The following day, Lucius Malfoy heard through the Ministry of Magic's "special channels" that they were about to send Dementors to guard Hogwarts. This caused him to grumble at the breakfast table.
"They are insane!" He frowned in disgust. "So many children at Hogwarts are completely defenceless against Dementors. Are they sending Dementors there to catch criminals or to throw a party for those filthy creatures?"
Narcissa's composed facade crumbled at his complaints, and her expression darkened.
"Even if you sent all the Dementors from Azkaban, you could not catch Peter Pettigrew. He has already escaped once. The Ministry of Magic is wasting its time," she sighed.
"You cannot say that, what if we just stumble upon a lucky one…" Lucius said, "but I still do not approve of letting Dementors get too close to the school."
Narcissa remained silent. She had not told her husband about her trip to the Black family's old house yesterday, nor had she mentioned that Animagi could evade Dementors. She knew her husband had always hated her cousin and looked down on this pure-blood traitor.
If Lucius knew she had been dealing with Sirius Black, or even made a deal with him, he would probably nag her about the potential risks involved; but she had no time for his ramblings, she was too busy!
"Cissy, is this not a bit too much?" After dinner, Lucius, who was leading the two deerhounds on a patrol of the manor, looked at the house-elves who were working enthusiastically—they were busy reinforcing and raising the manor's walls—and asked in surprise, "Were the statues and lamps on the walls not your carefully designed works? Were you not very proud of them? And now you are just smashing them like that?"
"If Peter Pettigrew's Animagus had turned into an elephant or a wild boar or something, the target would be more obvious," Narcissa expressed her concern to her husband. "But he has turned into a mouse! He could appear anywhere, at any time."
"All right," the usually decisive head of the Malfoy family waved his hand dismissively at his worried wife, "Change it as you see fit, as long as you feel safe."
"Let us get started," she said coldly, crossing her arms as she watched the little elves work, her posture resembling that of a ruthless queen who could burn her opponents at will.
Narcissa had become somewhat neurotic ever since she learnt from Sirius Black how Peter Pettigrew escaped the Dementors.
On the one hand, she had given up all hope that the Dementors would catch the filthy rat; on the other hand, she was worried that Peter Pettigrew would use the same method to sneak into Malfoy Manor unnoticed and harm her precious son.
Therefore, this neurotic mother completely renovated Malfoy Manor. More detection and shielding magic was cast around the manor, preventing even a mosquito from getting in.
In fact, since that visit to Harry, Draco had not been allowed to step out of Malfoy Manor again—Narcissa always felt it was unsafe to go out.
Narcissa's neuroticism also caused some secondary damage:
Draco's beloved eagle owl, Joan, had also entered a period of career stagnation—she had not gone out to deliver post in a long time.
One morning in mid-August, Draco, sweating profusely, returned from Quidditch practice with his Nimbus 2001. Passing the owl pen, he found Joan listlessly plucking her own feathers with her beak. Clearly, the series of changes at Malfoy Manor had made her anxious, and the lack of post made her think she was unemployed.
"Merlin, Joan, do not be like this," he pleaded with her. "I still like you very much; you have not fallen out of favour. You have always been my favourite owl. It is not your fault; I just have not had any letters for you to deliver."
Joan let out a pitiful cry and looked at him with her mournful brown eyes.
He fed her some owl food. "Eat some, do not be sad. Hang in there for a few more days..."
Joan glared at him angrily, buried her head under her wing, and resolved to ignore her little master.
"Mum, my owl is going to get depressed." Draco could not help but say to his mother at the breakfast table that day. "She needs to work every now and then."
Narcissa did not care about the life or death of an owl; nothing was more important than the safety of her precious son: "Draco, do not let your guard down. The enemy can find your location through owls."
"But, Mother, you cannot protect me for ever. I will be going back to Hogwarts soon, and school starts in two weeks." His grey eyes looked at his mother, not noticing the letter that rarely appeared at Malfoy Manor beside her—it bore the familiar Hogwarts seal.
Narcissa subtly moved the envelope closer to her plate, her blue eyes welling up with worry. "Draco, if you leave Malfoy Manor, no one can truly protect you, do you understand? You will face double risks: one from Peter Pettigrew, and the other from the Dementors."
"I understand. However, running away is useless. I want to become strong as soon as possible so that I can protect myself even when facing danger." Draco forced a smile at his mother.
"Draco, what do you mean?" Narcissa stared at her son and asked softly.
"No one can be sure if Peter Pettigrew will not come looking for me. What is certain is that the Dementors will come to Hogwarts—I want to learn the Patronus Charm." He had wanted to learn it for a long time in his previous life, but unfortunately, he never had the chance.
Once he was branded with the filthy mark of the Dark Lord, the Patronus became a delusion.
He had never seen a Death Eater conjure a Patronus—perhaps because bearing that mark inflicted a flaw on the soul. Those with incomplete souls were not qualified to conjure a Patronus.
God knew how much he envied others who could conjure up the appearance of guardian spirits.
"Of course." Narcissa's eyes lit up and she said quickly, "Patronus, that is definitely a good idea."
"Who will teach him?" Lucius unconsciously stroked his left arm. In that spot, hidden beneath the luxurious fabric, was a mark, the biggest obstacle to him casting the Patronus Charm.
"Me." Narcissa turned the handle of her wand, which was adorned with silver studs, and cast a silent Patronus Charm.
The two men at the dining table held their breath, watching the lady of the house unleash her exquisite magic.
A silver robin flew out from the tip of her wand.
"It is beautiful," Draco could not help but murmur, afraid that a louder voice would startle the bird. The robin circled them once, then slowly flew to the other side of the ceiling, disappearing like dust or mist.
"Speaking of which, are the Defence Against the Dark Arts professors at Hogwarts all brains filled with slugs? They do not even teach the Patronus Charm! Come to the dungeon this afternoon, I am going to give you some special training." After the Patronus Charm disappeared, Lucius took a sip of tea, cleared his throat, and said to his son with a stern face.
"Yes, Father." Draco nodded to him, a hint of doubt in his eyes.
"Hogwarts is getting worse every year! The textbooks are getting simpler every year, it is just a joke!" Lucius snorted. "There used to be some useful curse spells, but they have gradually disappeared from the classroom in recent years. I have no doubt that this is Dumbledore's doing. But I reckon that in the current situation, you need to know about them."
Even if he could not teach the Patronus Charm, Lucius still knew quite a few evil spells that he could use against that scoundrel Peter Pettigrew.
This was a fairly typical Lucius Malfoy-esque concern—he would never directly express his worries about his son, but would instead teach him a whole bunch of curses indirectly, awkwardly hiding his emotions under a stern face.