"You seem to have frightened him."
Kate turned around leisurely, smiling sweetly at the White Dark Lord who had arrived fashionably late.
Dumbledore shrugged innocently. "Black's no coward."
True enough — the whole family was reckless to a fault. Sirius was like that, so was Bellatrix, and Regulus wasn't much different.
She didn't pursue the topic further. "Professor, did you want to see me about something?"
"I thought you might have questions for me when you returned to school this time. As it happens, I have some matters to attend to soon, and you might not be able to find me when you come looking, so I called you here ahead of time."
Dumbledore drew her down to sit with him on the steps, his deep blue eyes warm with kindly light.
When it came to educating students, he truly was a master at it — with just a few words, he made Kate feel deeply valued.
Under such an assault of words and gaze, most students probably couldn't resist pouring out everything on their minds.
She thought for a moment. "Professor, what kind of person do you think my mother was?"
Dumbledore was quiet for a few seconds, recalling that extraordinary student from decades ago.
"Grace was the most brilliant witch I've ever known — exceptionally gifted, and she lived with remarkable clarity.
She knew exactly what she wanted, and she acted on it at once, never dragging her feet.
For all her comparatively frail constitution, her personality was decisive — she and your father complemented each other well."
Kate had rarely heard Dumbledore praise anyone at such length.
It was clear, then, that her mother had indeed been remarkable and extraordinary in her day.
"And how do you think I compare to her?"
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "I don't think there's any comparison to be made, Kate. I know what you're thinking — Katherine told you everything, didn't she?"
She fell silent for a moment, propping her chin on her hand and staring out at the sky. "There's a Curse in my body. My grandfather placed it on my mother, and after she gave birth, it transferred to me.
If not for the System, she'd probably be a Squib unable to learn magic right now.
"You want revenge on him." Dumbledore understood at once. "Do you know, one day after your mother graduated, she came to see me too."
Kate's eyes lit up, and she straightened at once. "What did she say?"
"Want to know?" he asked, smiling.
She nodded furiously.
Ever since learning that her mother had pursued the culprit alone across a thousand miles to corner her own father, Kate had realized just how formidable the woman had been.
Next to her mother, all of Kate's own hesitations seemed as childish as playing house.
Dumbledore drew a memory from his temple with his wand and set it lightly into the Pensieve.
Without a second thought, Kate eagerly plunged her head in.
After a moment of darkness, she found herself standing in the Headmaster's office, the furnishings unchanged.
If Fawkes on his perch hadn't just gone through his rebirth and were still an ugly little chick, she might have believed the memory she'd just entered was something she'd imagined.
The door creaked open. She spun around at once, and froze when she made out the woman walking in behind Dumbledore.
Unlike the fifteen- or sixteen-year-old girl from the last memory, the woman before her no longer wore her hair in a student's long ponytail — instead, it was pinned up, giving her the unmistakable look of a married woman.
This was her mother, Grace.
"Over these years, I've tracked down where Corbin is. He won't escape my hands."
The moment Grace spoke, she radiated intense confidence — she truly believed that if she acted herself, she could kill her own father.
But if that were really so, she wouldn't have traveled all the way from Shafiq Manor to Hogwarts.
"Headmaster, I remember you once told me that hatred can't solve anything — only love can. If it were you, what would you do?"
Her gaze went straight to Dumbledore, showing no guilt at all over the murderous thoughts she harbored.
To be precise, she was only confused — torn between what Dumbledore had once said and what she herself wanted to do.
Her murderous intent had risen because of what Corbin had done to her and her sister, and to their mother — atrocities so vile that killing him a hundred times over wouldn't be too much.
She believed that if her sister knew about this, she would abandon her travels at once and come back to help her kill him and bury the body.
But thinking it was one thing; doing it was another.
Once she actually acted, everything afterward would spiral out of control — she'd end up in Azkaban, her sister would be dragged down with her, and her husband would lose his wife.
Was it worth turning herself into a murderer and losing her own life over someone so wicked and unforgivable — that was what she really wanted to ask.
Dumbledore turned, his deep blue eyes full of gentleness. "Grace, I'm glad you were willing to ask an old man's opinion before you made up your mind."
He raised a hand, gesturing for Grace to sit down with him.
"As I understand it, your sister is still off on her round-the-world trip. Does she know about what you've been tracking down all these years?"
Grace shook her head. "She shouldn't be dragged into this."
Dumbledore smiled. "You're worried for her safety, so you won't tell her about your troubles.
And you know that if you told Katherine, she'd drop everything to come help you.
You see, even if you don't realize it, you already possess something Corbin will never comprehend.
It's a power more wondrous, and more formidable, than death, than human wisdom, than the forces of nature. With it, your soul is made whole."
His aged finger pointed to Grace's chest. "I have no standing to stop you from seeking revenge, but I hope you'll quietly take stock of the love you possess before deciding whether to carry out what's in your mind."
Looking down at her own chest, Grace, who had been so full of confidence a moment ago, furrowed her brow and fell into thought.
Not just her — even Kate, watching from the side, found herself unconsciously touching her own chest.
Like her mother, she too had people she loved deeply.
The old butler, Katherine, Hermione, Cho Chang, Luna, Malfoy, and Dumbledore and Harry too — these were all people she loved deeply.
She began to understand why her mother, after hunting down Corbin all those years ago, had wounded him and then let him escape.
Just as Dumbledore had said, a soul cherished by love was full and whole — but the moment it killed, that soul would be corroded.
It was precisely because Grace understood this that, after delivering enough of a warning, she had deliberately let Corbin go.
She had carried out her revenge in practice, yet refused to let a man like him stain her soul or ruin her life.
In this light, Grace truly was a clever witch — she'd understood Dumbledore's meaning perfectly, and found a loophole to hold both revenge and love in her own hands.
But Grace, at that moment, had no way of knowing that both she and her husband would die young, leaving behind a daughter whom Corbin would go on to torment all over again.
Watching her young, pensive mother before her, Kate slowly curved her lips into a smile — the very same smile on the other woman's face.
Soon the memory ended, and she lifted her head out of the Pensieve at once.
When she saw Dumbledore's smiling eyes again, understanding dawned a little further in Kate's mind.
Old Man Dumbledore had shown her this memory on purpose, likely hoping she would follow her mother's example —
within certain limits, as long as she didn't go for the kill and didn't let her soul be corroded, she could take her revenge however she pleased.
"Thank you, Professor!" She bowed to Dumbledore at once. "I know what to do now!"
With that, she dashed cheerfully out of the office.
At the same moment, the door to the inner room opened, and Sirius stepped out with a complicated expression. "Headmaster, what is she planning to do?"
"Just something fun, that's all."
Dumbledore answered with a chuckle, then turned and picked up the metal nameplate on the desk. "That child gave this to you — you'd best keep it safe."
Willful as Sirius was, faced with a request from Dumbledore, he could only reach out reluctantly and take the nameplate.
Her background might have turned out surprisingly rough, but she was still a Slytherin through and through — not obedient and well-behaved like his godson!
he thought, indignant.
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