Grandfather retired.
After dividing what he called the Rowle family’s last remaining assets, James became a constant presence around the castle.
John and the others, meanwhile, disappeared again.
Apparently, they had gone off to “work.” David didn’t believe that for a second.
He knew the Golden Galleon Poaching Crew better than most people knew their own families.
And he knew one deeply embarrassing secret about those notorious international criminals.
They were poor.
Very poor.
Which, when you thought about it, made perfect sense.
Why else would anyone willingly fight some of the most dangerous magical creatures in the world?
It wasn’t as though John and his crew made their living chasing Mooncalves, Fwoopers, or Salamanders.
Any competent adult wizard could capture creatures like those.
More importantly, there was hardly any profit in poaching them.
Magical farms could produce most of the useful materials in bulk without anyone risking dismemberment.
No.
The Golden Galleon crew specialised in creatures people had very good reasons to stay away from.
And strangely enough, that wasn’t even the main reason so many Ministries wanted them arrested.
In fact, local Ministries were often quite happy when John and his family removed a dangerous creature from their territory.
The problem came afterwards.
Because John rarely kept the creature.
He transported it somewhere else.
At which point the dangerous magical creature was no longer their problem— it was somebody else’s.
Unsurprisingly, most countries didn’t appreciate people importing dragons, trolls, and other lethal beasts across their borders.
So John and the others were banned.
Then hunted.
Then wanted internationally.
What should have been a quiet, secretive, extremely dangerous profession had somehow become celebrity work under their management.
Among professional poachers and the darker corners of the wizarding world, the Golden Galleon crew were practically a running joke.
The truth was painfully simple.
When John and the others entered the business, they hadn’t known any of the rules.
They had known only one thing: They needed money.
Their original business plan had essentially consisted of carrying a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them as a guide to getting rich— and using each Ministry’s list of dangerous magical creatures as a list of targets.
They hadn’t even known where the local Department of Magical Law Enforcement was located.
Nor had they cared how unpleasant the local wizarding prisons might be.
They had taken the title Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them rather too literally.
Wherever the fantastic beasts were— that was where they went.
Fortunately, John’s duelling ability was absurdly strong, and the family worked together with near-perfect coordination.
Not one of them had ever actually been caught.
Unfortunately, once they became famous, earning money became considerably harder.
Their reputation grew.
Their influence in certain circles grew.
Their bank accounts did not.
Poor was still poor.
If Mary and Susan hadn’t been careful with money over the years, the family might not even have had enough capital to open their new shops without borrowing from James.
Living at the castle also gave David time to piece together more of his family’s history.
When he was three, John had fallen out badly with James over something no one seemed eager to explain.
John had taken Mary and David and left Britain.
David’s grandmother, Lida, had misunderstood what happened and blamed Mary, believing that leaving had been her idea.
Though, to be fair, Mary and James had clashed over things as well.
Especially David’s education.
James had actually visited them when David was six.
After seeing how his grandson was living, he had suggested bringing David back to Britain.
Mary had refused.
Firmly.
She insisted that David receive a proper Muggle primary education because, in her opinion, wizarding families were absolutely dreadful at educating children before Hogwarts age.
James, naturally, had considered sending a magical child to a Muggle school an outrageous waste of time.
Muggles couldn’t possibly educate his grandson properly.
He could teach David himself.
Mary had ignored him.
James had apparently argued that if a wizarding child wasn’t educated properly, the poor thing might fail to get into a magical school and be forced to attend Oxford or Cambridge instead.
A tragedy beyond imagination.
Mary had always been strong-willed, particularly when it came to her son’s upbringing.
That independence was another reason Lida had never liked her.
Mary worried that John’s lifestyle would already have enough influence on David.
The last thing she wanted was James’s disdain for Muggles shaping him as well.
So David completed primary school in the Muggle world.
Perhaps that was why Mary felt guilty now.
She had protected his upbringing, but in doing so, she had also kept him from spending much time with his grandparents.
For a while, the distance between them had become emotional as well as geographical.
But David had never truly been uncomfortable around James.
The two of them got along surprisingly well.
And now that James was retired, grandfather and grandson had far more opportunities to spend time together.
They were slowly getting to know each other properly.
“What did you used to do?” David was dressed in hunting clothes, a shotgun resting across one arm as he followed James up the hillside.
“Were you Minister for Magic?” Two hunting dogs—a black one and a white one—ranged ahead of them through the undergrowth.
James wasn’t particularly old.
At the very least, his beard was still black.
“Oh, no.” He glanced back at David with a smile.
“Never Minister for Magic.” “That’s a dangerous and remarkably foolish profession.” David hesitated.
“But…” “Charles’s ancestor said our family had a Minister too.” James gave him an amused look.
“Why do you say it like that?” “You sound as though you’re about to tell me the man was a criminal.” He considered it for a moment.
“Though, admittedly…” James nodded slowly.
“Damocles Rowle did make some very foolish decisions.” Then he added seriously, “You should understand something, David.” “There has never been a Minister for Magic who wasn’t foolish in one way or another.” “So we really can’t blame him entirely.” David stared at his grandfather.
James seemed perfectly sincere.
“What about you, then?” David adjusted the shotgun in his hands.
“Were you a shopkeeper?” “Not exactly.” James continued walking.
“Barclay always arranged the staff who managed our shop in Knockturn Alley, and we leased out the Diagon Alley property.” He stepped over a fallen branch.
“I’m an alchemist.” “And a naturalist.” “I used to make little things here and there.” James looked down over the countryside.
“But I’m completely retired now.” For perhaps the first time since David had returned, his grandfather looked genuinely relaxed.
“I finally have time to enjoy myself.” “Alchemy?” David examined the gun in his hands.
“You mean brewing magical potions?” James smiled.
“That discussion will take considerably longer than we have today.” He raised a pair of binoculars and searched the hillside ahead.
“Don’t forget why we came out here.” David followed his gaze.
James lowered his voice.
“Nogtails.” “Mr Higgs, are you certain there are Nogtails here?” “Have some patience, young man.” Betty Higgs held his wand ready as he searched the surrounding brush.
Then he glanced towards the boy accompanying him.
“You attend Hogwarts, don’t you, Mr McLaggen?” “Yes, sir.” Cormac McLaggen tightened his grip on his wand.
“First year.
I’ll be starting second year this autumn.” He began nervously copying Higgs, swinging his gaze from side to side as though a Nogtail might leap from the bushes at any moment and sink its teeth into his backside.
Higgs noticed and almost smiled.
“I hear Hogwarts will be replacing its Defence Against the Dark Arts professor again.” He clicked his tongue.
“My condolences, boy.” Cormac grinned.
“It doesn’t really matter.” “It’s not as though we’ll ever have to face an actual werewolf.” Higgs’s smile faded slightly.
“I wouldn’t be so certain of that, Mr McLaggen.” He narrowed his eyes and gestured with his wand towards the castle visible on the hill opposite them.
“There are plenty of werewolves living over there.” Cormac followed his gaze.
Higgs’s mouth curled.
“And one man in particular who’s practically become their spokesman.” “Higgs.” A sharp warning came from behind them.
Tiberius, who had been following a short distance back, frowned.
“Watch what you say.” “That man still holds a seat in the wizarding confederation.” Then he turned immediately towards his nephew.
“Cormac.” The boy straightened.
“You will not repeat a word of this conversation to anyone.” Cormac swallowed.
“Yes, Uncle.” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS SYSTEMATIC_MANIAC Enjoying the novel?
Add it to your Collection so you never miss a new chapter.
Add to Collection.
Send your Power Stones.
Keep reading.