Kate hadn't even dared to dream she'd get a chance to witness the Chamber of Secrets incident from Dumbledore's perspective. Even though she already knew the truth of the whole affair, she was still curious about Old Man Dumbledore's memories.
"It'd look a bit too convenient if I worked it all out in just a day — I'll wait a few days before viewing it." Setting the little bottle down on her desk, she glanced at the clock on the wall.
This time she'd gone after dinner, and she'd spent over two hours in the Headmaster's office. By the time she got back it was already almost curfew.
Time to practise the Grand Summoning Spell.
White light came gushing out of her wand. Kate was by now well used to the flashbang-style overture this spell always opened with. Once she opened her eyes again and took a proper look, she discovered a ragged-looking house-elf standing right in front of her.
She'd actually managed to summon out a house-elf?
This was the very first creature she'd ever summoned that possessed something close to human intelligence — did that mean her Grand Summoning Spell was about to break through to Level 3?
A little wide-eyed, she stepped closer. The little elf in front of her, suddenly thrust into a brand-new environment, went into a stress response of its own and instinctively flung a spell at her.
The magic-charged light, however, passed clean through her body and slammed into the bed behind her, blowing a gaping hole right in the middle of a perfectly fine four-poster.
"You were summoned by me — you can't hurt me." Kate gave a flick of her wand, and the bed was restored to its original state.
Step by step she approached the little elf, and because it was confined within the summoning circle of just a few feet across, no matter how desperately it tried to flee, there was no escape.
"Tell me your name." She kept her voice as gentle as she could so as not to frighten him. "My name is Kate Shafiq. This is Hogwarts. You don't need to be afraid."
The little elf opened and closed its mouth. Its panic-stricken great big eyes finally calmed down a little once they took in the decor around it: "I... my name is Dobby."
"You're Dobby?" Kate moved forward in surprise, and ended up startling the poor thing all over again.
Realising she'd let herself get a little overexcited, she hastily explained: "I'm a friend of Harry Potter's. He's told me about you."
"Harry Potter? You know Harry Potter?" Dobby's huge ears shot up at once, his little body squirming. "Harry Potter hasn't come to any harm, has he?"
Kate shook her head: "He's fine. I know why you're worried about him — it's because you know he's going to run into danger at Hogwarts, isn't it?"
"How could you possibly know?" Dobby's enormous eyes bulged with shock, and he let out a shrill cry, "Dobby has not told anyone Master's secret! Dobby has not!"
Kate explained, "It wasn't you who leaked it — we found out on our own. Don't worry. Dumbledore already knows everything, and with him here, Harry Potter won't run into any danger this year."
"Dumbledore has joined in too?" Dobby was practically weeping with joy. "That's wonderful — Harry Potter will be all right, he'll be all right, sob sob sob…"
Seeing him on the verge of losing emotional control again, Kate moved forward helplessly and pressed down on his shoulders. "All right now, Dobby — whatever we've discussed here, you mustn't tell anyone else, otherwise Harry Potter might end up in danger again. Do you understand?"
"Thank you, Miss Shafiq!" Dobby bowed his head in tearful gratitude, using his grubby clothes to wipe away the tears and snot.
Almost at once, however, his head snapped back up: "Shafiq? I mean… you are of the Shafiq family?"
"You've probably heard of my family," Kate said, a little thrown by his reaction. "Is there a problem?"
"Shafiq…" Dobby paced anxiously around inside the summoning circle. "How could it possibly be Shafiq?"
"Hey, Dobby — are you actually listening to me?" Kate called out to him several times in a row, but he stayed completely lost in his own little world, with no intention whatsoever of responding to her.
Was the feng shui at the Malfoy house really that bad? The handful of little elves back home weren't anywhere near this neurotic.
Maybe she'd just send him back.
Kate could feel that a third of her mana was nearly depleted — even the summoning circle was beginning to struggle to hold.
The Grand Summoning Spell wasn't normally this draining on her mana; it was just that Dobby was a special species, and on top of that he wouldn't stop moving.
She raised her wand, about to send him back, when Dobby suddenly looked up: "My young Miss… no, my young Master, every day when he is at home he…"
Before he could finish the sentence, he vanished from in front of Kate.
"Every day at home Malfoy what? Does what?" Kate scratched her cheek, her whole head full of question marks.
It was probably just that she got cursed at every day at home. The brat had been cursing her so often it had become a reflex — anything she did, she'd come to mind and earn herself another scolding.
Kate had even started to suspect that the reason her constitution was so poor was simply that Malfoy was muttering darkly about her morning, noon and night.
After adjusting her breathing and her mana for a short while, she cast the Grand Summoning Spell once more.
This time, though, it was only an ordinary wild horse. There might have been a touch of magical bloodline in it, but it had been so thinned out as to be untraceable.
Sigh — sure enough, pulling an SSR really wasn't something that happened twice in the same day.
She heaved a sigh and pulled herself together, cheerfully sending the little horse back where it had come from. Then she opened up the System: "All right, time to start today's exercise training!"
Nothing in the world was going to stop her from squeezing every last drop out of the System!
As October drew near, the chill thickened in the air, and a sudden epidemic of colds began making the rounds among the staff and students.
Thanks to her daily training, this year Kate didn't crumple under it at the first sign of trouble, but she still couldn't avoid bundling up considerably more than usual.
It was why she had no love for autumn and winter — even though she herself had been born in the coldest month of all, December.
While she was setting up her warming jar, a spell-training method suddenly occurred to her: when she sealed Bluebell Flames Charm inside a bottle, she could keep feeding it her mana to keep it running.
That way, she could not only practise this spell any time and speed up its rate of levelling up — she also wouldn't have to worry about cold hands. Two birds with one stone.
To make the training go even better, Kate flat-out handed out one such jar each to the trio of little lions Harry, Ron and Hermione, while she took on the split-focus operation and maintained the steady mana drain at all times.
At the start, this kind of method could only hold up for an hour, but as time went on the duration grew steadily longer.
Her split-focus control was becoming more and more accomplished by the day.
Finally, on a Friday evening with the wind and rain lashing outside, while Harry was off at practice and Ron and Hermione had gone back to the Common Room to do their homework, she at last opened the little bottle Dumbledore had given her.
Silver threads spread themselves out in mid-air, and just before they fell, a small light shot from her wand caught them. In the instant the two collided, a flash of white light pulled Kate's consciousness into that memory from fifty years ago.
Kate closed her eyes, and only opened them again once she felt solid ground beneath her feet. The blurry scenery around her gradually came into focus.
This was the office of the teacher of Transfiguration at Hogwarts. Apart from a few different displays here and there, it was basically identical to the office she had seen before.
Behind her came the soft sound of a door being pushed open. She turned around, and saw a Dumbledore fifty years younger walk in with a grave expression and sit down.
In his hands he held a death certificate. The name written on it was Myrtle Elizabeth Warren.
So this memory began from Myrtle's death?
Kate was just about to lean in for a closer look when a knock sounded at the door. A moment later, a Professor McGonagall fifty years younger walked in, her eyes faintly red.
"I've been to the Headmaster to argue our case, but…" She let out a sigh. "Students are dying without anyone knowing why — the school is probably going to close very soon."
Dumbledore stood up at once. "Perhaps we ought to make one last attempt."
He brushed past McGonagall and walked off briskly, and Kate had to keep shifting her own position along with him as his point of view changed.
At length, he came to a halt near the entrance hall of the Great Hall.
And standing not far off was none other than that younger, still-nosed version of Voldemort… well, at this point he should still be called Tom Riddle.
"Tom," he called out to him, "what are you doing wandering about outside at this hour?"
"Yes, Professor." Tom strode quickly up to Dumbledore. "I thought I had to see for myself whether the rumours were true."
Dumbledore gave a slight nod: "I'm afraid they are. Before too long, the school may genuinely be closed because of all this."
Tom's eyes widened in an instant.
Kate wasn't in the least bit surprised at his reaction.
As a student, Voldemort had loved Hogwarts dearly, because he had no home to go back to. And what with his decent face and his flawlessly polished acting, he had enjoyed a fair amount of popularity among his fellow students.
Because of this, even after graduating, he wanted to come back to Hogwarts as the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor — only to be rejected by Dumbledore time and again.
That was how he came to hold a grudge, and place a curse on the position, after which the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor became a one-year disposable item.
"Professor," Tom asked anxiously, "if that person is caught — if all of this comes to an end…"
Dumbledore studied him thoughtfully. "Tom, is there anything you'd like to tell me?"
That very same line was one he had also asked Kate, once, before she handed over the diary.
Only at that time, Kate had chosen to tell him everything — even if there had been a fair bit of embellishment, and a few not-quite-truthful bits mixed in, at the very least she really had put the diary into his hands.
But here, fifty years ago, Dumbledore's question did not receive the same answer she had given him.
"No, nothing." Tom instinctively swallowed and flatly denied it.
Dumbledore looked a touch disappointed: "Very well. You may go."
"Goodnight, Professor."
He watched Tom Riddle walk past him, gave a heavy sigh, and strode off with long, deliberate steps.
Soon, the scene shifted once more.
This time, she saw herself standing on the grounds of the school as it was now, with a great dark crowd of people gathered in front of her.
Yet even so, Hagrid stood out from the crowd like a crane among chickens.
Hagrid fifty years ago, while just as imposing in build, had a far more youthful face.
And at this very moment, that great hulking body of his came crashing down like a felled mountain, his still-boyish face awash with hot tears.
"My wand! No!"
Clutching the wand snapped in two in his arms, he knelt on the ground, weeping uncontrollably.
Standing outside the crowd, Kate watched Dumbledore close his eyes with a face heavy with grief, and saw the other staff members, led by McGonagall, look away in equal pain, unable to bear the sight.
Meanwhile, blended in among the throng of students, Tom watched the scene unfolding before him — and his lips curled up in a smug little smile.
After the people from the Ministry of Magic had finished handling Hagrid's wand, they left. Right on the heels of that, the Headmaster of the time, Headmaster Dippet, stepped forward to announce that Hagrid was being expelled from the school.
The crowd gradually drifted away. Only Hagrid was left where he was, crying his heart out.
Kate watched as Dumbledore took a few steps forward and held out a hand to Hagrid.
By now, Old Man Dumbledore must already have known that Hagrid wasn't the culprit. Judging from everything he did, he could tell that there was something off about Tom, but because he didn't know of the existence of the Chamber of Secrets, he simply had no evidence.
If even he couldn't find proof of Tom's crime, then forget about the rest of the teachers and staff.
Just when she thought all the memories had come to an end, the scene shifted yet again.
This place was very familiar to Kate — it was that same bathroom in the films, where the Basilisk's passageway entrance lay.
Even Dumbledore had already managed to find his way here?
With a touch of astonishment, she watched him walk into the girls' bathroom, then gently wave his wand at the spot where Myrtle had died.
Before long, a dazed, listless ghost came drifting out from inside the wall.
"From now on, you stay here. If you remember anything, come and tell me."
Having said those quiet words to Myrtle's ghost, he left the place.
Kate stood right where she was, watching Myrtle gradually recover her wits. When the realisation of her present situation hit her, she hid in the bathroom and began to wail loudly.
Kate turned her head, and saw Dumbledore standing in the doorway of the bathroom, silently listening to Myrtle's crying. A long while later, he let out a long, drawn-out sigh.
Yes — Myrtle had been one of his students too.
When his students were harmed, as their Professor he naturally felt anger and grief. But what hurt him still more deeply was that not only could he not catch the culprit — he had even ended up dragging another student down with him, getting them expelled.
He could keenly sense that something was wrong with Tom, but he had no evidence. Even the greatest white wizard alive was helpless in the face of that.
Kate, who up until now hadn't really felt all that much about the matter of Tom summoning out the Basilisk and killing Myrtle, almost instantly felt the grief radiating off Dumbledore.
Her vision spun in a dizzying whirl, everything around her plunged into darkness, and when she opened her eyes again, she was already back sitting on her bed.
Up in the air, the silver threads of Dumbledore's memory were drifting slowly back down. She grabbed the little bottle just in time and got them sealed back inside it.
It took some effort to get her breathing back under control, before she flopped back onto the bed in one go and lay there staring blankly up at the ceiling.
Dumbledore showing her these memories that seemed entirely redundant — it was actually because he wanted her to take part in investigating that event from fifty years ago, wasn't it?
Being Headmaster and yet unable to protect his own students — that alone had already caused him enormous pain.
And now, fifty years on, the thing the culprit of those days had left behind was attempting once more to stir up the very same storm.
If she were Dumbledore, she'd never tolerate that kind of brazen recklessness either.
Kate could still remember it clearly — in that memory, when Dumbledore had held that death report in his hands, those aged hands of his had trembled ever so slightly.
Perhaps in the original works some of the things he did regarding Harry would spark controversy, but to the vast majority of the students who attended Hogwarts, he was a very good Headmaster.
Slowly sitting up in bed, Kate glanced out the window at the Black Lake, churning with unusual violence in the downpour.
Rain had come. Outside, the world was being lashed by wind and storm — and yet inside Hogwarts castle, everything remained warm.
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