"Mrs. Malfoy—"
Moriarty's voice sounded, pulling Lilith back to reality. Was Moriarty about to begin the next round of training?
Lilith looked on with interest and saw Moriarty take the staff from Narcissa's hand, place it against her forehead, and lightly stroke it, separating two strands of her blond hair.
"You said, as long as I protect you and your son, the Malfoy family is willing to give anything—everything. Is that right?"
Moriarty repeated Narcissa's earlier promise, each word striking Narcissa's heart like a small hammer.
"Yes," she lifted her head, her voice steady. "Yes, Mr. Moriarty. As long as you can protect the Malfoy family, I will do anything! Anything you ask of me."
Narcissa repeated her earlier plea, though now she seemed more rational, the tears gone.
"You? What can you do for me?" Moriarty asked with a playful smile. He stretched out his other hand and gently stroked Narcissa's face.
Her skin was dazzlingly pale, silky, warm to the touch. Moriarty lightly squeezed her cheek—it felt very good.
Lilith's eyes widened in disbelief. A voice inside her screamed: Moriarty, stop!
Did he…?
Lilith clenched her fists tightly.
Narcissa, too, shuddered violently at the sensation of Moriarty's touch. Her eyes widened in horror and fury, and her hand twitched toward the wand hidden under her robe.
But then her struggle faded. The emotion drained from her gaze, leaving it stagnant and lifeless. Narcissa lowered her head in resignation.
Seeing this, Moriarty withdrew his hand, the faint scent of her lingering on his fingertips.
"Hand over the wand," he ordered coldly.
Lifelessly, Narcissa pulled out her wand and threw it on the ground.
"The wand is flying."
Moriarty caught the wand with a flick of his own and examined it.
"Black walnut, twelve inches, with a silver-black and gold handle. Delicate, luxurious, beautiful."
He twirled it lightly in front of Narcissa's eyes. "I think it's fitting to use this to avenge your husband. I wonder how powerful it is. What do you think, Mrs. Malfoy?"
A spark lit up in Narcissa's eyes. "You want to avenge Lucius?"
"Otherwise, do you think we were mobilized just because of a howler?" Moriarty said casually, playing with the wand. "Don't thank me. Avenging Lucius is the same as upholding pure-blood honor in England."
Narcissa gasped. "You planned all of this? Do you want to become the third Dark Lord?"
"A foolish idea, Mrs. Malfoy. Don't mistake me for a common pervert." Moriarty pressed Narcissa's golden head down with her own wand. "Now, have you thought about it? Besides beauty, what else can you offer me? Or perhaps… should I ask what your son can offer?"
"You are not allowed to touch my son!"
Narcissa suddenly understood: Moriarty's target was never her—it was Draco.
Like an angry lioness, she sprang up from the carpet, hands flying to her robe—but remembered that her wand was gone. She could only point her fingers viciously at Moriarty.
The whole outburst lasted less than two seconds. Lilith saw it all clearly.
Is this furious woman the same pitiful figure who just knelt a moment ago?
The smile on Moriarty's face grew wider. He had found Narcissa's weakness. She could endure any humiliation herself—but when it came to Draco, she became fierce and desperate.
Narcissa's shoulders trembled slightly, her eyes filled with terror as she stared at Moriarty.
"What do you want Draco to do?"
"He'll know in time. Trust me," Moriarty said seriously. "It's too early now. But sooner or later, he'll take up your wand and walk the path I lay for him."
Moriarty's voice was low and calm.
He already had Lockhart, the star, and Flint, the pure-blood representative. What he lacked was a civilian wizard figure.
Dumbledore had placed his hopes on the famous savior.
Moriarty, however, never intended to choose Harry Potter. He merely promised Dumbledore he would offer Harry some guidance at Hogwarts.
Now he had a new candidate—Draco Malfoy.
Whether Narcissa agreed or not didn't matter. She had no power to resist.
Narcissa realized this bitterly. Just one meeting, and her fate—and her son's—was swept away like a dandelion caught in the wind.
At this moment, she heard Moriarty's next order:
"Mrs. Malfoy, I need you to do something for me first. Ask your house-elf Dobby for the full address of the Marquis of Judea."
Narcissa looked at Moriarty with sadness. Though the situation was humiliating, at least Moriarty's protection offered her some hope—a rainbow after the storm, perhaps.
"I am willing to serve you, sir," she said softly. Then, gathering herself, she put on the air of a true Malfoy matron and shouted, "Dobby! Dobby! Come here!"
The ugly house-elf popped into the room with a loud pop.
Startled, Narcissa snapped, "You always do that! Punish yourself!"
With a moan, Dobby slammed his head into the wall.
Moriarty watched with amused applause. "They say every Black has a unique way of disciplining their house-elves."
Narcissa managed a strained smile. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Moriarty chuckled and waved his hand. "Enough. Ask him."
Lilith felt sick seeing Moriarty and Narcissa exchange smiles—sincere or not, they smiled!
She turned her gaze to Dobby, who was hurting himself, and her nausea faded a little.
Narcissa ordered Dobby to stop and speak properly. Dobby shot her a resentful look but obeyed.
He stammered, "Mistress… mistress asked me to serve coffee two nights ago… I heard them say the Jewish fortress is on the Isle of Yves, in Marseille, France. There's a castle there—the Château d'If…"
"The Château d'If?" Lilith cried. "That's a Muggle tourist attraction! No one knows a vampire marquis lives there!"
Narcissa slumped against the sofa, covering her mouth with her hand, sobbing softly.
Lilith, feeling a flicker of sympathy for Narcissa, turned to Moriarty. "Are you going to act?"
Moriarty nodded. "It's still early. I might even catch dinner in Marseille."
"Good," Lilith said solemnly. "Leave the wizards outside to me. With me here, they won't dare act rashly."
"Protect yourself," Moriarty said without hiding his concern even in front of Narcissa. "I'll leave you the Little King. If anything goes wrong, evacuate immediately."
"You underestimate me?"
Lilith wrinkled her nose playfully, a light tone in her voice.
Still, she felt a flutter of happiness at Moriarty's concern.
She showed off proudly. "How could a few rude, ignorant foreign wizards defeat me, the great Miss Lilith, who's a master of magical law? Mr. Moriarty, you're too funny. Keep your Little King for the orphans and widows."
Moriarty caught the faint emotion behind her teasing words and looked at her calmly.
Lilith looked away, feeling guilty. Then she straightened up, raising her chin, stepping gracefully like she was wearing the finest dress—very unlike the mischievous girl who had laughed at Narcissa earlier.
As she passed Moriarty, she said softly, "Let's split up."
"Split up," Moriarty agreed easily, walking side by side with her. "Good luck."
Lilith's lips moved slightly as she whispered, "I only wish you a safe return."
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