December arrived, sprinkling Hogwarts in sparkling snowfall. Unfortunately for the fifth years, they were assigned mountainous amounts of homework to be completed before the Christmas holidays. On top of all of her classwork and school work, Katerina Blair was using every minute of her free time to devise a new training programme for the Slytherin Quidditch Team. She would often stay up until the early hours of the morning, scribbling notes and plotting new techniques and formats that her team could use. Despite her efforts, her plans always proved to be great failures, as the team couldn't seem to get them right during training.

On one particular night in mid-December, Katie was sat cross-legged on the hearthrug scratching lines across parchment by the light of the crackling fire. Everyone else had gone to bed and she was the only one left in the common room — until she heard footsteps from behind the door to the boy's dormitories.

She reeled her head around and looked over her shoulder.

"What are you doing up?" she and Draco said together.

Draco's eyes scanned the girl that was sat on the floor, before trailing down to the piece of parchment sprawled out in front of her. She hitched it from his view.

"You're working yourself too hard." Draco sighed, crossing the dimly lit common room.

"No I'm not," Katie countered, but at that very moment, she let out a loud yawn. Draco narrowed his eyes at her. "Draco, look, " she began miserably, "if we lose any more games, I'll be demoted."

"No you won't." Draco argued.

"Yes, I will," Katie said sternly. "You know what Snape's like. So if I don't come up with a training plan that fits the team..."

"I think our original one worked just fine." Draco shrugged nonchalantly, stretching himself out on the couch. Katie was still sat on the floor.

Katie raised an eyebrow cynically. "We lost our first game."

"You're right," Draco simpered. "Our team is rubbish, you should just kick everyone off and play by yourself—"

"Oh, shut up." Katie scoffed, throwing a book that she had been leaning on at Draco, who ducked out of the way, laughing.

"What are you doing up, anyway?" Katie inquired as she folded up the piece of parchment that had her training plan written on it.

"Left my wand down here — stupid, I know," he added when Katie glared scrutinisingly at him. "Have you finished Snape's essay."

Katie's stomach flipped horribly.

"Snape gave us an essay?"

She could feel the blood draining from her head. Draco nodded and her heart dropped down, settling at her navel.

"You didn't do it?" Draco asked. Katie shook her head frantically. "Oh, you're so done for, it's due in the morning."

"What's it on?" Katie quizzed, leaping to her feet and snatching up her bag that had been resting at the foot of an armchair. She began to root through her bag in a desperate search for her Potions book, only to stop abruptly when she heard stifled laughter coming from behind her. Glowering menacingly, she slowly turned her head to look back at Draco, who was shaking with suppressed laughter.

"There's no Potions essay, is there?" she asked darkly.

Draco finally allowed himself to laugh. "You should've seen your face."

"I'm going to get you back for that." Katie said bitterly.

"Oh no, what are you going to do?" Draco said in a tone of mock-fear.

Katie crossed her arms and smirked maliciously. "I'll kick you off the Quidditch team."

Draco grew pale — paler than usual — and his mouth fell open in mild shock.

"You wouldn't dare." he said, aghast.

"Wouldn't I?" Katie simpered.

***

"STOP!" someone was screaming. "STOP IT PLEASE!"

There was a ringing on cold, maniacal laughter and the screaming continued, so excruciating that Katie could feel is pressing in on the sides of her brain. Then, with a lurch of her stomach, Katie realised just who the screams belonged to.

"LEO!"

She was in a hallway that was completely ridden of all light and was exceptionally long. There were no lamps and no decorations, in fact, the only other thing in the corridor apart from the girl was one, single door at the far end, behind which Leo's screams seemed to be coming from.

"Someone please help me!"

Leo was crying now. Blood running cold, Katerina took off at a sprint, her footsteps echoing through the highly polished and deserted hallway. She had to get to the door, but as she drew closer it moved further away... she reached out for the handle...

For a split second, everything was black, as though all the lights in the world had suddenly been extinguished. Then, as though opening her eyes in the morning, Katie's sight was returned to her. Leo was curled at her feet, his legs hugged close to his chest, shaking and sobbing. A cloaked figure stood over him, wand outstretched, but when Katie tried to raise her head to see who her brother's captor was, she found herself stuck, as though there was an invisible ceiling keeping her from lifting her head.

"Please, please, please..." Leo was whimpering repeatedly.

The cloaked figure raised their wand.

"Crucio!"

Katie shivered. That voice sounded familiar... so familiar...

"NO!" Leo screamed.

"Katie! Katie!"

She opened her eyes. Every inch of her body was covered in sweat; her bed covers were twisted all around her; she felt weak, as if she had just been violently sick.

And then, almost like she had jinxed it, Katie rolled right over in her bed and vomited over the edge of the mattress.

"Katie!" Pansy gasped. She was standing over her looking extremely frightened. There were two more figures at the foot of Katie's bed, muttering nervously under their breaths.

"Leo," Katie gasped, her chest heaving. She tried to climb out of the bed but Pansy held her down. "Pans, you have to — I know where — have to save him—"

"It's OK," Pansy assured. "It was just a dream."

"No!" Katie said loudly. "No! It wasn't! I was there, I saw him!"

"Katie," Pansy began, her voice trembling worriedly, "just lie down, all right? Tracey is gone to get help—"

"I need to get to him!"

The door burst open and Tracey rushed into the room, her cheeks flushed, her hair askew, panting heavily.

"He's not there," she said through desperate gasps. "Snape's not in his office."

"I don't need Snape," Katie said angrily, shoving Pansy's hands off her and standing up. "I need to see Dumbledore."

"Katie—" Pansy started in a pleading manner.

"I need to see Dumbledore!" Katie snapped. "Please, Pans, you know the password..."

There was a pulverising silence in which all five of the Slytherin girls stared around at each other, a silence that was eventually filled by the anxious voice of Tracey Davis.

"Pansy, she's really sick, she needs to go to the hospital wing."

"I'm not sick!" Katie barked. "I'm fine. What I need is to see Dumbledore."

Katie gave Pansy one desperate, pleading look and, heaving a great sigh, Pansy nodded reluctantly.

"Come on then," she said, "get your dressing gown."

Pansy and Katie rushed along the pitch black corridors of Hogwarts, Pansy throwing anxious glances over her shoulder every few seconds to check that a teacher hadn't come around the corner. Katie, however, couldn't have cared less about being caught out of bed — seeing Dumbledore was her one and only priority.

Her little brother was alive and he needed her help. She believed with all her soul that what she had just witnessed was not a nightmare — it was another one of the dreams that were being planted into her mind as she slept. The person who had taken Leo and her mother over a year ago at the Quidditch World Cup wanted Katie to find them, and she knew very well that it was more than likely an elaborate trap, but her own well-being didn't matter to her anymore. She finally had the chance to save her little brother and she wasn't going to let that opportunity slip through her fingers.

Suddenly, she heard it again. The high-pitched, blood-curdling screams of Leo Blair ringing through her ears and rattling her brain. She herself let out a cry of agony that echoed through the high, vacant hallways. She squeezed her eyes shut as an attempt to block out the horrific sound.

"Katie!" Pansy gasped in horror. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I hear him, I hear him!" Katie screamed, not caring who she woke up or how many teachers came swarming into the halls. "They're torturing him!"

"Who is?"

"The Death Eaters!"

Katerina didn't know what made her say this — she hadn't even been aware that the words were rolling off her tongue until they had escaped and were hanging in the air. She had no proof to backup this accusation, but somehow she just knew that it was the Death Eaters who had her only remaining family in captivity.

"Come on..." Pansy said hastily. She linked Katie's arm and steered her through the corridors, up endless flights of staircases, until finally, with the screams of pain still reverberating in Katie's head, they reached the stone gargoyle. Pansy uttered the password and pulled Katie onto the spiral staircase.

The staircase lifted them up to the platform above, where they were met by the great oak doors of the Headmaster's office. Pansy reached out for the handle but paused abruptly.

"I think you should go alone," Pansy told Katie. "It seems like a very... private matter."

Not being able to afford to waste a single second, Katie merely nodded to Pansy before bursting into the office with no regards for the fact that Dumbledore may have very well been in a deep slumber.

"Professor Dumbledore, I'm sorry to bother you, but—" Katie began frantically, catching herself only when she saw that Dumbledore's office was, in fact, very occupied.

Dumbledore himself was sat tall and alert in his tall-backed seat behind his desk, while Fred, George Ron and Ginny were stood a few feet away from the table, each of them wearing a vibrant dressing gown and petrified expressions. A fourth student was sat in the seat opposite the Headmaster, but it was too dark for Katie to see their face. Next to the table stood two teachers — Professor McGonagall who appeared to be almost as frightened as the Weasleys, and Professor Snape who, while he was managing to keep his poise quite well, Katie noticed how his eyebrows were furrowed and his lip was twitching anxiously.

Despite the fact that it was Dumbledore that Katie had addressed, it was McGonagall who responded.

"Miss Blair," she barked more sternly than ever, "how dare you burst into the Headmaster's office so insolently, and at this hour of the night! Professor Dumbledore is currently concerned with quite serious matters, so I'm afraid you will have to wait—"

"I'm sorry, Professor," Katie interrupted, "but this is really — it's — I promise I wouldn't intrude unless..." Professor McGonagall was glaring madly at her. "It's my brother, sir."

Dumbledore eyed the Slytherin calculatingly over the rim of his half-moon spectacles, still refusing to speak.

McGonagall's eyes flashed dangerously. "Your brother?" she snapped. "Christian?"

"No, Professor," Katie answered quickly, a deep feeling of panic settling in her stomach now. "Leo, Professor, it's Leo, he's in trouble, he—"

"Miss Blair," McGonagall said curtly, her lips pursed, "you will forgive my audacity, but your brother has been missing for over a year and we are very aware that he's in trouble."

"No, you're not listening!" Katie yelled. "They've got him — they're torturing him right now, I saw it."

Though the light was dim, Katie could still just about see the colour drain from McGonagall's hardened face.

"You saw it?" she asked fretfully.

"Yes," Katie stated firmly. "I was asleep and he was screaming—"

"So you dreamt it?" Snape asked calmly.

"No! It wasn't a dream!" Katie shouted, rounding on Dumbledore. "Professor, it was another one of those dreams. It was real, sir, you have to believe me."

"Albus," McGonagall whispered shrilly. Katie had never before seen the brave and strict Minerva McGonagall look quite as scared as she did then. Her eyes were bulging from their sockets, the vein in her forehead was throbbing aggressively and her hands were trembling. "Do you think this could possibly be linked to Potter's dream?"

Katie blinked confusedly between the Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress.

"Harry's dream?" she questioned.

Her inquiry was ignored and, instead, Dumbledore rested his hands on the table in front of him, leaned forward, and spoke for the very first time since Katie had thrown open the doors to his office.

"Where was your brother in this dream, Katerina?" he asked solemnly.

"Er — I was in a hallway, it was really long. There was a door at the end and when I reached out for the handle, I was suddenly in this room. It was big, I think, and dark, but there was loads of blue light and Leo was at my feet and—" she broke off in a choked sob, the memories of Leo's screams of suffering coming back to her.

"That's the same hall from my dream," the person in the chair across from Dumbledore voiced, and Katie knew at once who it was. "Professor, you don't think—?"

"We must not jump to conclusions, Harry," Dumbledore replied, "but I do believe that it may be plausible that both your dream and Katerina's dream are somewhat connected."

"You had one too?" Katie asked Harry, speaking to him directly for the first time in weeks, though still refusing to meet his eyes.

It was McGonagall who responded once again. "Blair, that is hardly any of your concern—"

"It's OK, Professor," Harry cut her off. "She's OK. Yeah, just now, I..." Harry paused and gulped thickly. "I saw Mr Weasley get attacked."

Katie was suddenly very dizzy. "What?" she gasped. "Is he—?"

"He says he'll be delighted," said a bored voice behind Dumbledore; a wizard had just appeared inside a previously blank portrait. "My great-great-grandson has always had an odd taste in house-guests."

"Come here, then," Dumbledore said to Harry and the Weasleys. "And quickly, before anyone else joins us."

All five of them moved towards Dumbledore's golden table. Katie stepped forward but Snape threw his hand out across her, stopping her in her tracks.

"No, Katerina, you will stay." Dumbledore said calmly.

"But he's my legal guardian—"

"It is vital that you remain here with me." Dumbledore finished, and Katie could tell by the flare in his piercing blue eye that their short debate had ended. With a small huff of indignation, she backed off and Snape lowered his arm.

"You have all used a Portkey before?" Dumbledore asked the small group gathered around his desk. They all nodded, each reaching out to touch a blackened kettle that was sat in the middle of the desk. "Good. On the count of three, then... one... two... three."

With a gush of wind, Harry and the Weasleys, along with the kettle, were swept from the office, leaving Katie and the three Professors standing in deafening silence.

"Professors," Dumbledore said, "your services are no longer required, and I should like a word with Miss Blair, here."

Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape nodded swiftly and were gone from the room in a wave of tartan and black. Once the oak doors clicked shut, Dumbledore gestured towards the chair that had been previously occupied by Harry.

"Take a seat," he told Katie, who done as instructed and sat down, awaiting the interrogation that was about to come. "This hallway you saw, do you know where exactly it was?"

"No." Katie responded honestly.

"And what was happening to your brother?"

A broad lumped formed in Katie's throat. She tried to swallow it down but her mouth had become extremely dry.

"He was... being tortured..." she said, voice cracking.

Dumbledore frowned. "The Cruciatus Curse?"

Katie nodded, re-directing her gaze to her hands, the fingers on which were nervously twiddling.

"Did you see who—?"

"No," Katie answered quickly and Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "I tried to look at them but I just... couldn't." Even as she said this, Katie thought her explanation seemed very vague, but Dumbledore must have understood the point that she was trying to make, because he nodded along and did not ask for an elaboration on this particular matter.

Without speaking, Dumbledore pulled open a drawer behind his desk an extracted a thin, leathery book. At first glimpse, Katie hadn't the faintest idea what the book might be, but when Dumbledore placed it on the table in front of her, she saw the gaping hole that had been burned into the centre of the book. She stiffened greatly.

"You know what this is, I presume?"

Katie nodded, not daring to tear her eyes away from the book as though she was afraid it might bite her if she let her guard down. "Tom Riddle's diary."

"I want you to touch it." Dumbledore told her.

Tilting her head to the side in bewilderment, Katie stared blankly at Dumbledore, awaiting an elaborated explanation.

"If my theory is correct, Katerina, then the visions you receive when you touch certain objects are directly related to objects that have some form of a link to Lord Voldemort." Dumbledore explained.

Katie shivered at the use of Voldemort's name, but snappily recovered, because Dumbledore's thesis was not entirely unbalanced. It was Tom Riddle's plaque that sparked her first non-sleeping vision, after all, but how in the world was the locket in Sirius' family home in any way related to Voldemort?

Katerina quickly discovered yet another flaw in Dumbledore's theory.

"But, sir, I touched the diary before, in second year, and nothing happened." she stated, a disappointment washing over her — she had been desperately craving a logical explanation for her visions for months.

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded seriously, "but that was before Voldemort was on the rise."

Dumbledore gently pushed the diary closer to Katie and she instinctively backed further into her chair. She vaguely recalled that the last time she handled Tom Riddle's diary, she heard voices emitting from it — she couldn't make out what they were saying, but she was almost certain ghostly voices were ominously whispering to her.

It was Dumbledore's piercing stare of anticipation that ultimately convinced Katie to touch the diary once more. With trembling hands, she reached out, hesitated momentarily, then brushed her fingers against the smooth, black leather.

A rush of cold sailed swiftly over her, like she had been grabbed back by the shoulders and plunged into a basin of icy water. With a strident ringing noise, she was back in the unfurnished room in which her previous vision had taken place — the one in which she saw a much younger version of her mother pointing a wand at a baby boy who Katie had assumed was Chris.

Once more, her mother was standing before her, only she was facing towards one of the three curtained windows in the dull room, her hands tucked neatly behind her back.

"I — I don't understand," Maria Blair said, voice quivering faintly. "If he's yours then—"

"He will be too pure."