'I'm sorry that you haven't enjoyed Everdale before,' Arcturus replied. 'But we shall change that! I expect you've only been in the wrong places. We'll take Cassiopeia's carpet and make a day-trip of it.' Confident that she'd appreciate it if given the right opportunity, he smiled enthusiastically.
'I've met Mr Malfoy,' he confirmed, 'although at the time I was quite unaware that you were married!' He hadn't thought to ask. 'If you recommend him as a tutor, then I'd be glad of it.' It would be a trifle inconvenient for Arcturus, being tutored by relatives, because it meant he couldn't resort to the kinds of magical pranks and clever cheats he'd tried on previous tutors and would have to behave properly instead. But in a situation where the alternative was a muggle tutor – or worse still, muggle school – he was very pleased with Narcissa's arrangement.
'Cassiopeia's home might be a good place,' he agreed. 'I know that she has a room set aside for experimenting with practical magic. Do you have a potions room here? I'll show you my textbook, with all the potions I need to learn to brew.' The young wizard paused, thinking for a second. No need to write out a long list when he had all his schoolbooks with him. 'Then I've got transfiguration, which is my very best subject, charms, and duelling. And then all the written examinations – astronomy, arithmancy, Latin, history and magical theory.' The Hogwarts curriculum in Arcturus' time leaned quite heavily towards theoretical, classroom-based teaching of magic, especially for the pureblood students.
At the question about the muggle technology, Arcturus froze, and looked back at Narcissa with apprehension in his eyes. The truth was, he rather liked it at times. The machines themselves might have been horrid and muggle, but he'd conversed with interesting people. Except that at home, admitting to using muggle technology, let alone approving of it, would have meant harsh punishment. His father was very clear that it was wrong, and would be letting the family down. So he didn't know how to answer Narcissa.
'The telephone network is dreadful,' he decided on. That was safe. 'Full of muggles and lying mudbloods. I don't look at it very much, you know. I know that by rights I shouldn't look at it at all, but I have to, in case there's ever news of more relatives of ours.' She couldn't very well accuse him of paying too much attention to the muggles without admitting that she was reading what they had to say, too.