A bit late but still in time, chapter 6 !

Enjoy your reading!

6. The time she lives her childhood...

The first snows came in the middle of December, to the greatest happiness of students. Snowballs fights, thrown with magic, took place on the grounds of Hogwarts; professors had forbidden the children to play in the main court after professor Flitwick had received a powerful snowball that had made him fall, while he was strolling under the covered courtyard.
After early ended Herbology classes, first years Gryffindors abandoned themselves to an epic fight between two teams: boys against girls. It was a fierce snow battle, each team had put up true trenches, the girls' ones being more resistant and efficient that the boys', thanks to Moira's magical skills, especially in Charms.
It had been quickly decided that Kate would be offside, because of her explosive snowballs that were strongly compromising the other participants' safety. But the girls refused to fight as long as a boy wouldn't withdraw, the entry being unfair at five against four. Wholeheartedly and without big surprises, it was Griffin Gale who went on the sidelines, joining Kate, sat on the snow, blowing warm air on her frozen hands, despite the thick gloves she was wearing. Griffin turned out to be a very nice and helpful boy, although a bit proud of his person. But it wasn't a surprise for anybody, considering his family history. He undertook to warm up Kate's hands with a minor spell his brother had taught him. That surely was a family strategy to approach abandoned into winter's cold hands girls! But Kate rejoiced where others would have seen some pickup techniques! Griffin wasn't an unpleasant company, on the contrary...
The battle ended on the boys' stinging defeat, who asked for a suspension of the fight after Maggie and Moira, in cooperation, had shot them to hell with snowballs, hidden behind their strongly damaged fence.
The day before holidays, a certain excitement took hold of the students, whatever their age. The trimester's last tests had just finished and each of them prepared his trunk to go back to his family, to celebrate with relatives. Once Kate had finished hers, Sir Sulkington's cage on the top of it – the cat was particularly unhappy of his situation –, she abandoned her deserted bedroom by addressing it a temporary goodbye and joined the Great Hall, richly decorated, while other students were waiting for the departure to Hogsmeade station, enjoying themselves by discussing, or playing magical games. In this particular case, she found Maggie and Terry, very busy playing magic hangman at the Hufflepuffs' table. She had no doubt there was a bet behind all this. When Maggie was thinking, it was noticeable; the little girl's fresh face quickly turned red, until she exploded to let out a booming shout:

'N!'

The little red fellow, that was standing in front of her, without a precise face or morphology, looked at her with stupefaction and hit its head against the beam, as thick as a match and already put up, before hitching a rope up, worried about its future situation. In front of her, Terry couldn't help himself but laugh, while his fellow was assisting to the game, crouched, enjoying this very entertaining show of Maggie, pissed and already indicated as the future loser. Kate sat next to them and observed the serious play that was taking place under her eyes, even more terrifying than the snowball fight the other day.

'That's unfair!' shouted Maggie. 'Why don't I find a single letter! Blimey, what's the word you chose, exactly?'
'Hmm, I won't tell you right now! But I think I found yours!' replied Terry, savouring the situation he was sure to come through victorious.
'Stop it! You're cheating, I see no other way.'
'No, no, I promise, look, I'll show you.'

He scratched his chin with his forefinger, his orange fellow imitating him.

'B?'
'... Yes', grumbled Maggie between her teeth, disappointed.
'Longbottom!'

Maggie yelled with rage, rejecting her head back, while Terry was letting his happiness out.

'That's unfair, unfair, unfair,' she refused to admit, boiling.
'This is the harsh reality of losing, what can I do!'
'You took a super hard word! Composed of Xs and Ys, I'm absolutely sure about it! This is disgusting! We said a teacher's name!'
'Yes, we did! I chose a teacher's name, I didn't cheat!'
'And which one?' interfered Kate, her arms stretched on the table.
'Wolffhart, of course!'
'That professor has much more consonants than vowels in his name!' bawled out the little girl. 'That's unfair! Just unfair!'
'And by curiosity, which letter did you have right?'

Maggie turned towards Kate, furious:

'Just the A...'
'That's... pathetic!'
'I don't allow you to tell me that!'
'Hey, I'm enjoying my victory!' exclaimed Terry. 'Especially as the bet we made... just when you think things can't get any funnier, they do! The travel back will be epic, trust me!'
'Really? What's that bet about?' said Kate, interested, always on the lookout for the bets between Maggie and Terry, as if they were the main attraction of the school.
'Oh, you'll see! In the meantime... we better join the groups! Otherwise, we'll miss the train and stay here with the reduced committee!'

He got up and carefully put the game in its box before sticking it into his backpack. Maggie muttered again, extremely hurt by her defeat and grabbed the handle of her rolling trunk, leaving the room, her chin raised and her bearing solemn.

'I think she's really hurt', worried Kate.
'Don't worry, it's good for her! Anyway, I'm sure you'll change your mind when we'll be on the train! You'll see! You won't forget that, I had a great idea!'

The students gathered in front of the entrance of the Great Hall and were led by professor Flitwick, before Hagrid took his place.
A large majority of students were going back home during Christmas holidays. In Gryffindor, only three students had stayed to celebrate the winter feasts with the last interns. One of them being a first year: Samuel Vifdor; a smart boy full of energy and a bit skinny, unlike some other students. Rather small, Kate had addressed him a few words some time, usually for common conveniences.
Maggie, Terry and Kate took place in one of the compartments. Quickly joined by Suzanna, who didn't find a seat in the other carriages and who accepted to be away from Moira and Scarlett the time for the long travel to London. Kate had freed Sir Sulkington from his bars but the latter, surly, preferred to keep in mind the insult of being locked up instead of the chance his mistress was offering him.

'I'm going to get the... bet!' taunted Terry while leaving the compartment. 'It will only take two minutes!'
'Can I come with you?' asked Kate, particularly curious, carrying Sir Sulkington in her arms while the cat, bounced along, was unblinkingly resigned.
'Of course!'

Kate went out in the corridors after Terry, and tried to maintain her balance whilst the train was rocking in its acceleration.

'What are we going to get?' she asked.
'I told you: the bet!'
'Yes, I got that part. But what is it exactly...'
'Oh, you'll see!'

After they went through three carriages, Terry finally found the fulfilment of his craziest dreams: the candies trolley, pushed by the usual old stunted witch, leaned on the wooden handle. A blissful smile on his face, Terry accosted her and pulled out some Sickles.

'Candies?' wondered Kate after she politely refused some to the old decrepit lady. 'Why candies? I'd be glad to take bets with you if we earn candies when we lose! Maggie's lucky! Why is she crossed with you? I don't get it...'
'Let's say it's not the usual candies! Come on, follow me! Let's go back before Maggie decides to run away from me!'

And yet, the little girl hadn't move from an inch, transfixed by the fear of her punishment to come, which she was nevertheless accepting with good grace. Bets between Maggie and Terry were always taken very seriously and none of them was substituting himself from it.

'Good... perfect! I got what I need!' announced Terry with a powerful voice while entering the compartment.
'... Your friend scares me!' said Suzanna. 'What is happening exactly?'
'Maggie and Terry made a bet on the hangman game... and Maggie lost!'
'But... Maggie always loses at games! Why did she try anyway?'
'Ask her!'
'You know, sometimes, luck goes sour!' bawled Maggie, convinced she can still believe in her advantage.
'Yes, but it's not really the case for the moment!' emphasized Terry before stretching his arm towards her.

He opened his hand to discover in his palm a rather surprising cocktail: Fizzing Whizzbees, a Nosebleed Nougat, a Pepper Imp and a pink candy Kate didn't recognize.

'I... still don't get it!' she admitted while Sir Sulkington was wrestling into her arms, hoping at all costs to join the seat to loll back.
'Maggie will have to eat them.'
'And?'
'All four of them. At the same time!'

Suzanna and Kate opened a wide mouth, stunned, before bursting out laughing.

'Oh, that deserves a photo!'

Wherever she was, Suzanna was always carrying a little camera that was fitting in her pocket. A little gem her parents had offered her for her first day at Hogwarts. However, having a film of only twenty-four pictures for the whole year, she was saving those for very special moments that deserved to be immortalized. Until this day, Suzanna had only taken four photos; one of Maggie and Moira, who were quarrelling with their ripped open pillows, another taken from an arrow slip of the tower, on which they could enjoy the show of Moira trying to learn to Kate to cast something better than explosions that would hurl her and make her fall on her back, a view of Hogwarts in autumn, whose reddened leaves were giving to the place an even more magical aspect than usual, and the last one: Christmas decorations in the Great Hall.

'No photo!' shouted Maggie, losing her colours. 'I don't want this to be memorized!'
'Oh yes it will be! We won't have the occasion to see that often!' mocked Suzanna while drawing her little camera before pointing the lens towards Maggie.
'Come on! Swallow that! The faster you do it, the sooner you'll get rid of it! Don't make a fuss!'

Maggie's look travelled several times between Terry's amused look and his hand, where the candies were lying, not as innocent as they looked like.

'Good!' she grumbled, wringing his possession out of his hand.
'Be happy! It's I who paid them!'
'But it's I who will eat them! I promise you the next bet you'll lose, you'll regret it so much you will be begging me on your kneels!'
'I can't wait to see that happen! Come on, hurry up and eat that!'

Not quite reassured, Maggie grabbed the sweets, cautiously. She could have thrown them through the window, pretended to make them fall in order to lose them under the seats, yet, she accepted her fate with dignity, slipped the candies between her lips, one by one and swallowed them under the attentive looks of her friends. Anticipating the situation to come, Sir Sulkington jumped off the seat in a white flash and ran off in the elevated luggage box.
The first candy that showed its effects, was the one Kate didn't know: the pink, newly commercialized by Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and soberly named Bunn'ears. Long, pinkish downy ears sprouted on Maggie's temples under her friends' loud laughs. Then, the Pepper Imp, particularly difficult to bear, operated in turn: smoke sprang from her new bunny ears, without abandoning her grimace. Maggie's feet took off the floor because of the Fizzing Whizzbees and, on top of this hilarious scene, her nose shed a fountain of blood.
Terry doubled up with laughter, so much he was rolling on his seat, while Kate was having uncontrollable giggles and a hard time catching her breath. As for Suzanna, she had to show detachment in order to take a correct photo, but she couldn't help but let out a laugh.

'That's a wrap! Moment immortalized!'

Echoes quickly made their ways in the train and a lot of students tried to reproduce a comparable mix in their compartments, in order to obtain some really hilarious results.

'See? You are successful here!' congratulated Terry, while peace had came back in their division, young students running in the corridors, searching for the candies trolley that hadn't passed yet in their carriage.
'I'd rather be otherwise than by making a fool of me!' grumbled Maggie – who couldn't admit she had as much fun as her friends – with a smile.

Kate was stroking Sir Sulkington, who was back near his mistress after the candies incident.

'So, what will you do during holidays?' she asked her schoolmates.
'The Order of the Phoenix is organising a big banquet for the first Christmas without Voldemort', enlightened Terry. 'There will be a lot of war heroes, and even the new Minister, Kingsley. As my father is a member of the Order, he had been invited, and I'm going with him. It's gonna be unforgettable!'
'How lucky you are!'
'I'm going to France to celebrate Christmas with the rest of my family', declared Suzanna.
'You have relatives in France?' jested Maggie in a hiccup.

Suzanna settled on her seat, adjusting her long golden hair on her small shoulders.

'My mother is French and has six sisters. Some of my cousins are in Beauxbatons. Each Christmas, a different family organizes the celebrations; and this year, my cousins, Agathe and Léane are in charge... I'm a bit afraid of what they're preparing! I'm not aware of this year's theme, but maybe it's "Unicorns"! They didn't grow up...'
'And, let me laugh, what was last year's theme?'
'Leprechauns and Sprites. We were all in green and red, with hideous hats on our heads and the flying Leprechauns my uncle brought from Hungary ate up all the Yule log... A catastrophe.'

Then, Terry turned towards Maggie who was next to him, still sulky.

'And what about you, Candy-woman?'
'Nothing special', she answered, not reacting to the gibe. 'I will be at my parents' manor, face to face with them. And the butler.'
'You have a butler?' choked Suzanna.
'What did you think? I always lived surrounded by housekeepers! I wonder how you do in your everyday life...!'

None of her friends preferred to utter an uncalled-for remark with regard to this assertion.

'Yet, it's your parents who brought you on the quay in September', remembered Kate, while Sir Sulkington was nibbling the corner of her mauve woolly pullover.
'It's exact. They insisted on coming with me. Being rich doesn't mean your parents are not present, on the contrary...'

The Hogwarts Express advanced on the snow for several hours, until the night fell an hour before arriving in London, at King's Cross station. As the first buildings were appearing, little Kate was already prepared to jump out of the train, skipping of impatience in front of the closed door, Sir Sulkington's cage in her arms and her luggage under her alert look. When the quay started to pass through under her eyes, she inspected each person, hoping to find her father before going out of the train.

'Someone seems to be looking forward to see her parents!'

Kate turned towards Maggie, who had put on her burgundy woolly hat, ready to go out.

'Is it that obvious?' she grimaced.
'Big time...'

The train's wheels creaked on the coppery frozen rails, until the red and black locomotive slowly stopped in front of the platform, spitting out one last curl of white smoke that unwind on the quay, obstructed with families. Once the door slid to open, little Kate, her nose into her scarf, rushed on the quay and nearly fell on the steps, Sir Sulkington letting a frightened "meow" out. Kate scanned the landing stage with an alert look while the first years were coming out, greeted by their parents. She started to wonder, but immediately, two large warm hands blocked her sight and a wide smile broke her face.

'Miss Whisper, follow me without resistance...'
'With pleasure, dad!'

She turned back, nearly letting go of the cage of the poor cat, which was scratching on the bars in order to maintain its precarious balance, and throw herself in her father's arms. He embraced her with a laugh before adjusting her old woolly hat, jammed up to her reddened ears.

'I missed you so much, dad!' she exclaimed, snuggled up against him.
'Missed you too, sweet pea! Missed you too...'

When Kate detached herself from him and looked around, she was surprised:

'Mom's not here?'
'No: we'll go home only tomorrow', Phil enlightened her. 'We have a few things to do in London. Both of us...! She would have loved to come but it's difficult for Muggles to become integrated into the wizarding world. I don't think she would have enjoyed sleeping at the Leaky Cauldron tonight!'

Kate frowned her eyebrows and was about to interrogate him, when she was approached by Maggie who just brought her luggage on the quay.

'There, don't forget your trunk!'
'Oh, thanks Maggie!'

The little blonde girl raised her head towards Phil and swallowed while meeting his steely eyes, very impressed in front of that man Kate described to be a former Slytherin, combatant and Death Eaters killer...

'Hello young girl', he greeted her with a bright smile, sticking his hands in his Muggle leather jacket pockets.
'H-Hello, sir...'
'You're a friend of Kate?' he asked in a semi-assertion, seeing her scarf and her trunk bearing the colours of Gryffindor.
'Yes', she stammered, unblinking. 'We are in the same room...!'
'She's not a pain in the ass?' he mocked. 'She doesn't bite? Or scratch?'

Maggie opened wide eyes.

'N-no, sir! No!'
'Good girl', chuckled Phil, rubbing his daughter's head. 'Come on, we should go...'

He grabbed Kate's trunk whilst she addressed her last words to Maggie:

'Enjoy your holidays, Maggie! See you at school!'

Maggie, still pale nodded, dumbfounded, watching Kate going away on the quay with her father, sneaking through the crowd.
Kate found back the relative comfort of her dad's old Muggle car, lulled by the usual rock & roll music and the characteristic smell of Phil that reassures her.

'And... what are we going to do, here, in London? Are we going to Diagon Alley?'
'Doing some Christmas shopping, among other things...'
'And?'

The insistence of his daughter, who noticed the hint about other things, released his tongue as he braked in front of a red light.

'We'll have to go to St Mungo's tomorrow morning...'
'To see Eliot?' she squealed.

Phil nodded without looking away from the traffic light.

'That's the least we can do for him... He's still there, somewhere.'

The step on the accelerator given by Phil as soon as the light went green was so abrupt that Kate was flattened on her seat, eyes wide open, hands clutched on the handle of the car door, while Sir Sulkington, on the backseat, meowed his dissatisfaction of being so badly treated these last hours.

As three months ago, Kate and her father found themselves sharing a meal and a drink at one of the Leaky Cauldron's tables. For the New Year's celebrations, huge fir trees had been put in each corner of the main room, adorned with Bertie Bott's every flavour beans, as big as balls. At the top of each tree, a golden Snitch was beating its wings, whistling a music fitting the circumstance. Hannah Abbot, the young manageress of the tavern, had put on a white and red witch robe and her pointed hat was ending with a fur ball that was scattering snow behind her as she was walking. She had been dedicating those last months to the renovations of the place, at the greatest pleasure of the delighted customers.
Unlike the last time, Phil had exchanged his Butterbeer for a Firewhisky. Sinking his finger into it, he then made Sir Sulkington – who was standing with righteousness next to his mistress – sniff it. The cautious feline smelled it before licking it. Immediately, he moved back, pulling his head inside his shoulders and squinting. He tried to rub his chops with his paws before rolling back and falling off the table, without trying to catch hold of it.

'Poor Sir Sulkington!' laughed Kate while putting down her pumpkin juice.
'He's no real man, that cat!'
'That's because he's a cat, dad!' she replied, pragmatic, before she bent down to carry the poor confused animal that was shaking its head hoping to make the awful burning taste disappear.
'Hmm... You're not wrong... But still!'

Phil soaked his lips into his amber drink before starting the conversation.

'You know that I hear about you everyday?'
'Me?' she stammered, choking on the piece of turkey she had just swallowed.
'Hey, don't die now, sweetie! Wait for us to finish this conversation, at least!'
'Why? Why do you hear about me?'
'You don't seem to realize... Kate, you opened a house!'

The pout on Kate's face turned sulky.

'I didn't open anything. It's just the Sorting Hat that said rubbish! He has gone mad. I can't help it!'
'That's not what people told me...'
'People are not me.'

Definitely, his daughter was a sharp little thing when she had decided to!

'Listen, Kate, this never happened since the creation of the school...!'
'I know! But I can't make up anything to explain it! I... I have nothing to do with all of that! I want everyone to leave me alone!'
'Come on, I wasn't asking you to do anything!' he corrected. 'It was just an observation! And, for my part, I think it's awesome...! You're unique until the end, sweet pea!'

Kate took refuge into the shadows of her face bent over her plate, supporting her cheek with her fist.

'For now, I have the impression that brought me only troubles...' she mumbled, sad. 'I just wanted to be in a... "normal" house?'

Phil meditated while peering at his wistful daughter, who was titillating a piece of meat with the end of her fork. A mischievous smile appeared at the corner of his lips.

'I did some research about that...'
'And did you find something?!' emboldened Kate, raising her head up.
'Squat. This is as dark as a troll's butt! Except it's empty, there's some leeway...! And we better not know what's inside of it!'

Kate's laugh reverberated in the room, joined by her father's more moderated one. Some customers gave a look in their direction but none of them both gave a damn.

'Otherwise, tell me about your life at school. Classes, friends, professors... How is it going?'

Kate told him about everything she couldn't have put in her letters sent to her parents. The first Quidditch matches of the season, the colossal meals concocted by the house elves, the restoration of some buildings damaged by the war in Hogwarts, her disasters in Charms and Potions...

'Slughorn?!' exclaimed Phil with a wide nostalgic smile. 'That old chap's still alive? Well that's a scoop... That man's been through a lot when I was at school...'
'Really?'
'Yeah! For example, I made an apple tree grow in his office to prove him my growth potion was working. Oh yeah... I remember that tree grew so fast it invaded the corridors and scattered green apples everywhere. And after that, Peeves took them to snipe the students, finding there a perfect type of projectile. The Entrance Hall fast became a stew factory. I had been sent into Dumbledore's office, who found nothing better than tell me my apples were so delicious he took some to make pies. And he gave me five points. What memories... Hmm... But that is another story! Go on, I listen to you.'

She went on about her new teachers: Longbottom, Wolffhart, Miss O'Joovens, but especially Harry Potter. Then she began on her Gryffindor friends who had helped her improving her spells.

'You don't have other friends than the Gryffindor girls?' he asked her, raising his eyebrows.
'I do, I do! There's Terry, he's a Hufflepuff; and Morgana, in Slytherin and...'
'What's her family name?'

His tone became curter, sharper.

'Who?' said Kate, shaking.
'Your Slytherin friend.'

By her father's serious look and his articulated words, Kate suspected he was searching for something, based on a terrible doubt... And she preferred to preserve the friendship she was sharing with the green-eyed Slytherin.

'McHannigan', she lied unblinkingly. 'Morgana McHannigan. Why this question?'

Phil thought a few minutes while raising his chin and squinting.

'I'd rather be assured that my daughter, as clumsy as she is, doesn't get in trouble.'
'That's not my style!' she got indignant. 'I may not be skilful, but I'm rather intelligent! I know what I'm doing!'
'I trust you', he smiled before finishing his drink.

He slammed the glass on the wooden table. Kate couldn't help but shiver, thinking she was hiding Morgana's terrible affiliation.

'You have inherited of my intellect, so... be up to it, kiddo!'

London had adorned itself with its most beautiful Christmas decorations. Endless garlands of small lights were trundling along the boulevards and the buildings, emphasizing the whiteness of the tailed stone. A big Norwegian fir tree had been installed in the middle of Trafalgar Square, as high as twenty men. And Kate couldn't believe that Muggle technology alone could have been able to bring it here.

The last latecomers were running in the Oxford Street's shops, hoping to find gifts for their relatives, wrapped in their thick coats. There were a lot of shopping streets, in parallel with this big crowded boulevard. Phil and Kate forked in one of them.

'Are we far from St Mungo's?' she urged him, a steam of white smoke coming out of her chapped lips.
'Only ten footsteps left.'
'Ten footsteps?!'

Kate scanned the surroundings with a circumspect look, seeing the passers-by streaming, packages in their arms, bags against their legs.

'If St Mungo's was there… Muggles would see it!'
'Muggles don't have the eyes for it. Or brain. I sometimes can't really tell!'
'What would mum say if she heard you say that', mocked Kate, catching up the quick steps of her father who refused to change his usual jacket for a polar jacket or a parka, or at least a magic clothe that keeps warm.
'Your mother is used to it now!'

Phil stopped in front of a decrepit, certainly neglected Muggle clothes shop in red bricks, called Purge & Dowse Ltd. "In renovation", was specifying the notice on the entrance door. Old dummies, badly dressed, were still adorning the dirty shop window, so outmoded it was nearly unhealthy.

'Please dad', whispered Kate without looking away from the flat face of the nearest dummy, whose fake eyelashes were falling, 'tell me you don't intent to buy this hideous old skirt…?!'
'Oh please, don't give me this idea for your Christmas gift!'

The little girl's reply didn't come out when he bent towards the old dummy spoiled with mould, which was eating up the linen body.

'We're here for Eliot Burbage', he whispered, so close to the window that a mist stuck on the glass' frozen surface.

On the lookout for a reaction, Kate didn't say anything; until the dummy nodded and invited them to move forward with a slight move of its finger. Without warning her, Phil pressed his hand on his daughter's shoulder blade and pushed her forward, towards the window. But while Kate raised her arms in front of her in reflex, she found herself in a big entrance hall. Bright globes were floating in the air, lighting up the room without any openings to the outside. She quickly noticed the Healers, those wizards wearing long emerald robes, the institutions' badge sewn on their chest. The other people were, apparently, consultants. They were very noticeable, for some of them, as they were missing a limb or having an extra one, a different colour, a plentiful fur or making awkward noises each time they were moving.

'I hate hospitals', spitted Phil, acrimonious, his face down, as Kate followed with an impressed look, a poor man whose head had been turned into a cyan cauldron.

They passed by the queue that was waiting in front of the reception desk, held by a young witch who was trying to explain to a woman whose enchanted ears were singing the opera, that she had to go to the fourth floor. After they passed through the double door, they finally penetrated the hospital and its reality. The white walls had kept some relics of the war, with the damaged stones and paintings. Some rooms had even been blocked up, waiting for construction work. But the patients were so many, sometimes unmanageable, that no one had time to bustle about such tasks. A wizard on a portray that was hung in the corridor called out the little girl who passed under his nose, asking her with impunity if she had had brain bleed these times and, if that was the case, that she imperatively had to consume frosted toad's liver. Taking the stairs, Kate had to climb many steps before arriving to the fourth floor, which, as it was specified on the billboard, was dedicated to magical pathologies, chronic evil spells, enchantments and other hijacked charms. Screams reverberated into the corridors as soon as Phil opened the staircase's exit door, giving Kate chills that passed through her spine. She found herself passing through the corridor, giving a quick glance into the rooms as she went past them. This way, she saw a woman, her face hid by a thick fur, who was barking, a man in a purple robe who was signing autographs on each piece of parchment he could get his hands on, a woman who was going around in circles, repeating the same insane spells and an old wizard who was expressing himself by doing horses' noises. Phil was moving forward in quick steps, as if staying one more minute in this crazy establishment would have him alienated too.

He stopped in front of the Cliodna room, sighed and knocked at the door. A weak "come in" answered him. Next to one of the beds, a young blonde man wearing glasses turned around and addressed a slight smile to the newcomers.

'We are here for Eliot Burbage', explained Phil in a curt tone, sticking his fists inside his jacket's pockets.
'Good think you came… I was checking if everything was alright…!'
'More like you were trying some strange potions to see if they would do miracles…'

Phil had whispered so low, only Kate heard it while her father was advancing towards the bed. A young man, about fifteen years, was sleeping in it, his fleshy white lips half-opened, his face still, like modelled in marble and his brown hair like a crown on his pillow. Further, two other patients, inert, were in bed too in this dark room. Kate swallowed as she approached in turn.

'I am Asclepios Sting, healer in trainee of this department', the young man introduced himself, nodding several times, almost making his glasses slip from his aquiline nose. 'I am the one in charge of the Cliodna room and who takes care of Eliot. You are family?'
'I'm his uncle and godfather', explained Phil, briefly. 'And this is my daughter, Katelyna.'

He grabbed his daughter by the shoulders, both of them having their gazes fixed on Eliot's paralysed face.

'Anything new?' muttered Phil with a serious look.
'He's stable… But nobody can tell when Eliot will come back to us. Tomorrow, in a month, a year… I'm still optimistic, but I can predict nothing. I've always been bad in divination.'

The attempt of joke found no reaction, as the Whispers weren't even paying attention to him. The trainee stammered, took back his instruments on the bedside table, including his ebony wand, and bowed once again before making off and letting father and daughter alone with the lamented…

'There's really nothing we can do for him?' squealed Kate, at the edge of tears seeing her cousin like this for the first time since their last separation, a year ago, a very particular one…
'For what I know, and what they know, no, alas… And I'd rather have them avoiding doing experiences on him with their so-called miracle potions…'
'And you think Muggles would be able to bring him back?' she asked, raising her watery eyes towards him.
'Muggles? They only know how to mangle people and give them so-called magic candies… If magic can't help, I doubt they can do something for Eliot. Even though I hold them in esteem despite all the bad things I say about them, you better not expect too much from Muggles.'

Kate skirted around the bed in slow steps and contemplated once again Eliot's face that seemed so pure under the translucent light. She gave a hint of a smile in the corner of her lips.

'I'm sure your Hogwarts friends miss you a lot, Eliot', she whispered bending towards him. 'I hope you'll meet me soon… You surely have a lot of things to teach me about the school. I'm feeling a bit lonely without you… That's unfair…'

She started to sob.

'I-it's I who should have been at your place! You didn't… deserve that!'

Phil rushed towards his daughter and hugged her.

'Don't say that, please, Kate… That's not true… No one should have ended here…'
'But… Eliot didn't do anything! Eliot was innocent!'
'So are you. You should never have suffered the consequences of your parents' acts. But never say again that you deserved to be here…'
'And if Eliot wakes up', cried Kate, her face crushed on her father's chest, 'do you think he will be the same? Aunt Charity… Uncle Peter… they're dead… and he doesn't know. He will wake up… with the memory of the pain… with the memory of his torture, of the Cruciatus curse. And… we'll have to tell him?'
'For now, he's not awake', Phil reasoned her as he was trying to keep calm, grasped by his emotions too. 'So don't think about this…'

Kate's heavy with tiredness eyes were fixed on the numbers of her Muggle alarm clock, wrapped in her blanket. Outside, under a light grey sky, a thin snow was falling on Owlstone Road, covering the roads and vegetation in white. When 8:59 turned into 9:00 am she extricated from her sheets and jumped on her feet, an ecstatic smile on her lips. In her pyjamas, she rushed towards the stairs, ran down the steps without even trying to be discreet, stealthily followed by Sir Sulkington, made a turn, clutching on the wooden ball at the end of the wobbly rail and appeared in the living room where her parents were waiting, already woken up for the occasion.

'Merry Christmas, sweetie!'

Kate hadn't been that happy for a long time. She casted herself into her parents' arms, who hugged her together, before letting her discover her gifts under the symbolic fir tree. Because the financial means of the Whispers didn't allow them to buy a real Christmas tree, a small one, about Kate's height, was acting as substitute. But Kate didn't care; for the first time in two years, she finally had something that looked like a tree. Her father had even made the effort to buy a whistling star that was singing Christmas melodies while spitting out golden sparks. The little girl didn't know which gift to open first.

'There's too much of them!' she exclaimed, blissful.
'I received some of them by owl from your Hogwarts friends', explained Phil.
'How complicated it must be for you, wizards, to use the Muggle postal services…!' mocked Grace before she laughed and sat cross-legged on the stone floor, next to her daughter, pulling the corners of her blue dressing gown against her.

Kate picked out the first gift, on the top of the pile, thin and long. She unpacked a beautiful owl feather.

'To replace the old one I was lending to you until now', explained her father.

The second package, heavier, was containing a whole drawing kit. Charcoals, pencils, thick papers, watercolours… A present from her mother. She received from Maggie, plums woollen hat, gloves and scarf with her initials embroidered in calligraphic silver letters, certainly helped by her parents' money… "Grey doesn't suit you", she had scribbled on a piece of parchment. Terry offered her a Bertie Bott's every flavour beans box, Scarlett a nice hair pin she made herself, Moira a little book titled "How to avoid to kill your neighbour – or disintegrate him – with your wand", Suzanna an enchanted figure of the Eiffel Tower, whistling the French national anthem while dancing and Morgana a simple card saying how sorry she was not to be able to send her more than a clandestine piece of paper. The last gift, the shape of a cube, revealed a black box.

'That's a family legacy', smiled Phil while sitting too, putting his arms around his wife who put her head on his shoulder.

When Kate opened the box, she found a golden item, like a closed pocket watch, put on the old purple velvet. Its surface was scratched, sometimes dent. It could be guessed that the instrument had gone through the years; maybe centuries. She took it from its support with the greatest care, letting the box at her feet; and, as she opened it, she discovered a strange compass with three arrows: a big golden one and two coppery, one being thicker than the other. On half of the right part, three little mechanical numbers were appearing. And around the dial, a lot of small pictures were aligned. The compass had to be very old, because the tanned illustrations seemed so outdated, altered by time.

'What is it?' asked Kate, intrigued.
'That's a compass, passing by the Whispers members since generations… Wait, I'll show you how it works.'

Phils approached her, crouched, and took the compass from her hands.

'Look…'

He turned the knob making the largest of the coppery arrows move.

'It's to find your way to what you're looking for. For example, if you want something to eat, you put the arrow on the cake…'

Straight after he did, the golden needle quivered and pointed out the kitchen's direction.

'It will show you where to get food. The numbers show the distance. To find water, it's the fish, see? Well. You have twenty one symbols. You will very soon find what they all stand for.'
'And the second coppery arrow?' asked Kate, tapping on the glass to point it out. 'What is it for?'
'It can allow you to combine, to associate symbols if you're asking for something specific. Let me explain. I put the main arrow on the hand that stands for a person. If then, I move the second one by pulling on the knob, and place it on the heart; the golden arrow will find the person who loves me.'

Immediately, the golden arrow diverted from the kitchen and pointed out Grace, who was observing the scene with a tender smile, her big teeth brightening.

'That's crazy', laughed Phil, addressing to his wife a loving look. 'Centuries since this clock has been created and it still works so well…'
'I must admit I would have liked to have one', said Grace, raising her long eyebrows. 'I will never get used to your weird objects!'

He replaced it in the hands of his daughter, radiant.

'Take very good care of it. It's a rare item. A true family treasure. And now it's your turn to take it with you at Hogwarts. But careful; never use it badly, ever; because this compass could play tricks on you if you use it for doubtful designs… They never do any good.'

Back on platform nine and three-quarters of King's Cross station, Kate found her friends with their parents. The first she saw was Terry, with his father about the same height as his eleven year old son, if the purple top hat was included. Father and son didn't seem to have much in common if it wasn't the shapes and colours of their dark eyes. Terry seemed to have inherited of his absent-on-the-quay mother's supposed tall height.

As she explained so much, Maggie's parents were behind her back, walking in her steps, flooding her with questions. The little girl's wish to climb into the train, even though it was by jumping through the window, was then, perfectly understandable.

But Kate saw little Hygie Smethwyck too, brought by her mother, a young thin witch with a smile as ephemerid as her daughter's. Calypso Curtiss, the gracious Slytherin girl was accompanied by her two younger sisters and her parents, all identical, as if made in the same mould: pale skin, dark as ebony hair, expressionless faces and their looks brightening with intelligence. Kate never really talked to that girl but Morgana had described her as a very good student, steeped in wisdom and kindness with her classmate, Juno Nightingal, the Slytherin laughing stock since the beginning of the year. However, there was no trace of her friend…

'Don't catch a cold', worried Grace adjusting the plum scarf around her daughter's neck.
'Don't worry, a cold is easily healed! Especially with magic, it's very useful, mom!'
'Prevention is better than cure, sweetie…!'
'You better hurry', said her father, 'before your train goes without you! I don't want to have you home for months!'

Kate nodded with a smile while the red and black locomotive let out a powerful and noisy curl of white smoke. Then, she hugged both of her parents before joining the closest carriage and saluted them one last time with a move of her hand, hanging on the door.

'I'm scared…' admitted Grace in a whisper when her daughter's head disappeared.
'You shouldn't', tried to reassure her Phil, putting his arm around her shoulders. 'Our daughter is smart; she won't get in trouble…'
'It's not that…'
'Hmm? So what? What is the problem? Kate is happy to go back to Hogwarts…'

Grace turned her face towards her husband, biting her thick lips.

'There will be a day when we'll have to tell her…'
'About what?' he got annoyed, without understanding.
'What really happened in Graveson's cellar… We can't hide the truth from her forever. She will have to know about this someday, otherwise…'
'You want us to make her face that?! She already struggles to fit in at school, because she even hasn't a proper house to belong to! And you want us to tell her?! Don't you think she's already been through a lot?'
'We can't let her in the dark forever, moreover now she's at school! She will have to learn the truth!'

Grace's words were showing so much contained indignation that Phil was taken aback and stared at his wife, sighing.

'Maybe… But she's still too young to know…'
'She has always been too young; especially to go through all that… Everything that happened last year; she never should have seen that; she's just a child…'
'Let's still wait a little before we tell her… It's still an open wound for her.'
'You're wishing to reopen it?!' she choked.
'On the contrary. I want her to learn how to heal up first… Let's give her time…'

They assisted the departure of the Hogwarts Express, whilst some parents were addressing last goodbyes to their children, behind the compartments windows.

'The time she lives her childhood as she should have…'