“Narcissa! What a pleasant surprise to see you!”

This was Countess Alva Castle, and her tones dripped honey in a very fake way as Charlie, the Castles’ house-elf, led the platinum-haired Black into the living room.

Narcissa did not bother to force herself to smile. “I’ve come here to meet Andra, Alva,” she said, head held high and tones haughty. She was one of the few people who refused to add the word "Countess" before Alva's name, and was proud of herself for it. “She wanted to shop for a dress,” she added, in her most sickly sweet way. “Her dress for the ball, I think.”

Alva Castle beamed at Narcissa. The snitch, this time round, was clearly in her court. “My dear, you must be mistaken! Andra bought her dress ages ago,” she said, with special emphasis on the “ages.” “Not to mention that she left with Victoria an hour ago. They have a special dinner to attend.”

THAT ANDRA! Narcissa was seething now, her face resembling a suddenly deflated balloon. Andra had planned all this, Narcissa was sure, to humiliate this. If only she had listened to Bellatrix –

“But I’m sure she will be back within three to four hours,” Alva Castle was now saying sweetly. “If you would like to stay until she comes back, Charlie will guide you to the drawing room and give you company. Have a nice day, Narcissa.”

The Countess turned and left the room. Behind her, Narcissa’s wand was clenched so tightly in anger, green sparks shot out of its tip.