Wenge Castle was the ancestral home of the Greengrass family.
The family head, Wenge, had been named after one of his grandfathers, so it was hardly surprising that he shared a name with the ancestral home.
Wenge now commanded what could be considered England's foremost fighting force. At the very least, he had more armed personnel under him than the Aurors and Hit Wizards combined.
Though his authority had yet to become apparent, he was still very much in demand.
As a result, Wenge Castle had been bustling lately, with people constantly coming and going. It was not merely a training ground for several carefully selected combat squads.
Heads of pure-blood families also visited every few days, all hoping to secure squad leader positions for their sons and nephews.
Today, the handsome older Wenge had barely finished dealing with old Travers when old Flint came calling.
The big fellow was quite something. His son Marcus was still at school, yet he already wanted the boy to graduate early and join the Combat Department.
That would not ordinarily have been a problem. Since they both belonged to the Sacred Twenty-Eight, giving the boy a squad leader position would not have been unreasonable.
But after learning about Marcus's circumstances, Wenge could only wince.
Of Hogwarts' twelve subjects, Marcus had not passed a single one in his fifth-year Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations. Divination was the only advanced class he was taking.
Did Divination even need an advanced class? Wasn't that the subject where the more gruesome the deaths you predicted for yourself and your entire family, the better your marks?
Wenge had a headache. He could indulge in a little favoritism, but he could not turn a completely blind eye.
After finally sending old Flint on his way, he rubbed his brow and