She was the last of her line, according to her father. A natural parseltongue, and a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin.
Gaunt. The long lost Slytherin heir. The long lost phantom queen.
She was bred by her father to be determined, cunning, ru...
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The next days were a blur. She was usually in her room and only came down when summoned for dinner, lunch or breakfast. She went out of her way into the library to read books Draco would leave for her.
"The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief".
William Shakespeare. Othello. She had read that same book twice this week.
She had ran out of energy to talk to him, or to even divulge back in her emotional talks with Narcissa. All of it was fake.
The pressing issues here were about her. And how she was going to lead the small Slytherin band into greatness. And how she needed to infiltrate his uncle's ranks undetected. Her every thought was written in a leather bound book pressed in the pocket of her coat.
The only thing she knew for certain where the positions that her friends would take according to their family status and occupation. She was going to raise this cadre into lurking and slyness until she could. No head would turn to them. They would be silent and completely inconspicuous.
Remus had written back to her. He said the order wasn't active for now, but he felt tensions brewing since the world cup. She wrote back.
VOLDEMORT IS HERE. HE'S GOING TO MAKE HIS RETURN SOMETIME THIS YEAR. ALREADY IN POSITION.
Her notes were without name, and her owl was trusted to deliver every note, even under observation. The pitch-black owl was trained to escape Mala and Seamus, and deliver those letters she longed for her friends and Draco.
She needed to be with two eyes open this year. Something was going to happen. She'd heard Lucius speaking about it in his study.
Event at Hogwarts. Tasks. Champions. Schools.
That same day she ventured into the Malfoy library finding records, hogwarts history books or wizarding competitions.
She had found it.
The tri-wizard tournament. One that involved three schools. Hogwarts. Beauxbatons. Durmstrang. Three champions. Three tasks.
She rushed back into her room with the books.
How were death eater going to infiltrate this tournament? Would Voldemort even return for this?
It was too much uncertainty. Nevertheless, she wrote in her notebook. A knock came from the door and she turned, closing the books.
Draco sheepishly stared at her. Lately he gave her space. Space she needed to filter and rid her thoughts of him. Of her brewing feelings.
