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Chapter 7

By Friday evening Narcissa had gotten a sample of all of her subjects and teachers, except for History of Magic which she could not say she was too excited about. The work had been simple enough – the Professors were clearly easing them in – and Narcissa had occupied herself assessing the character of the people she met.

Professor Slughorne was worth cultivating, she decided, because a little effort would help her excel in his class and bring the benefits of the fabled 'Slug Club'. Professor Dumbledore had earned her respect with his wisdom and fairness: Slytherin and Gryffindor first years shared Transfiguration and, despite being head of Gryffindor house, Dumbledore had indiscriminately praised them all as their actions deserved. Professor Chadwick, contrastingly, continued to be a proverbial thorn in Slytherin's metaphorical side. Narcissa reached the conclusion that he was too absorbed in House pride to take pride in his professional integrity and thus she found him rather irrational.

When it came to students she was continuing with an open mind. Her first lesson of Transfiguration marked her first lesson with the Gryffindor students and, while they were louder and more prone to joking around than the Slytherins, they were smart enough to make challenging peers. Challenge in lessons, she thought, is a good thing – it promotes the learning of all and discourages complacency. What's more Professor Dumbledore managed their rivalry well by keeping order without letting the lessons pause long enough to allow resentment to develop. She actually found some of the Gryffindors' goofing around quite amusing. She would never behave that way herself, but as long as they enjoyed acting the fool and it didn't disturb her lessons she did not mind their high spirits.

During the week she had also been spending time with the other first years, and with Marius in particular, after lessons to develop their plans for exacting revenge on the Ravenclaws. She had not intended to be especially involved in the minute detail of the plan, but Marius seemed to like having her there at their informal meetings. He called her over when she tried to get past their little gathering in the Common Room.

It was partly because of this that she was sat in the Library browsing through different volumes on Hogwarts' History – thinking that someone should condense all the useful information into one tome – on a Friday night. She'd had enough of this option and that idea and 'we'll show them' for one day. She'd probably had enough for the week actually, but duty called and it was bound to come up in conversation during the weekend.

All through dinner the first years had talked about their great scheme. 'It's enough to drive one to distraction' Narcissa thought as she began to despair of any other conversation. She was just starting to let out her frustration by discretely stabbing at her bakewell tart with more vehemence than strictly necessary when something in the air caught her eye. This was the other half of her reason for being in the Library. A tiny white bird, its papery wings unfurled and deftly steering through the dangerous sea of floating candles, was riding the breeze above everyone's line of vision. Narcissa had only seen it because she'd been subtly rolling her eyes and mentally asking Merlin for strength - she hadn't been sleeping well and was falling short of patiencethis week. The bird continued on its way then angled its fragile shell of a body down and fluttered straight into her lap…

Back in the present Narcissa had pulled the charmed parchment out of her pocket and placed in on top of the page she was reading. She ran her index finger over the precise ridges where the note had been folded and reread the words there. The words which had lightened her mood in that dull dinner, and kept her subconscious busy all evening:

To Miss Narcissa Black,

I hope you have enjoyed your first week and that the… less varied company of the first years is not too distasteful. I sense you have more of a refined pallet- and that when it comes to our mission you would rather mull things over intermittently than exhaust the topic constantly. I hope you know that you may seek me out when things become too… repetitive with them and their cyclical conversation.

As a gesture of good will I have something to show you which is of interest and relevant to our plot. Meet me by the third floor tapestry of the drunken goblin – it is across from the Charms classroom – tomorrow at 10 am.

Your faithful servant,

Lucius Malfoy

She hadn't read the note right away, instead when the first years had gotten up and left the Great Hall she had made her excuses and parted from them. She'd ducked into an empty passage and, with a tinge of regret, unfolded the paper sparrow. Since that moment her mind had been whirring away on what had prompted the note, what his secret weapon was, and why he had chosen to tell her. Despite training to expect the best of everything and all special attention as only her due, Narcissa was naturally inclined to question why he had singled her out – why he had noticed at all that she was fed up of the constant talk of 'The Plan'.

She'd retreated to the library. She had little enough homework but wanted some space to think. If she kept her conscious mind busy on the books, her subconscious was free to explore the implications of the letter without making Narcissa worry. She knew that reading anything comforted and relaxed her, giving her relief from the problem, and often the problem was miraculously solved when she returned to it on closing the book. It wouldn't hurt to get in the librarian's good books by spending time here studying without a gaggle of students creating noise – having a good reputation with the person who controlled the Restricted Section could come in very handy.

With this in mind, Narcissa settled down in her quiet corner of the library and explored the castle through the secrets unlocked in parchment and ink before her. She was in no hurry to return to the Common Room. The ceaseless talk of the plot to get Ravenclaw had dulled the company of even her closest friends and Narcissa found that, once again, she was indulging herself with the blessed relief of her own company. Although she was not acting against her duty – she was learning and in a way making herself seem unobtainable to the others after all – she felt she was not forced to by the books. If she did her duty or not they would hold the same information, offer the same relief and escape.