Hellooooooooo everyone! Thought I forgot you, heh? Never! I just had a lot of things to do and had a hard time juggling with it, but here I am!

I'm still not sure how often I will post yet, but be assured that I will! I don't plan on stopping translating this wonderful story!

So, sorry for the long wait, hope you'll enjoy this new chapter anyway! ^^

6. Hunt through the woods.

'The Puffskein's echo! Ask for the Puffskein's echo, first exclusive edition!'

A powerful voice, one wouldn't expect from little Moira, was reverberating in the crowded corridor. On the occasion of their first improvised weekly paper's launching, the four Gryffindor girls at the origin of this initiative had taken place at a strategic point and were distributing their newspaper to the students passing by. Some showed curiosity and interested in this original project, others were more sceptical and there had to be some silly ones, overtly mocking them. Yet, for a first paper founded by twelve year old girls, it was a good one with twelve pages, containing animated pictures taken by Suzanna. On the title page, a little Puffskein, holding a quill, was jumping on the letters, sometimes fighting a duel with a question mark. But there mostly was this central picture of Kate, transfixed in front of the army of journalists, announcing the article by a catch phrase in large letters: "Kate Whisper; the truth about the phenomenon, when she's not scared to death!"

'That will be ten Knuts.' reclaimed Maggie with a completely natural haughty look to a fourth year who asked her for one.
'Ten Knuts?! It's more expansive than the Daily Prophet!'
'It's exclusive information of Hogwarts' life!' she got offended, before she spoke in more theatrical words. 'We've done all this out of the goodness of our hearts! We placed all our savings into the printing of this paper! Into the pictures…! We've sacrificed our time, our money, to give you the best information! And you dare come and complain because your cupidity makes you neglect young girls, let them decay in their poverty because of their charitable impulses?!'

In front of Maggie's scene, the student turned pale and accepted to pay the price before he left, mumbling excuses. Suzanna, who saw everything, skipped towards he friend, holding a few remaining editions in her arms.

'You really are a high-level liar, Maggie…' she chuckled.
'Aren't I?' she boasted, wiggling her shoulders with a smirk.

Truth was, Maggie's parents had funded the entire publication of the newspaper after the latter asked them by owl. They just had had to send Suzanna's films, buy her new ones behind the Simmons' backs, to attach the articles with them and the trick was done.

'How many did you sell?' asked Maggie to her friend as she glanced at her pile, which had greatly reduced comparing to hers.
'Hmmm… A good twenty, I think…!'
'Twenty?!' she exclaimed, taken aback. 'How did you do?!'
'I told the girls there was a picture of Gareth Gale at page five.'
'Oh. Indeed, I understand better.'
'It's better to have the strategic sense!' laughed Suzanna as she shrugged her shoulders under her big blonde curls.
'Sometimes I wonder why we ended up in Gryffindor and not in Slytherin…!'

Further, Moira was involved in her role, distributing the papers and collecting the bronze coins. For one of the firsts times, she had the feeling everyone was seeing her otherwise than like a dwarf. That they were having more respect for her. And that was making her proud.

'Why "The Puffskein's Echo"?' asked in a low and timid voice a Ravenclaw classmate girl, Mercury Crown, accompanied with Phyllis Ledger, Marvin's twin sister.
'Have you ever heard a Puffskein burp, Crown?'

Hearing that question, the two girls looked at each other with big wide eyes before they shook their heads. Moira explained:

'The Puffskein's burp is really powerful! You can hear it six hundred and fifty feet around! You wouldn't believe it! A Puffskein is so small! And we're a bit like Puffskeins! We're small, young and we want to be heard – not our burps, of course! – and talk about what happens at Hogwarts to everyone. Hence "The Puffskein's Echo"!'
'Okay…! Anyway, that's a great idea!' smiled Phyllis as she adjusted her blue headband in a reflex gesture giving away her discomfort in talking. 'And… If we want to write an article, can we join the team?'
'Yes, of course! You write it, you give it to us, we see if we validate it, we read it and correct it… And it's done!'

Scarlett, for her part, had more difficulty to go towards others to give them the paper. They could only hear her mumbles while she was holding the edition out with shaking hands. Some bothered to stop and take one from her, but most just passed by, ignoring her. She started to lose hope, thinking this job wasn't for her.

'Could I know what you're doing?'

The brief interpellation made her turn back suddenly and Scarlet found herself face to face with Dennis Crivey, her house prefect. The latter, much taller than her, frowned as he glanced at the papers Scarlett was holding against her, as red as a peony.

'You're selling newspapers?'

She was terrified at the idea that he would penalise her, or even send her to a professor, but she nodded nevertheless, tears at the edge of her eyes, her sensibility on the very surface of her skin.

'You know that it's forbidden to sell anything inside the school…'
'Y-yes…' she swallowed.
'Can I leaf through one?'

On those words, and seeing her prefect's features relax, she put the brakes on her anxiousness and, still nodding her chin and flamboyant red hair, held one out to Dennis, shaking. She didn't get her big blue and wet eyes off of her superior, watching for the slightest reaction as he opened the edition on a random page and read it. She even noticed a smile at the corner of his lips.

'I really like the forecasts you made about the next Quidditch match… I also hope Gryffindor wins, little Vifdor has talent to spare!'

Then he closed the paper and put his hand in his pocket to find some Knuts, which he gave to an astounded Scarlett.

'Next time, warn your professors about your initiatives, it's the least you can do.'
'Al-alright!'

On a last, genuine smile, Dennis walked away, but Scarlett observed him, her heart light and pounding. Like a victim of naïve and innocent love, for a boy four years older than her that she was seeing as an example of virtue.

Terry and Kate were coming out of the Great Hall, after they finished their breakfasts, when they ran into their friends, distributing their newspapers. Maggie came to them, shaking the paper under their noses:

'Do you think you would go away without one, Diggle? Out of the question!'

She stuck it into his hands, before he could understand the situation. However, Kate reacted faster when she laid her eyes on the huge title on the first page: she turned pale and ripped it from Terry's hands who didn't even had the time to read the advertisements.

'"When she's not scared to death"?!' she choked before she opened the paper at the page where the article was.
'Well, yeah. You're not like that in your everyday life; we didn't want people to see you like this!' Maggie defended herself.
'I'm not certain that it will work as expected.' pointed out Terry, pragmatic, lifting his left eyebrow above his serious look. 'People will make fun of her even more…!'
'… You're never satisfied anyway!'

On the page speaking about her, Kate found a picture of her on one of the double pages, taken while she was sleeping in a strange position, even completely improbable, her mouth open and her hair messy. A photo, taken with total impunity by her friends, who took advantage of this moment of vulnerability to feed their stock of pictures for their paper.
The article himself was split in different paragraphs. The first one mentioned last year's events, with the ceremony of the repartition and Shatterfly's first evocation. Then, her personal and painful past during the war, but also her habits, her little ways, her prowess in class and her failures in practical…

'"Despite what one could think since the journalists.' she read out loud, her voice punctuated with quavers. 'Kate Whisper isn't a girl who does not speak. On the contrary, she is very talkative. She sometimes even talks so much about lessons, her cousin or her father that it's restful (and even funny, see picture above) when she sleeps!" Do you realise what you just wrote?!'

In front of her friend's reaction, tears at the edge of her eyes, Maggie remained open-mouthed.

'B-but, at least read the last page, there, just behind, you'll see!' stammered the latter.
'I don't even want to!' raged Kate, irascibly giving the paper back to Maggie.

Then, the young girls walked away, head down, joined by Terry after he gave to Maggie an unhappy look.

'Don't pay attention to this rubbish…!'
'How couldn't I?! You heard! You saw! What they said about me…!'
'It wasn't clever of them, for sure, but I don't think they were trying to hurt you.'
'You're still defending them! While they are the ones responsible!'
'Hey, someone has to find a reason, I'm not here to say yes to everything you say, just to please you! You're mad, I get it, but I won't tell you that it's right to have a grudge against them! And you don't have to yell at me!'

Kate looked away, ashamed, as they took the path to the Transfiguration classroom.

'You're right, sorry Terry.'
'It's alright…'

They weren't the first to arrive; animals' cages were piled in a corner of the room for the second years. Standing in front of his desk, straight as a ramrod, professor Wolffhart observed the students who were coming in, falling silent as soon as they were meeting his eyes, and sitting in behind their desks. When no one else came in and everyone was waiting, standing still on their chair because afraid to be turned into a Russian hamster on a simple awkward movement, he estimated it was time to begin his lessons. But Kate noticed her Gryffindor friends still weren't here:

'They're not here…' she discreetly pointed out to Terry.
'They will regret it if they're late!'
'Gut.' started Wolffhart. 'Is there someone with enough quick-wittedness to remind us what we did on the last lessons?'

Several hands rose up.

'Ja, Herr Peakes?'
'We talked about theoretical animal to object transfiguration.' answered the boy with a high-pitched voice. 'Then we experimented the changing of colours and sizes.'
'It was easy to remember.' approved Wolffhart with a neutral deep voice. 'When we remember that Herr Ledger managed to make a cricket as big as a horse and that the latter ate all the fifth years' homework on my desk…'

Some discreet laughs were heard while Marvin sagged on his chair, shameful and afraid that his teacher would turn him into a koala again in retaliation, "to remind you the country you're from, Ihre Vaterland", as Wolffhart said.

'Besides, your elders rejoiced, before I gave them double homework to make up for this terrible misunderstanding… Trotzdem, I give Gryffindor five points. This being said… Does anyone have an idea of what we could do?'

The question didn't have as much success as the first.

'Niemand? Ah, Fräulein Nightingal, wir hören Ihnen.'
'Turn an animal into an object?'
'You're skipping a step, Fräulein. Ja, Herr Beckett?'
'Change its consistence?'
'Doch! That's correct, Herr Beckett, five points for your house! In the process of transfiguration from an animal to an object, you have to consider every parameter. To come from a state to another, you have to be able to change its size, its volume, its colour, but also its solidity, what it will be made of. To finally end by the form you want to give it. It's the manipulation from a being to a material, which technically isn't a material. That's why you must not skip any step, because you could compromise this being, this animal, when you're trying to make it a rocking chair. Verstanden?'

With a move of his wand, Wolffhart opened the cages and distributed the animals to his students. Kate received a turtle and Terry a quail. And while the other students were receiving their animals, the door opened and everybody turned around towards the four Gryffindor girls, accompanied by professor Flitwick.

'Please excuse them for their lateness, Wilhem, those students were with me.' he explained to his colleague who remained impassive.
'Kein problem.'

After one last nod, the tiny Flitwick left while the Gryffindor girls, who were giving, to Kate's greatest surprise, wide smiles, installed at their tables, whispering some ecstatic words.

'Maybe you'd like some tea, Fräuleine, to embellish your conversation?' intervened Wolffhart.

Called to order, the four girls turned around, stopping their discussion, despite their delighted looks. In return, they received a crow, a baby python, a rabbit and a chameleon.

'So we'll learn how to turn your animals into stones. I don't want bricks, sand, or even ectoplasm, but real stone. Verstanden? Does anyone know the formula? It consists in four letters, corresponding approximatively to the number of neurons by people in this class, according to what I see in your homework…!'

He grabbed his chalk and scribbled in a born out gesture, scraping on the slate, making some students grimace.

'Duro!' he pronounced while writing it. 'As simple as that…!'

In front of the silent, holding its breath classroom, Wolffhart remained a bit impassive.

'Was erwarten Sie? Go on! I only want to see statues on your tables!'

The first Duros encountered a mixed success. On the table nearby, Fergus Fittle only succeeded in petrifying his rat's tail; which, panicked, bit the boy's finger. Terry, after he gave Kate an encouraging look, tried the spell on his little quail. The girl, as for her, looked at her turtle with a despaired look. Her confidence about practical magic was still very limited. However, she took her white wand between her fingers and raised it in front of the animal that was opening and closing its triangle mouth, as if it was asking for a piece of lettuce.

'Duro!' she articulated.

The little explosion that burst out of her wand projected her backwards, making her fall, while her turtled, which took refuge inside its shell, was endlessly swirling on its back on the table. Some mocking giggles rose up.

'I my choice of giving you a turtle was pertinent…' noticed Wolffhart when he passed near her, her butt on the floor. 'Try again, Fräulein Whisper.'

Kate nodded and got up as she discreetly massaged her painful back.

'I'm sick of this!' she complained in a whisper. 'Really, I'm tired…!'
'Don't lose hope! When you succeed, you do it very well! Be patient! Look…! Even I can't do it yet!'

The quail, just only paralysed, tried to squeal, without managing to. Looking again at her turtle that was trying to turn on the right side, Kate sighed. Why couldn't she succeed, like everyone else? And not having to resort to the Immaterial and an intense concentration to manage to cast an easy spell?
She picked her turtle and lifted it in front of her eyes, while her thoughts were endlessly turning around in her head. She was feeling powerless. Sad. Angry. Her fingers tightened around the animal's shell. If it was possible, she would have got rid of this strange magic. This Immaterial. This thing running into her veins. Distillating from her fingertips to this innocent turtle.
It was the scream of a classmate nearby that pulled her from her irascible lethargy; Penny Ryan, a Hufflepuff girl, her hair tied in two long ponytails, was fixing her, horrified. Around her, other students were looking at her with the same fear on their faces. That was when she realised that the turtle in her hands, had turned into a stone, a black one, like granite. She had a hiccup of surprise and let go of the petrified animal, which fell with a bang.

'Name eines zersetzten Drachen, what's happening here!'
'Whisper just looked at her turtle with stink eyes and... turned it into a stone!'

Not very reassured whispers were shared between students. Kate perfectly guessed what they were saying: they now thought she was able to petrify them with a look.

'Unless Fräulein Whisper is a medusa, this is very unlikely!'
'But that's true, professor! We saw it!'

Kate, febrile, saw on her teacher's face, his discreet interrogations. He knew her secret about her mastering of the Immaterial. Maybe he would explain the phenomenon?

'She did what I asked for, that's what matter, nein?'

Both grateful and offended by his so small reaction, Kate pinched her lips and observed her stone turtle while Wolffhart turned away again, telling the other students to get back at work. However, Kate caught some whispers from behind her. She recognised Morgana's deep voice.

'Now you have proof... Whisper is nothing but a monster...'

It wasn't until late that Maggie, Scarlett, Suzanna and Moira announced her in grand style that professor Flitwick, even though he lectured them for selling their Puffskein's echo, and this, without any authorisation from their teachers, congratulated them and encouraged them. He found their information highly relevant, supported the students' initiative and proposed them to continue, on the condition that they don't sell it anymore. So the paper would be free and to everybody's disposal. In return, Hogwarts engaged to make available some money for their expenses for printing and layout, which delighted the young students who saw there the beginning of a well deserved glory.

After the first publication, people seemed to take interest in Kate. Too much, even. At least, she was living it as such, when she noticed she was watched, with more or less discretion. People spoke lower when walking past her, as if talking in front of her would turn them into stones, just like the turtle. Some laughed. Others, on the contrary, never missed a chance to share some words with her, just for them to say "I know Kate Whisper, I even talked to her!"

A clandestine celebrity Kate despised without even noticing it.

Of all those rumours and interested relations, she preferred Terry and her cousin's presence. The first showed indifference towards everything that was said and ignored Kate's new celebrity, indicating her as Harry Potter's successor, and considered her as the true friend she really was.
As for Eliot, he was an excellent protector, without his knowledge. Kate felt strangely comfortable around him. Even though Eliot wasn't very talkative and reluctant to share his joys and sorrows, he had a considerable influence on the other students who took a delicate and repeated care to avoid him, wherever he went, as if he had contracted the plague, or worse, according to Moira who wanted to illustrate her words with big examples, the chinese dragon's gastro. A social isolation Kate appreciated at its true value. She felt like she was breathing again when with her cousin and could, at the same time, be attached to an element of her past, like a comforting memory helping her to think about something else but everything going on at Hogwarts at the moment.

However, despite everything that had happened to her until now, everything she experimented, Kate started to fear her dormant power, wainting in her, like a snake in its sandy lair, ready to jump at her and sink its venomous teeth. That was how she was seeing her uncertain mastering of the Immaterial. For a moment, she neglected her researches about her gift and the possible founder of Shatterfly.
She, moreover, didn't find anything pertinent about it. Aside from that, Kate was still keeping in touch with Hermione Granger. The latter, who was now working at the Ministry of Magic in the service of Muggles' laws and regulation, didn't neglect her researches on the subject, for the sake of her conscience and because her scholar and perfectionist self hated the grey areas about the history of Hogwarts. She also read what said in the different newpapers and Kate sent her an edition of the Puffskein's echo, which Hermione promptly commented: "The most they talk about you, the most you'll be vulnerable, keep that in mind". An advice Kate promised herself to follow as she couldn't agree more.

The 23rd of October, a joyful frenzie had taken over most of the school, straight after the students woke up. The Great Hall became a place of impatience and effusion. The ambient good mood even delighted those who didn't necessarily feel concerned by this day's event: the first Quidditch match of the year, Gryffindor against Slytherin. Sam Vifdor's exploits went around the school like wildfire. Some students even embellished and exaggerated the words, so much, it was said that Sam was able to jump in the space to catch the Snitch before being caught back by his broom. Only first years seemed to believe it, however, many were the students who expected much of this match as the show that would make Sam's new consecration, in the line of the previous Gryffindor Seekers, who stayed in everyone's memories as excellent players. He couldn't disappoint them, he had to honour them. That was his ultimate goal.

This morning, some Slytherins who were expecting on winning the match despite all, were trying to cheer up their house. It seemed difficult, so they let off steam, throwing some pieces of brioche on the Gryffindors who passed by them. It was counter-game, but it was as Slytherins always acted. It was their way to build themselves up, somehow, but it also contributed to affect their already disreputable reputation. This morning, as many others since a few days, Kate neglected the Gryffindors table, even though she shared a room with the girls of this house, to take her breakfast with Terry. She was sort of independent, as her house wasn't yet officialised, and this situation allowed her to choose with which one she wanted to be, without being judged or too openly scorned.
From her point of view, she observed, from time to time, turning around on her bench, the excitement at the Gryffindors table. Particularly the group of her class composed with Evan, Jason, Irwin, but most of all, with Griffin. They all greeted their champion with noisy encouragements, quickly imitated by many around the table. However, Kate didn't look at them for long, when she noticed that Maggie was watching her, her eyes filled with a slight grief, like if she was disappointed that Kate wasn't with them, even for this symbolic day for the house of the lion. Going back to her plate, blasé, she tried to forget it by talking with Terry:

'Did you bet something with Maggie for this match?'
'No... You know, since what happened with the newspaper and all, I don't talk to her much.'
'Because I'm mad at them doesn't mean that you have to be too!'
'Oh, but don't worry, it's not because of you!'
'My foot... So why would you stop your bets with Maggie overnight?'

Terry didn't answer this, for the least right, assertion. In fact, the young man was as mad at Maggie as Kate was and his detachment regarding the blonde Gryffindor girl seemed to be, for him, a kind of loyalty that Kate only half understood. She refused her friend to abandon his other relations for her, for the simple reason that she sometimes felt lonely and misunderstood by her own friends. However, their friendship wasn't questionable to her eyes. Terry always was kind, helpful, with a quite probative sense of humour and always had the gift to make her laugh in all circumstances. But Maggie seemed jealous of this complicity that had installed between them, without her knowledge. When she pointed it out to Kate, one night around a conversation before sleep, the latter sharply retorted:

'Well, good, now you know what it's like to be ignored! To be pushed aside something between friends, without understanding why!'

She was, of course, talking about the newspaper. Maggie had returned to bed, without saying a single word before the morning after, during which she cursed Sir Sulkington who had jumped on her face as he had seen a luminous point on it coming from the window.

'Will you still support Gryffindor's team? Or will you support Slytherin just because you're mad at the girls?'

Terry's question made the little girl think; she took her time to chew her brioche, smeared with blueberry jam.

'I don't know... Slytherin girls seemed better than them, at this level!'

She was lying to herself, she knew it. She just had to remember her fake friendship she shared last year with Morgana, who tried to kill her at the end of the year, in retaliation of the loss that affected her and for which she unfairly took Kate for responsible.

'You think so?' chuckled Terry, who noticed the lie.
'Juno is adorable!' objected Kate.
'She might be the only one in Slytherin! Her friend doesn't seem very talkative... she even seem... unfriendly! Or even sinister!'
'It's wonderful when you use nice words, Terry! They depict the situation very well, moreover!'

She couldn't keep herself from giving a glance at the Slytherins table at the same moment, where Calypso Curtiss was reading the Daily Prophet with the most serious look, while her neighbour, the young Nightingal, was already waving her small green and silver flag for training, under the mockeries of her elders who didn't take much time to set it on fire, before a prefect came to take them points.

'Slytherins love to cast spells at each others!' mocked Terry who saw the entire scene too.
'Let's hope they won't do the same during the match. They're already not on track but if they keep on, they're screwed...'
'We don't know. I wouldn't bet everything on Vifdor. He never played a real match. And he can melt down in such situation. He doesn't have field experience. Look! He's so small! One Bludger and he will end up at St Mungo's in an eternal coma, with a broken skull! Not trying to break his hopes, of course.'

Discreetly turning around again, Kate looked at young Sam who was trying to take his breakfast while his friends assailed him with advices. But when she met Griffin's eyes, her heart stopped for a second and she curled up on the bench, nearly making her glass fall and spill on the table, if it wasn't for Terry who grabbed it just in time. The latter gave a significant smile seeing Kate's red cheeks. He knew perfectly well what caused such effect on her...

All the ranks were abuzz before the match even started. Screams were already tearing the packed Quidditch pitch. Even those who weren't fond of that sport wanted to come, just to assist to the crowd's emulations and what would happen. This time, Kate accompanied Terry to the Hufflepuffs bleachers. The atmosphere was very different from what she experimented with the Gryffindors, or even the Slytherins, when she accompanied Morgana, last year. This match during which Ginny had been the victim of an aggression, with her cursed broom. This time served her as an alibi, a way to make Kate believe she wasn't responsible and keep her cards hidden. This unpleasant memory made her grimace as she took a seat on the front benches, next to first years who were trading Chocolate Frog cards, regretting the fact none of them had one of the new generation including the war hero.

However, she regretted she didn't have, as usual, Omnioculars, which Maggie used to lend her during match. She caught herself wanting to ask Juffbiggles who was, as usual, strolling in the bleachers, proposing his products in exchange of candies or various items, as long as the share was equivalent. He could be useful, sometimes...! However, Terry continued to warn her and tell her not to play his game. She trusted him, as he and Juffbiggles shared the same dormitory. He also told her that the latter carried with him a huge black leather briefcase in which he stored his earnings, his treasures every night. But none of the Hufflepuff boys dared to take a look inside it yet, even though some were planning to steal it in order to discover what was inside. This briefcase was a real mystery box...

'Oh, it's starting...!' said Kate as the players entered the pitch.

Gareth Gale's arrival provoked a wave of high-pitched screams in the Gryffindor bleachers; his fan club had taken out its usual streamers and had even deployed some firework featuring their idol's effigy for the occasion. Those girls would always cross the limits of ridicule. At least, it surprised – and made laugh – more than one, Kate included...! Sam was the last one to walk on the pitch. One could feel he was febrile as he was already having a hard time following his teammates' confident footsteps.

'I don't know, but it's true... I have a bad feeling about the Gryffindors', she admitted.
'Don't expect anything... Let the match speak for itself!'
'Says the bets champion who only swears by forecasts.'
'You have a point.'
'Do you want to make a bet?' she proposed, thinking the ones with Maggie missed him despite all.
'No, not really', he declined, shaking his head with a smile, 'I'm not in the mood...'

With this refusal, Kate saw the truth: these bets could only be made with Maggie, his companion of challenge. A kind of ritual that had settled between them, which symbolised their friendship.
The players mounted their brooms and flew up, taking their position in the air. In the Slytherin team, Beaters were already selecting their targets: they wouldn't miss the occasion to make little Sam fall off his broom. Madam Hooch, standing in the middle of the field, unlocked and opened the box containing the different balls, freed the Bludgers that burst out, then the Snitch that fluttered until it disappeared, despite the efforts to follow it. Then, she grabbed the Quaffle and threw it in the air. Immediately, the commentator, Rose Zeller, yelled her first comments with a high-pitched voice giving away her emotions:

'Slytherin takes the Quaffle for this first start! Mark Morrington is really fast! Very talented! He skilfully avoids the other players! Oh, watch out for the Bludger! He's heading towards the rings! But Gale will stop him, for sure! Oh, YES! Gales stops the ball with his fingertips! How strong he is! Gale, I love you, you're amazing!'

Flitwick told her off under the first laughs of the crowd and the indignation of the other Gryffindor girls, who expressed their contemptuous jealousy for the commentator.

Unlike what everybody was expecting for this match, Vifdor didn't catch the Snitch in the first seconds of the match, like during trainings or his first trial. The young Seeker was bursting, searching for the golden ball. The presence of other players, some of them offensive, disturbed him. He wasn't used to such situation.

'What did I tell you...!' sighed Kate. 'He will not catch it for this match.'
'That's strange of you to support him so little, since he belongs to your house.'
'Gryffindor's not my house, I'm in Shatterfly!'
'Excuse me but for now, you're a Gryffindor! That's the way it is! And... I think Griffin Gale will be very sad to know that you don't support his friend!'

Under his mischievous look, Kate couldn't keep herself from blushing suddenly, despite her efforts to keep her natural attitude: Terry discovered her secret and the attraction she felt for the young Griffin.

'L-like... what?! What do you... What?! Why do you say that, Terry?'
'Hmmm, I don't know... Maybe just a hunch? Am I wrong?'
'Yes, you are! That's wrong! Totally wrong! I'm not in love with Griffin! I don't even know him! I barely spoke to the guy!'

In front of the insistent look of her friend, Kate bent and curled up spontaneously, like a kitten who had just been yelled at. Then, she looked at him with supplicant eyes:

'You won't tell anyone, huh? You promise?'
'Sure I won't, but it's not like you're very discreet! I think people will notice soon enough, and so will he!'
'... Y-you think so? I-I hope not! Oh my god... I'm so ashamed! I... Let's stop talking about this, we have a match to watch!'

They went back to Rose Zeller's comments, though Terry continued to watch his friend a little while with a playful look.

'And that's a new score for Gryffindor! We're already at 30-10! The gap might keep on growing, as the two Seekers didn't localise the Snitch yet!'

Sam was still desperately searching for the Snitch, almost apologising for passing by the other players too fast. He almost took the Quaffle in his head during a pass between two Chasers, if he didn't have the good reflex to turn on his broom. However, the two Slytherin Beaters were still following their purpose which was making the little prodigy fall off his broom. So, Sam had to escape from the Buldgers as well as avoid the players.

'Oh, what a wonderful stop from Gareth Gale! With his foot! What a kick he has! If he were a Muggle, he would be so popular in their sport... what's it called already... the anckleball? That's it! Yes! Gale would be an icon of the anckleball!'

The tension was calming down in the bleachers as time passed by. The spectators were expecting a few minutes match, barely, but fifteen minutes had passed now, watching the Seekers fly in all directions, without seeing the Snitch.

'Oh. I think I found it...'

Terry showed Kate, the tiny golden ball that was floating slowly, a few inches above the ground, unnoticed. But Terry wasn't the only one to see the Snitch: the Slytherin Seeker, who was close, plunged vertically and flew after it.

'Oh! I think John Cliff saw the Snitch! Will it be the beginning of a long duel between Seekers? Who is the best? Which one will give to his team the first win of the season? The gap is not big enough... Slytherin could win! Or Gryffindor could confirm its victory! Go teams! Now's the moment, don't give up!'

Sam, a bit confused, localised his opponent and flew after him. He cut him off and the other Seeker changed his direction just in time to avoid him.

'Oooh... I don't know if it was intended, but what Vifdor just did was pretty dangerous! Maybe it's a technique, a strategy! And so he takes advantage back! Luckily for him, he masters his broom, otherwise they both would have crash into each other and there wouldn't have been an end to this match!'

In a tight turn, Sam, eyebrows frowned over his old Quidditch goggles, launched himself after the Snitch that was flying around, changing directions with disconcerting speed.

'He reaches out his hand! He's close! Oh, by uncle Barney's purulent boils, I think we're assisting to a new champion's birth!'

But the Slytherin Seeker caught up and wanted to remind him the bad hit he just did to him. He deliberately flew towards Sam, just like the latter did before, but this time, he didn't avoid him. He grabbed the end of Sam's broom and pushed it: the latter swirled fast, imbalanced, and crashed on the ground, his manhandled body rolling on the grass.

'Why doesn't the referee bring the play to a halt?!' exclaimed Terry. 'What the hell is Madam Hooch doing! He fell!'
'What a twist! Vifdor fell! I repeat, Vifdor fell! It might be over for the Gryffindors! Is he moving? Yes... he seems a bit numb, but he's okay! Vifdor, is anything broken? I can't stand! What is going to happen?!'

He rose up, stumbling, his face covered with dirt and grass and ran towards his broom, ignoring the pain in his shoulder on which he had landed. He grabbed his broom and flew back in the air. This new boost of strength and determination emboldened the Gryffindors, who didn't hide their joy, just like the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws, who had to admit he was daring.

'Vifdor is back in the game! That's incredible! After such a fall, he rose up! And he keeps going! This match is amazing!'

Sam caught up Cliff on chasing the Snitch, holding his broom with his one valid arm. However, he followed him from above, in order to avoid being noticed by his opponent; until he exceeded him and quickly plunged towards the Snitch. He released his grip on his broom and, in a last hope's gesture, launched his arm to try and catch the golden ball between his fingers. The strength he put into it imbalanced his broom that changed its direction and plunged towards the ground. Once again, Sam fell, but this time all the spectators had only one question in mind: did he catch it? The commentator herself was holding her breath while the other players kept on playing. His face in the dirt, Sam was hardly moving. He opened his left hand. But there was nothing in his shaking glove but dirt and grass. No Snitch.

'Tell me he caught it, tell me he caught it, I can't see anything!' yelled the commentator.
'He has nothing...'
'He missed it...'

The assembly shared disappointed and resigned sighs and the Gryffindors lost hope for their Seeker to play again, given his state...

'Wait...! Wait!'

Sam's sleeve moved and the tiny Snitch extricated itself. It levitated a few inches from the ground, under the young Seeker's nose, who delicately grabbed it between his thumb and his forefinger, before the wings wrapped around the ball.

'He caught it! He caught it!'

A burst of unexpected joy shook the Gryffindors' bleachers while Sam rose up, showing his success to everyone, his valid arm brandished in the air.

'I can't believe it! While everything seemed lost, Vifdor pull out a win! He caught the Snitch with his sleeve! That's purely incredible!'
'I have to admit, he's very talented,' applaused Terry.
'Maybe we were too mean with him thinking he couldn't do it...'
'Anyway, I'm glad I avoided this bet with Maggie, I would've lost!'

Sunday evenings always were very ritualised in the Gryffindors common room. It would always begin with the unfinished homework one would do in a hurry, bent over the desks. The youngest, still so naive, were playing magical cards games sitting in a circle near the fireplace, while the oldest were working on some books they borrowed from the library. One could feel the stress; the one of the Monday morning to come. Nathalie McDonald, the prefect, was reviewing the classified acts on the panel and removed the ones that were no longer relevant or the pranksters' jokes. Regularly, one could see "Searching pictures of Gareth Gale (preferably in his bedroom)", immediately removed by the prefects passing by, under the outraged looks of the girls of his fan club. Fourth years, who were lucky to have Transfiguration class at first hour this week, were doing forecasts about who would be Wolffhart's victim; he was more terrible on Monday mornings than every other day, for he deplored the end of the week-end, as everyone else. Then, when the youngest had finished their games, they regained their dormitories while the elders were continuing their homework. Finally, people left the common room one by one, their eyes fraught with meaning when they thought about the beginning of the week. The last one to regain his room, most of the time a prefect, would always turn off the candles with a Tenebris and the common room slept until dawn.

But this night, tiny footsteps strummed the floor. A black shadow passed by the window, followed by another, fluffier, close to the ground that let out a 'Meow'.

'Sir Sulkington!' ranted Kate in a whisper as she made a U-turn, hidden under her cape. 'I told you to stay in the dormitory.'

The pet's wall eyes glistened under the stars' light.

'I'm warning you... if you bring Mrs Norris to me again, I'll feed you to Maggie...'

Going along the shadows, she got out of the common room on her hands and knees into the small tunnel leading to the corridor. The Fat Lady was asleep, slouched on her shoulder, an empty glass in her hand. However Kate didn't blink. She waited.

'Blimey... where is he?'

She stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled out her old family compass which she opened. Throughout the months, she began to know about some symbols and associations. Some nights, she couldn't help but check if the combination of the hand and the heart would finally stop on the direction that would indicate the one who could have feelings for her. However, just like always, the arrow turned in a direction, then another, without freezing.

This night, she set it on the hand, for the person, and the shield. Around some experiments that turned badly during Potions classes, she discovered that the shield would show her something that could be able to protect her. Which she did by grabbing with curiosity the tin lid the compass was pointing at, as she was waiting for the five minutes cooking, before the ladle – which she had forgotten inside her cauldron – burst out and, fortunately, bounced on this little improvised shield. The "GONG!" surprised the entire classroom, however, she was pleased because she just had discovered the meaning of another symbol!

Once Kate correctly set her compass, the big quivering golden arrow pointed on her left and the numbers showed "085".

'He's not very far.'

Immediately, she rushed in the corridors, SirSulkington carefully following her. Fortunately, no stair decided to suddenly change its direction this night and she met no ghost. Kate still feared Peeves' interventions, moreover as she was, in this present situation, breaking the rules, walking into the castle at this hour of the night. The poltergeist would take a special delight in yelling in the corridors, waking up every single sleeping painting and drawing their attention on the little girl's escapade.

The atmosphere shrouding Hogwarts once the night had fallen always was peculiar and characteristic for Kate. The buildings were even gloomier, the torches and braziers were printing on the cold walls the terrifying shadows of statues and other gargoyles. Kate always wondered why the wizards were still sticking to this, for the least, outdated architecture and didn't opt for evolution of styles. She pictured her school influenced by Renaissance, by the industrial era, the Victorian times or even the actual technology. But no. They were sticking to the good old torchlight, fireplaces, antic tapestries and everything that goes along with this gothic style.
Once she had climbed down all the stairs, she reached the courtyard and had to admit that the air was way colder, making her taking refuge into her plum scarf, the one Maggie gave her last Christmas, and pulling on her hood to avoid the icy breeze to take hold of her nose. Further, she found a silhouette, hidden in the building's shadows. A silhouette she guessed to be Eliot's. She recognised his messy hair falling on his blackened face in no way reached by the torches' flickering lights that were suffering the endless assaults of the wind.
Kate closed her compass' lid once she was sure it was her cousin and put it in her pocket as she approached him. However, she noticed in a discreet glimpse that Sir Sulkington wasn't following anymore. The cat might have seen the shadow of a mouse during the walk and ran after it. Kate sighed with disgust picturing the rodent's corpse her pet would put on her pillow that she will discover when she'd return with Sir Sulkington strutting around, considering he's in right to receive a reward up to his amazing hunter skills.

'I thought you would be waiting for me inside…!' she whispered to Eliot who didn't even look at her.
'Ultimately I thought it wasn't very cautious… With the ghosts roaming about, some prefects on guard duty and Filch… It's best to be outside. And… I could contemplate the moon.'

Kate followed her cousin's gaze and observed the full moon, big and round, like a mother-of-pearl ball hung on a black canvas above the Forbidden Forest.

'But I wasn't worried. I knew you would find me…'

He gave a slight smile that went unnoticed in this end of October's night's surrounding, greedy darkness as he turned towards his cousin.

'Ready to go? To the Mooncalf's… hunt?'
'Hunt?' she said surprised as Eliot started to walk towards the dark woods, quickly going down the way. 'We're going to catch it? I thought we would just watch it! If we could at least find one, that would be great, wouldn't it?'
'Yes, sorry, that's not what I meant', he corrected himself casually.

Both of them walked along the training park, where they both learned to ride a broomstick for the first time during their first year, and the Herbology greenhouses. One can hear some carnivorous plants' fangs slamming, some insects buzzing as they were eating leaves. Further down, a curl of smoke was rising from this brave Hagrid's cabin, however, the light from the window was feeble. The half-giant might have fallen asleep at this hour and only the candle was waiting, its wax flowing on the edge of the window. As they approached the edge of the woods, the moon's silhouette was eaten by the peaks. Kate couldn't lie about it: this terrifying, because forbidden, show fascinated her. She remembered the altercation with Morgana, last year, not far from here, when the Slytherin tried to kill her. What would have happened if Maggie didn't show up in time to save her in extremis from the unreasonable, unfathomable young girl's wrath?

Her heart heavy, Kate put her first step into the forest, once her cousin called her as he noticed she had stopped at the entrance of the wood:

'Don't be afraid, we're the two of us. I'll protect you…!'

Even though Eliot wanted to sound reassuring, it didn't necessarily calm Kate's anxiety. Despite this, she gave a hint of a smile. As Eliot's been asleep for two years, she perfectly knew his knowledge in spells and defence against the dark arts wasn't quite up-to-date and she couldn't help but doubt his ability in protecting her against a wild creature. Just like the gytrash Kate confronted. A gloomy encounter that still fed a lot of her nightmares. She particularly remembered those big red shining eyes, like two bloody rubies. That single thought provoked a shiver.
She observed with great caution the grey trees, rooted in the very dust and thorns that had fallen on this cold autumn season. As if something could emerge from anywhere. She learned it very well during Hagrid's lessons; when he said, almost smiling, that Acromantulas, Gnomes, wolves and other ferocious beasts ready to suck your flesh on your bones, even children's – in fact, especially children, with fresh, soft and perfumed meat – were populating this forest.
Eliot seemed to know the place like the back of his hand. As if the Forbidden Forest didn't have any secret for him; that surprised his cousin.

'Do you often come here alone? Or… maybe, "did"?' she asked, stressing on the past tense, slightly afflicted as they changed their direction once they went past a big rock broken in two pieces.
'I sometimes came here with Clive, before the war… It was dangerous. But I absolutely wanted to see my first magical creatures other than in classes. Back then, we didn't have Hagrid's lessons before third year. And many times we talked about searching for a unicorn. We made a deal: he would accompany me and, if we could, we would catch some of its tail's hair.'
'And?' she asked, terribly curious about whether or not they succeeded. 'Did you find one? A unicorn?'
'Yes, but not immediately, it was hard… And a very long work of searches! I don't know how many sleepless nights we had! At least five! And we had our hideout…'
'Is that where you're bringing me?'

He nodded in the dark, without answering. He resumed his speech a few steps further, as Kate followed him, keeping her wand in her shaking hand, observing the surroundings.

'But that night was… incredible!'
'What does a unicorn looks like?'
'Just like in the books or in the carvings. Just like everywhere unicorns are mentioned. But… seeing one… That was unbelievable! I know I could hardly live this experience twice! The unicorn saw us as we were hidden in the bushes, hoping it wouldn't smell us. My heart was racing, that was crazy. But Clive absolutely wanted to have this precious hair. He wanted to analyse it for his wands studies. And this idiot rose up. One moment, I thought the unicorn would flee. But it didn't. It just stared at us with its big hematite black eyes. You know, this black stone with beautiful silver highlights. Well, it was exactly the same. It managed to appease me, just by its presence. There was a sort of… communication. I can't put it into words; you have to live it to understand. Anyway… one thing is sure: unicorns are incredibly clever creatures. You know, it very well understood Clive wanted to take some hair from its tail. And… that was exactly like it accepted. It trusted him, and authorised him to. And after a long silence, it went back to the forest. I will never forget that night.'

Kate remained quiet, respecting the silence that fell as she kept on dragging her feet in the dust, fouling her nice little black shoes.

'And… why didn't you come with Clive today? He was the one who used to accompany you. Don't you think he would be sad to know that you…'
'That's him who doesn't want to come anymore' he interrupted her calmly.
'Really? Why? But he saw the unicorn too! He wasn't insensitive about that, was he…?'
'Not at all. But with war, the situation deteriorated. There was my departure. The forest was even more disreputable than ever. You know, he saw the Death Eaters coming out from the forest, when the battle of Hogwarts began… It's visceral, symbolic. Clive doesn't want to come here anymore. It was the past, it's over for him… The end of an era, sort of… Do you understand?'

Then he couldn't help but laugh:

'And… now he's prefect! What kind of an example would he make! A prefect who wanders around in the middle of the night to accompany a friend into the Forbidden Forest in order to observe some bloodthirsty creatures! He's like that… Always keeping a stiff upper lip, you know him. And that's why he's recognised by teachers and has incredible knowledge. Don't you agree?'

Kate nodded, pertinently knowing that her cousin, who was turning his back on her while moving forward, couldn't obviously see her. She very much appreciated Clive, because of the support he was for her as well as for Eliot since he was back at Hogwarts after his so long absence and this grief he had to go through. He was a brother to Eliot and so, by extension, hers… Kate still didn't understand that awkward necessity to create this fictional family. Perhaps she was trying to protect herself from the outside world, like a cocoon; the one her parents couldn't provide her as she was away from them…
The path led to a clearing that contrasted with the Forbidden Forest's gloomy, dry and dusty ambiance. Grass had found back its marks on the wet earth on which dew had already formed. The moon was a masterful queen, high in the sky. Trees weren't green anymore at this time of the year, but the lighting was enough to distinguish the hues of red, the shades of orange, and the fascinating death of sylvan vegetation. Then, without making any noise, Eliot pointed out a small bush aloof:

'That's here… Where we used to hide with Clive. We can give it a try… That's a good place!'
'But what makes you think a Moooncalf will appear?'
'Nothing ventured, nothing gained…!'

They both crawled under the bush and took place. Kate noticed the two friends already came a few times here; she felt the imprint their bodies made into the ground by staying there too long, sometimes entire nights. She easily pictured the scene with the unicorn Eliot told her about and it kept turning in her head… She wanted to talk about her own adventures, to confide in, as the first minutes of a long wait passed by.

'I never saw unicorns, except in books', she began. 'But… I had the occasion to meet a centaur.'
'A real one?'
'Of course a real one! What else if not a real one…?!'
'Centaurs aren't very sociable.'
'That's what he told me.'

Eliot opened wide eyes before he exclaimed:

'What he told you?! He even talked to you?'
'Yes… his name is Drane, he's a young centaur…! He saved me in the Forbidden Forest, last year, as I was chased by a gytrash…'

Surprises followed one another, as the expressions on Eliot's face:

'You were chased by a gytrash?!' he repeated, astounded. 'But… what did you do?! How did you find yourself here…?!'
'That's a long story', sighed Kate, finally abandoning the conversation.

She didn't feel the need to talk about Morgana and the incident to her cousin. This event was still imprinted in her memory, as the centaur's voice reasoning in her head, calling her "O'Maëva"; this mysterious name which secret wasn't known yet. Then, she resumed her watch with her cousin, who didn't stop to go wonder by wonder, sometimes passing by deep trouble mixed with a slight despair.

'We should keep quiet', she smiled, 'or we might scare this poor Mooncalf, don't you think?'

Eliot nodded. And so they kept watching each and every bush from which could come a Mooncalf, even though Kate hadn't any idea of what this creature looked like. Of course, Eliot showed her a picture he saw in a book, however, drawings were sometimes different from reality…
Minutes passed by. And tiredness, as well as impatience, started to weigh on their shoulders. They just spent a long week, and thinking about the Monday to come seemed to considerably burden them even more. When, suddenly, a rustling of leaves made them raise their heads.

'Did you hear that?' whispered Kate.
'It came from over there.'

Then, he turned towards her and pointed out the clearing with his chin.

'You want to go and see?'
'What?' she squealed, scared. 'Y-you want me to go there?! But what if it's a wolf?! Or… or…'
'I've got your back', he assured her, showing the wand he was holding in his hand.
'Why don't you go?! You're braver!'
'I'm less discreet than you.'
Both angry and terrorised, Kate went out of the bush shaking, whispering a brief "Coward…!"

Her heart was racing hard as she took care to not make a single twig crack. Staying behind, in the shadows of the thickets, Eliot was watching her. He rose up slowly, his wand pointing in front of him. She had no clue. He had her at his mercy. And he savoured this sweet victory that seemed so sure. A sardonic smile stretched his lips, making his usually listless face looks demonic.

"And you will bring me Kate Whisper…!"

Kate was still carefully walking, stealthily, until she reached the quivering bush. Without noticing that behind her, her own cousin was about to cast a spell on her…
Then, a soft blue light came from the centre of the little shrub. Kate suddenly stepped back and stumbled before falling on her butt. Eliot himself was so intrigued something activated inside him and made him lose track of the action he was about to do. But the young girl regained confidence and, positioning on all fours, instinctively whispered:

'Don't be afraid… We don't want to harm you…'

She saw two googly eyes among the leaves of the bush. Until a snout came out of it.

'I… I can't believe it!' said Eliot, shaking.

The Mooncalf showed itself timidly, approaching the hand Kate was reaching out, moved by the apparition of the creature. Its skin, next to its protruding bones, was devoid of hair and reflected the full moon's light. It was moving on its frail legs provided with flattened, armed with claws hooves. Its head looked like a Muggle calf, if it wasn't for the protuberant eyes and opalescent nose.
It nodded as it emitted a high-pitched sound

Her fingers were about to touch the creature when it jumped and went back into the deep forest with a rather disconcerting speed, like a rabbit. Kate remained astounded for a moment before she let out a swear.

'I was so close! Did you see that, Eliot? I was so close!'

Yet, her cousin didn't answer, shivering like a leaf. The young girl rose up and dusted off her legs.

'That was… amazing!' she whispered, slowly getting back on her feet. 'A Mooncalf, a real one! How lucky!'

Eliot seemed to not share her joy. And when she joined him, he grabbed her arm and said with a low voice:

'L-let's get back… Now!'
'What's wrong?'
'Don't argue! We have… we have to leave!'

She didn't try to understand his cousin's reaction, thinking his emotions were speaking for him. In fact, she didn't realise that this unexpected encounter just saved her life.

When Kate got back to her room, the four girls were already asleep under the stars and the full moon's light. After she put off her cape, dirty shoes and put on her night gown, she discreetly crawled under her sheets. But then she noticed that a small package had been hidden under her pillow. Sceptical, she took her wand, took refuge under her cover and whispered:

'Lumos.'

A soft spark appeared at the end of her wand, revealing a Sugared Butterfly Wings box, her favourite candies, to which was attached a torn page. The first edition of The Puffskein's Echo. The last page of the article about her. A paragraph was highlighted:

"But as you certainly understood in the course of these lines, it is all those little originalities that make Kate an exceptional girl. For some, she's naïve, for us, she has a wonderful look on the world. For some, she's clumsy, for us, she lightens up our days without even wanting it. She's our little butterfly. But above all, she's a quality friend. A girl who deserves to be respected and recognised at her fair value. And yet, it's the pickiest girl of all who says that!
So the first one who bothers her, journalists included, we'll shove your wand up in your… in your nose, because we risk censorship, says Scarlett!

2M2S,
Maggie, Moira, Suzanna & Scarlett."

And Kate fell asleep, tears in her eyes, the crumpled page tightly held against her.