The Wind and the Wings of Hogwarts

Scott chatted with the others for a few more minutes, and soon his cousins' five children curiously gathered around, chattering and asking him questions about Britain.

Perhaps because they knew the Hill family had moved to Spain from England, these little ones were very curious about England.

Scott patiently played with the five little ones, answering their endless questions along the way.

Scott finally breathed a sigh of relief when dinner began.

Ramiro added, "You're amazing. I couldn't spend that much time with these little guys, I'd go crazy."

"So they don't really like you." Adelina rolled her eyes gracefully.

After dinner, the relatives said their goodbyes and left, leaving only Scott and his family of three at home.

Emilia then pulled Scott aside to chat, seemingly wanting him to tell her every detail of his life at school.

Michael sat to the side listening to the mother and son's conversation.

But Scott always adhered to the principle of reporting good news and not bad news, and never went into details, as if he were just an ordinary little wizard.

Emilia listened to him with a smile, but as she listened, tears began to fall from her eyes.

“I’ve been so worried about you, my son,” she said, her voice choked with emotion. “I was always afraid that you would be bullied by those people, that you would get hurt, that something bad would happen to you…”

Scott quickly comforted her.

“You underestimate your son, Mother. At Hogwarts, no student can beat me except the professors.”

He deliberately spoke of these things in a comforting tone.

"Of course, I won't fight either. The professors at Hogwarts are all amazing wizards, and I'm too busy learning from them."

Emilia felt a little better after that.

Although Michael, who was sitting next to him, hadn't said a word, Scott knew from their eye contact that his father wasn't as easily fooled as his mother.

Sure enough, that night, after Amelia fell asleep, Michael knocked on Scott's door again.

"Is Mom asleep? I knew you'd come." Scott, still in his pajamas, wasn't asleep. "I've been waiting for you, Dad."

Michael nodded, and the father and son went to the spacious balcony outside Scott's room and sat on wicker chairs to chat.

“It seems you’ve been through a lot again, my son.” Michael lit a cigarette and took a puff.

Scott asked curiously, "How did you figure that out?"

“Of course I can tell,” Michael said. “As an antique dealer who started out as a smuggler, what kind of people haven’t I seen? Besides, you’re my son.”

“I think you shouldn’t talk about being a smuggler with such arrogance,” Scott joked.

Michael laughed. "This is the past of the Trolop family, son. You can't escape it."

“I didn’t run away,” Scott said helplessly.

“Alright, tell me what happened.” Michael reached out and ruffled Scott’s hair. “You can keep it from Millie, but you have to tell your father the truth. Only by knowing everything can I be prepared.”

Scott understood this perfectly well, and he had no intention of hiding it from Michael.

Although Michael doesn't understand magic, as he himself said, he has met many people and dealt with many strange and unsavory characters. In some things, he is much more experienced than Scott.

“Let’s start with what happened last summer,” Michael added.

Scott had no objection.

He recounted his experiences over the past year in great detail, leaving out not a single thing.

Michael listened patiently, occasionally pointing out parts that Scott hadn't done well.

And so they talked all night long, Scott recounting his rich experiences until just before dawn.

“Oh, my dear son, your experience has exceeded my expectations.”

Michael looked at Scott with a complicated expression, and his tone of voice was also somewhat complicated.

"I have to say, you're like the protagonist of a Hollywood fantasy adventure movie. All sorts of troubles always seem to find you automatically, and they even involve some vague ancient legends."

Scott shrugged. "Sometimes when I think about it, it feels a little unreal to me."

“Thankfully, you weren’t defeated by those troubles.” Michael ruffled Scott’s hair again. “And you didn’t back down because of the terrible dangers that might lie ahead.”

Scott felt his curly hair must have been completely ruffled into a bird's nest.

But who told his father to do it?

So he could only lie flat and let Michael do whatever he wanted.

“I know that running away and being cowardly will not help,” he said. “Only by facing the problem directly can we solve it.”

Michael withdrew his hand from Scott's head and lit another cigarette.

He remained silent for a while before speaking again, "But as your parents, I can't just stand by and watch you face all that alone."

Scott turned to look at him.

Michael's expression was hidden in the hazy smoke.

Scott hesitated, as if he wanted to say something but then stopped.

“I know what you want to say, my son.”

Michael also turned to look at Scott.

“Millie and I are your parents, but we are just ordinary people. Ordinary people can't get involved in the affairs of wizards. You think all I need to do is protect myself and Millie, is that right?”

Hearing this, Scott could only remain silent.

Michael didn't say anything more; he simply stood up.

"Get some rest. Your father needs some time to think. We'll talk later."

He patted Scott on the head again, then turned and walked out of his room.

Scott watched his departing figure, watched him close the door to the room, and remained motionless for a long while.

After a long while, he let out a long breath and rubbed his face with both hands.

Hearing Michael's restrained and sorrowful tone, he also felt a little sad.

But that's just how things are; he can't let his parents become wizards, nor can he let them participate in his adventures.

Although they remained the closest family, with the most sincere love and care for each other, their worlds only overlapped slightly when Scott stepped alone into the bizarre and magical world.

Scott believed that Michael understood this principle as well.

His father was also a cautious man, and he wasn't worried that he would do anything impulsive.

Michael must have been well aware that getting involved in Scott's affairs wouldn't help him; on the contrary, it would only drag him down.

Although it's cruel for a father who wants to protect his son, that's the truth.

Scott calmed himself down before leaving the balcony and climbing to the window to fall into a deep sleep.

"Scott, my dear son..."

He didn't know how much time had passed when Scott, half asleep, heard Emilia's voice, and at the same time, a hand grabbed his ear.

Scott, still half asleep, barely opened his eyes and saw Emilia standing in front of his bed.

"Good morning, Mom," he said in a muffled voice. "I want to sleep a little longer."

"It's already noon, my son!"

Emilia relentlessly pulled on his ear.

"And you still haven't explained to me what's going on on the balcony. My good son has actually learned to smoke? I counted, and he smoked a whole pack of cigarettes in one night!"

“That’s what Dad smoked.” Scott pulled his hand away from hers and hid under the covers.

"Your father said he hasn't been to your room!"

Emilia lifted Scott's blanket, bent down, and smelled him.

"Honey, your pajamas smell awful from smoking!"

As she spoke, she slapped Scott's buttocks hard again.

Scott finally opened his eyes completely.

Seeing Emilia's angry expression, he finally realized that Michael had tricked him.

In order to prevent Emilia from finding out about the long talk between father and son last night, he could only plead guilty and beg for forgiveness, "I will never do it again, Mom."

“You better never do it again.” Emilia reached out and pinched Scott’s cheek again. “I don’t want you to follow in Mike’s footsteps. You know, your dad was a high school dropout and a petty thug when he was your age!”

"I won't smoke anymore," Scott assured him repeatedly.

Emilia then reluctantly let him go.

“Where’s Mike?” Scott asked.

“He went out early this morning,” Emilia replied. “Oh, we haven’t told you yet, but the family opened another shop on that street not far from here.”

Scott slowly sat up.

"Go take a shower and then fend for yourself for lunch." She ordered Scott to get to work. "I'll wash your pajamas and sheets, and of course, clean the balcony—you rascal, the room reeks of smoke!"

Scott felt a pang of sadness seeing the look of disgust on Emilia's face.

Yesterday my son was my darling, but after just one night he's become a spoiled brat. His treatment has dropped too quickly.

But he still obediently took a shower, changed his clothes, and went downstairs to cook his own steak.

After lunch, Scott called Roger.

The main concern is Milton, who is traveling abroad alone.

“Milton is gone,” Roger said on the phone. “This morning, I took him to the airport and taught him how to fly on his own.”

"Is he alright?" Scott was actually a little worried. "I have a feeling we'll end up seeing a British boy crying alone on a street in Vienna in the newspapers or on the news."

Hearing him say that, Roger became somewhat uneasy.

“You’re right. I think so too now. I can already picture it in my mind.”

But there was nothing the two could do; they could only wish Milton all the best.

After hanging up the phone, Scott followed Emilia's instructions and went to his store.

It was still an antique shop called [Trolopp], located on a quiet and somewhat narrow street.