— — — — — —
For the rest of the break, Tom just relaxed. No research, no training, just chilling.
And today was the girls' big outing.
After wandering around London's bustling Regent Street for half a day, Daphne grew tired and invited everyone back to her home to admire the Scottish Highland cattle she had raised.
Daphne had shown Gabrielle pictures of them at Hogwarts. Hearing they were very cute calves, Gabrielle immediately clamored to go back.
Seeing that, Fleur could only agree.
Truthfully, Fleur wasn't eager to visit the Greengrass family. It felt like conceding ground to Daphne.
...
When they arrived, Lady Greengrass had gone out to see Bones. Daphne summoned the house-elves, and soon a table full of lavish food appeared.
After eating her fill, Gabrielle patted her round little belly and chirped, "Sister Daphne, I want to see the calves!"
"Huh?" Daphne looked at her in confusion. "Didn't you already see them just now?"
The little girl blinked blankly. "When did I see them? Didn't we come back and go straight to eating?"
The young heiress pointed at the remains on the plates and said matter-of-factly, "You ate them. Didn't you just say the beef today was really good?"
Tom twitched at the corner of his mouth. Astoria covered her face helplessly. Fleur and Cassandra froze.
Gabrielle looked down at her plate, at the beef she had cleaned completely. Her lips trembled, then she burst into tears.
"Waaah! I ate Moo-Moo!"
"My Moo-Moo! Waaaaah, I'm sorry!"
The dining room instantly descended into chaos. Fleur and Daphne took turns coaxing Gabrielle, and only after exhausting every trick did they finally calm her down by promising she'd get to see the real calves tomorrow.
"It's all your fault!" Fleur shot Daphne a glare. "Of all things, you had to serve beef."
Daphne didn't think she'd done anything wrong. She jabbed back without backing down. "What was I supposed to do? Once they grow up they stop being cute. If we don't eat them, they'll just get old."
"That doesn't mean you had to say it out loud. Gabrielle's still little. Not everyone's as thick-skinned as you."
"Hey, you damn Veela. Who are you calling thick-skinned?"
"Silencio!"
Astoria couldn't stand it anymore. She cast a silencing charm on each of them, finally cutting off the argument. The youngest among them somehow radiated big-sister authority.
"Can you two stop fighting? It's the holidays. Can't we have a little peace? If anyone keeps arguing, I'll have Tom send you back to school."
Cassandra, who had been nervously watching the show, stared at Astoria with shining eyes, as if she'd discovered a rising… pillar to cling to.
...
..
New York—
Nowadays, Robert Graves has become a rather special figure within MACUSA. He held no official position, appearing only as an adviser and personal bodyguard beside Quahog.
On the surface he looked like a mere tool, but anyone perceptive could tell Quahog respected his opinions.
Combined with his former high status and his connections among many pure-blood families, Robert had quietly become an influential figure with no official title.
And today, Robert left Quahog without concern and returned alone to the Graves ancestral estate.
He wasn't worried about Quahog doing anything foolish outside his supervision. The man's real fear wasn't Robert, but the two looming shadows behind him, powerful enough to blot out the wizarding world.
"Sigh~"
Looking at the manor before him, now clearly more dilapidated than before, Robert's expression grew complicated. He stood still, as if afraid to step inside.
This was the first time he had "come home" since returning to America.
"…Why not go in and take a look?"
A hoarse, aged voice suddenly sounded behind him. "This is your home. What are you afraid of?"
Robert's heart jolted. He turned quickly. When he recognized the person, his expression became even more grave.
"Grandfather… I'd rather not walk in and die for no reason."
"Those clansmen, and my square-faced wife. You probably know better than I do how they died."
"..."
To this day, Robert still didn't know that the frenzy he fell into that night had been influenced by Tom's spell.
But what he did remember clearly was this: in a fit of overwhelming rage, he killed many people, but he absolutely did not slaughter every single family member in the manor.
In fact… the official death toll didn't even reach a quarter of those he himself had killed.
So where did the discrepancy come from?
More than once, in the dead of night, Robert had taken out the old newspapers from that time and read the blood-soaked accusations from the surviving members of his family.
Some of it, he admitted.
But the parts that weren't his doing… even if it cost him his life, he would never take the blame.
That was also one of the main reasons he returned to America.
He still didn't have a definite answer, but after eliminating all impossibilities, the most suspicious person, and the only one capable of it, was his dear grandfather.
Robert's muscles tightened. His mind sharpened. His wand slipped silently into his right hand behind his back, ready to strike at any moment.
"Robert, you committed unforgivable sins back then. Why are you turning around and blaming me?"
Percival sighed softly. He didn't seem to intend to fight, yet his words sent a chill down Robert's spine.
"My child, I was only helping you clean up some… trouble. I also granted release to those severely injured children. Would you really have wanted them to live like cripples, shaming the Graves family?"
Robert took a deep breath. Complicated emotions churned in his chest. He was shocked… but not overly surprised.
Because he had long believed his grandfather had gone mad.
Not just him. His father, who died in melancholy, thought the same. He had even said something Robert still remembered vividly, "He's no longer your grandfather. He's a madman whose heart holds only Grindelwald, a lunatic blinded by revenge."
"My child, don't just stand there. Go home and take a look."
Percival hunched forward, his back slightly bent, looking no different from any frail old man in his twilight years. He slowly walked through the rusted iron gate, steps unhurried but steady.
After a moment's hesitation, Robert clenched his teeth and followed.
.
.
.