linked up his hands and thought; that was visible by the more important number of wrinkles on his forehead. Two of them: he was cogitating. Three: he was upset. Four: his anger was growing. Five: you better run and not stay in his surroundings.

'What did your parents tell you about this phenomenon?'
'Not... much! They never saw anything like this!'
'Then, can I tell you that you handle magic incredibly well without your wand, Fräulein?'
'W-What do you mean?'
'With children showing powers, magic is uncontrollable. It acts according to their desires, their needs, but never answers their own will. I asked you to show me and you did, as if it was natural. And you produced immaterial...'
'Immaterial?'
'The immaterial is the magical presence of our feelings. It's a kind of allegory. Do you know what a Patronus is?'
'Yes, I already saw my father's one...' remembered Kate, frowning her eyebrows.
'Also, the Patronus is formed by immaterial. Ghosts are too. They are relics of the deceased's feelings, going as far as recreating the person.'

Kate peeked at the little white butterfly that was casually beating its wings on her finger.

'You mean... that it's a Patronus?'
'Nein, nein! Far from that!' resumed Wolffhart while getting up suddenly. 'I'm trying to enlighten you about the extent of this... Of what you're able to realize.'

Blissfully happy, his young student addressed him a radiant smile but caught herself dreaming a bit much:

'And so you think I would be able to better control my magic without my wand?'
'Did I only tell you that?' wondered Wolffhart in a casually snapping voice which rebuffed Kate's joy. 'The wand is essential to every wizard because it allows him to channel his energy, making it take the aspect he wants by means of formulas. This is all the interest there. And that is what you have hard time to master. You know by heart your theory and formulas.'

To emphasize his words, he pushed his finger against Kate's wet forehead.

'You have the potential and enough courage to live with the fact you're a witch. I noticed you, during my first lessons, when you faced my enchanted gargoyle without trying to flee; you confronted its gaze. But despite this, you lack of self-confidence. And your will, comes from there, not elsewhere...'

This time, he had pressed his finger under her left shoulder, pointing out her little heart, beating under her chest.

'You have the means to become an excellent apprentice, Fräulein Whisper', he breathed, twice as tall as she was. 'So do me a favour and catch them, suit them. I don't want to see you seven years in my classes, mastering nothing else but an explosive orchestra in C major! Verstanden?'

Impressed by his tone, as much as his stature and his words, Kate couldn't manage to make a proper sentence and simply vivaciously nodded.

'Go back to your classmates now', Wolffhart dismissed her, swirling around his desk, 'they will come to think I'm keeping you in hostage for an improvised detention. I'd rather establish my torturer reputation on faces to faces, not by means of rumours...'

Immediately, Kate lowered her chin and rushed towards her bench; she nearly fell on the few steps that were separating the stage from the students' tables. When she grabbed her bag before making her scarce, Wolffhart held her up:

'By the way, Fräulein Whisper...'

Stopped short, she turned her head followed by her brown and surly hair.

'You will have to agree on your house. It becomes complicated to grant you points...!'

That's when the stern professor, to her biggest surprise, gave a hint of an ephemerid smile that Kate noticed, arousing her own cheerful expression.

'Or found your own house for real, as supposed by your... Sorting Hat!'
'I can't, professor!' she laughed while throwing her bag over her shoulder.
'Then you haven't learnt the lesson I just gave you, Fräulein Whisper. Think about it!'

When Kate closed the Transfiguration classroom's door, the professor Wolffhart's last sentence resounded in her mind. Did he wish to see her build her own house, Shatterfly, alone? That didn't make any sense... And yet, she couldn't help but display a wide smile. Maybe, someday, she would be able to? Maybe she would have her common room, her family, her blazon, like she had always dreamt. But for now, imagining it to be a possible future reality seemed impossible. One unique uncertain sentence seemed to guide her thoughts: "Time will tell".

Going down the Hogwarts dungeons was taking the aspects of torture; the cold putrid smell, the old-period oozing stones. Nevertheless, first years didn't have a choice when they had to go to Potions, each Friday morning.

'How can you live here?' whispered Kate to her neighbour, Morgana, who was intensely focused on her Potion's preparation.
'We don't live here', corrected Morgana without even smiling, while meticulously pouring grey powder in her cauldron. 'We have to go through the dungeon to go in our common room, but we don't sleep in the corridors! You know, our dormitory is very comfortable!'

She shut up when professor Slughorn passed by their desks. He arranged his shirt, tensed by his paunchy belly, and bent with the greatest care over Kate's cauldron. Apparently, it became frequent that it incidentally explodes in the face. He raised a salt and pepper eyebrow over his piggy eyes.

'Miss Whisper, at this stage of the preparation, your Widesmell Potion should be red and not... purple? How by Merlin did you end up with such a result? None of your ingredients should be able to produce this colour!'

Kate's face turned red while Morgana wasn't drawing her attention from her concoction.

'I don't know, professor.'
'Try to make everything up. At this stage, if you keep on following the recipe properly, you should manage to reach an honourable nectar... At least, I hope so! Surprise me!'

The innuendo about her incompetence hurt Kate's feelings; she skimmed through her potion book, not knowing where she went wrong.

'And so... How is your wrist?' she enquired to Morgana after Slughorn went away. 'Better?'
'Hogwarts' nurse is very talented, it doesn't hurt anymore! An ointment and that was it!'
'And... do you have any idea who was behind all of this?'
'All of this?'
'The enchanted pumpkins', whispered Kate, diverting her look from the yellowed pages of her book, watching no one was listening. 'We don't have any piece of information about who caused all that?'
'How would I know?'
'Because you always do!' replied Kate.

Morgana gave a hint of a satisfied smile, admitting her friend wasn't completely wrong.

'But, right now, I don't, unfortunately. It would have been too easy. And I would have told my prefect immediately. That was dangerous! And not funny at all!'
'That's a puzzler, then...'

A little shy hand gently hit Kate on her back and she flip-flopped. Scarlett, her Gryffindor classmate, gave her an embarrassed smile:

'What is it?'
'I just wanted to tell you that you must add two porcupine's spines into the preparation', she mumbled with her usual thin voice.
'And so?' questioned Kate, raising an eyebrow without understanding her flame-haired friend's point.
'You added three of them... and your potion is boiling a bit too much if you ask me!'

Livid, Kate focused on her cauldron again, from which were exuding big mauve dribbling bubbles that were sliding on the cast-iron wall of her little cooking-pot, right down to the blue flames where they were exploding in little sizzling sprays. Panic seized the little girl and she managed to stop the potion to boil over, supported by professor Slughorn who had come to the rescue, admonishing her with a new warning.

'Otherwise, what will you do on holidays?' she asked, resuming the conversation with Morgana while the latter was applying to cut her roots in thin slices before throwing them in her cauldron.
'I go back to my parents', as a lot of other students. Even though I'd rather stay here...'
'Really? You're not happy to be home for two weeks?' wondered Kate who was trying to reproduce what she just did, cutting rougher slices.
'Well, you know... since my father is locked up in Azkaban, I'm alone with my mother at home. And she is... Well. Things aren't too great. I will spend two weeks, locked in my bedroom, only coming down for meals to face my mother's bad mood and my dad's portray. Furthermore, we try not to go out, for fear of retaliates. I don't even know if I will have a Christmas present. The situation is really tricky. All of that because my father did a dumb thing as letting himself influenced...'

She powerfully struck her root with her knife, cutting it in two. She had cut through so hard, the noise made Kate jump. She lowered down, suddenly embarrassed to have been too curious; because, unlike Morgana, she was about to celebrate a proper Christmas. In front of a lit fireplace, in a living room bathed in the warmth of the fire, with a real Christmas tree, decorations – maybe her father would add small ornaments or embellishments from the wizarding world this year! –, gifts, but most of all, her parents. This Christmas Eve wouldn't be the same as the other ones, in the cold humidity of the cellar, curled up in the dust, cradled in her mother's arms. She had been looking forward to this day; so much, she had surprised herself to dream about it at night…

At the end of the classes, Kate found herself with a desperately purple elixir, which was spitting out big sticky and smelly bubbles, whilst Morgana and Scarlett, the two best students of Slughorn's class, were receiving his congratulations for having successfully made their Widesmell Potion. The students who had had correct results were allowed to take a phial of the philtre with them. It allows the one that drinks it to have an over-developed sense of smell during a few minutes.

That very night, Kate took refuge in the Gryffindor common room, looking for a well-deserved moment of solitude. Her chin plunged between her knees; she was staring at the flames that were consuming in the big fireplace. Some third years were doing their homework at the nearby table, whispering each time a student was passing by. Kate felt the velvety material of the couch before she stroke SirSulkington's head, coiled next to her. The cat purred at this thoughtful gesture. With each passing month, he had learnt to appreciate its mistress and to fear less of the school's huge environment. It was frequent to see the spotless wall-eyed cat pacing up and down the corridors. Once, Scarlett adduced to Kate that she had seen him chasing Mrs Norris, the caretaker's old cat. Filch had always been a difficult character with the students. Had he ever been nice some day? No one knew. A lot of students were supposing that Filch had always been an old fossil, no one was seeing another more plausible hypothesis; otherwise, that would be admitting that he, once, had been a hopeful and innocent little boy. No, after a very short reflection, the lead of the born old always seemed more likely!

Kate would have liked to make SirSulkington understand her annoyance about his frequentation, but she realized she wasn't at the best position to voice the least of reproach about this, as she had befriended a Slytherin, a Death Eater's daughter, moreover.

Heavy, quick and not very discreet footsteps came down the last steps of the stairs between the common room and the girls' dormitories. Maggie, wearing an embroidered cyan pullover, iridescent with golden threads, fixed for a moment little Kate who was curled up on the big couch, her long brown hair cascading on her shoulders.

'What are you doing here alone?' she asked, sitting next to her, making the sofa rebound.

SirSulkington, disturbed in the middle of his pleasant lethargy, opened wide piercing eyes towards her and raised slowly, his hair swollen and his paws heavy, before jumping off the couch and scampering along towards the girls' room.

'I like being alone sometimes…' confessed Kate, her gaze still fixed on the generous fire, between the white stones.
'You seem rather… sad, to me…'
'Spending three months away from my parents is long… Of course, I'm happy to be here, with you, at Hogwarts. But after all I've been through… I would rather have enjoyed this new life with them.'

Maggie swayed about a moment on the couch, not knowing what to say, sliding her hands between her thighs as a sign of embarrassment. Then, she addressed an awkward smile to her friend, uncommunicative.

'Your parents are already enjoying their time together, this is the main thing! And so, you will be even happier to see them again at Christmas! You see… for my part… I don't see the point in coming back home. My parents are behind my back as soon as I do something. And for me, Christmas will be a day just like any other. Because I already have all I want… I'm a bit jealous of you, I envy you. You have a real life, not a fake one…'

Kate finally looked away from the fire and turned her head towards Maggie while still holding her legs against her little body, before granting her a genuine smile.

'That's nice… But…'
'Come here!'

Maggie jumped on her feet and grabbed Kate's hand to make her follow the movement.

'What?' stammered Kate, stunned by her friend's initiative.
'Put your shoes and your cape on, I have to show you something! I'm sure it will help you feel better!'
'But I… I'm tired and tomorrow we have…'
'Don't try to find excuses, I don't care, I don't want them!' interrupted Maggie, pulling her harder from the reassuring warmth of the fireplace.

The two friends went out of the common room under some third years' gazes who were gossiping about them. Kate's anxiety took over when she realized Maggie was dragging her out of the castle.

'We're not allowed to go outside!' she reminded her, worried, slowing down the pace until she completed stopped.
'Oh, please! Come! We have nothing to fear! I've already done that a lot of times!'
'It's cold! Filch could catch us! And it's really dark!'
'Filch never comes by here at this time! Don't worry, I promise! Trust me a little, for once!'
'And what about the ghosts? We can't anticipate them!'

Maggie gave her usual despaired look, her thin blonde eyebrows falling on her half-closed eyes.

'Are you serious?'
'Realistic', corrected Kate.
'If you stay here, then yes, there's a chance a ghost could pass by! So move and follow me!'

The big lawns of Hogwarts had become blue under the gibbous light of the moon and the numerous stars that were scattering the cloudless sky that night. Thin dew was already beginning to flood the dark rye grass, like if it was taking refuge under the vegetation. A soft breeze was carrying the humidity, gently lashing the youthful faces of the girls who were skipping about the vast grass that was linking up the buildings to the lake and the forest. Further, a little bright light was distinguishing through the surrounding darkness: Hagrid's hut was peacefully sleeping, sometimes spitting out curls of grey smoke, the giant certainly devoting himself to his favourite activities: the breeding of toxic slugs, reading of "My thousands dangerous dragons", or taking care of Fang, his brave and old hound.

'Can I know where you're taking me?' worried Kate, pulling her grey scarf back against her reddened and freezing nose.
'Wait a bit more, we're almost arrived! And you will know! Walk, instead of speaking, otherwise, you will freeze here!'

The little blonde and curly haired Gryffindor rubbed her hands wrapped up in her red gloves, while accelerating the pace. Further, a background sound was starting to come up, contrasting with the oppressive silence of this autumn night: frogs were singing to the night star, carefree and safe from the human world, once the shadows had covered the ground. Behind, the shimmering ink coloured extent of the lake was plunging into the nebulous horizon, enclosed between two black hills. A strange smile stretched Maggie's lips as she was walking through the swamps that were lining the big lake of Hogwarts, her shoes sinking into the glebe. The spongy aspect of the ground disgusted Kate a moment; she had to force herself to move forward in order to not lose sight of her friend while the night was taking over. Only the contours of Maggie's silhouette were underlined by the moonlight.

'Here we are!' she sighed, scanning the place.

When Kate met her up, she grabbed her sleeve and pulled herself against Maggie, not reassured at all.

'And so?' she asked. 'Why did you bring me here?'
'If you keep on annoying me, it's simple and you'll know it very quickly; I'll drown you in the mud! So shut up and listen…'

The frogs were continuing their awkward melody that was filling the place with a picturesque atmosphere.

'Shush…'

Maggie followed the cawing calls.

'Look…'

She pointed out a direction to Kate.

'Well, it's just a… frog?' said Kate, surprised, squinting her eyes to see better.
'Yes, indeed, it's a frog! An orange one! There's a lot of them around here!'
'And so? I don't get it… You brought me here just to watch frogs? There are funnier activities, don't you think? Especially as Slughorn's office is full of multiple coloured frogs!'
'Yes, but in the dungeons, and especially in classes, we can't do that…'

On these words, Maggie drew her wand, made some precise gestures and aimed at the poor, indolent creature that was staring at her with its glassy and unintelligent gaze.

'Confringo!'

Pop! The animal exploded in a big, orange spray that scattered over the lake's bank. Kate stayed particularly gobsmacked:

'You… You killed it! You blew up that frog!'
'This feels really good! I often come here when I'm mad and feel the need to let off stream! It's absolutely normal! Try, you'll see, you'll like it!'
'But I don't want to kill frogs! And, above all, someone may find them at day light! What will the teachers say?! We're going to be expelled for animal murder!'
'The waters of the lake cover the banks in the morning! Everything disappears! And believe me, seeing the number of frogs that live here, I think we have enough stock for centuries! On the contrary, we will receive a medal for services rendered to the school, seeing how these pests invade the place! Don't be such a Slytherin! Have a little courage and have fun! Explosions are kind of your area of expertise!'

Under her roommate's pressure, Kate pulled out her wand from her pocket, with a bit of apprehension, while Maggie took a step aside, for more security. Then, she moved forward to find another frog, right on the remains of its kind. It didn't seem to be concerned about the danger and its impending death. Kate took a deep breath of cold air that vivified her lungs, stinging along her windpipe:

'Confringo!'

Pop! The frog met the same explosive death his predecessor had, and Kate couldn't help herself but letting a compulsive snigger out.

'Ha-ha! Well done!' applauded Maggie, next to her, the sound smothered by her gloves. 'See, that feels good!'
'Yes', admitted Kate in a sigh. 'Indeed! I didn't think it would! That's funny!'

She brought her newly discovered passion down on another frog, unaware of its fate. The night air was punctuated with little explosions, immediately followed by young feminine high-pitched laughs. For the first time since they met, Maggie and Kate were sharing a common secret, together, like true friends; to the great displeasure of those poor frogs. But, somehow, Kate felt good… She wasn't regretting this at all.