Then she saw a hated face, locked gazes with a cold, lifeless set of eyes. Black eyes, like a doll's eyes. And black hair ... long, ruler-straight, framing the skin of a face so pale that it was as if the entire spectrum of colour had been pulled from her very world. She glowered at Hermione with dark sarcasm, as if she'd been waiting for an age to be noticed by her, as she stalked ever closer. And, as that spark of recognition bloomed between them, she pointed directly at Hermione with a malicious grin ... her meaning undoubtedly clear ...