“Oh, Merlin.
How incredibly rude!” Susan Rowle was still indignant about what Mary and David had gone through with the Ministry.
She fussed over them as she spoke, clearly taking the entire incident as a personal insult.
David, meanwhile, wasn’t particularly bothered by his aunt’s outrage.
Just like being pulled out of Durmstrang, none of this had really been his decision.
His attention drifted instead to the shop around them.
It had been almost completely cleared out.
David stared at the bare shelves.
Surely his family wasn’t planning to give up on his education altogether and put him to work early?
If that was the case… What should he sell?
While David was distracted, Mary lowered her voice.
“John and the others…” “This way.” Susan immediately cut her off.
She didn’t answer in front of David.
Instead, she took Mary by the arm and led her through a wooden door at the back of the shop.
“David, keep an eye on things for me.” David looked around.
At what?
The shop was practically empty.
There was nothing here worth stealing.
If anything, the most valuable thing in the entire room was probably the thirteen-year-old wizard standing in the middle of it.
So she wanted him to make sure he didn’t get stolen.
Right.
That made sense.
Once Mary and Susan disappeared through the back door, David wandered around for a while before giving up and standing by the front window.
Outside, the alley was still bustling.
He watched the passing witches and wizards and began thinking.
What if they turned this place into a magical creature shop?
Jobberknolls.
Mooncalves.
Fwoopers.
Kneazles.
Fire Crabs.
Demiguises.
Dragons… They could handle the entire business themselves—from acquisition to sale.
John and the others would never have to worry about finding buyers again.
On the surface, it sounded like a brilliant idea.
Unfortunately, it was also extremely illegal.
During his walk through the alley, David had seen shops selling owls and ordinary magical pets.
He had not seen a single shop openly selling dangerous magical creatures.
That absence probably didn’t mean nobody had thought of the idea.
More likely, somebody had thought of it long ago, attempted it, and discovered exactly how quickly the Ministry objected.
What looked like an opportunity from one angle often looked like a prison sentence from another.
David had no intention of being that kind of genius.
Still, if the shop were actually his— “David?
What are you thinking about?” He turned.
Mary and Susan had returned without him noticing.
Susan smiled and ruffled his hair.
“Are you hungry?” David wasn’t particularly fond of people touching his head.
Family, however, got a pass.
“I was wondering what I should sell here if I’m not allowed to go back to school.” Susan’s expression immediately softened.
“Oh, David…” She pulled him into a sympathetic hug.
“Don’t worry.
We would never let you end up starving on the streets.” She patted his shoulder, then gestured around the empty shop.
“Actually, John plans to open a pawnshop here.” David blinked.
Susan continued.
“And offer secured loans.” David went silent.
Of course.
That was exactly the sort of business his father would choose.
High margins.
Collateral.
Interest.
Why hadn’t David thought of it himself?
“Come on.” Mary picked up the luggage.
“I’m taking you to your grandfather’s.” David stood.
“Portkey?
Floo Powder?
Plane?” There was no enthusiasm whatsoever in his voice.
At this point, transportation had become something that happened to him.
Susan slipped an arm around his shoulders sympathetically.
“You poor thing.
After everything you’ve been through today, your grandfather must be beside himself with worry.” “None of those,” Mary said.
David looked at her.
That was almost concerning.
They said goodbye to Susan and left the shop.
Across from the cramped, lively alley stood a much broader and quieter stretch of road.
And waiting in the middle of it was a carriage.
A four-wheeled carriage, to be precise.
There were shafts at the front— but no horses.
The carriage itself looked ancient and elegant, like something that had been stolen directly from a museum.
A coachman in black robes stood beside it.
The moment he saw Mary and David approaching, he stepped forward.
“Madam.
Young Master.” David looked behind himself.
No one else was there.
Apparently, the Young Master was him.
“Thank you for coming, Barclay,” Mary said.
Then she turned to David.
“This is Mr Barclay, the manor’s steward.” David nodded politely.
“Hello, Mr Barclay.” As Barclay returned the greeting, David inspected the carriage.
He was having difficulty imagining this thing rolling through modern London without attracting every pair of eyes on the street.
“Allow me.” Barclay took Mary’s suitcase and secured it behind the carriage.
Mary led David inside.
The moment he stepped through the door, he paused.
The interior was far larger than the exterior had any right to permit.
The surprise lasted only a second.
An Undetectable Extension Charm.
Of course.
David sat down.
Barclay climbed onto the driver’s seat outside.
“Ready, madam?” He flicked the reins.
“Hyah!” David felt his stomach drop.
The sensation reminded him unpleasantly of an aeroplane during a steep take-off.
Then he looked through the window.
London was below them.
Far below.
The carriage was flying.
The narrow magical alley they had just left quickly vanished into the vast sprawl of the city until David could no longer distinguish where it had been.
And judging by the people walking below without so much as glancing upward, the carriage was invisible to Muggles.
David settled back into his seat.
Compared with his uncle’s Portkey, this was practically luxury travel.
Norfolk.
North of Great Yarmouth.
The straight-line distance from London was less than a hundred and fifty kilometres.
The carriage wasn’t particularly fast—not compared with an aeroplane—but that gave David plenty of time to watch the scenery below.
The coastal landscape was beautiful.
Norfolk was low and flat, broken up by rivers, lakes, protected countryside, and large stretches of royal land.
Mary pointed things out as they travelled.
David listened.
What he took away from the explanation had very little to do with geography.
Rich people really did live well.
Must be nice.
Wonderful, even.
David felt envy.
Jealousy.
Resentment.
And a mild desire to swear.
For as long as he could remember, his family’s finances had existed in a repeating cycle.
Comfortable.
Move house.
Nearly bankrupt.
Recover.
Move again.
Nearly bankrupt again.
Every relocation meant abandoning property, belongings, and anything too expensive or inconvenient to carry.
Even when they settled somewhere new, his parents rarely bought valuable furnishings.
There was always the possibility that they would need to disappear overnight.
Again.
So when the carriage passed over the coastal town and finally descended towards an enormous castle estate perched on elevated ground, David simply stared.
The front gates alone towered over the carriage.
To see the stone guardian beasts mounted above them, David had to tilt his head back.
The massive black iron gates swung open.
The carriage rolled through.
Beyond them stretched a broad stone drive lined with carefully maintained trees, flowers, and landscaped gardens.
David slowly turned towards his mother.
“Grandfather lives in a hotel?” “What?” Mary seemed distracted.
Nervous, even.
It took her a moment to process the question.
David pointed outside at the enormous estate.
“This isn’t a hotel?” “Oh.” Mary pressed her lips together.
“No.” Her voice trembled ever so slightly.
“No, David.” She lifted her chin.
“This is your home.” David stared at her.
Mary continued softly.
“Your grandfather’s home.” “My home?” David looked outside again.
Then back at his mother.
His mind filled with question marks.
As far as David had understood his place in the world, he was simply the son of the leader of an infamous poaching crew.
Family members and his father’s associates sometimes called him Young Master, but David had always assumed they were joking about John’s absurd collection of criminal titles.
What kind of young master spent his childhood moving from country to country with luggage permanently half-packed in case the Aurors arrived?
Had he somehow been living in the wrong story?
Breaking News: Fugitive Boy Discovers He’s Secretly an Aristocratic Heir?
The carriage finally stopped before the castle entrance.
At Mary’s gesture, David climbed out first.
He looked up.
Bloody hell.
The entrance hall was taller than the roof of one of their old houses.
The servants, however, were considerably shorter.
“Oh!
My goodness!” Something less than three feet tall suddenly appeared from nowhere.
“Master Rowle is home!” A house-elf with enormous bulb-like eyes hurried towards David.
It clasped its hands dramatically and stared up at him with an expression of deep sorrow.
“Young Master…” The house-elf looked him over from head to toe.
Then sighed.
“You’ve lost so much weight!” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS SYSTEMATIC_MANIAC Enjoying the novel?
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