Chapter I

The Opening

THE GREAT HALL was as crowded as ever. The chatter, shouts, and squeals echoed off the high rafters, washing over me like water muddy from paints. I sat quietly, observing my housemates go about their business. Some were reuniting with their friends; others pretending to be happy to see their acquaintances with the mutually beneficial dance of fake pleasantries that passed for social interaction in Slytherin. I scratched the side of my nose irritably. It felt as it always had at the beginning of the school year, and yet there was tension all around me. It was all the things that were not being said.

It had been like that all summer, and I could not figure out why. That bothered me. It was not like anything had happened, at least nothing important enough to make it to the papers. I overheard my father mumbling about how the economy was slowing down over breakfast. But why? Maybe I should have asked. Everyone seemed to agree, something was about to happen. Even the yearly trip to get school supplies from Diagon Alley had been odd. There were less people. Everyone looking around. It made the summer almost stifling. Too hot, too crowded, too hurried.

I was interrupted from my thoughts as someone sat down next to me.

"Hi, Cissy."

"Hi Cara," I replied with a small smile. I looked at her, the girl uncaring as ever. Unaffected. Her eyes were squinted from the smile; her cheeks dimpled. It was an infectious smile. Unbothered. Unafraid. "How was your summer? It's been too long, anyway."

I had not seen her for over a month. I supposed that was fine. Cara and I had been close since before our time at Hogwarts, and it was a comfortable friendship. In some ways, she was closer to me than my sisters. There were no questions asked when none were needed. No expectations. No pressure. No Miss Black. Only Narcissa; only me. It was a good, solid friendship. It was a rarity, but then again so was she. Like a single flower blooming in a field of yellowed, shrivelled grass.

"It has, I'm sorry I haven't been writing that much. We've been visiting family over in France for most of the summer, and I guess—" Cara paused, looking a bit lost on how to explain her absence.

"No worries, Cara. I am happy you had fun. No need to lose sleep over that. Anything exciting happened there? Or did Uncle Evan spend all time talking business again?" I was starved for news. Summer in London had been as boring as they got.

"So much fun, honestly, you know how dad is. I almost withered away with how much fun I had with the family," Cara replied as we both rolled our eyes. "But at least I managed to get my summer readings done, so that counts for something."

Summer readings. Sometimes, I wished I could just torch the books. Was it not bad enough that we had to spend our evenings nose-deep in old parchment during the school year? Did the professors really have to assign us readings over the summer as well? I sighed. Maybe it was a good thing. It gave me something to worry about; something that was not whatever was happening outside. At least charms and potions did not make you scared. Did not make you tense up when someone bumped into you on the street.

I nodded; biting the inside of my cheek in thought. I was about to reply when my thoughts were cut off by the gentle clink-clink of metal on glass. It was time for the annual song, sorting, and speech. The doors to the Great Hall opened with a drawn-out groan as the conversation around me hushed and the first years spilled in from the antechamber. The hat song was sung; the new first years were sorted. Young children, brimming with nervous excitement. I tried to smile at all the new Slytherins. Before I even realised, Headmaster Dumbledore stood and strode towards the lectern.

"Welcome, welcome," he started with a beaming smile towards the assembled students. I wondered if whatever was happening had not reached the headmaster. He seemed as jovial as always. As if nothing pleased him more than welcoming a new batch of students.

"I hope you had a wonderful summer. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and as every year, it is once again the time for my fellow teachers to try and stuff something useful into your heads." There was a scattering of laughter. The first years seemed to oscillate between reverence and astonishment. "As every year since it has grown, the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to everyone without permission, unless you wish to die a most unpleasant death. A new and updated list of prohibited items can be found next to the office of our dear caretaker Mr Filch."

The headmaster paused, and a small frown creased his brow. It was subtle. It seemed as oppressive as the summer heat, as sudden as a storm. Gripping the lectern, he continued.

"As many of you may have noticed, there has been a rising tension outside of these walls. I would like to believe that none of it will be carried into Hogwarts. Yet, I fear that trying times are ahead of us. I would remind you all that the usage of magic in the corridors is strictly forbidden, and disciplinary action will be taken against those who break these rules. If you are struggling, remember to talk to your housemates, your friends, and your Heads of House. Hogwarts will be here for you."

As the headmaster's speech took a serious turn, I watched the faces around me. Most of them looked apprehensive or confused. But there were a few smirks. Most of them from the older years in Slytherin. Great. They seemed to know what they were up to. Maybe, if things were different, I would have written to Bella. She always seemed to know what was happening in Slytherin; better acquainted, more outgoing. Picture perfect pureblood.

"Well, looks like there's going to be a lot of hissing in the snake den this year, no?" Cara leaned over to whisper.

I nodded, wishing I knew what was happening. Or—better yet—wishing that nothing was happening at all.

The headmaster smiled once again. "Alas, it would be in poor taste to end a speech on such a sombre note. Thus, please welcome our new professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts, Professor Harry Potter!"

A young man whom I had not noticed before stood up at the staff table and gave everyone a smile and a small wave. I turned to Cara as she let out a low whistle. "Maybe I will enjoy DADA this year after all." I grinned at her antics. I supposed it was true. Professor Whitelake's lectures had been so monotone they rivalled Binns.

"I suppose. Or maybe he will be as predisposed to lack of intonation as Professor Whitelake had been. And anyway, is he not a bit young to be teaching?" He did not look much past twenty. Black hair, navy robes, glasses and all. I frowned at the name; blew a lock of hair out of my face. I should have recognized him. Should have at least been aware of his existence. I knew about Mr James Potter the Insufferable before he went to Hogwarts. Aunt Dorea was married to a Potter, after all. Maybe I would write to grandfather to ask about the new professor.

"Maybe, but it's not like he has a high bar to meet," Cara said with a shrug. "And anyway, neither of us were planning to learn anything for the NEWT in class so it doesn't really matter. At least I'll have something more interesting than the book to stare at this year."

A fifth-year boy next to me—Stape or some such—choked on his water. Cara grinned. It seemed that some things were as unchanging as the flow of time, and Cara was a fundamental arithmantic constant. The feast appeared at the table in front of us. The stuffy, oppressive atmosphere slowly receded into the shadows that lingered in the corners of the room. Maybe this year was not going to be so bad after all.

···

My life had started to settle into a comfortable routine of classes, studying for classes, and then dreaming about classes. Yesterday, Cara had managed to convince me to spend an afternoon by the lake, salvaging the last echoes of summer by the water. It was good to be back at Hogwarts.

I used to think that now that we only took NEWT-level classes, I would have more free time. But that was not to be. The timetable I got from Professor Slughorn was deceptively barren. The essays that filled the gaps ever since the first day of classes begged to differ.

It was Wednesday morning, and that meant Defence. Cara had spent a considerable amount of time talking about Defence, and that was a first. Well, she mostly talked about the professor; speculated who he was and how she could get him to bed. I would not have bothered with the subject, had it not been for grandfather insisting that as a Black, I should have formal education in 'anything that could be classified as dark lest one day you blow your face off or become possessed when you walk into the library'. It was a fair point, though, as the grimoires in the libraries at Raven Hall and Grimmauld Place could be nasty, and our family had a reputation to uphold. Even Ana had taken Defence.

But anyway, I was ruminating. I got up, dressed, and headed to the common room. Cara was still sleeping, but that was not unusual. I could always come back and pull her out of bed before class started.

I was halfway towards the door of the common room when someone stepped in front of me.

"Miss Black, may I have a moment?"

I looked up, shook my head, and put on a smile. "Of course, Mr Malfoy, what can I do for you?" He was alone. That itself was somewhat surprising; he always had someone or other attached to his ass.

Lucius Malfoy bowed his head slightly and smiled. It was not a particularly charming smile, although I was sure it desperately wanted to be. It looked more threatening. Predatory. But that might have just been me. I did not particularly like the boy.

"I was hoping to accompany you to the Hogsmeade weekend in late September, Miss Black. Will you grant me the privilege?"

Internally, I was composing several ways to say no to him, simply out of spite. It would have probably taught him a lesson. He looked as if it was a foregone conclusion for him, the request a mere formality on a checklist that had to be marked off before I would hang off his arm. But then again, I could not exactly say no. Father would have my head for it, political allies this and proper decorum of a young lady that. Blah blah. It was only one date, anyway. And maybe I would get chocolates out of it. Or at least lunch. That did not mean I had to like it. Or him. Cara would never let me live this down.

"You may consider yourself fortunate, Mr Malfoy. I do happen to be free on Sunday, and you happen to have found yourself company." I fixed him with a stare. Just because I said yes did not mean I had to make it easy for him.

"Ten in the morning, Entrance Hall. Oh, and Mr Malfoy, I expect you to come alone."

He gave me a brief nod of understanding as I held out my hand for him. He kissed it. Formalities done, I smiled, spun around and exited the Slytherin common room in a swirl of short blond hair and forest green robes. I knew how to make an exit when I wanted to.

···

"Wake up, Cara! We have Defence in thirty and you are still drooling on your pillow."

She made some sound at me. It did not sound particularly happy.

"Come now, you cannot tell me you do not yearn to spend your class eyeing up Professor Hottie. Get up!" When Cara did not move, I threw a pillow at her. "I am leaving in ten, you better be ready, or I will have him all to myself."

That seemed to do the trick. Cara squinted at me from underneath the covers and rolled out of bed. I sat on mine and took the charms textbook from the nightstand. It never hurt to read ahead, and I always liked charms the most.

"I hate you, you know?"

I thumbed through the pages until they stopped at the satin ribbon. 3.6 Light-refracting charms.

"I know, why?"

Perhaps the most well-known charm under the classification of light-refracting charms is the Disillusionment charm. The book sounded like Professor Flitwick in my head. It gave me comfort, familiarity. It made the reading more enjoyable to imagine the tiny professor gesturing at the front of the classroom.

"One day, you'll regret this," Cara grumbled as she collected her toiletries and headed towards the bathroom.

"In your dreams, Cara," I replied as pompously as I could, grinning into the book.

···

We were almost late. As always. Blame Miss Rosier. Considering how liberally flexible the castle was with its staircases, one would think it would be easier to traverse five flights of stairs. But no, the stairs were as obnoxious as ever. Blame Miss Rosier and her highness Rowena Ravenclaw or whoever thought of the enchanted stairs. Why have regular stairs after all? Still, I smiled. I had missed the castle.

We managed to make it to the classroom on time, taking seats just as the bell gong echoed through the halls. The classroom was more cramped than I would have expected. I certainly did not expect most of Slytherin to be there. Yet there they were, those with talent and most of those without; crowded towards the back of the room. Avery, Malcolm, Lestrange, Stebbins; and half a dozen other troublemakers. At least this year the class was shared amongst all houses. Last year, it had been only Gryffindor. That had gone down splendidly.

The door to the office opened, and Professor Potter entered the classroom. He walked in with an air of quiet assurance, looking over us with a small half-smile.

"Good morning class. If you have not been paying attention to our esteemed headmaster on Friday, or happen to have forgotten, my name is Professor Potter, and I will be teaching you Defence Against the Dark Arts this year."

His eyes seemed to rest on a group of my housemates as he frowned. I did not even need to turn to know that they were not paying attention.

"Now, as this is a NEWT-level class, I will hold you all to high standards. The headmaster has given me your curriculums for last year, and unfortunately it looks like we will have a lot of catching up to do. I expect you will give this class your best, is that understood?"

"Yes, professor," said a few Ravenclaws. I did not have the impression it was them he was talking to.

"Good. Now, who is willing to tell me why they are in this class? What is the most fearsome threat they are here to learn to defend themselves against?"

I mulled over it. It seemed like the sort of question you would get asked on an exam, with no right answer and way too many caveats. I looked at Cara with a raised eyebrow, she shrugged and mouthed 'dragons'. Yeah, that sounded about right.

I raised my hand; so did a few others. He pointed to Babbling in the Hufflepuff corner.

"Dementors, sir."

He raised an eyebrow. "An interesting choice, Miss. Could you elaborate for your classmates why dementors are dangerous?"

"Um, I mean—Dementors are one of the few creatures that we can't ward against, and I wouldn't even know how to defend myself against them…" she trailed off uncertainly. The professor seemed intrigued. Trust Babbling to answer with something about wards; she was a prodigy in Runes and was a joy to talk to in class.

"An interesting perspective, Miss—"

"Babbling."

"Miss Babbling. Take a point for Hufflepuff. Though we will study them later this year, I can tell you that dementors can be repelled using the Patronus charm. I believe you will find a reference to it in the charms section in the Library if you wish to read ahead. Anyone else?"

Consider me impressed. I scribbled a little note on the side of my parchment to look it up. Grandfather told me you could use a Patronus to send messages; if the professor believed that we could learn it this year then why not now?

I heard several other creatures mentioned, each came with a proper explanation. He was clearly knowledgeable about creatures. I even heard Quirrell mention something or other about possession.

"Yes, Miss?" he said, looking at me.

"Black, sir. I would like to know how to defend against curses, dark objects, and the like. I have… encountered a few. I hope I would be able to apparate away when faced with any of the creatures mentioned."

He raised an eyebrow at me. I was not sure if it was because I was a Black or because of what I said. Not that it mattered.

"Brilliant thinking, Miss Black, take five points for Slytherin. Indeed, the first line of defence is to not be there. But you raise an interesting point. What if you cannot apparate? What if you cannot run? And for that matter, what if you are not expecting anything? This is the reason why curses can be very dangerous."

He now had the attention of the whole class.

"You are here to learn how to defend yourselves. Contrary to the name of the class, it is not only the Dark Arts which can cause you harm. There is no creature as dangerous and as cunning as a fellow wizard or witch. There is nothing dark about a stunner, yet it may send you off a cliff. There is nothing even remotely grey about an Aguamenti, yet it can be used to drown you. There is nothing sinister in the sewing charm, but I would wager few of you would survive if someone sewed your airways shut."

Alice gulped behind me. It sounded very loud in the suddenly silent classroom.

I took a better look at the man. He sounded like he had experience with everything he described, and then some. From up close, I noticed the faint white of a scar that ran across his cheek, and another through his forehead. His eyes continuously scanned the room, my classmates, me. I gulped. Jet black. You would not be able to tell from afar, but from two desks away, the professor screamed danger. Then he looked back at Alice.

"Indeed, Miss Prince. Fighting can be gruesome, and at the end of the day, you never know where an attack might come from. That is why you have to stay aware of your surroundings. If you are jumped, chances are you've already lost. Understood?"

"Yes, Professor," chorused the class. Cara's elbow jolted me out of my thoughts.

"Now, I have no idea where all of you stand; I heard your DADA tutelage has been… somewhat lacking over the last few years. Therefore, today we will be focusing on revision."

I was starting to feel like I would actually enjoy this class. Maybe I would give Bella a run for her money next time we duelled—if we ever did, that is. Now there was a pleasant thought.

···

I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. Sunlight painted green rays from the glass roof, flickering as a shoal of fish swam above, catching motes of dust twirling in the air. It was Saturday, and it was the first time I had some time to just lie down and think. I considered what I would write to grandfather. I thought about the first week: classes, the new professor and, Morgana's tits, even Lucius and that stupid lunch I agreed to. Maybe I would ask my roommates to brew something in case he would be too annoying. I stopped that train of thought before it could go too far. I refused to spoil my afternoon thinking about that slicked-down twat.

I rolled out of bed, grabbed a quill from my bag and sat down at the desk to write.

Dear grandfather,

How to start? Words refused to order themselves into nice little sentences. I stared as the ink slowly pooled at the end of the quill. Dark as death. Splat; a droplet landed on the desk. I snapped out, dipping the quill again and blowing a lock of hair out of my face.

Several things have happened at Hogwarts, and I would like to know your thoughts. I have been asked to lunch by Lucius Malfoy. I, of course, acquiesced. I do not like him, but I thought it would be improper not to. Since he never showed much interest in me before, I suspect father has something to do with it. Do you happen to know if he does?

Sometimes, I hated being a Black. Maybe Ana had the right of it. Fall in love, run away, and say fuck all to anyone who did not like it. I just wished… But no. Despite it all, I was proud. Proud to be a Black. And I fucking hated even thinking that my father could sign me off to someone as if I was a hippogriff. But it was not like I had found anyone. Maybe it was because half of the boys looked at me like they had looked at Bella, as if I would curse them if they even talked to me, and honestly maybe that was for the best. I did not like much of Slytherin.

I looked at the parchment. Each word inked perfectly; like I was taught. Elegant, precise, fluid. In the sunlight, the ink glinted as if it was a dark green. Maybe it was. Even the ink was pretentious.

Sometimes, I hated being a Black. I loved grandfather and grandmother, loved my mother, father, my sisters. I even loved my cousins. I was proud of our history; what we stood for. Yet sometimes, I wished I could take the heads of house elves that hung at Grimmauld place and family tapestries and thinly veiled threats flung back and forth at balls and burn it.

Toujours pur.

I tapped off the excess ink from my quill. Black ink, glinting green in the sunlight. Black like the eyes of Professor Potter.

We also have a new professor for Defence. His name is Harry Potter. Do you know anything about him? It feels as if he came out of nowhere. I thought Aunt Dorea would have mentioned him at some point or another. From what I saw so far, he is very competent, so that is a first. I am sure you would like him, even if he does not strike me as a chess person.

I have begun learning how to cast the Patronus. Maybe next time, instead of Noire it will be a shiny white animal speaking to you.

Please write; you know I miss you and grandmother terribly. And tell her I love her dearly and that I am doing well.

With love,

Narcissa

I wished my dormitory was not in the Dungeons. The Claws and Gryffs never knew how lucky they were, not having to trek up all those stairs to the Owlery with each letter they had to send.

I let the parchment dry on the side as I stretched to get my stuff. I had finished all my homework, but I wanted to get a head start on some arithmancy for my final project. And anyway, I was not feeling like walking right now.

I looked at the diagrams, energy matrices, and intent transcriptions. With the pace the project had gone so far, maybe I would not need to walk out of here until tomorrow. A small part of me hoped Cara would come and drag me to do something. I would have gone to find her, but I had a suspicion she was off doing Morgana knows what with McKinnon.

I smiled at that. She tried to keep it a secret, but I could see right through her. As always. And anyway, I did not judge, they were good for each other.

I had spent all of last night trying to figure out how to combine the two spell matrices together. It sounded simple when I talked about it with Professor Vector, but when I put it on paper the shapes just would not fit. I bit the inside of my cheek as I stared at the paper. It was certainly going to be a challenge, but I liked challenges.