Another Friday, and Kate came out of Snape's classroom with all her limbs intact, letting out a breath of relief.
Not even Old Man Dumbledore put this much pressure on her — no, not pressure exactly. It was that Snape always managed to make her feel stifled.
Add to that his relentlessly harsh, acid-tongued style of teaching, and the smallest slip on Kate's part earned her a tongue-lashing that left her ears ringing.
Luckily, Kate wasn't one to take it lying down. Every time he laid into her she fired straight back, and the result was that her Friday workload grew a great deal heavier each week.
A moment of glorious backtalk, an evening of hard labour.
It was only because she genuinely learned a lot from Snape that she put up with the wretched job at all. Otherwise, whoever wanted it could have it.
There was still half an hour until curfew, and after a whole evening of being verbally flayed she wanted to go up and get some fresh air.
She had barely stepped out of the castle when she spotted Harry circling above the school on a Shooting Star, practising his flying.
Ever since his Nimbus 2000 had been reduced to splinters, he'd had nothing but the Shooting Star, the worst-performing broomstick there was, to train with.
Meanwhile, over the past two weeks, Malfoy had brought out Kate's Firebolt in the match against Hufflepuff and, predictably, left every jaw in the stands on the ground.
Thanks to the Firebolt, she had even snatched the Golden Snitch out from under Cedric — which became her favourite thing to gloat about for a while.
Slytherin had the House Cup all but sewn up. They were two hundred points clear of every other house.
Which meant that unless Gryffindor took at least two hundred points in the next match, they could kiss the House Cup goodbye entirely this year.
As Seeker, Harry was under no ordinary amount of pressure.
Kate tilted her head back and watched him tear across the sky on the Shooting Star, head cocked to one side, for a good long while.
Only when her neck began to ache did she lower her head, rubbing the back of it, and do some mental arithmetic about the time.
Come to think of it, there were only two weeks left until Christmas. She wondered how that guest lodging temporarily in the Headmaster's office was getting on.
She'd pay him a visit tomorrow — and while she was at it, fill him in on Harry's current situation.
That weekend, for once, Kate didn't go to Hogsmeade with Hermione. She claimed Dumbledore wanted to see her about something and went up to the Headmaster's office instead.
By the usual rules, not just anyone could get up there — you needed the password. But none of that was any obstacle to Kate.
She walked briskly to the office door, tilted her head to listen for a moment, and hearing nothing, knocked. "Professor, it's me!"
A moment later the great door swung slowly open.
She strolled in as though she owned the place and headed straight for Fawkes.
The great golden bird was delighted to see her and hopped excitedly right onto the top of her head.
Kate was long since used to his way of showing affection. She glanced around the room, but there was no sign of Dumbledore anywhere.
"Ahem!" She cleared her throat lightly. "Mr Black, aren't you going to come out and say hello?"
Fawkes let out a few cries of his own, as if hurrying him along on her behalf.
Sure enough, a noise came from the little room where Dumbledore kept his sweets, and a great black dog bounded out, shifting into human form within a few strides.
Kate lifted Fawkes down and stroked his feathers gently, meeting the gaze of a Black who had clearly cleaned himself up since she'd last seen him, entirely unafraid. "Staying an Animagus even in here — doesn't that get tiring?"
"If it isn't necessary, I'd rather not cause the Headmaster trouble." Black looked down at her, deep-set eyes brimming with distrust. "What have you come to see me for?"
She shrugged. "Harry's run into a small problem. I thought that, as his godfather, you'd be glad to help him."
Black's face changed at once, and he surged forward, agitated. "Harry? What's happened to him? Didn't you say you'd help me protect him?"
"Stop!" Kate frowned and cut short his impending charge at her. "I said I'd protect him. But some things fall well outside my remit."
As she spoke, she tossed him a diagram.
Black opened it with strained patience, then looked up, suspicious. "A Firebolt? You want me to buy him one?"
"Buy it or don't, entirely up to you," Kate said, the picture of indifference. "All I know is that Harry's lost his Nimbus 2000 and has nothing but the crudest broomstick to fly on—"
She hadn't even finished before Black cut in, resolute. "Buy it! It's only a Firebolt. He deserves the best broomstick in the world!"
"Then thank you for your custom. I'll be taking a fifteen percent handling fee. Not unreasonable, is it?" Kate spread her hands, beaming.
Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Handling fee?"
"You're living here now. Once you leave, you can't come back — so unless someone helps you, how exactly do you plan to buy a Firebolt?"
Kate said it without a shred of guilt, then added, "And don't bother going to Headmaster Dumbledore. He won't help you unless I ask him to, and I think you know that perfectly well."
It was plain enough: this money was hers, and Sirius couldn't wriggle out of it.
As they say, a son's debts fall to the father — Harry had tricked her a couple of days ago and the score wasn't settled yet, so fleecing his godfather for a few hundred Gold Galleons was entirely fair and reasonable.
In truth, as the sole remaining heir of the Black family, buying a Firebolt was nothing at all to Sirius.
But it was exactly as Kate had said. Without help, in his current position, he couldn't so much as withdraw money from Gringotts, let alone buy his godson a present.
Looking at the infuriating little Slytherin in front of him, Sirius ground his teeth, then shut his eyes and nodded. "Fine. When I get home, I'll pay you every Galleon I owe you!"
"Splendid," Kate said, her face lighting up. "I'm sure Harry will be delighted one day to have such a generous godfather."
She produced a loan contract she had written out well in advance and handed it over with a smile.
"'Should the debt prove impossible to settle in legal tender, the creditor shall have the right to settle it with any item of equivalent value belonging to the borrower'?"
Sirius read the clause and frowned.
Kate spread her hands. "You are still a fugitive, after all. If you can't pay me back, wouldn't I be running the whole thing at a loss?"
Tch. Devious little Slytherin.
Still, he had nothing of value to hand over anyway — and for Harry, anything was worth doing.
He thought it over for a moment, then signed and pressed his thumbprint to the page.
"Thank you for your custom." Kate winked at him slyly. "Two copies, identical. Do look after yours."
She tucked her own copy away, chuckling. "I guarantee Harry will have a brand-new, entirely legal and legitimate Firebolt before the Christmas holidays."
Before she left, she made a point of glancing at Dumbledore's little snack room, raised an eyebrow slightly, and walked out with a spring in her step.
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