“Hmm…” David pinched the flesh of his cheek and gave it a little shake.
How exactly does he think I’ve lost weight?
“This is Bella, David.” As David turned to help his mother down from the carriage, a familiar voice came from behind him.
His eyes lit up.
“Grandfather!” David spun around and threw his arms around an elderly gentleman with a neatly trimmed black beard.
James Rowle hugged his grandson back.
“How have you been?” “Fine.
Completely fine.” James patted him on the back with more emotion than his calm voice suggested.
Then he looked towards Mary, his eldest son’s wife.
“Welcome home, my dear.” “Thank you, Dad.” Mary pressed her lips together.
Her eyes were already glistening, and for a moment she seemed unable to find the right words.
James appeared to understand perfectly.
He gave David’s hand an affectionate pat, then gestured towards the house-elf beside them.
“This is Bella.
You’ve met him before.
He came with me when I visited you in France—you were nine at the time.” “I remember.” David smiled at the house-elf.
“Bella.
I especially remember the flower-shaped teacups in the dining room.” Bella’s enormous eyes somehow widened even further.
“Oh!
Oh, my goodness!” “Young Master Rowle remembers Bella!” The house-elf began hopping excitedly in place.
Apparently the excitement became too much, because he suddenly toppled forward— and vanished with a soft pop.
David blinked.
James chuckled.
“He’s delighted.
And a little shy.” He led them towards the castle.
“We also have Coco, Dora, and several others.
You probably won’t see them very often.
They tend to keep out of sight.” “That’s rather impressive.” David glanced at his grandfather.
“Seven house-elves living in one castle.
It reminds me of a certain fairy tale.” James smiled.
“Ah.
Yes, I believe I know the one.” Then he gave David a meaningful look.
“But I should correct one thing.” He gestured towards the vast estate around them.
“This isn’t merely my home, David.” “It’s yours as well.” David glanced at Mary before looking back at his grandfather.
“You never told me you lived somewhere like this.” His eyes swept across the grand entrance hall.
“Are you… nobility?” Mary immediately placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Dad.
David doesn’t—” “There’s nothing to apologise for.” James gently interrupted her.
He motioned towards the entrance hall and began leading them deeper into the castle.
“Seeing David now, I finally understand why you made the choices you did back then.” He looked over his shoulder at Mary.
His expression was serious.
“You were right.” Mary faltered.
James continued.
“You’ve raised him well.” “Thank you, Dad.” Her voice softened.
“But I still feel that I owe you an apology.” They passed through the entrance hall, crossed beneath an enormous domed chamber, and entered a sitting room on the left.
Hot tea had already been prepared on the table.
The house-elves, David had to admit, were efficient.
“Sit down.
You must both be exhausted.” James took one sofa and gestured towards another.
David sat beside his mother.
His gaze wandered around the room.
The place genuinely looked like one of those aristocratic castles from television.
Even the empty picture frames hanging on the walls were gilded.
David had been born into a wizarding family, but he had spent almost his entire childhood living among Muggles.
The grandest places he had ever called home were Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.
Compared with that life, this was difficult to process.
Everything had changed far too quickly.
Mary wrapped both hands around her teacup.
“I’m sorry, Dad.
When Mum passed away…” “That’s enough.” James raised a hand.
“You’ve apologised more than enough today.” His gaze shifted towards one of the empty portraits on the wall.
“Lida’s death was sudden even for me.” He paused.
Then sighed.
“Of course, you already know she never truly liked you.” A trace of helplessness entered his voice.
“Even now.” Mary lowered her gaze to the tea.
“I understand.” “It was my fault.” “If John and I had stayed in Britain back then, perhaps none of this would have happened.” “No.” James leaned back, folding his hands over his stomach.
“Perhaps leaving was the correct decision.” He looked thoughtful.
“At the very least, I lived long enough to see John finally grow into a man capable of surviving on his own.” David’s expression twitched slightly.
His grandfather had an interesting definition of maturity.
International fugitive.
Leader of a poaching crew.
Wanted across half of Europe.
Apparently that counted.
James went on.
“You needn’t blame yourself.” “Lida eventually came to accept it too.” His voice became quieter.
“The night John suddenly returned, she passed peacefully.” “She no longer complained about you stealing away her son.” A faint smile appeared on his face.
“Or taking her grandson with you.” Mary’s fingers tightened slightly around her cup.
James then looked towards David.
“And as for the way you raised David…” His expression warmed.
“I’m very pleased.” “He is the future of the Rowle family.” David sat quietly.
He understood the words individually.
The meaning behind them was another matter.
James suddenly clapped his hands lightly.
“That’s enough gloomy conversation.” He pointed towards the grandfather clock in the corner.
“You two must be starving.” “The dining room is already prepared.
Go and eat.” David looked at his grandfather.
Then at his mother.
He still had no idea what they had really been talking about.
He barely remembered his grandmother.
As far as he knew, he hadn’t seen her at all since he was old enough to form clear memories.
Whatever conflict had existed inside the Rowle family had happened long before he was old enough to understand it.
David followed Mary out of the sitting room.
At the doorway, however, something made him glance back.
One of the supposedly empty portraits was no longer empty.
An elderly woman stood inside the gilded frame.
Half-hidden near the edge.
Watching him.
David stopped.
The woman immediately disappeared from view.
He stared at the frame for a moment.
Interesting.
Aristocratic life was boring.
Truly, painfully boring.
Every morning, David woke up in a bed large enough for five people.
His clothes were prepared for him.
His meals appeared without him lifting a finger.
Anything he needed could be summoned by a house-elf.
After a few days, David had already begun to feel that this luxurious lifestyle was turning him into a useless parasite.
The castle was enormous.
The estate was even larger.
And because there was so much space, everything somehow felt emptier.
Quieter.
Lonelier.
Sometimes David could walk through entire wings without seeing another living person.
Mary had left the day after bringing him home.
She had gone back to help Aunt Susan with the new shop in Diagon Alley—the bustling magical street David had entered through the shabby little pub after arriving in Britain.
His grandfather occasionally joined him for breakfast.
After that?
David might not see him again for the rest of the day.
A full week passed.
By then, David had explored nearly every room, staircase, corridor, and attic he could find.
And finally— he encountered actual living human beings.
David leaned against the doorway.
“I was beginning to think the next time I’d see you would be when Mum took me to visit you in prison.” “Don’t be so vicious, David.” John Rowle removed his top hat and casually handed it to a house-elf that appeared beside him.
“You should have more faith in your father’s abilities.” David looked at the elf.
Not Bella.
Maybe Coco.
Or Dora.
He still hadn’t managed to tell them apart.
They all looked practically identical to him.
Yule walked in behind John and winked.
“So, Young Master.
How are you enjoying the aristocratic life?” “Underwhelming.” David shook his head.
“It’s far too quiet here.” He bumped fists with his uncle-by-marriage, Charles Foley, then turned back to Yule.
“And if I’m the Young Master, shouldn’t that make you a Young Master too?” He narrowed his eyes.
“So stop mocking me.” “Once upon a time, perhaps.” Yule looked around at the familiar castle interior.
For once, his usual joking expression faded slightly.
David studied him.
Yule was always immaculately dressed—tailored suits, polished shoes, even his beard trimmed with obsessive precision.
Looking at his father, his uncle, and the others standing in this castle, something finally clicked.
That peculiar air they all carried.
His mother’s insistence on proper posture, table manners, speech, and etiquette.
It hadn’t come from nowhere.
It was inherited.
Charles suddenly stopped.
His eyes fixed on the crowded portraits covering one wall.
He pointed.
“Why is he here?” The question was directed at Barclay, who stood a short distance behind them.
Before the steward could answer, a furious voice thundered from the portrait.
“I CAME HERE TO SEE YOU!” An elderly wizard inside the frame jabbed a finger furiously towards Charles.
“You disgraceful descendant!” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS SYSTEMATIC_MANIAC Enjoying the novel?
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