Malfoy Manor, nestled in the countryside, seemed to have become a Secret Realm cut off from the world.
Brilliant sunlight poured freely over the land, shrouding the endless wilderness in a golden sea.
Yet Malfoy Manor remained steeped in a pale gray mist that refused to disperse.
This ominous mist carried a faint scent of death. Under its corrosive influence, even the branches and leaves of the plants once meticulously tended within the manor had sprouted nauseating black spots.
"Has the master risen?"
At the foot of the stairs leading to the top-floor terrace, the pale-faced Lucius Malfoy questioned his wife, who was carrying a breakfast tray and had just come down from above.
Narcissa nodded. She clasped her husband's slightly chilly hand.
"But he... the master seems to be in a bad mood. I don't know what happened. He hasn't left these past few days, has he?"
Malfoy understood that his wife was warning him to be careful. After giving her a reassuring look, he took a deep breath and stepped onto the stairs.
As he drew closer to the doorway flooded with light, Lucius's breathing gradually became disordered. As if sensing his chaotic thoughts, the golden serpent winding through his body, now resting over his heart, released threads of icy coldness.
Feeling that chill, the rhythm of Lucius's pounding heart gradually eased.
To be honest, Lucius had not expected that, after becoming Amosta Breen's spy, he would be able to conceal himself from the Dark Lord, a master of Legilimency, for so long.
Before resolving to do this, he had already prepared himself for the worst.
Lucius hoped that Breen, and Dumbledore, who stood on the same side as Breen, would protect Draco and Narcissa. At the very least, they had to do everything in their power to