Dumbledore let out a soft chuckle and turned around, holding out a tender bamboo shoot. "Here — why don't you feed Fawkes?"
"Yes, sir." Kate accepted the shoot with one hand and raised the other, offering her arm as a comfortable perch.
She fed him quietly, listening as Dumbledore asked, "Katherine should have told you why I wanted to see you today, I expect?"
"The Professor said you wished to ask me about the fire in the Forbidden Forest." A faint sheen of sweat had broken out on Kate's forehead. Even the hand feeding Fawkes gave a slight, involuntary tremble.
Dumbledore took in her reaction without comment. He let out a low, gentle laugh and patted her lightly on the shoulder. "No need to be nervous. I haven't come to interrogate you today."
The implication was clear enough: he already knew she had gone into the forest. Whether she would be punished depended entirely on how she handled herself now.
She managed to finish feeding the last of the bamboo shoot. Fawkes gave a single, high, clear cry and glided back to his perch.
"Setting fire to the forest in order to save an injured unicorn," Dumbledore said, as though musing to himself. "Thanks to you, it was able to give birth in its final moments."
Kate pressed her lips together guiltily and turned, bowing her head. "I'm sorry. I snuck into the Forbidden Forest with the others, and I didn't mean to stumble into..."
Her voice faltered. She wasn't sure how to describe what Voldemort had looked like in that moment.
"You're clever enough to have already worked out who it was, I imagine," Dumbledore said, with a faint smile. "In fact, I suspect you had your suspicions as far back as the Quidditch match."
To engage her in a pure contest of raw magical power on equal footing — of all the staff and students in this school, only Dumbledore himself could reliably overpower her. No one else came close.
It was difficult not to wonder about the identity of whoever had matched her spell for spell. And then there was everything she had witnessed in the Forbidden Forest last night, and Firenze's prophecy to consider.
He was confident the children already knew who it was.
Kate bit the inside of her cheek. She had no choice but to offer a half-truth. "When I set the fire, I still didn't know who it was. It was only afterwards, when Harry told me about the centaur's prophecy, that I pieced it together."
She took a slow breath and lifted her head to meet that steady gaze — those eyes, impossibly, brilliantly blue. "Professor — does Professor Quirrell's sudden illness have anything to do with what happened last night?"
"Oh?" Dumbledore didn't answer directly. "Were you thinking of going to visit him?"
"That person was burned by my fire. If Professor Quirrell has burn marks on him, it would prove that he was the one who attacked the unicorn that night!"
It wasn't as though Kate had planned any of this from the start. Dragon Breath came with one free daily use that cost no Mana — there was no reason not to use it.
She had never anticipated that the Dragon Breath would turn out to be so ferociously potent — powerful enough to harm even Quirrell while Voldemort was possessing him.
She already knew Quirrell had been wounded. What she didn't yet know was whether Voldemort's soul itself had been scorched in the process. If it had, then dealing with the Horcruxes later wouldn't be nearly as complicated.
"However," Dumbledore said, "Professor Quirrell has stated that he was in his office all last night. You may not be aware — his office also suffered a small fire that evening."
Kate startled slightly, and let her head drop with poorly concealed frustration.
In truth, she had already known about the fire in the Defence Against the Dark Arts office — Katherine had told her just before she left. Every earnest, righteous-sounding thing she had just said was performed for the benefit of fitting the role of an eleven-year-old acting on instinct and principle.
Quirrell was one of the critical obstacles Dumbledore had put in place to test Harry. He wasn't going to be removed from the board so easily. Even bedridden as he was now, Old Man Dumbledore would eventually push him back onto his feet to go after the Philosopher's Stone — and then Harry would finish him off.
"I understand..." Kate clenched her fist with every appearance of bitter disappointment.
The performance was deliberate, but even so, it was riddled with small tells — not completely transparent to Dumbledore, but leaking at every seam.
Still, he made no move to call her out. Instead, he said warmly, "You worked hard last night. But since you entered the Forbidden Forest without permission and then set it ablaze — your merits and your faults cancel each other out. I won't be punishing you. And I won't be informing anyone else about this."
Kate let her head droop even lower, as though the weight of genuine remorse were pressing it down.
The sight of it drew a flicker of amusement to Dumbledore's eyes — though he was careful to let it show only while her head was still bowed.
"But I do hope," he continued, "that even when you believe yourself capable of protecting both yourself and those around you, you will still try, as much as possible, to face danger in the company of an adult wizard. Do you understand?"
The words carried the gentle weight of a family elder's admonishment.
"Yes. I understand."
She said it — and she meant it as an agreement. But in that particular situation, calling Hagrid over would not have helped.
Even setting aside the question of watching Voldemort drink unicorn blood, there had been no way to guarantee that a Voldemort freshly strengthened by that blood wouldn't detect the three of them hiding behind that tree.
The only option had been to strike first — to buy enough time for Hermione and the others to get away.
"Very well. I've asked Katherine to come by — you may go now." Dumbledore turned away and made a valiant effort to conceal the smile spreading across his face.
Kate gave an oblivious nod and stepped out like the well-behaved student she was pretending to be. The moment she pushed the door open, she nearly walked straight into Katherine, who was just stepping out to meet her.
"Professor Wynyard." She offered a polite greeting.
"Little Kate," Katherine said, blinking at her with easy, unearned familiarity. "Did the Headmaster give you a hard time?"
Standing right outside the office door — how could she possibly say anything unflattering about the White Dark Lord?
Kate stretched her face into a smile. "The Headmaster has always been very good to me."
Aside from his habit of probing her at every available opportunity, he really was quite decent to her — decent to a degree that probably put her second only to Harry. After all, Harry had never once set foot in the Headmaster's office at this point in the year, and she had already made the trip three or four times as if it were a regular errand.
"That's good to hear." Katherine smiled, satisfied. Her slender fingers reached out and lightly curled around the ends of Kate's hair — and she immediately watched Kate take an awkward step back.
Ah. Still a shy little thing.
She didn't read too much into it and walked straight into the office.
Kate stood in the corridor, watching her disappear through the doorway. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and descended the stairs with her heart still hammering faintly in her chest.
·····
Inside the office at that moment:
"Katherine — your first day of teaching. How did it go?"
Dumbledore poured her a cup of black tea, and was just reaching for the milk and sugar when Katherine swept the cup away from him in one smooth motion.
"Headmaster, you know perfectly well I don't like sweet, milky tea."
She took a measured sip of the unadulterated brew and raised an eyebrow with evident satisfaction. "As for the teaching — it was fine, I suppose. Though the child, Kate — I've taken quite a liking to her."
Not that she would have agreed to come and clean up this mess at all, if it hadn't been Kate's mess to begin with. Otherwise she would have had absolutely no interest in being here.
"She really is a remarkable child." The moment Dumbledore thought of Kate doing her utmost to seem well-behaved in front of him, a glimmer of quiet amusement surfaced in his eyes.
She was nothing like Tom had been. With Tom, he had always been able to see the wild, consuming ambition lurking just beneath the surface of that mild and humble exterior.
But Kate — what he saw in her was simply a small, gentle girl: one who feared danger, who worked hard to conceal herself, and yet who, at every critical moment, found herself unable to hold back and stepped in to pull others out of the fire.
He understood the reasons behind her fear of danger. She had made them clear when she spoke to him about the long dining table. But in spite of all of that, every choice this child had made so far had not once disappointed him.
He had lived a hundred years. He had long since learned that understanding a person did not come from listening to what they said — it came from watching what they did.
"Of course she is." Katherine tilted her chin up with unmistakable pride, and the expression on her face was so precisely like one of Kate's own little looks that the resemblance was almost uncanny. "You can hardly be surprised, considering whose child she is."
Dumbledore gave a low chuckle and lifted his own cup — loaded with an extravagant amount of milk and sugar.
"Since you've taken such a liking to it here, perhaps the Defence Against the Dark Arts position next year could also—"
"Stop right there!" Katherine cut him off instantly. "The only reason I agreed to come at all was because Kate caused this situation, and you couldn't find anyone else on short notice. I stepped in as a stopgap. That's all."
"Headmaster, I would appreciate it very much if you used these next few months to find and prepare a proper candidate for next year. I will not be involved."
With that, she rose as though to leave.
"Come back," Dumbledore said, with a helpless sigh. "You're exactly the same as you always were. Do you truly dislike this school so much?"
Katherine paused and looked back. The calm composure on her face gave way to something quieter, and sadder. "It isn't that I dislike Hogwarts. This was my school. I love this place."
"But my sister died because she met that man here. When I think about that, I can't help but grieve."
Her voice was soft and low, carrying a note of barely-concealed sorrow.
But she rallied quickly. Her expression lifted, and she gave a light smile. "Don't worry. It's only two months — I can manage."
Dumbledore looked at her in silence for a long moment, and then lowered his eyes. "Go on, then. I've already begun considering candidates for next year's position."
"Thank you, Headmaster!" Katherine flashed him a bright, playful grin.
·····
"Achoo!"
Kate rubbed her nose and cast a careful glance at Hermione, who was browsing the shelves nearby.
Good — she hadn't noticed. Otherwise there would have been a lecture to endure.
"Kate," Harry asked, treading carefully, "the Headmaster didn't blame you, did he? Was there any punishment?"
Almost by reflex, Kate replied immediately: "The Headmaster is a good man — kind and warm. Why would he punish me?"
Harry let out a relieved breath. "Good."
He had been worried that Kate would end up suffering for his sake.
"But if Quirrell is bedridden," Ron murmured, "does that mean he won't be making another attempt at the Philosopher's Stone?"
"Not a chance," Harry said at once. "Even if he didn't want to, the one pulling his strings — Volde—"
"We agreed not to say that name!" Ron shuddered and hissed in protest.
"Either way — even if he doesn't want to, whoever is behind him will force him to go." Kate summarized calmly. "And now that he's not at school, we can't even keep an eye on his movements."
Harry's face fell at once. "Then what do we do?"
"What can we do?" Kate slapped her textbook flat on the table. "He'll need at least two months to recover. Before that happens, we'd be better off reviewing our coursework and passing our end-of-year exams."
"Ugh..." Harry and Ron both slumped forward onto the table with matching groans of despair.
There was a genuine threat looming over them, and they were supposed to spend their time on end-of-year exams. It felt like a cruel joke.
"Unless, of course, you'd both like to fail multiple subjects and be held back a year," Kate added.
The two of them exchanged a look of mutual resignation, and picked their textbooks back up.
"What did you say to them?"
Hermione came over with a stack of books in her arms and stopped, visibly startled to find the pair — who ordinarily treated revision as though it were some kind of natural predator — actually studying in earnest.
"Nothing much," Kate said, curving her lips. "I just outlined the consequences of failing their exams."
Strictly speaking, failing one or two subjects wouldn't cause anyone to be held back a year. But given the state of those two's revision habits up to this point, if they didn't start putting in serious effort now, they were on track for a clean sweep of failures across every subject. And even if Dumbledore were inclined to let it slide, they would be too embarrassed to advance to second year alongside everyone else.
Hermione couldn't help pressing a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. She composed herself and sat down primly. "Don't forget — History of Magic homework is also due today."
Two groans rang out in unison, nearly loud enough to get them ejected by Madam Pince.
They ground through it all. By evening, the four of them had finished their homework and revision for the day, and walked together toward the Great Hall, chatting and laughing along the way.
They hadn't even reached the Great Hall when they spotted Pansy walking toward them, Malfoy at her side — and Malfoy's eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, the unmistakable remnants of a long cry.
The two of them spotted Kate's group, seemed to falter for a half-second, and then turned away as though they hadn't seen them at all, veering into the Great Hall.
"You should watch out for Malfoy," Hermione said, lowering her voice with quiet concern. "She got publicly humiliated in class today. She'll want payback, and you'll be the target."
"Why wouldn't she go after Professor Wynyard?" Kate asked, thoroughly nonplussed.
She was the one who had taken points from Malfoy, after all — not Kate. It wasn't as though Kate had been showing off deliberately. Was knowing more than average somehow a crime now?
"Probably because she doesn't dare take it out on me."
A velvety, composed voice drifted in from directly behind all four of them — and immediately raised every single hair on Kate's arms.
Her expression twitched. She turned around reluctantly, and found exactly what she'd feared: Katherine's face, full of smiles.
"Professor," Kate said, her voice wobbling slightly with the effort to explain. "I didn't mean it like that just now—"
"I know, little Kate." Katherine reached out and gave her silver hair an affectionate ruffle. "Personally, I also think that if Student Malfoy wants to take revenge on someone, she'd be far better off coming to me."
After all, if Malfoy went after Kate instead — who knew what Kate might do that would leave the Malfoy family regretting it for generations.
"No, no — Professor, please let me explain—"
Of course, once you said something like that, the other person was never going to actually let you explain.
Katherine winked at her, stepped past the group, and strolled into the Great Hall, tossing back over her shoulder as she went: "You lot hurry up now."
"...Yes." Kate lowered her hand with a wooden expression. She had known from the start that this new teacher would never listen to her.
With a silent sigh, she walked into the Great Hall and took her usual seat across from Malfoy.
This time, though, Malfoy didn't even look up. She wolfed down the last of her burger in a few perfunctory bites, didn't bother to wipe her mouth, and left without a word. Throughout the entire process, she did not once glance in Kate's direction.
Fair enough. Clearly furious.
Kate understood completely why she was angry. She reached over and grabbed a chip, popped it in her mouth, and looked up toward the staff table — where Katherine had taken her seat and was eating with perfect composure.
If her instincts were right, this professor had deliberately built Kate up by tearing Malfoy down.
But why?
Kate thought back to the strange sense of familiarity she'd felt the very first time she laid eyes on Katherine, and her brow furrowed slightly.
Could it be — had she actually met Professor Wynyard somewhere before?
____
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