After settling the armour back into the armor corridor, Kate left the clone inside it for the time being. She had no idea what kind of magic Dumbledore had used, but he had somehow bound the clone and the armour together so tightly that they were now utterly inseparable.
Short of the armour itself sustaining damage, she could forget about getting the clone back any time soon.
On her way back to the dormitory, Kate spotted the ghost Nearly Headless Nick busy inviting Slytherin's ghost, The Bloody Baron, to his Deathday party.
When he caught sight of Kate, he excitedly drifted over and circled around her: "This year's Halloween eve will mark my five-hundredth deathday — Miss Shafiq, would you be interested in coming to celebrate with me?"
"Halloween eve?" Kate furrowed her brow with feigned distress. "I'm so sorry — I've got a medical check-up scheduled that day. You know how my health has never been very good; I have to go in for regular examinations at set intervals."
Nearly Headless Nick sighed in disappointment. "What a pity. Still, I wish you a swift recovery."
"Thank you." Kate gave him a polite nod, then quickened her pace and hurried down the stairs.
Even on Halloween, she had no interest in a banquet packed entirely with ghosts — and as it happened, she really did have a physical examination booked for that day, so she could simply put it to use as an excuse.
She recalled that in the original works the Golden Trio had also received an invitation — though obviously, three flesh-and-blood living people showing up at this sort of ghostly banquet would only look hopelessly out of place.
She'd have to find an opportunity to warn them: if Nearly Headless Nick came around with an invitation, they absolutely had to come up with some excuse and turn it down.
Back in the dormitory, after taking a little while to gather herself, Kate finally cleared and reset her still slightly muddled mind.
Her nerve today had been, frankly, a touch beyond the ordinary.
Not toward the diary — toward Dumbledore.
What was the persona she had built up before?
Introverted, a little timid and very reserved, deeply guarded — someone who, in the presence of anyone stronger than herself, would resort to all manner of ways to hide herself.
She actually knew that, given Dumbledore's discerning eye, he couldn't have missed some of her earlier pretences — most of the time, though, he simply chose not to bring them up.
Because he could be sure that no twelve- or thirteen-year-old child, however deep her schemes ran, would pose any threat to him.
And her own background had already predetermined that she wouldn't be heading in the direction of Voldemort.
A girl branded from birth with Dumbledore's faction — a little extra cunning, a little more strength, from his perspective couldn't even really be called a bad thing.
So Kate played her part happily, Dumbledore pretended just as cheerfully, and with perfect tacit understanding the two of them kept up the façade of friendliness.
But today, she had let herself loose entirely — running down both Dumbledore and his old flame right to his face.
Even granting Dumbledore a heart as broad as the sea — even supposing he wouldn't get angry over it — there should still have been at least some ripple of emotion, surely?
But there had been none. Not the slightest.
Now she genuinely couldn't make heads or tails of what Old Man Dumbledore was getting at.
Psychologically speaking, no human behaviour was ever without cause — there was always a motive behind it.
Her own actions had two motives: first, to ensnare the not-yet-mature Tom inside the notebook; and second, to probe Dumbledore's attitude a step further.
After all, the very fact that he'd allowed her to take part in researching the Horcruxes meant she already held a certain place in Old Man Dumbledore's mind.
But that wasn't necessarily good news for Kate. She needed to see clearly: was Dumbledore actually doting on her like a younger relative, or did he want her to wade into the minefield in Harry's place?
Otherwise, if she stupidly assumed Dumbledore was treating her as one of his own and then got blindsided by the White Dark Lord's calculations in the next breath — wouldn't that be a complete disaster?
So what was Dumbledore's motive, exactly?
Genuine affection? Or deliberate indulgence?
In all fairness, Kate leaned toward the first — because over this past year, Dumbledore really had been quite good to her.
Through a year of being around him, she could feel that this centenarian truly carried the sentiment of caring for her like a granddaughter of his own.
But people were like that: the more you hoped, the more you feared that hope would come to nothing.
So she had always maintained a certain measure of wariness toward Dumbledore — so that later, if anything she didn't want to see came to pass, she'd still be able to face it with an even heart.
But until things began rolling toward the worst-case scenario she could imagine, she was still Dumbledore's junior, and she still owed him the basic goodwill that was his due.
At the very least, she shouldn't go disparaging him to his face like that again in future.
As she mused, her stomach started rumbling with hunger. Kate stood up, gave a long stretch, and headed off to the Great Hall.
She still had to make good use of her afternoon to practise spells. She had a feeling that her Bluebell Flames Charm should break through to Level 6 today.
She was already starting to look forward to what its extended spell might turn out to be.
On her way out of the Great Hall, she was bodily yanked aside by Harry and Ron, who had been lying in wait by the doorway.
"Kate, have you decided what gift you're sending next week?" Harry asked, his face full of mystery.
Next week? Was there some kind of festival?
Her little head spun through a quick lap before Kate dimly remembered — September 19 was Hermione's birthday, and that fell right in the coming week.
She'd actually almost forgotten the whole thing entirely!
Seeing the just-now-remembered look on her face, Ron covered his mouth and snickered with malicious glee. "I bet you definitely haven't prepared a gift for Hermione — you're done for this time, aren't you."
Kate gave a dry little laugh and wagged a raised forefinger. "I think you might have some misconceptions about the power of cold hard cash."
Even with only two or three days left, she could still deliver Hermione a perfect gift.
In the past she had always given books — last year too, when she'd given a spare set of rare antique tomes from home.
This year she could simply do the same thing all over again — have the old butler send her a fine book, which would absolutely satisfy a little bookworm like Hermione.
"I happen to have heard," Ron grinned mischievously, "that Hermione absolutely treasures that rose of hers. She's even transplanted it into a pot and is watering it every single day!"
"Hmm? Since when has she been interested in flowers?" Kate frowned, her face all question marks.
She'd never heard Hermione mention any such thing.
Harry crossed his arms and said with affected solemnity, "How could she possibly tell you a thing like that?"
What was so difficult about saying it?
Watching their expressions, Kate realised they probably weren't operating on the same concept as her at all. "I already told you — if anyone lets their mind wander in the wrong direction again, I'll knock their head clean off."
The two of them gave a sly chuckle, mimed zipping their lips at the same moment, then walked off arm in arm, snickering away.
These two characters had come over expressly to tell her about this — one glance was enough to know exactly what was on their minds.
Kate was a touch lost for words, but she had to admit, the intel they'd delivered was actually useful.
Setting aside the impure thoughts of those few yuri-fanboys, her dear Hermione was clearly just innocently into growing flowers.
Well, wasn't that easy enough?
She immediately went back and wrote a letter, asking the old butler to gather some seeds of rare and exotic flowers and post them over.
Birthday gift — sorted!
And so, on September 19, when Kate trotted off to find Hermione with a great big packet of seeds in hand, she not only managed to harvest a hearty eye-roll, but also got a door slammed in her face for good measure.
Bright and early in the morning, and she'd already had her fill of being shut down.
Outside the Gryffindor Common Room plenty of little lions were still coming and going, and every one of them passing by got to witness the sight of Kate, all colour drained from her, standing right at the entrance of their own Academy.
It was a pose of utterly indescribable misery.
It wasn't until Harry and Ron came back, spotted her, and quickly hauled her off into a nearby corridor.
"What happened? Didn't you say you came to give Hermione a present?" Harry stared in astonishment at her existential-crisis expression.
Kate was still spaced out. Only when she heard his question did she slowly turn her head and lift up the bag of fertiliser in her hand.
"I really did want to give her a present — but she took the seeds and refused the fertiliser, then threw an enormous tantrum at me on top of it all."
Ron, with a look of utter distaste, flicked the still slightly fragrant bag of fertiliser in her hand off to one side. "You actually gave her seeds? And nothing else?"
"Hah-hah," Kate's mouth twitched. She grabbed him by the collar, her tone cold as ice. "And who exactly was it that told me she liked growing flowers, hmm?"
Ron's eyes went wide. He struggled and explained, "How is this my fault?! We were obviously reminding you to remember to send her flowers — who knew you'd actually send seeds, with a giant bag of fertiliser thrown in as a bonus on top of that!"
When a normal person heard that Hermione was growing flowers, weren't they supposed to give her flowers as a present?
But who knew that Kate's brain circuits ran in nine crooked bends and eighteen twists — she'd actually gone and sent something like this, taking it absolutely literally that Hermione was just into gardening!
"Send flowers?" Kate frowned. "What's worth sending about flowers? They're sitting there perfectly happy in the soil — why would you yank them up and give them away?"
At that, not only Ron but even Harry couldn't help cutting in: "Who's asking what you like?! The point is that Hermione likes it when you give her flowers! You idiot!"
Tsk — she'd actually just been scolded by two snotty little boys?
Kate ground her back molars, forced herself to set Ron back down, mulled it over for a good long while, then asked, with some awkwardness, "Why didn't I ever know before that Hermione liked flowers?"
"The point isn't the flowers — it's the person giving them." Harry put his hands on his hips and explained helplessly, "I'm telling you, you'd better hurry up and put together a bouquet to send over to Hermione right now. I guarantee that'll calm her down."
"Really?" she asked sceptically.
Harry could only continue, "As long as it's roses or something similar, I guarantee she won't be cross with you any more."
What he was really afraid of was that this character was missing a brain cell and would insist on giving her chrysanthemums or carnations instead.
Kate cast a hesitant glance in the direction of the Gryffindor Common Room, then said coldly, "You two wait right here for ten minutes."
And with that, she broke into a jog and dashed off down the staircase.
Ten minutes later, Harry and Ron staggered into the Gryffindor Common Room together, struggling under armfuls of roses they could barely manage to hold.
Meanwhile, Kate — the actual sender of the flowers — could do nothing but hide beside the entrance of someone else's Academy, waiting with her heart in her throat.
She swore — if Hermione still hadn't cooled off, she'd drag those two brothers over for a thorough thrashing first!
After several minutes of waiting, Kate vaguely sensed someone approaching from behind. Puzzled, she turned her head to look —
"Hsss — gently, gently, my back..."
At the entrance to the Common Room, two heads — one black, one red — poked out, secretly watching the sight of Kate, knocked flat on the ground and very nearly with her back wrenched, alongside Hermione — and at the same moment they broke into doting auntie smiles.
The affection between their best friends — sure enough, it really did need them to be its guardians!
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