"This is absolutely ridiculous." Katie mumbled in annoyance as she scrubbed a plaque in the trophy room.
As promised by the Slyther prefect, Katie found herself facing a detention for punching Daphne Greengrass in the face. Her detention just so happened to be cleaning the entire trophy room, plaques and trophies included, using no magic at all. She had been there for hours, the sun had set, and was finally almost finished.
She looked up at the final plaque and read it, shivering when she saw the name engraved on the gold. It read: 'Tom Marvolo Riddle - special services to the school.'
Suddenly feeling very fearful, despite the fact that she was merely looking at a hunk of metal, Katie reached out with trembling hands to grab the plaque. However, just as her fingers grazed the cool gold, she pulled her hand back. It had burned her.
Katie glanced down at her hand, and when she looked back up, she was no longer in the trophy room. Panicking, Katie looked back down, only to find that she couldn't see her body. She was lying in a bed with musky, patched covers draped over her, and she couldn't move.
She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Instead of hearing her own voice, Katie caught ear of another's voice — her mother's voice.
"What about the boy?"
"Never mind the boy!"
This second voice was icy and shrill. It rattled Katie's bones and made goosebumps erupt on her skin.
"This isn't about the boy, Maria. It's never been about the boy. It's always been about her."
A woman who was undeniably Katie's mum — much younger, but very recognisable — was standing next to a cloaked figure on the other side of the darkened room. The cloaked figure raised it's hand, extended one long, pale and bony finger, and pointed straight at Katie, who felt her blood run cold.
"She is the one, Maria. She is the one that will—"
Katie didn't get to hear the end of the sentence. Her ears were suddenly filled with a violent ringing noise. The entire room was shaking as though there was an earthquake, but neither the cloaked figure or Katie mum seemed to notice. Once again, Katie tried to scream, but once again, no sound escaped past her lips.
Silence fell.
She was back in the trophy room, only now she was slumped against the wall with her head in her hands. Cold sweat matted Katie's neck and forehead, and after a few moments she realised that she was crying — sobbing.
Trembling, Katie got to her feet. Her wide eyes darted around, searching for answers. The Slytherin was feeling exceptionally disorientated and it took her a few moments to gather her thoughts and composure.
She glanced, eyes full of terror, at Tom Riddle's plaque before kicking open the door to the trophy room, then she took off down the corridor. Katie wasn't too sure where exactly she was going, she just knew that she had to get as far away from that plaque as she could.
Katie thought about going to Dumbledore to tell him what had just happened to her, but ultimately decided against it. It was too late to bother him and she needed some time alone to fully comprehend what she had just seen, anyway.
Turning a corner sharply, Katie crashed right into a moving figure. They both fell backwards, grunting in pain, and a third person spoke.
"Oh, dear, that was unpleasant."
Katie rubbed her eyes. Her vision cleared and she saw, standing above her, Professor Dumbledore, who's white beard was glittering in the pale moonlight. On the floor across from her was Harry, slumped over and massaging his head.
"Katie? What are you doing?" Harry grunted, getting to his feet.
"I had a detention, remember?" Katie responded as Harry helped her to her up. "What about you? What are you doing?"
"I'm sure you would both love to share your stories in great detail, but right now, Miss Blair, Mr Potter and I have something very important on our hands. I do apologise, but I hope you understand." Dumbledore said calmly.
"O-Of course Professor." Katie nodded, her eyes still fixed on Harry, who gave her his I'll-explain-later look and followed Dumbledore out of sight.
"What a night." Katie muttered to herself.
***
"Morning, Katie." Ron acknowledged the Slytherin as she sat down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast the next day.
"Well?" she said irritably to Harry, who blinked at her in perplexity. "Are you going to tell me what happened with Dumbledore last night?"
Harry got to explaining in a hushed whisper that Ludo Bagman had summoned the champions to the Quidditch stadium to give them information on the Third Task, but when they were finished, Viktor Krum asked Harry if he could speak with him. Krum lead Harry to the edge of the forest, where they found Barty Crouch.
"He had completely lost it," Harry said. "He kept talking like Percy was there, giving him orders, and stuff. But then... he would sort of phase out of it, and he'd grab me, telling me that he needed to see Dumbledore."
"Did he say anything else while he was, you know, partially sane?" Katie asked.
Harry ducked his head closer to Katie and spoke even more quietly than he had been before. "He said he'd done something really bad, he didn't say what, though. He definitely mentioned Bertha Jorkins, that witch that went missing, and he said that something was all his fault. Also..." Harry was speakly so lowly now that Katie could barely even hear him,"He said that Voldemort was getting stronger."
Usually, when someone said the name Voldemort, it would invoke a sudden surge of fear within Katie, but it was gone as quickly as it came. This time, however, when Harry said Voldemort, a sudden coldness washed over Katie, as though she had just been plunged into an icy lake. Her vision momentarily went black and she heard the shrill voice again.
"This isn't about the boy, Maria. It's never been about the boy. It's always been about her. She is the one, Maria."
"Katie? Katie!"
Katie's snapped back into reality. It took her a moment to discern where exactly she was, but when she had, she took immediate notice to the worried looks that Harry, Ron and Hermione are all giving her,
"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, concern laced through her small voice.
"I'm fine." Katie shook her head to clear her thoughts.
"You sort of just went blank," Ron said, shivering uncomfortably. "That was scary."
Harry gingerly placed his hand on Katie's shoulder.
"Something happened at detention last night, didn't it?" Harry asked, his tone gentle. "That's why you were running."
Gulping harshly, Katie hesitantly nodded. She wearily glanced around to ensure that no one was near enough to pick up on anything she said, before leaning close to her friends.
"Last night I had to polish the trophy room, right?" Katie began and her friends nodded to let her know that they were listening. "I found Tom Riddle's plaque — one that he got for special services to the school. When I reached out to grab it so I could polish it... it burned me, I guess... I don't know, that part might have just been in my head. But then I wasn't in the trophy room anymore. I was somewhere that I didn't recognise. My mum was there with a man, but I couldn't see him, he was wearing a cloak. They were talking about a boy, I'm not sure who, then the man pointed at me and... and he said, 'This isn't about the boy, Maria. It's never been about the boy. It's always been about her. She is the one, Maria. She is the one that will...' I came around after that and didn't get to hear the rest."
There was a dense and lingering silence as Harry, Ron and Hermione stared blankly at Katie, each of them analysing what she had just told them. After many still moments, Hermione was the first to speak.
"So, do you think it was, like, a premonition?" she asked seriously.
Katie thought long and hard about Hermione's question. It hadn't really occured to her that the vision could have been a premonition, but ultimately, Katie shook her head.
"No... no, it was more like a memory." she said.
"Your memory?" Harry questioned.
Katie shrugged, her expression earnest. "I don't know, but it was old. My mum was way younger in it."
"Er — Katie?" Ron began hesitantly, as though Katie would explode if he said one wrong word. "Was it anything like — and I'm sorry to bring this up — but was it anything like, you know... that dream you used to have?"
The hairs on the back of Katie's neck stood up at the mention of that dream. She thought, would now be the perfect time to tell her friends that she was still having that dream almost every night? She decided not to mention it and focus more on the topic at hand.
"Yeah, I suppose," she nodded. "I felt really hazy, like my mind was there but my body wasn't. Everything was sort of blurred, as if I was underwater."
"Look," Hermione said after a few seconds of quietness, "we have class now, but I promise we can talk about this later. Sit with us at lunch, Katie, and we'll help you figure this out, alright?"
"Yeah," Katie mumbled. "Sure."
Harry, Ron and Hermione got to their feet, gathered their bags and then left the Great Hall together. Katie hastily finished her toast before heading to her first class of the day.
Katie's day remained rather uneventful until Divination class. The circular room seemed to be even more sultry than usual. Katie sat down with Harry and Ron, who had arrived a few minutes before her, and took out her books. Then, she leaned her head in her hand and stared out into the grounds through a small crack in one of the curtains.
Katie completely blanked everything that Professor Trelawney was saying — the information went in on ear, and out the other. In fact, Katie found herself to be completely in her own world until Harry collapsed to the floor beside her.
The class sprung to their feet and gathered around Harry, whispering axnxiously and fearfully. Trelawney, however, was beaming broadly, and seemed to be estatic about something. Katie and Ron shared a worried glance before they both dropped to their knees at Harry's side. Ron tried to lay Harry on his back, but he kept rolling around.
"Ron," Katie whispered suddenly. "His scar."
Harry was tightly clutching his scar. No one quite knew why Harry's scar sometimes hurt him, but one thing was for sure — it was never a good sign when it did.
"Harry!" Ron yelled. "Harry!"
Harry's eyes jolted open and snapped around confusedly, as though he didn't know where he was. Katie let out a sigh of relief.
"You alright?" she asked as she and Ron helped Harry to his feet.
"Of course he isn't!" Trelwaney cried excitedly. For her odd tone of excitement, Katie gave her a bemused sort of look. "What was it, Potter? A premonition? An apparition? What did you see?"
"Nothing." Harry lied, and Katie knew that he had lied, because she was quite talented at it herself. It was very noticeable that Harry was shaking. He kept looking around the room, as though he was scared someone or something was going to crawl out of the shadows.
"You were clutching your scar!" Professor Trelawney said. "You were rolling on the floor, clutching you scar! Come now, Potter, I have experience in these matters!"
Harry's jaw was slacking. He was clearly becoming more aggravated every second. "I need to go to the hospital wing, I think. Bad headache."
"My dear, you were undoubtedly stimulated by the extraordinary clairvoyant vibrations in my room!" Trelawney was so exhilarated now that Katie found herself to be slightly scared of her. "If you leave now, you may lose the opportunity to see further than you have ever—"
"I don't want to see anything except a headache cure," Harry said flatly. He then turned to Ron and Katie. "See you later."
Harry gathered up his things and headed for the trapdoor, ignoring Professor Trelawney, who was wearing an expression of great frustration.
Katie and Ron stared after Harry until he had disappeared beneath the trapdoor, then they turned to each other, wide-eyed. Ron sighed.
"What is it with you two and having visions?" he said.
Ron had clearly spoken too loud, because Trelawney's expression of annoyance had been completely wiped away, instead replaced by that of excitement once more.
"My dear, you get visions?" she asked, sounding very intrigued.
Katie rolled her eyes — she couldn't help herself, before turning to face Trelawney with the most convincing fake smile she could muster.
"Er — no. They have nothing to do with your class—"
"They have everything to do with my class, Miss Blair!" Trelawney flourished her arms excitedly. "Tell me, what do you see in these visions of yours?"
Katie would rather have been in the Lake fighting Grindylows than in that classroom in the moment. All eyes were on her, and if her classmates didn't already think she was insane, they definitely would now. She could practically already hear the rumours that would be swirling by breakfast the next morning.
"You know Katie Blair?"
"The girl who murdered her own dad?"
"Yeah, her — did you know she has these weird visions?"
"Really? Wow, she really is crazy..."
Ron gave Katie an extremely apologetic look, to which Katie responded with a shake of her head, telling him not to worry.
"Nothing—"
"Surely you must see something," Professor Trelawney picked up again when Katie had barely even opened her mouth. "They are called visions for a reason, you see."
Feeling extremely agitated now, Katie found the next words slipping off her tongue before she could stop herself. A lot had been bothering her lately, and Trelawney interrogating her in front of her entire class was just deemed too much in the moment.
"Forgive me, Professor, but I don't think re-living my father's murder every night has anything to do with your class." Katie said hotly, but she instantly regretted speaking as soon as the words left her mouth.
The room fell silent — tensely silent, as though all sound had suddenly been sucked out. Even the usually crackling fire seemed to have gone quiet. Every pair of eyes were blown wide and most people's mouths were hanging open.
Ron put his hand on Katie's shoulder. He looked intensely worried. "You told me those dreams had stopped..."
Professor Trelawney, who seemed to be even more shocked than her students, clutched her chest and let out a string of incoherent words before finally piecing together a sentence.
"You... you were present when your father was murdered?" she asked in a ghastly whisper. This arose some slight murmurs from the class.
"What?" Katie snapped, feeling herself growing hot. "No, I—"
"But you just said you were reliving the murder, did you not?"
"Well, yeah, but—"
"So you were indeed present at the event of his murder, were you not?"
Katie took a deep breath and shouted. "I didn't kill him! Why does everyone think that?"
The class glanced between each other awkwardly as Professor Trelawney simply blinked at Katie. Ron shuffled uncomfortably on his feet and, the tension in the room becoming too much, Katie grabbed her bag.
"I need to see Professor Dumbledore." she said flatly before, like Harry had done, descending the trap door and ignoring Trelawney's piercing gaze.
It was only as she was storming down the spiral staircase that Katie realised that, not only had she never been inside Dumbledore's office, but she didn't even know where it was. She vaguely recalled Chris mentioning it being on the seventh floor, so she decided that this would be a good place to start.
She mindlessly scoped the seventh floor in search of the headmaster's office, but to no avail. Every door she opened was to a vacant classroom, and one time she burst in on an active class of third year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs.
After what felt like hours, an agitated Katie decided that she would just go for dinner and visit Dumbledore another time, after all, she had stormed out of Divination in a fit of rage, and now that she was calm, she realised that she didn't really want to speak to Dumbledore.
Katie turned on her heel and started towards the staircase when she heard a voice behind her.
"Miss Blair, what are you doing?"
Professor Snape had appeared beside a statue of a rather ugly stone gargoyle. He was glaring menacingly at Katie.
"I'm looking for Dumbledore's office." Katie said wearily, walking towards Snape.
"Indeed," Snape mumbled, his eyes sweeping over Katie in a shrewd manner. "What for?"
"I have an appointment." Katie lied virtuously. Wow, she really was good at that.
Snape gave Katie one last calculating look before, to her pleasant surprise, he turned to the stone gargoyle beside him and said, "Cockroach cluster."
The stone gargoyle sprung to life and stepped aside, revealing a narrow and winding staircase. Katie remained rooted to the spot, her eyes dancing between the stairs and Snape, who jerked his head towards the staircase.
"It's up there." he told Katie.
Ignoring Snape's piercing stare as best she could, Katie stepped onto the bottom step of the staircase and it started spiraling upwards, carrying her to Dumbledore's office. At the top of the steps, Katie was met with a grand oak door, much like that of the Great Hall. Clearing her throat for some unknown reason, Katie rapped her knuckles against the door.
"Come in." a voice called from within.
Katie reached for the golden handle, but the door slowly swung open itself to reveal the most wonderful room Katie had ever laid eyes on. It was a large and beautiful circular room. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, where Professor Dumbledore sat, his eyes twinkling brightly.
"Ah, Miss Blair, welcome." he said warmly.
It was then that Katie noticed the seat across from Dumbledore was occupied by no other than Harry. Katie's eyes danced between Harry and Dumbledore, and her mouth widened when she realised that she had intruded what was probably a very important meeting.
She pointed to the door. "I-I can come b-back later—" Katie stammered.
"That won't be necessary," Dumbledore smiled. "Mr Potter and I were just finishing up."
Dumbledore leaned close to Harry and whispered something to him very lowly. Tucking her hands behind her back, Katie allowed her eyes to trail the portraits on the wall, awkwardly pretending that she hadn't noticed Dumbledore and Harry's secretive behaviour.
Harry walked across the office and paused when he arrived in front of Katie.
"Is everything alright?" he asked.
Katie nodded. "I'll explain later."
Giving her a gentle smile, Harry disappeared through the oak doors.
Dumbledore gestured to the now vacant seat in front of him. "Take a seat, Miss Blair, take a seat."
Slowly, Katie stepped forward, wanting to take in all the strange objects in Dumbledore's office. She then took a seat in a chair opposite Dumbledore and tried her best to not meet his gaze. Up close, Katie could see that his nose on which his half-moon spectacles sat was crooked, as though it had been broken a number of times.
"What can I do for you, Miss Blair?" Dumbledore said after Katie had gone many moments without speaking. She blinked, snapping herself out of her thoughts, opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it again. Truth be told, now that she was there, in Dumbledore's office, the girl didn't really know what she would like to — or what she was supposed to say to him. She had never really planned on visiting Dumbledore and made the quick and irrational decision in a state of anger, but now she was there so she had to say something.
"I — er — I wanted to talk to you about... a dream I had," Katie began, pausing when she realised how stupid her statement sounded. However, Dumbledore merely entwined his hands and nodded, encouraging Katie to proceed. "In the dream, I see... I see my father's death, sir...There's a woman — I don't know who, I can't see her face, but she kills him..."
Dumbledore's eyebrows furrowed, but out of confusion or pity, Katie did not know. He removed his intertwined hands from in front of his face, instead resting them on the table in front of him, and spoke.
"In this dream, are you standing next to your father, or watching the scene from above?" Dumbledore asked.
Katie gulped, her eyes suddenly filling with tears, and hesitated to answer. "I think... I think I am the woman, Professor." she said in broken whisper.
Dumbledore shifted in his seat but his solemn expression did not falter.
"I see..." Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "And have you had any more dreams like this, Katerina?"
Katie contemplated whether or not she should tell Dumbledore about her vision in the trophy room, and came to the conclusion that she might as well, because she couldn't see when she would get another opportunity like this one.
"Yes, the other night. Although, it wasn't exactly a dream. I was awake when it happened."
Dumbledore nodded encouragingly. "Proceed."
"I had a detention, I was polishing the trophy room," Katie paused, expecting a reprimand for breaking the rules and getting a detention, but it didn't come so she continued. "I went to polish... this plaque, but when I touched it, it caused a vision I guess."
"What did you see in this vision?"
"My mum — only, she was much younger, and she was with a man. I don't know who the man was, he wore a cloak, but his voice... his voice was like ice. I know it sounds crazy, Professor, but his voice sounded like... well, it had the same effect as a dementor does on a person."
Katie expected Dumbledore to speak once she finished, but he didn't. Instead, he stared, eyebrows twisted together, and the oak doors at the other end of the office. Moments of stillness ensued before Dumbledore cut through the silence.
"May I ask who's plaque it was that invoked this vision?"
Katie's mouth grew horribly dry and she could feel blood beginning to pound in her ears. Don't tell him, she told herself, because he'd think she was one of his...
"Tom Riddle's, sir..."
Dumbledore's complexion hardened, but he let out a small hum of understanding.
"Professor," Katie said before she could stop herself. "He said that I was the one. What does that mean?"
But Dumbledore ignored this question, instead choosing to answer a different one that was burning in the back of Katie's mind.
"I believe that these visions are memories—"
Unable to contain herself, Katie cut across Dumbledore. "I didn't kill my dad."
"I am not accusing you of murdering anyone, Katerina," Dumbledore said calmly. "I believe that the second vision, the one you had when you touched Tom Riddle's plaque, is a memory of your own that you had long forgotten. The second vision, however, is a memory of another, deliberately shown to you."
Katie pondered Dumbledore's statement for a moment. "Why?"
"The truth will soon reveal itself," Dumbledore slowly nodded. "Now, as for what the man said in your vision, I can not offer an explanation, Miss Blair. However, if you can elaborate on what he said, I may be able to offer you some closure."
Yet Katie was shaking her head. "The vision ended right after he said that, but, Professor, what of these visions have something to do with me being a Slytherin?"
Dumbledore leaned forward in his seat, his blue eyes sparkling ominously. "And why do you say that?"
"Well, it's just that... my entire family have been in Gryffindor, so if I was sorted into Slytherin, there must be a reason, right?"
Dumbledore peered calculatingly down at Katie. She gulped, and suddenly her hands were much more interesting to her than the ongoing conversation, and she started awkwardly playing with her fingers.
"You think that you were sorted into Slytherin because you're a bad person." Dumbledore said finally. Although his voice was smooth, Katie could've sworn she heard a hint of accusation in his tone. She looked up, her eyes watering slightly, and nodded.
Dumbledore let out a gentle sigh. "Katerina, Slytherins are not evil, many Dark witches and wizards simply come from Slytherin. Do you know why this is?"
Katie shook her head.
"Ambition. Self-preservation. Traditionalism. These are all traits of a Slytherin, and all traits that can sometimes lead to a lust for power, and a need to excel. You, however, are quite andinteresting Slytherin," Dumbledore got to his feet, rounded his desk, and started casually pacing the floors of his office. "While you posses many Slytherin traits, you don't show them in the ways that your fellow Slytherins do."
Katie was completely bemused. She twisted her eyebrows in confusion. Noticing her blatant perplexity, Dumbledore chuckled gently and elaborated on his already complex statement.
"Your older brother and his friends used to pick on you, is that correct?"
Although she was still confused, Katie was also curious, so she nodded. "Because I was no good at Quidditch. I used to play with them when I was little, but I was useless, and they always teased me about it."
Dumbledore smiled slightly. "So what did you do?"
"I stole my brother's broomstick," Katie said, allowing the corners of her lips to curl into a subtle smile. "And I trained myself."
"And now you are one of the best Quidditch players this school has ever seen," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. "Ambition. Determination. Cunning. Self-preservation. All shown in an non-lustful, non-power-hungry way."
Still somewhat bewildered, Katie remained silent, hoping that Dumbledore would continue to speak, and he did.
"You're not a Slytherin because you're a bad person, you are not a Slytherin because you have some unspoken, dark path lying ahead of you. You were sorted into Slytherin house because it was where you were meant to be," Dumbledore said. He was facing away from Katie now, so she couldn't see his face, but when he turned around, he was beaming. "Don't get me wrong, you would have done well in Slytherin. You posses a subtle sense of chivalry that not many of you fellow Slytherins seem to have."
Katie let out a breath of a laugh and, sensing that their interview was coming to an end, rose to her feet.
"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore."
Dumbledore bowed his head. "Inform me if you experience any more vision, and I may be able to formulate a theory, or, dare I say... an explanation."
Finding that she wasn't particularly hungry, Katie decided to skip dinner. She went straight to the dungeons from the seventh floor, discovering that the common room was completely deserted.
Katie threw herself down on the couch next to the fire and lay down across the plush, green cushions. With a new found appreciation for her house, she allowed her eyes to scan the common room. She had never realised just how magnificent it truly was. The tall walls were of a deep green marble, and the entire room was lit in a mysterious green tint, thanks to the vast window that revealed the depths of the lake.
It had never really occurred to Katie that she may have been sorted into Slytherin simply because — for the elementary reason that she possessed prominent Slytherin characteristics. It had always been a looming theory for her that she was sorted into Slytherin because her biological father was a Slytherin, or her more frightening theory, because she herself was destined to be a Dark witch.
For the first time since the sorting hat had yelled the word Slytherin in her ear, Katerina felt as though she truly belonged to her house. Even when the rest of the Slytherins came pooling into the common room after dinner, shooting her glares, whispering about her amongst themselves, Katie didn't care. She had finally found had a sense of belonging.