The Rowle Family in Turmoil

North Yorkshire, Stanmore Moor.

One of the most desolate areas in the north of England, rolling brown hills spread from one end of the horizon to the other, covered with withered heather and sparse shrubs. There are no trees, no villages, and no roads.

The wind blew from the west and swept over the ridges of the hills, making a low whine.

Rowle Manor is located in a low-lying place between two hills. It is a building made of rough gray-brown stone with a mottled appearance. The surface of the stone has been bitten by hundreds of years of wind and rain and has fine saw teeth, so rough that it can scratch the palm of your hand.

The main building is on the third floor. The windows are narrow and embedded in the thick walls, which are similar to the shooting holes of the fortress. There is no garden. There is only a gravel-paved open space in front of the main building, with a few clumps of drought-resistant thistles growing on the edge.

The entire manor is made up of simple vertical and horizontal bars, which are strong, heavy and durable.

The stone lintel above the main entrance of the manor is engraved with the clan emblem of Rowle family. A black iron dagger points vertically downwards, piercing a coiled snake. There is a skinny gray wolf on each side of the dagger. The carvings are very deep and have been worn by wind and sand for hundreds of years, and the outline is still clear.

The dark red flag of Rowle family hangs on the top of the tower, billowing feebly in the wind blowing from the North Sea.

The sky is the usual lead gray color of Yorkshire, and the clouds are low, spreading from Wasteland to the end of the skyline.

Dag·Rowle stood in front of the window of Study. Outside the window was Wasteland, which he had watched all his life. The gray-green turf was undulating in the wind, and several well-trodden paths extended out from the manor and disappeared among the rolling hills.

The style of Study is consistent with the appearance of the manor, with exposed stone walls, no wallpaper and Tapestry, and rows of old books and scrolls on the shelves, some of which have turned black.

The table is made of thick black oak, with burn marks and knife scratches strewn across it. It is older than its the Master.

The window was only opened a crack, and the wind from outside squeezed in through the crack, carrying the bitter smell of heather.

Then the sky brightened, and golden light penetrated from the thick clouds above the manor.

It was more concentrated and brighter than sunlight, with a scorching tremor at the edge. The beam of light fell on the stone lintel above the main entrance of the manor and on the family emblem.

The clan emblem also lit up, the stone carvings revealed golden light from inside, and the gilded Latin text seeped out line by line from below the clan emblem, spreading in the air of the manor.

The dagger and snake emblems were forcibly activated by the contract Magic, and Rowle family used his own emblem to read out Black family's verdict against them.

declaratio sanguinis, Black, Rowle, offense, contract, twenty-eight days, three days of public notice, all the losses go to the winner, domus rowle non potest recusare.

Dag Rowle looked up and watched the words emerge from the first word to the last word dissipating in the leaden sky. His expression did not change during the whole process.

The wand slipped into his hand and he raised his hand. Dark red light shot out from the tip, penetrated the window of Study, exploded over the manor, split into more than thirty beams of light and flew in different directions, east, north, underground, to Wasteland on the outskirts of the manor, and to the back of the hills further away.

Summon the signal and send it all.

The entire process was carried out without any hesitation or thought, let alone weighing whether to fight or not. The contract was announced at the doorstep, and the clan emblem was borrowed by the other party's Magic as a sounding board, so let's fight.

There was the sound of stumbling footsteps at the door.

Dolphin·Rowle rushed out of his room, ran along Corridor to the door of Study, and knocked open the ajar door.

His face was very pale, and the expression on his face changed several times within a few dozen seconds, including confusion, disbelief, anger, fear, confusion, and collapse.

"Is it because of this?" He shouted at the back of old Rowle, his voice split. "Is it because of this that he wants to activate the contract?"

Old Rowle ignored him, the wand flashed again, and a dark red light flew under the floor.

"Black are you fucking crazy?!" Dolphin's voice was louder and the blows were harder. "What did I do? I was just--"

His voice got stuck, and he knew what he had done, Belmont, Selwyn, tripping Black twice in the dark.

But he didn't understand, he really didn't understand, why something of this magnitude would trigger a response of genocide.

It is a common practice for Pureblood families to trick each other. His father also did this to other families, and his father's father also did this.

If anyone stumbles, just get up and stumble back. Drink some Potions and rest for two days. Once that passes, it will be over.

"Father! Father, speak!" His voice became louder and louder.

Old Rowle never looked back at him from beginning to end. His wand was still working, and another signal flew out. The dark red light passed through the stone wall and disappeared into Wasteland.

Dolphin stood at the door, roaring at a wall.

The muscles on his face were twisting, his lips were bloodless, he was clenching his fists but didn't know who to hit, and the wand was in his hand but he didn't know who to point to.

His cognitive ceiling is stuck at the level of normal means of Pure-bloods politics. In his world, stumbling upon heirs of the same age is a game, a competition, and a lesson that every little Pure-bloods wizard has learned since he could walk.

When he did these things, he didn't even have much malice. He just felt that this was what he should do and what the heir of Rowle family should do to Heir of the Black family.

But Regulus directly overturned the table, stepped across the middle ground of all games, and fell directly into the End. The revenge he imagined, tit for tat, tit for tat, you come and I go, none of it was there.

Dolphin Can't understand this.

At Malfoy family's wedding two days ago, he smiled and shook hands with Regulus, called his name warmly, patted the back of his hand and said no see him for a long time.

Long time no see.

Now he knows that when Regulus·Black shook hands with him, he was already thinking about how to destroy his family.

But at that time, he was still trying his best to act out the drama about the two brothers, thinking that he was pretending to be flawless and that Regulus didn't know anything.

Now he knows that Regulus pretends to be better than him.

Isolde·Rowle is pruning and arranging flowers in the living room. This habit has been maintained for more than 20 years. From the day she married Rowle family, she has been arranging flowers in this living room.

The flowers were thistles and heathers gathered from the moors outside the manor, and several small gray flowers that only grew on the Yorkshire moors, and she put them in a crystal vase that had been left to her by her mother.

Golden light patterns shone in from the window, and she looked up to see her family's emblem burning in the sky.

The vase slipped from her hands, Crystal fragments exploded on the floor, and water splashed on her skirt and shoe uppers.

She screamed, then covered her mouth and lay down with tears that washed away the thin foundation on her face.

She bent down to pick up the fragments, and her finger was cut. Blood dripped in the water, and she had no strength to stand up.

Old Rowle didn't even look back and said indifferently, "Go to your mother's place."

Dark Arts eats away at the soul slowly. Every time Unforgivable Curses is used, every time a living person is tortured with a curse, every time another wizard's soul is torn to pieces in the interrogation room, all traces are left on him.

Those curses that were used, those who were tortured to death, those corpses that he personally disposed of in Chamber of Secrets, all of them destroyed his human part.

But at the same time, he is also tempering his Magic Power. This is the most cruel transaction of Dark Arts. You get what you pay for, but what you pay and what you get are never the same thing.

Dag·Rowle's Magic level ranks high in the entire history of Rowle family. He is indeed powerful and talented, but more importantly, it comes at a cost.

He sacrificed human warmth, and his soul was chipped off layer by layer.

Living requires driving force, and his driving force is only violence and survival, so he has no anger or fear at this moment, or any human emotional reaction. He is just doing things, mobilizing Magic Power, sending out signals, deploying defenses, and preparing for war.

The vassals began to gather.

Less than ten minutes after the summons signal was sent out, the muffled sound of Apparition began to be heard from the Wasteland outside the manor, one or two sounds, getting more and more intensive.

Anti-Apparition Charm covered the main body of the manor, so these people landed on the wasteland about 300 meters outside, and then walked in.

The first figure who walked in from the main entrance of the manor was wrapped in a gray cloak. The hood covered most of his face, with only one hand exposed.

His bones were thick, and there was blood stain embedded in his fingers that could not be washed away. He nodded in the direction of old Rowle, and silently walked to the side of the main hall and stood up.

The second one emerged from the secret passage under the manor, and the wall behind him closed again, carrying the moisture of earth.

He was holding a wand wrapped with an iron chain. The wand was twice as thick as an ordinary wand. The chain dragged on the ground, making the sound of metal rubbing against stone slabs when he moved.

The third one fell from the ceiling and landed silently. The cloak puffed up in all directions the moment it hit the ground and then was retracted.

He stood up, glanced at a few people in the main hall who were silent, and walked to the wall to lean on them.

The fourth one came in from the window on the east side of the manor, and the fifth one was a father and son, wearing dark robes of the same style.

People kept entering the main hall, from the side door, from the cellar steps, from the tower Spiral Staircase, dozens, twenty, thirty.

Hoods, dark robes, and silence, the main hall of the manor was filled with figures one after another. During the entire gathering, the only sounds were footsteps and the sound of robes brushing the air.

Some people looked at each other, some had not seen each other for many years, but no one exchanged greetings.

Rowle family's vassals, black Wizards, exiled people, people who owe blood debts and can only hide in the dark, each of them owes Rowle family a life, or Rowle family owes them a life.

The last vassal entered the main hall, and the heavy door began to close. The door leaf was slowly pushed toward the middle. Two voices came from the last gap before closing.

Isolde half-whistled smoke in his throat, and Dolphin's boot soles crunched against broken glass.

The door was closed and the main hall was full of people.

Old Rowle stood in front of everyone, his black robe gently swinging under the disturbance of Magic Power airflow.

He raised his eyes, and his brown eyes swept across the dozens of people in front of him, his eyes passing through each person's face without stopping on any face.

He knew that Black family was more fully prepared. The contract was initiated by Black family. The preparation period must be longer than that of Rowle family. The first wave of attacks might not be able to be stopped.

But this is the only thing Rowle family can do at the moment, catch the first wave and then counterattack in full force.

His voice was rough, low, and without ups and downs. "Keep the manor and survive until the fourth day, and then we will go out."

"If we can't hold on, Rowle family will be gone."

Dozens of hooded heads lowered their heads.

There are three little girls in Flint family's garden.

Marcia·Fawley is sitting cross-legged on the grass, with a Diricawl squatting on its knees. It is a little bigger than a fist, its feathers are matte silver-blue, its mouth is wide open, and it is singing a ditty with three tunes.

Nox was nestled on Lily's legs, its short black hair was heated by the sun, the tip of its tail was swaying gently, its dark blue eyes were staring at Diricawl's tail, and its pupils shrank and shrank with the swaying of the feathers.

Susan was sitting on a garden chair, flipping through a summer vacation preview of "Standard Spells·Fourth Grade" in his hand. After turning a few pages, he stopped to listen to the other two people chatting, and then turned a few more pages.

"How much homework have you done during the summer vacation?" Marcia asked Lily.

"Transfiguration is finished, Herbology is halfway done, Potions has not started yet, I plan to finish it in one go before going back."

Marcia curled his lips. "You say that every year."

Lily smiled slyly, "I finish it every year."

Susan laughed from behind.

Nox bounced off Lily's legs. It had been holding on to the bird for a long time. It flopped twice on the grass with its four short legs, then kicked off its hind legs and ran toward the railing.

Lily stretched out his hand to fish it out and intercepted it in mid-air.

Nox twisted twice in her hand and made an unhappy grunt.

"They are singing," Lily took it back to his arms and scratched its chin with his fingers. "It's a bit polite."

Nox flicked his tail, wrapped around Lily's wrist, pulled out the airplane ear, and looked at Diricawl with his eyes, his nails stretched out in the flesh pad, then retracted, and then stretched out again.

Diricawl suddenly didn't realize it and continued singing.

On the terrace in the distance, old Fawley was sitting in a wicker chair under an umbrella, with a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits in front of him, a casual expression on his round face, a tea cup in his hand, and half-squinted eyes, feeling very comfortable in the July sunshine.

Then green flames suddenly burst out from the outdoor fireplace on one side of the terrace, and a head emerged from the flames, its lips buzzed, and disappeared after a moment.

His whole body froze, and the tea cup slipped from his hand, hitting the stone slab of the terrace and shattering into pieces. He stood up suddenly, and the wicker chair scraped back with a sharp sound, and the blood on his face faded cleanly.

The laughter on the lawn stopped, and the three girls looked towards the terrace at the same time. Susan closed the textbook and exchanged a look with Lily.

Marcia shouted softly, "Dad?"

Old Fawley turned to look at her, and that look made Marcia shrink back.

She had never seen her father's expression like this. Last year in Death Eaters, there was a wizard family in the next town, Attacks. He just frowned, muttered something and came again.

Marcia stood up from the grass, dusted the grass clippings from her skirt, and walked quickly to the terrace. Lily and Susan followed behind, and Diricawl flapped its wings on Marcia.

"Dad, what's wrong?"

Old Fawley looked at the three girls and hesitated, but there was no point in hiding this kind of thing.

His voice was a little dry. "Black family just launched an ancient Pure-bloods law, Family Vengeance Contract, and the target is Rowle family. It is a war of genocide."

Marcia's mouth opened a little. "What?"

"It's what you heard. I just found out. I'm still confirming the specific situation. Let me first--" Old Fawley shook his head. "Don't run around, stay at home."

After saying that, he hurried towards the main house.

Three girls stood on the terrace, looking at each other.

Marcia's face is also a little pale. She is Pure-bloods. She knows that there are many hidden rules between Pureblood families, but Family Vengeance Contract?

She has never heard of this name. She knows Black family, she knows Rowle family, they are all Sacred Twenty-Eight, they are all surnames that stand at the top of UK Wizarding World. Are these two families going to destroy each other?

"This... is this impossible?" Her voice was weak. "That's Rowle, Sacred Twenty-Eight, Black family is going to start a war?"

Lily's eyes widened and he hugged Nox tighter.