For the unfortunate Malfoy couple, recent times had been nothing short of overwhelming.
Faced with the drastic changes in the wizarding world, they had to tread carefully, each step feeling like walking on thin ice. Under the shadowy leadership and demands of the Dark Lord, their family fortune was draining away like water into a bottomless pit.
"The situation is extremely dire," Lucius said, his hair losing its usual luster as he reviewed the latest reports. "Ever since the Dark Lord's return, our expenses have never balanced. Whether it's the costs of regrouping the Death Eaters, accommodations, potions, magical artifacts, or the items he specifically requires... the costs keep rising, and the price we pay grows heavier."
He flipped through stacks of reports, the glaring red numbers stabbing at his eyes like fresh wounds. "Now everyone knows about Dumbledore's connection with Yu and the game consoles. From procurement to the final sales point, I've had to set up several intermediary channels in France, claiming the consoles originate there, just to prevent anyone from tracing the connection back to us and leaking it to the Dark Lord. This has significantly cut into our profits. But if the situation continues to worsen, for safety's sake, I might have to shut down many of our stores."
"At least we've hidden things well. No one can see through these layers of misdirection on the surface," Narcissa said softly, trying to mask her unease as she comforted her husband. "The Dark Lord... he has no choice but to trust us; otherwise, he would have no one left to use. And as for Dumbledore, he's a forgiving man. At the very least, we've provided him with some useful information while avoiding prying eyes. We still have room to maneuver, no matter who emerges victorious."
But Lucius's expression grew even graver. His already pale face turned as white as parchment, his brows furrowing deeply. "What worries me more is that we can't gain the trust of either side."
He slowly unfolded letters sent by Goyle Sr. and Crabbe Sr., his fellow Death Eaters and old friends. "We claimed to have joined the Death Eaters under duress, escaping imprisonment in Azkaban... but the Dark Lord has long harbored doubts about our loyalty." He pondered, a chilling sensation creeping up his spine. "Goyle and Crabbe are trying to regain his trust. Like rats in the gutter, they monitor our every move, reporting our disloyalty to him—it's the best way for them to reestablish themselves in his favor."
Narcissa drew a sharp breath, falling silent.
Never before had the couple so clearly realized that they were standing on the edge of a crumbling wall, a light breeze away from being toppled along with it.
"Even if we fail to hold out in the end... Draco will still be safe," Narcissa murmured, her voice so low it was almost to herself. "He's at school... with so many professors watching over him... and Yu. Dumbledore would never send her to her death. With the care she shows Draco, he should be fine..."
But mentioning their son only darkened Lucius's already grim expression, especially with the flood of letters demanding money. If not for safety concerns, he would have dragged Draco home for a stern "educational session."
"I can only hope he's focusing on his studies at school instead of this so-called 'serving the students' nonsense." His voice carried a simmering anger, a mix of frustration and love for his son. "Since his first year, he hasn't even been able to outperform Muggle-born students. And now, during the critical O.W.L. exams, he's going on about 'entrepreneurial practice.' I just hope he can get his priorities straight and deliver a satisfactory report card..."
Even Narcissa, who doted on her son, couldn't maintain a pleasant demeanor in the face of one letter after another demanding urgent financial assistance. "That child—sigh—on the bright side, perhaps he's just trying to ease our burdens. After all, he'll inherit the family estate one day."
Lucius let out a cold "hmph" through his nose, his already foul mood growing darker. "We once had a considerate, well-behaved son. And now? He treats the family fortune like dirt, tossing Galleons around like confetti at a celebration. I'm genuinely worried he'll squander our entire estate in the future."
Despite their dissatisfaction with their son's actions, Narcissa's maternal instincts led her to turn a blind eye to Draco's "generous" behavior. Unable to bear it, she sent him half a bag of Galleons along with a Howler, hoping to alleviate his immediate troubles.
"I've already warned him," she said, her beautiful face clouded with worry. "I didn't want to do it, but I had no choice... How humiliating it must be for Draco? I just hope he learns his lesson. I want to give him another chance..."
Seeing his wife's sorrowful expression, Lucius softened his stance, choosing to redirect his anger elsewhere. "Ever since Umbridge got involved with Draco, he's been a different person. The punishment she received was far too lenient; she should've been sent to Azkaban to experience the Dementors' kiss."
At this point, their anger, gradually extinguished by their love for their son, should have drawn the matter to a close. But unfortunately—
An eagle owl swooped through the window, dropping a letter from Draco onto the table.
As if it were some dreadful virus, Narcissa hesitated for a long time before tremblingly picking it up. The letter, though filled with her son's whining and wheedling, had a single core message that continued the theme of his previous dozen letters:
More money.
Even more money.
Money regardless of his parents' struggles.
This behavior, teetering on the edge of self-destruction and dancing around their bottom line, left the couple seeing stars.
Under normal circumstances, they might have indulged their son endlessly, at most scolding him lightly before letting it go. But during a time when the family was sliding towards financial ruin, Draco's carefree letters became the final straw that broke the camel's back.
"How unfortunate. It seems the last Howler wasn't enough to teach him a lesson. Instead, it made him think our tolerance has no limits."
If their son had been present, Lucius might have immediately demonstrated a self-taught method of "parenting with a stick."
"I think the ropes I saw at Borgin and Burkes last time are worth buying... and the gates of our manor could use some human-shaped decorations. What do you think?"
Faced with their son's absurd behavior, Narcissa rolled her eyes in exasperation, feeling besieged both inside and out. This rising anger hardened her resolve. "I agree."
But her innate maternal instinct allowed her to relent slightly. "For safety's sake, we shouldn't bring him home. But I think the towers of Hogwarts could also use some... human-shaped decorations."
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