Before the time the second cupboard's creaking door closed, Narcissa stood alongside it, a ghost in black robes and frightfully wielded wand. Polished cedar glinted in the low light.
"You inconceivable creature," she hissed, glaring up at his not insubstantial height. She recognised him too late, a pale blue spark already wending its way to his bare forearm, bringing with it a jolt of electric pain. It was, at least, a mere warning shot. When she spoke again, a modicum of the venom had drained from her voice. "Yaxley you impertenent beast. You cannot be seen here." Her eyes narrowed to serpentine slits. So many questions to ask, so much she'd taken for granted now thoroughly up in the air. Azkaban...