Rumoured to have descended from an illicit union between the Noble House of Black in the form of the notorious Elladora, who initiated the tradition of beheading house elves, and the Most Puissant House of Pur, in the form of Raffias Pur, that well known, if not necessarily well liked powerful merchant, Toujours Pur encapsulates the defining features of both families. The self assured narcissism of the Blacks combined with the ruthless drive and domineering spirit of the Purs. Entering into the ancient and illustrious Halls of the Academie de Magie de Beauxbatons at the age of ten, Toujours was not slow in capitalising on her ancestor's infamy. Upon hearing the rumours of her lineage, rumours it might be added, that Toujours was happy to encourage, albeit in thoroughly subtle and undetectable ways, the house elf population resident in the Chateau was naturally terrified of her very presence. To an elf, they feared that the young Miss Pur had inherited the penchant for elfish decapitation that so distinguished Elladora. Lesser students may have grumbled with resentment over this problem, worrying that they might struggle to find elves to do their chores. Or they may have partaken in low level sadist torture, revelling in the petty triumph of scaring menial creatures for no reward. But Toujours was quickly making a name for herself among the Masters of the Academie with her unusually quick thinking and resourcefulness, although the Masters may well have been less effusive in their praises had they but known to what end the talented young witch was turning her skills. Rather than waste time in futile peace offerings, or with petty vindictiveness, Toujours sought to combine the two with a subtle grace that would come to mark her relationships with fellow students. Some of the finest young wizards of the area found themselves falling over themselves in attempts to aid the young Miss Pur and yet always found themselves empty handed and bereft of her attentions. Perhaps more alarmingly, they would come out of it content with the situation. Given this what hope did the house elves stand when Toujours sought to pick their minds? It took a mixture of subtle, almost subliminal threats, with equal measures ruthless charm along with those dangerously ruinous violet eyes, which could seem to tear so easily with the apparent worry of failing, although this was never an option in truth. This, in tandem with the elves' guilt over ever having suspected her of being like Elladora, resulted in the elves being just like the local male population; tripping over themselves and almost fighting each other just to be the first to help Miss Pur. But it was not atonement for Elladora's actions that Toujours had in her sights, nor furthering of the family tradition. House elves, as far as the young Miss Pur's thinking went, were of absolutely no concern whatsoever. If they were useful, then they were to be used. If not? Why waste time on them? And, in the eyes if Toujours, these elves most certainly had the potential to be useful. Toujours was quick to realise, and indeed, found herself in a state of happy bemusement that so few others had spotted this, that the population of house elves had the run of the entire School. From the murk of the half submerged catacombs, where the Loire greedily lapped at the aged stone, all the way to the lofty pinnacled turrets from whence, on a clear day, it was rumoured that Paris itself was visible, such was their height. And throughout all of this, into every room, every passageway, every nook and every cranny, the elves had leave to travel. Over the countless years since La Regulation had given Beauxbatons its charter; its permission and duty to "Improve and illuminate the understanding of our young wizards and witches in the ways of magick", the Chateau in which the Academie resided had grown, steadily, as its student population swelled. Safe from the ravages of the Black Death as it rampaged across Europe, the magical community thrived and prospered. As various new rooms and wings were constructed, others fell into disuse, into memory. Some into myth, others into nothing. But the elves knew. Nobody had ever told them to stop their cleaning of the hidden rooms. It was precisely this knowledge into which Toujours had hoped to tap when first approaching. The approach Toujours took in order to extract the information she desired was so subtle that later, the elves themselves would be unaware that they'd even imparted it. Nothing was forced, nothing cajoled. It was all merely taking an interest. Something so few had deigned to do. Eventually, the elves had made mention of a 'book filled room' on the third floor of the Blois Wing. But, as Toujours knew, La Bibliotechque Magique occupied its own wing, as it had done for centuries. There was no library on that floor. No study either. In time, Toujours asked the elves if they might show her the location of this intriguing room. This was not something to be done bluntly, as the Beauxbatons elves were incredibly touchy regarding anyone joining them on their rounds of the school. Such things were not for the "young mademoiselles and monsieurs". The prospect of having a student accompanying them as they went about their duties was appalling. Sacred to them, but menial to their masters. But Toujours? Toujours cared for the Academie, its History. She cared for the elves. As long as they could be used for her gain that was. She cared not for the elves; only for their secrets. This mysterious promise of "a book filled room" turned out to be far more than Toujours could have imagined. The elves would only take her there in the middle of the night, much to her apparent annoyance. When queried as to why they had to go on that night, the elves just shrugged and told her "that's how the room works Mademoiselle Pur". Those who knew about the room could come and go as freely as they chose, but in order to initially gain access one had to be taken in by someone who already knew. And, to further the security, all this could only be done on the 29th of February. She would have to cancel being taken out for dinner, although, doubtless the young man would feel placated by her smiles and graceful apology and, in order to make up for foolishly having booked the table on a night when Toujours couldn't make, he would gladly give up the rare potion ingredients his Great Aunt had sent from Mongolia. Stepping from the Common room of the House of Capet, with a slight glance along the corridor, accompanied by a finger casually brushing a lock of hair from her face, Toujours swept away towards the place the elves had said to meet. Gliding silently, for the students were not supposed to be out at night, only the flickering of her candle gave away the hints of purple in her otherwise apparently pitch black cloak. Appearing on the designated corridor, seemingly deserted, with no sign of the elves, silently cursing the fact that she did not own a watch, only a slight flicker of panic danced across Toujours' face, or was it merely the flickering of the flame? Just as she was about to leave, with only a slight "harrumph" on her lips ready to escape, she spied the elf who had volunteered, most willingly, to escort her. Lurking in the shadows cast by the flaming torches that lined the corridor intermittently, Degout shuffled out, preceded by his rather characteristic proboscis. With only a slight flicker of the perfectly shaped eyebrow, Toujours pursed her lips and, with a soft breath, blew out her candle, turning to face the elf full on. "Well Degout? Where is this secret room?", she smiled, with all the appearance of warmth and conviviality. Raising her arms, she gestured to the seemingly blank walls about her. Nothing, not even tapestries adorned them. "I see nothing here?" "The Mademoiselle is right", wheezed the tiny elf, scratching his nose, before suddenly turning and scampering away down the corridor, pausing only to wave for Toujours to follow. Sighing and hitching her robes up slightly so as not to trail along the sandstone floor, Toujours followed after apace. Very quickly, and without being entirely sure how, Toujours found herself in a rather low ceiling, unfamiliar corridor, where Degout stopped and turned to face her finally. "Degout..where are we? I don't recognise this part of the Academy" The small elf merely grinned happily and raised a knobbly finger to point behind Toujours, who, on turning, let out a small gasp of surprise. The corridor behind them, the path they had taken was walled up totally; a blank wall in a cul-de-sac seemingly. Toujours whirled back and fixed the elf with a questioning gaze. Degout hopped from one foot onto the other, but not out of nervousness; as far as he was concerned, he was doing nothing wrong; but of excitement. "You're inside the first layer of the enchantment Mademoiselle", he squeaked excitedly. "Because I'm showing you where the room is, you can pass through the wall easily now". Toujours turned away and reached out a perfectly manicured hand to run it over the stone wall, the one that, if Degout was to be believed, she'd just walked through without realising. Keeping her hand on the stone, she glanced back over her shoulder, again that brow rising. "But, this is solid stone Degout. How can I simply walk through it?" "Look again Mademoiselle Pur, if it pleases you" Another gasp spilled from her lips as Toujours turned back to face the wall. Her hand, without her having noticed it, had slipped into the stone up to her wrist. Immediately, her reaction was to try and pull her hand back, but to no avail. Her head shot round to Degout once more, her eyes wide, frantic, hair spilling wildly across her face.