Time passed, little by little.
One pitch-black night, Lupin carried his luggage downstairs and moved in for good.
The downstairs had the same six-room layout as the upstairs. The only difference was that they had knocked down the wall of the second bedroom and expanded the living room so everyone could use it as a dining room. Lupin picked a small room and turned it into a luxurious home theater, top of the line for 1991.
He was a big boss now, with money to burn.
Incidentally, after Ilsa had become completely obsessed with some piano prince character in a TV series, jealous Lupin bought an outrageously expensive piano and hired the most expensive private piano tutor he could find.
The only problem was that the tutor was so elegant and beautiful that now Miss Ilsa was the one getting jealous.
Downstairs, the two of them were all wrapped up in each other. Upstairs, though, it was a tragedy.
Pedro's wails had gone from loud and clear to barely more than a wheeze.
He felt like he was about to die.
At last, he understood how Rosier had forced him to take him through time, making tens of thousands of trips over the course of fifty years.
He was tied to a chair covered in Runes with Dragon Tendons as thick as an arm, so there was no way he could Apparate away.
And since the Secret Art of Goblin's Eye needed to enter the depths of a person's memories through the eyes—the windows to the soul—Rosier held his eyelids open.
"I'm your good friend, Rosier! Let me go! If this goes on, I'm going to die!"
Rosier only sneered. "Nagini is your daughter, and Anna is your granddaughter. You should have some sense of responsibility."
Anton didn't care what