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   The next morning, after eating her breakfast and receiving her N.E.W.T. level schedule (Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Potions, Transfigurations: the core subjects), she separated from her friends as she headed towards the library and they left to the common room or their other classes.

   "I don't understand what you could possibly get done in the library," stated Sally-Anne. "I mean, you haven't even had your first class, what could you possibly need to work on?"

   "Just some other stuff," shrugged Anabelle, doing her best to sound nonchalant. So with a wave, she headed up the marble staircase and to the library. But upon entering, she had to admit that Sally had been right; she had no idea what to do.

   There were dozens of ways of murdering someone, Avada Kedavra obviously being the simplest. But then she would need to get Dumbledore into a position where she would be able to perform the curse, and would she even have the guts to do it? A more indirect method was of course preferred, but how could she possibly kill him indirectly. It wasn't exactly like the Hogwarts library had a book on how to kill one of the best wizards of all time and how to get away with it afterwards.

   Sighing, she threw her bag down onto a desk and dropped onto the chair next to it. Why did it have to be her? Draco had been chosen so that he could make up for Lucius's muck up, that much was obvious, but why her? She hadn't done anything, nor had her parents. Why couldn't it have been someone else? Like Pansy.

   An hour later, having accomplished nothing, Anabelle left the library toward her fist Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson with Snape. Sally-Anne, Millicent, Blaise, and Theodore were already there and she greeted them just as Draco and Pansy turned the corner, followed by wobbling Vincent and Gregory.

   The classroom door opened just as the four had reached them and Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black hair. Silence fell over the students immediately. "Inside," he said.

   Upon entering, Anabelle noticed that Snape had already imposed his personality upon the room. It was gloomier than usual, curtains had been drawn over the windows, and the room was instead lit by candlelight. New pictures were hanging on the walls, showing people who appeared to be in pain, had grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts. Nobody spoke as they settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures.

   "I have not asked you to take out your books," said Snape, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk. A few student, including Hermione Granger, hastily shoved their copies of Confronting the Faceless back into their bags. "I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention. You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe." His dark eyes scanned over the students who had made it to N.E.W.T. level. "Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion, I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be much more advanced."

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