"When I was still studying at Hogwarts, the Care of Magical Creatures professor was Mr. Silvanus Kettleburn. Because of his reckless, careless nature, by the time the poor fellow retired in 1993, he only had one arm and half a leg left. Even so, he would still go to the Dragon sanctuary in his spare time... Er, I've gone off topic..." Owen, long accustomed to occasional commotion, calmly set the newspaper in his hand aside. "Anyway, when I first took that class in my third year, I was assigned to care for several Pygmy Puffs... Once, I was hit in the back of the head by a ball during Quidditch and rested at Madam Pomfrey's for several days, completely forgetting about them. By the time I remembered and went to check on them, all the Pygmy Puffs were dead... What a mess that was. For a while, people even called me the Pygmy Puff Killer... Though the ones who gave me that nickname never spent any time looking after Pygmy Puffs themselves..."
"Dad... Aren't we talking about the children now?" Albert, listening at the side, was utterly baffled.
"Ah, it's fine." Owen waved a hand. He lifted his cup and took a sip of tea, then smiled at the whole family. "Unlike Pygmy Puffs, children grow up on their own... don't they?" Then, while the others were still stunned by his words, he turned to look at his youngest son's Clone. "Except for you, Allen. You finished this bizarre Branch City we're in quite some time ago. Wizards, magical creatures, Devils, demons, and even some Muggles who won't be Muggles in the future—there are even plenty of monsters from other worlds that we've never seen before... In this city, even Muggles can distort reality to some extent through imagination... You