Solace for the Soul

Hampshire, Welfare Village.

This village, named after the family, was not large. Apart from the grand manor at its far end, there were only around a dozen households nearby.

And all of them were Muggles, completely unaware that several magic-wielding wizards lived within the manor surrounded by towering hedges.

Or rather, they could not even see the manor at all.

Countless Muggle-Repelling Charms had been placed here, along with protective magic that had existed since ancient times. Even ordinary wizards would see nothing more than an unremarkable manor.

According to his memories, Tver had often run off to play in the village as a child, only to vanish before his friends' astonished eyes.

But after he had done it too many times, his mother no longer allowed him to tease his Muggle friends like that.

At the gates of the peaceful manor, there was a soft pop as a figure spun into view.

It was Tver, returning from far away.

Before entering Britain, however, he had first used a Portkey for international travel.

It had to be said that for long-distance travel, Portkeys were far less taxing.

Unlike Apparition, Portkeys were not a form of spatial magic resembling teleportation, but high-speed flight magic.

Thus, compared to Apparition, Portkeys consumed less magical power and were safer.

The moment Tver steadied himself, the manor gates swung open automatically. A small elf stood behind them and bowed respectfully to him.

The little elf had two large, bat-like ears and a pair of slightly bulging eyes.

This was the Welfare Family's house-elf, Jeff.

But unlike other house-elves, he wore a clean, neat white robe.

"Good afternoon, Young Master Welfare. Welcome home. Master and Mistress have been waiting for you." The house-elf's voice was shrill, and when he looked up, his eyes were even brimming with tears.

"Long time no see, Jeff." Tver smiled. Back when he had first encountered the ring and his body had been weak, Jeff had been the one taking care of him.

Though for wizards, having house-elves serve their masters was only natural, Tver, as someone who had crossed over from another world, clearly could not simply take someone else's care for granted.

So, after persuading his parents and Jeff, Tver had given Jeff a robe. As long as he wished, he could leave the Welfare Family at any time and become a truly free elf.

Of course, given Jeff's attachment to the family, Tver could not drive him away even if he tried.

Jeff wiped away his tears. The young master's return was supposed to be a happy occasion.

"You've been away for so long. Mistress is going to nag you for quite a while."

At that, Tver's head began to ache. He wondered whether his father could help him out at a time like this.

He thought about it all the way back, but in the end, he could only conclude that his father was completely unreliable.

"Oh, come take a look at who this is. A candidate for Minister of Magic?"

A delicate-looking woman leaned against the front door of the house, unable to stop smiling. Fortunately, time had left few marks on her.

This was Tver's mother, Brinda Welfare.

Hearing that, a guileless-looking man poked his head out from another direction. The moment he saw Tver standing at the entrance, his eyes lit up.

He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, the woman beside him gave a cough, and his words stuck in his throat.

He shot Tver a look that said, Good luck, then ducked his head back inside.

This unreliable fellow was his father, Mills Welfare.

"Of course it's the son of the gentle, dignified, kind, beautiful, generous, and virtuous you."

Tver placed special emphasis on those adjectives, then ingratiatingly pounded Brinda's shoulders twice.

"Oh, enough." Brinda turned and walked inside, her voice carrying a faint sob. "My son wouldn't stay away from home for two whole years."

Oh no!

To research the secrets of the curse, Tver had not returned home for even a single day of holiday since last summer.

For some reason, his family placed particular importance on familial affection. During the seven years he had studied at Durmstrang, the owls exhausted from delivering letters could have circled the manor twice.

But honestly, the feeling was warm.

Especially under the pressure of racing against Death, the warmth of family had been one of the main reasons supporting him through it all.

So Tver did not want to ruin this bond or become a cold and indifferent person.

He hurried after his mother, intending to explain with the excuse he had prepared in advance. But the instant he stepped across the threshold—

"Surprise!"

His father sprang out from behind the door and waved his wand. In an instant, the ceiling was filled with beautiful fireworks in every color.

Jeff also darted out from the side and shrieked, "Congratulations, Young Master, on your eighteenth birthday!"

The brightly lit house suddenly dimmed. His mother held a large cake in her hands, with a crooked "18" written on top. With a puff of her breath, the candles flared to life, illuminating her face.

"It might not look very good. I tried for days, but I still couldn't make it as well as your father can. But you're not allowed to say that!" Brinda shot a threatening glare at Mills, who was snickering beside her.

"No, I love it," Tver said softly.

"You'd better," Brinda said, then laughed at her own words. "Before you blow out the candles, remember to make a wish!"

Wizards did not have a custom of making birthday wishes, but when Tver had first transmigrated here, he had not known that and foolishly wished to live to a hundred.

From then on, making birthday wishes became a tradition of the Welfare Family.

With his fingers interlocked beneath his chin, Tver closed his eyes and silently said in his heart, "I hope my parents can live on in health and peace."

Under Brinda and Mills's expectant gazes, he opened his eyes, bent forward slightly, and gave a gentle puff, extinguishing all eighteen candles at once.

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the cake aside, and Mills deftly caught it. Brinda, however, did not spare her husband so much as a glance before opening her arms and pulling Tver into an embrace.

"Happy birthday, son!"

"Thank you, Mom. I'm very happy."

Tver suddenly felt guilty. The original owner had such wonderful parents, yet he had been replaced by him.

All he could do now was be better than the original owner, if only to ease the guilt in his heart a little.

"Don't be so happy just yet." Brinda released him with a mischievous grin. "As punishment for not coming home for two years—"

Mills promptly handed the cake back. "Finish the cake!"

Tver: "..."

Thus, at dinner, Tver sat at the table alone with the entire cake, while watching his family—including Jeff—enjoy the French feast his father had meticulously prepared.

As everyone knew, the good thing about cake was that it was generally hard to make truly awful. But once it did become awful, it was genuinely awful—something no amount of flavoring could fix.

At home, his father Mills could make exquisite French cuisine. Thanks to his previous life, Tver could also whip up a few Chinese dishes. As for Jeff, being a house-elf, he was naturally proficient in all the major popular European cuisines.

Only Brinda was the exception. She could not even manage Britain's famous three dishes—fish, chips, and fish and chips—let alone this cake she had supposedly spent a week learning to make.

"All right, come try the cheese-baked fire crab your father made." Seeing the utterly lifeless look on her son's face, Brinda knew when to stop and brought over the dish that had originally been prepared for him.