Kate walked back toward the Common Room under a cloud of barely contained fury. Every student she passed fell into immediate silence.
There was probably only one person in the world brazen enough to approach her in a mood like this.
"Hey — Kate!" It wasn't until she had descended into the dungeons and was passing the Potions classroom that Malfoy's voice stopped her.
She turned around, expression sour. "What do you want?"
Even her tone had gone cold enough to crumble.
Malfoy appeared before her alone, which was rare in itself. "I just saw you and Granger — it looked like you were having a row in the corridor?"
"...And what business is that of yours?" Kate gave an unsparing cold snort.
Seeing that Kate hadn't denied it, a smile slowly spread across Malfoy's face. "So you've finally realized how embarrassing it is to go around with a Muggle-born wizard."
Kate's eyes narrowed slightly. "You're still trotting out that pure-blood nonsense? Malfoy, I haven't the faintest idea what goes on inside that head of yours."
"What's wrong with championing pure-blood?" Malfoy spread her hands with perfect self-assurance. "It's nothing more than a useful tool for weeding out the undesirables."
"When you want to accept someone, you don't bring up blood status at all. But the moment you take a dislike to someone, out comes the pure-blood banner — and naturally, plenty of people will fall in line."
As she said this, a smug, self-satisfied look settled over her face. She was nothing like the naive little girl Kate had been able to talk in circles back in first year.
Malfoy edged closer, reaching out to clap Kate on the shoulder. "Just like the way you mocked Lockhart in class — you only did it because you can't stand him, didn't you?"
"And regardless of blood status, our families have been connected by marriage in the past. At their core, all the Sacred Twenty-Eight families are relatives of one kind or another."
"So while you and Granger may differ on some tastes, you and I are alike in certain ways. For instance... we both despise Lockhart."
Kate's expression cooled, and she took a deliberate step back, evading Malfoy's hand. "What exactly are you trying to say?"
"It's simple. If you and Granger have had a falling-out, it only means you're not cut from the same cloth. Why not turn back while you still can? Take a look around — I'm still right here, waiting."
She spread her arms wide as she said it, striking a pose of open welcome.
The ice in Kate's expression finally showed its first hairline crack — though her gaze didn't rest on Malfoy at all. It slid past her, settling on the figure that had appeared, slow and silent, behind her.
"Good afternoon, Head of House." Kate gave the dark-robed figure a small, composed nod.
Malfoy's face went white with alarm. She spun around at once and found Snape standing behind her — at some point he had appeared there without a sound.
"H-Head of House..." Her voice came out faintly trembling as she bowed her head.
Snape regarded the two of them through narrowed eyes. "You were just saying that Shafiq mocked a teacher in class and picked a fight with a fellow student?"
"She — she didn't—" Malfoy's instinct was to defend Kate immediately, but she caught herself the very next moment, remembering that every one of those words had come out of her own mouth. She clamped her lips shut with a pained expression.
Kate, by contrast, was perfectly composed. "Professor Lockhart has asked me to come find him this evening."
Snape fixed her with a dark, measuring look for a long moment, then turned to Malfoy. "Next time you have something to discuss, there is no need to do it in front of the Potions classroom."
With that, he gave a sweep of his voluminous robes and turned into his office.
Malfoy let out a sharp breath and shot Kate a resentful look. "You could have warned me—"
"I never said I was throwing myself into your arms, either." Kate returned the remark with a perfectly blank face, then walked straight off in the direction of the Common Room.
"Wh — throwing yourself into my — Kate! You insufferable creature!"
A flush blazed across Malfoy's face. She hissed a low curse under her breath and paced back and forth in front of the Potions office for quite some time, until she heard Kate enter the Common Room. Only then did she press her hands over her burning cheeks.
...
In the days that followed, Kate and Hermione maintained their cold war — passing each other without a word whenever they met.
Even Harry, who had been tormented all week by the problem of Colin's little fanboy constantly trailing him, had been tempted more than once to step in and ask what was going on. But every attempt was frozen solid by Hermione's icy glare.
As for asking Kate?
Ha. He wasn't quite ready to die young.
Generally speaking, the friendship between him, Ron, and Kate had always been built on the foundation that Kate and Hermione were close. Without that, Harry had every reason to believe that after making a bad impression on Kate back in first year, the two of them would never have been allowed within two meters of her — Hermione or no Hermione.
With those two at war, there was even less room for either of them to play peacemaker.
If the mood in Gryffindor was strained, the atmosphere in Slytherin was even worse. After Kate had seen through her little scheme, Malfoy had started picking fights with her daily, finding new and inventive methods every time.
And Kate had abandoned her usual policy of avoiding unnecessary conflict entirely. Every single time, she would drive Malfoy to wordless, spluttering fury before sweeping off without a backward glance.
Nearly every evening, the Slytherin Common Room rang with the sound of their squabbling.
Older students who thought about stepping in to mediate were uniformly deterred by Kate's "let ability do the talking" attitude.
After all, everyone knew that back in first year, Kate had defeated upperclassmen seven days in a row. Back then she'd still had the look of a delicate, cautious, introverted girl — nothing like she was now, wired like a lit fuse, going off at the slightest provocation.
Aside from old rival Malfoy, who else would dare poke her? At least Malfoy came back from provoking Kate in one piece and made it to her dormitory to sleep. Everyone else could forget it.
And so the low pressure that had settled over two entire Houses persisted — until the weekend arrived, and with it, the first glimmer of relief.
Because the new round of Quidditch training had begun.
Malfoy's father had donated seven brand-new Nimbus 2001s to the Slytherin team, and Malfoy herself had officially joined as Seeker.
That Saturday, Malfoy turned up at the Common Room entrance with her new broomstick, gathering with a crowd of older students.
As it happened, Kate — who had slept in for a rare lazy morning — emerged at the same moment, and was treated to the sight of Malfoy flashing her broomstick in her direction with a thoroughly self-satisfied air.
Kate's expression remained perfectly blank as she stepped past them and headed for the Great Hall. Passing the Gryffindor table on her way, she happened to catch Harry and the others clutching their own broomsticks, chatting excitedly about the upcoming Quidditch practice.
Oh. These two groups running into each other was definitely going to cause trouble.
Kate had been about to go over and warn the Gryffindors that Slytherin had already gotten a signed note from Snape — they'd be better off rescheduling. But the moment she drifted closer, she saw Hermione ostentatiously avert her eyes, wearing the unmistakable look of someone who had no interest in speaking to her.
Kate stood where she was for a long, silent moment, then sat back down, a quietly unpleasant feeling settling in her chest.
"I don't understand," Pansy said quietly, watching the whole exchange. "It's just Lockhart. Is he really worth all this?"
Honestly, Pansy had never had any intention of involving herself in whatever was going on between Kate and that Granger girl.
But she'd spent the past week watching Draco pick fights with Kate every day and come back in low spirits each time, and she genuinely didn't know how to comfort her. She couldn't make sense of it — Kate and Granger were the ones quarrelling, so why was Draco the one who seemed depressed? What on earth were these three to each other?
For the sake of her best friend, she was prepared to brave even Kate's razor tongue to get some kind of answer.
Kate was quiet for a moment. She picked up a piece of bread, took a bite, and said through a mouthful, "Actually, I haven't had a row with Hermione."
Pansy stared at her with an expression that said plainly: you're joking.
Kate blinked and washed the bread down with a swallow of milk. "More precisely — she's angry at me. Unilaterally."
It was just Lockhart. What did she have to be upset about?
Everything Kate had done this past week had, in truth, been to make sure Snape could see that her temper had grown markedly worse.
People who had been in prolonged contact with a Horcrux tended to become impulsive and irritable — like Ron in the seventh book.
Though she had handed the diary over by now, Dumbledore had no way of knowing exactly how long she had spent with it, or how deeply she had engaged with it, in her attempt to understand it.
She had genuinely been unable to find an opening to get herself pulled back into Dumbledore's diary investigation — until she'd seen the undisguised admiration on Hermione's face for Lockhart, and it had come to her in an instant.
Of course... if she was being honest, seeing Hermione fawn over such a fraud had also lit a small, real spark of irritation in her at the time.
But that minor flicker of annoyance had faded soon enough afterward.
Kate had always styled herself as Hermione's big sister. Even if she'd been genuinely angry, how could she have kept up a cold war with Hermione for this long?
If it weren't for the mission, she would have gone scurrying over to apologize and make up days ago.
What genuinely surprised her, though, was this: she had been performing. But Hermione seemed to be truly, sincerely angry — and that anger had held firm for an entire week.
Kate didn't know how to describe what she had felt, standing in front of the Gryffindor table just now.
A hollow, faintly sour feeling. Quietly uncomfortable.
But then she reminded herself that this was necessary — that she had to let Snape observe her spiraling emotions — and the discomfort curdled into something more like resignation. She'd brought it on herself.
She had never told Hermione in advance. So she had no right to expect Hermione to understand.
She would just have to go and make a proper apology afterward.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the Gryffindor Quidditch team finishing up their meal and getting ready to leave. She quickly drained the rest of her milk in one go and sprang to her feet to follow.
"Oh — Pansy," she remembered to turn back before she went, "what I just told you — keep it between us."
She figured Pansy would, at most, pass it on to Malfoy.
Which meant the week-long running argument with Malfoy would probably be able to wind down at last.
She hadn't been invested in fighting with Malfoy this week, anyway — it had all just been performance, to reinforce the impression that her temper had taken a turn for the worse under the Horcrux's influence.
After today, she hopefully wouldn't need to keep burning energy on that front.
She wiped her mouth and set off at a brisk pace toward the Quidditch pitch — and arrived to find, exactly as expected, Gryffindor and Slytherin already deep in a shouting match outside the grounds, their respective captains front and center.
"Flint!" Wood bellowed at the Slytherin captain. "This is our training time! We booked the pitch! Get your lot out of here!"
"Ah," said Flint, "but I have a note, personally signed by Professor Snape."
"I, Professor S. Snape, hereby grant the Slytherin team permission to use the Quidditch pitch today, for the purpose of training their new Seeker."
"You've added a new Seeker?" Wood's attention snagged on that immediately. "Where?"
Malfoy stepped out from behind six towering teammates, a smug little smile on her pale face.
Standing next to them, she looked particularly slight.
Though what drew every eye even more than Malfoy herself were the seven broomsticks in their hands — seven gleaming, brand-new Nimbus 2001s, every single one a match.
Every gaze was involuntarily drawn to those seven state-of-the-art broomsticks.
"So what?" Ron gritted out, jaw tight. "There's no one on the Gryffindor team who bought their way in."
Malfoy's expression shifted. She had already been in a foul mood all week from Kate's barbs — and Kate saying things was one thing, but this ginger-haired Weasley had the nerve to come at her too?
"Oh really? I wonder how many years your father would have to spend at his little clerk's desk before he could afford a single twig from one of these broomsticks."
Ron's face flooded scarlet. Furious, he yanked out his battered, repaired-one-too-many-times wand and leveled it at Malfoy. "You little—!"
He was already mouthing the start of a spell when, in the very next second, his wand was knocked clean out of his hand — and caught by Kate as she strode up.
The force of the impact sent Ron stumbling and staggering two steps back before he landed on the grass. He stared up at her, completely disbelieving.
"Kate! What are you doing?!" Hermione rushed over with Harry to help Ron up, then turned her head toward Kate, her expression stunned.
Slytherin captain Flint stepped to block in front of Kate. "Student Shafiq is Slytherin's own — naturally she stands with Slytherin."
Hermione stood her ground, stubborn as ever, and looked Kate straight in the eyes. "Kate. Come out here yourself and apologize to Ron."
Malfoy, seeing an opening, stepped forward and raised her voice at Hermione. "And who do you think you are? A Muggle-born wizard, nothing more—"
"That's enough, Malfoy." Kate stepped forward of her own accord and cut her off.
She looked down at the wand in her hand — Ron's wand, worn and battered, the core exposed in at least one place. She used a Mending Charm to coax the two halves back into reasonable alignment.
When she handed it back, she passed it to Hermione — and as she did, she drew her in just slightly and murmured a few words close to her ear.
In moments, she saw the faintest change come over Hermione's face.
"...Ron. Let's go." Hermione gave Kate one last complicated, unreadable look, then helped Harry pull Ron to his feet with some difficulty. The whole group departed the pitch in a rather undignified procession.
It was the first time Malfoy had ever seen Kate take her side. The satisfaction of it was so overwhelming that she nearly forgot the several evenings this week she'd been left completely speechless and humiliated by that same person.
"Hey — Shafiq," she called out, tilting her chin up with a grin. "Stay and watch us practice!"
She was absolutely going to put on a show in front of Kate — let her see exactly how brilliant her flying was.
"No thank you." Kate pocketed her wand and declined without missing a beat. "I still have homework, and I have to go find Professor Lockhart this evening to serve my punishment."
With that, she turned and walked off the pitch without looking back.
Malfoy blinked, and her grip on the Nimbus 2001 tightened involuntarily.
"Captain," she said, swallowing something down, and turned to Flint with new fire in her eyes, "let's get started. This year, we are going to put Gryffindor flat on the ground."
Flint broke into a broad, delighted grin. "That's the spirit! Flatten them!"
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